WILD-SHOOTING IN WINTER. 83 



to my gun ; its mate, which we had not pre- 

 viously seen, rises, and is brought down with 

 my second barrel. Phil next kills a Mal- 

 lard flying high over, and then for a while 

 nothing is doing. The birds are left where 

 they fall, and retrieved after the shooting. 

 The black ducks eventually prove to be Scaups. 

 The fishermen hereabout call them "dowkers" 

 and " bluebills," and take great quantities in 

 their nets. 



Even in the dusk we can make out the white 

 plumage and chestnut saddles of a flock of 

 Shelldrakes as they " plump " right down 

 into the water. They soon settle to feed, and 

 offer a splendid chance. They are evidently 

 unaware of our presence, and, firing four 

 barrels, only one escapes. Two Teal and a 

 grey duck are added, and although the birds 

 still continue to come in from the sea, our 

 bags are full ; cold and benumbed, we creep 

 from out the rocks and plod home over the 

 heavy sand. Ducks and shore-haunting crea- 

 tures get up everywhere before us, and a deer 

 has come down from the park to lick the saline 

 stones. The night is starlit, and strings of 

 ducks pass over the sky-line. Once we hear 



