and the Maritime Provinces. 363 



provided with shutters, and before opening a door every one of them must 

 be screened. Silently the low rear door is opened and we stealthily steal 

 out through a bower of pine boughs and trees that stand like grim senti- 

 nels in the uncertain light, and creep carefully to the stockade fence. 



The guns, always loaded, are standing there ready for immediate use, 

 and as soon as one is fired the keeper swabs it out, reloads it and places it 

 in firing position again. 



All eyes are strained to peer through the semi-darkness, out on the 

 lake. The ducks in the pens are lustily quacking, and those in the picket 

 line on the beach exercise their vocal organs just as effectually. But hark ! 

 yes, sure enough, out among the " blocks " comes the answering call of 

 the wild fowl. 



There is game among the decoys, although the eye cannot as yet dis- 

 tinguish it from the wooden imitations. 



Now the birds in the pens are brought into requisition and are unwit- 

 tingly made to lure their untamed species inside the " dead line." The 

 keeper, for one is kept constantly on the place, reaches into the pen and 

 picks up a duck or " decoy," and passing cautiously to one end of the 

 stockade throws her into the air. 



With a lusty quack the bird flies out over the water and describing a 

 semi-circle returns and alights in the picket line on the beach. 



One after another of these " decoys" are sent out, sometimes as many 

 as thirty or forty being used, until confidence is begotten in the wild ducks 

 and they follow to their death. 



A bunch of ducks is now close to the line and the guns are pointed 

 ready for slaughter. All are cautioned not to fire until the word is given. 



The pulse quickens as they slowly and unsuspectingly approach nearer 

 and nearer the line of " stoppers." The heart almost stops beating as they 

 cross the line. The keeper singles out and appoints each man his bird or 

 birds. One — two — three — fire ! A deafening roar and a furious volley 

 of leaden pellets greet the advancing game, and those that feel well enough 

 to try to depart are treated to a second volley. Fortunate, indeed, is the 

 bird that lives to recross the " dead line." 



From daylight till dark the keeper is on the watch for flying ducks, 

 and the quacking of the decoys is broken only at infrequent intervals. 



A bunch of ducks flying over the lake in any direction may be diverted 

 from its course by flying these " tollers." 



At times the wild birds will sit for hours among the wooden " blocks" 

 and refuse to be enticed nearer shore ; at such times the " blocks " pre- 

 viously mentioned as being fastened to a line and pulley, are slowly drawn 

 toward the shore, and the live birds follow, apparently unconscious of the 

 deception. 



