A;; 



Wing Shots at Sea 



acres and presented a remarkable appearance, as 

 though some submarine volcano was convulsing the 

 ocean bed. It moved slowly up the coast, and I 

 hastened to the beach and jumping into a boat, rowed 

 out half a mile from Avalon Bay in the path of what 

 I soon discovered was a school of tunas which were 

 feeding upon flying-fishes. The magnificent fish were 

 leaping into the air, dozens being seen at one time, 

 turning and falling like arrows. In a few moments 

 I was in the midst of this war of extermination. The 

 flying-fishes were dashing about in every direction, 

 the tunas slowly driving them up the coast. They 

 sought refuge beneath my boat and crowded around 

 it, apparently exhausted, followed by the tunas, which 

 dashed into the air, so near me that I pulled away, 

 fearing that mine might be the experience of the 

 Southern angler who had a tarpon plunge into his 

 boat, passing through it. Such an accident was pos- 

 sible, and I only ceased rowing when on the outskirts 

 of this remarkable center of activity which well illus- 

 trated the soaring powers of the flying-fish and the 

 leaping possibilities of the tuna. 



It was, possibly, this and other experiences with 

 the flying-fishes which suggested what was certainly 

 a novel sport the substitution of flying-fish for 

 quail. The tuna flushed the flying-fishes, which flew 

 in every direction, offering similar shots to those one 

 finds afield, so one morning the launch Linda steamed 

 out of the bay of Avalon with two or three friends 



193 



