DUCK SHOOTING IN AMERICA. 65 



with a loud quack, qnack, frequently so close at 

 hand that you start, almost believing that one of 

 your victims has come to life. But hark ! what is 

 that honk ! honk ! Geese ! I can't go till I dust 

 some of their jackets. As none of all the web- 

 footed tribe are so wary, extra precaution is 

 necessary. At length you see a massive dark line 

 against the sole clear jiortion of northern sky 

 remaining. Would that heavier shot were in my 

 gun. Onward they come, slowly and cautiously; 

 waiting till they are nearly perpendicular, I play 

 my part, and the heavy splash on one side and 

 thud on the other clearly states that two are down, 

 one in the water and the other on shore. Witli 

 such a finale you cease, nor is it too soon, for I 

 really believe that if you were to remain after dark- 

 ness you might receive an injury, as the birds, no 

 longer dreading a foe, rush about in the most reck- 

 less way, that I have felt quite a relief at getting 

 out of the marsh without a mallard going at express 

 speed coming in contact with my cranium. On the 

 night in question twenty-eight brace of ducks, two 

 geese, and three brant was the bag — good sport, as 

 all must agree, for three or four hours' shooting. 



