THE AMERICAN EIDER 373 
No kindness such as Iceland affords is of- 
fered to the flocks which turn their course south- 
ward along the American coast, for as soon as 
they reach the lines of civilization they run 
a continual gauntlet of shot from fishermen and 
gunners, and enjoy peace and quietness only 
during the severest weather when the sea is so 
rough or the day is so cold as to make a shoot- 
ing trip ‘‘extra hazardous.’’ Fortunately no 
weather is too cold or sea too fierce for this 
bird’s comfort; such conditions mean safety, 
and he can be happy at a temperature low 
enough to freeze a polar bear. A pleasant day 
with a smooth sea in midwinter means death to 
many a seafowl. 
I know one ledge, a favorite shooting stand, 
to which the gunners from the neighboring 
islands will pull out four or five miles in the 
afternoon to set their decoys, custom admitting 
these to hold the position against later comers, 
then they go home again to make another start 
at one or two o’clock the following morning to 
be on hand at the first light. Some even roll 
up in their blankets around a fire of driftwood 
in the lee of some great cliff in order to be first 
at a point of vantage—this with a chance of the 
