the line of mangrove. He climbed in with two mallards and a 

 pintail. With limits aboard we broke out lunch. 



Stripping paper from a sandwich, Walt said, "I heard you 

 whistle those pintails down, Chaz. Get plenty of shooting with- 

 out it, but a man from Minnesota clown here two or three years 

 ago sure worked the mallards over with one. He'd pinch his 

 fingers around the mouth of his call sort of choke it down into 

 a thin quack and make the teal come for it, too." 



"Remember old Doc?" Ted asked. "He always used a dozen 

 or so decoys. Right on this pond." 



"Quite a guy, the Doc. Once he wrote up north for some duck 

 food plantings and tried to start it in here. But it never took 

 hold. According to him, with more food the area could support 

 ten times the ducks it has now." 



Back in the grass, mudhens fussed. Presently we threaded our 

 way through the channel toward the Trail. A carload of snook 

 fishermen were fly-rodding the canal on the north side of the 

 road. We asked what luck. 



"Slow," a rod wielder replied. But two 4-pounders lay in the 

 grass beside the pavement. A baby tarpon jumped a yard and 

 threw a yellow streamer fly five feet. 



As we rolled west toward Royal Palm, we saw 2-foot alligators 

 sunning themselves on the canal bank. Grass ended and pines 

 began. At the distant end of a long ridge, tops of heavy cypress 

 raised a barrier of lighter green. 



"Always turkey in there," Ted said. 



Driving, Walt opined he'd like to get the dogs and spend the 

 afternoon on quail. 



"I'll buy it," Ted said. "But first, I just happened to remember 

 it's an extra low tide today, and under the bridge going into 

 town is a scrumptious oyster bed. How about gathering a bushel 

 to stuff the Christmas turkey?" 



So we bought that first. 



60 





