Goose-shooting 2 1 3 



and in less than half an hour we looked down 

 from a knoll on the sheet of water some two 

 miles away. Along the farther shore was a bank 

 of white, shining in the light of sunrise — a solid 

 bank of snow geese. Scattered over its surface 

 everywhere were flocks of ducks and geese, black 

 masses of them. We hurried on, passing through 

 herd after herd of cattle, which increased in num- 

 bers as the water was approached. A coyote 

 stopped to take a fleeting glance from the top of 

 a hill opposite, then disappeared. A jack-rabbit 

 scurried from in front. A familiar cry overhead 

 caused us to look up. It came from a flock of 

 sand-hill cranes, far out of reach, which were sail- 

 ing on toward their feeding-ground in the stubble. 

 We reached the edge of the lake, and hundreds of 

 ducks rose as the horses neared them, mostly 

 shovellers and teal, but mallard, widgeon, and 

 pintail were all there. The geese were across 

 the lake, thousands in one band. Every now and 

 then a white line joined the resting birds, and at 

 the approach of a flock their discordant cries 

 could be heard a mile away. How to get a shot 

 seemed more or less of a problem, owing to lack 

 of cover. Finally we noticed a few bunches of 

 rushes extending well out into the lake, the only 

 possible chance to hide. We waded out and 

 took a position in the farthest clump. The 

 Mexican led off the horses and started on a 



