224 DUCK SHOOTING. 



we should have doubted which way this bird was 

 flying. Once he turned, from a change of fancy or 

 fearing danger, but perceiving some other cause of 

 alarm he again straightened his course towards us. 



We were bent down, peering eagerly through the 

 high reeds, as at last he came by, within a long gun- 

 shot, on the side of my companion. The latter, i-is- 

 ing at the exact moment, wheeled round, brought 

 up his gun, and fired in an instant. It was just with- 

 in range, but the bird turned over, killed dead, and 

 fell with a great splash into the water, sending the 

 spray six feet into the air. Seizing the pole, I pushed 

 out to him, and found that he was a blue-bill, one 

 of the best birds of the Western waters, and at this 

 time in perfection. 



We again concealed ourselves ; but noticing that 

 the birds shunned the spot, I determined to leave it, 

 and pushed out alone to one of the principal land- 

 marks, where the landscape presents so great a uni- 

 formity — a large umbrella-like elm upon the distant 

 shore. I did not follow the regular channel; and 

 at first the way was a difficult one, being directly 

 through a fringe of wild rice, where the water was 

 shallow and the stalks reached high above my head, 

 but beyond, an open patch of water-lilies stretched 

 for half a mile. 



The broad, smooth leaves of this remarkable 

 plant, far larger than those of the pond-lilies of the 

 Eastern States, lay in numbers upon, or half buried 

 in, the water ; while standing up a few feet above 

 its surface with their straight stems, and gracefully 



