344 FEATHERED GAME 
over the flocks while feeding, flying instantly 
at an alarm, and only alighting a long distance 
away. They seem to know at just what dis- 
tance a modern shotgun is effective, so that, 
when the gunner is ‘‘sculling’’ them in winter 
they keep a watchful eye upon that seeming ice- 
cake which the coots and bluebills allow to ap- 
proach so readily, and as the old drake Whistler 
looks over his shoulder at his pursuer he says 
to himself, says he, ‘‘Three hundred yards 
away,—all right!’’ and down he goes for an- 
other mouthful, bobs up, sit up on his tail, gives 
his feathers a shake and takes another critical 
survey of the diminishing distance,—‘‘ Two hun- 
dred yards?—Well it grieves me greatly thus 
to leave you, but I must be going,’’ and off he 
streaks it with his swiftly-moving wings mak- 
ing a loud whistling, of course very cheering to 
the toiler in the float, who sits up and listens as 
it grows fainter and fainter until he marks his 
intended victim down a mile away, where he 
waits for the gunner to follow him to be teased 
some more. Their whistling may be heard a 
long distance—certainly half a mile on a still 
day. The bird is strong-winged and swift of 
flight. Audubon claims that a Whistler can 
