50 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



of corn, or killing them in mid winter, as they come 

 into the air-holes covered with decoys and tempting bait. 

 And still, these men with all their experience have 

 never hunted them from a sculling boat. 



Duck hunting is no childish sport. When mild, 

 pleasant weather, gentle, soothing winds, gurgling, 

 murmuring brooks, sweet-smelling, delicate, fragrant 

 flowers invite us out for a day to the woods or beside 

 the streams, where in indolence we lie, half waking, 

 then lulled into a lazy slumber by the sighing winds, or 

 warbling thrush, or kept awake by the cawing crow, as 

 it flies over our heads in its accustomed straight line, or 

 the laughing jay, as it teeters on the tip of some tall 

 tree, industriously yelling at us because of our intrusion, 

 — such scenes as these we all recall. They are bright 

 spots, oases. in the desert of our lives. 



But the duck season, as the reader well knows, is not 

 at such a time, but entirely the opposite. It seems as 

 if at such times, the eleijients combine to disgust and 

 discourage the hunter. And yet, a person experiences 

 so many pleasant days while duck shooting, that it seems 

 as though the elements have been so impartial, that 

 we are not justified in complaining. It is but natural 

 then, having to hunt at a time of the year when we can 

 but expect cold and inclement weather, we should 

 lighten our burdens when possible, and accept the 

 advantage where offered. 



And now I want you, my reader, to go with me for 

 but a day. A day isn't long in your life of years. You 

 can readily recall not one, but many passed with 

 Nature. Grant me your time and presence but for a 

 brief day, and together we will go, and you shall see 

 much that will be new to you. You shall see how ducks 



