40 The Water-fowl Family 



bly, honks of satisfaction, honks of suspicion, yet 

 not a bird leaves. The closer they get to the 

 sand bar where a sizable flock rests uncon- 

 cerned, and a few live decoys every now and 

 then flap their wings, the more suspicious they 

 become. A few separate from the main throng 

 and swim toward the decoys. With the utmost 

 manoeuvring and good luck, this flock of six is 

 brought within range. The three gunners who 

 have been twisted up in bow-knots for an hour 

 get untied and let go. Brant have the habit, 

 possessed by some other birds, of getting close 

 together when they are startled, and the first two 

 shots, if well placed, have probably attended to 

 half the flock, and it is fair to presume the other 

 half don't stand much chance with two whole 

 guns left. With the reports there is such a 

 splashing and commotion that Chatham Bay 

 hasn't seen since the last high tide, and several 

 acres of brant start out for safer quarters. This 

 is the end for the present tide, and nowadays 

 considerably more than the average end. On 

 some few occasions, however, conditions favor 

 the sportsman. Wind and heavy weather inter- 

 fere with the regular brant programme. The 

 birds, at the first indication of rising tide, become 

 uneasy and restless ; small numbers separate and 

 little strings of four to ten lead up the bay. This 

 is a day of days — they come to the blind, the 



