DUCK SHOOTING 325 



which are large in size and of a dull chestnut 

 colour, betray little or no uneasiness. Had they 

 been whistlers they would have been gone already. 

 At last a small flock of the latter variety are seen 

 flying very high over the middle, and passing me 

 far out of range circle once or twice and gracefully 

 execute a vol plane down into the water at my end. 

 At the far extremity of the marsh there are many 

 varieties of wild-fowl in the air, and just as I am 

 about to give orders to push along the edge of the 

 reeds, about a dozen spur-winged geese flying 

 low, with their peculiar, deliberate, distinctive 

 wing stroke come straight from the sound of the 

 firing in my direction. Changing the cartridges 

 quickly for No. 3 shot, I cower down uncomfort- 

 ably in my uncomfortable seat. On they come, 

 nearer and nearer, not an inch over 25 yards high. 

 Seventy yards, sixty, fifty. Ah ! the leader has 

 seen me, and widens out towards the centre. I 

 take number four in the line, and down he comes 

 to my right, the left barrel failing on number five, 

 although I distinctly hear the sound of the shot 

 through the wing-feathers. These spur-winged 

 geese are extraordinarily hard birds ; the amount 

 of shot they will successfully carry away with 

 them is sometimes amazing. We gather the faUen 

 one and push along. Now the red ducks get up in 

 twos and threes, and in ten minutes I have col- 

 lected a round dozen, and lost — and missed — half 

 as many more. At this point I congratulate 

 myself on having stuck to the edge, for, doubtless 

 disturbed by the firing in some adjacent water, 

 several numerous flocks of whistlers appear, one 



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