60 Duck-shooting in Wermland, Sweden. 



" wait the coming storm." And I have not to wait long. Firs a 

 flight of teal dash by as pioneers, and I know I have not long lo 

 wait now. The first intimation of the approach of the general 

 flight is the " whish, whish, whish, whish " of wings high in the air 

 overhead. Scouts, I suppose, on the look-out, for I invariably re- 

 mark that, as soon as I have heard this, the birds begin to drop down. 

 Backwards and forwards they dash by sometimes singly, sometimes 

 in twos and threes j and for about an hour the shooting is first-rate 

 especially if you are well in the line of flight 5 and it takes some 

 little knowledge of the swamp to get this. No doubt the birds 

 drop down into the rushes in many places, but there is one high 

 road, and the man who can find this out may lie on his bunk and 

 smoke his pipe all day while his mates are beating the swamp ; but 

 as soon as he sees the sun go down he will take his stand, and in 

 two hours' time will probably come back with as many birds as it 

 would take another a whole day to kill. This flight-shooting lasts, 

 perhaps, not more than an hour, and you can follow it any evening. 

 And, mind, I do not mean, when I use the term "flight-shooting," 

 shooting the birds on the water as they pitch to feed. For this 

 work you must have a moon, and the light is so uncertain when a 

 man is sitting low on a large swamp, which is bounded on both 

 sides by high ground, that perhaps scarcely ten nights in the month 

 will do for it. However, if you can find a good place where the 

 birds feed really well, you will kill double the quantity you can in 

 flight, for you may get two or three at a shot 5 and shoot as you may, it 

 seems next to impossible, here at least, to drive the birds from a 

 favourite feeding-ground. However, this sport is over by about ten 

 or eleven, and you may then go home. And I will now tell the 

 reader how I got home one night from this very swamp. 



It was in the third week of this last month of September, just at 

 the new moon, and although of course the moon gave no light, still 

 the twilight is always clearer just at this time, and after the flight was 

 over I went down to a good bit of feeding-ground, and, sitting with 

 my face to the west, I managed to see the birds tolerably clear, if they 

 came in pretty close, and, although I had but little sport, I was 



