THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JULY 5, 1877- 



For Forest and Stream and Hod and Gun, 

 BIRCH BARK. 



Yes, yachting is pleasant, when breezes are fair 

 Ami the trim craft bowls gaily along, 

 With a few chosen shipmates, aie cruising to share, 



And reel off a yarn or a song; 

 But when the winds fails us and idly we float, 



Becalmed on our way up the Sound, 



We chafe at such bobbing about in a boat 



And long for a tramp on the ground. 



There is pleasure in rowing when waters are still, 



With a shell boat so taper and slim; 

 But the catching a " crab" may result in a " spill," 



And your muscles are in for a swim. 

 'Or the water is "lumpy" and " wobbles" your " spoons" 



Just when you stretch out for a "spurt," 

 PerJiaps it is jolly to cut up such loons 



While the spray soaks the back of your shirt. 



With t he brighteyed young Delia for half of the oad 



(The afghan tucked carefully In) , 

 Some seekers of pleasure are found on the road, 



In the dust, for a " two-forty spin." 

 Yet from all such beguilements I beg to be free, 



Also "Polo," fox-hnnting and "slch;" 

 They may each in their turn servo to cure the ennui 



That troubles the painfully rich. 



But the sensible plodder whose ducats are few. 



When for brief recreation lie strays. 

 Will strike for the wildwood, whose charms ever new, 



Are free from conventional ways. 

 There the shady nooks nestle and limpid lakcsgleam; 



There the trout leap, and startled deer run; 

 So for jolly good cheer give me forest and stream, 



W ii li a friend, and the rod and the guu. 



T. W. A. 



For Forest and Stream and iioc? and Gun. 



§pon the Jgargk 



A WEEK among the Grundy County, Illinois, chickens, 

 in September, With the thermometer at 00° had not satis- 

 fied me, particularly the wonderful unaminity with which our 

 dead chickens took on the process of decomposition. The 

 last week in October Seymour, just returned from the marshes 

 near Toledo, gave such glowing accounts of the duck shooting 

 there that I straight oil repacked my traps and took the even- 

 ing train for the city where they " never have the ague." 



The nest morning I made my way up to ' ' Captain Ned's," 

 who, as 1 had been informed, ran a yacht to the marshes twice 

 a week, and who had general supervision of matters there dur- 

 ing the season. I found him without difficulty. But it was 

 olectlon day. He had on his store clothes, was just starting 

 down-town to exercise his elective privileges, so we had to 

 lie over until the day following, when we started off . bright 

 and early in the morning, our party including "Captain Ned," 

 a little the worse for wear, but with a conscience balanced 

 up to date; "Young Ned," a twelve-year-old, and 

 a young Frenchman, who said he was a priest, or 

 preparing to be one, going down to see his brother, who 

 was tent-keeper at the marsh. The said tent-keeper was a 

 baker, but he had left his alum and ammonia and 2d quality 

 spring wheat xxx flour to exercise his slaughterous propensities 

 upon ducks. Both brothers could sing right regally. Around 

 the camp kettle stirring up the mud hens, compounding what 

 they called "boullion," they would ring out many a French 

 melody with a liveliness and vigor which pleased me exceed- 

 ingly. The Marseillaise was their favorite and ours. The 

 grand chorous of "Marchon enfans," owing perhaps to my 

 imperfect knowledge of the French, ever brought vividly be- 

 fore my mind's eye a vast regiment of infants with red night- 

 caps, el preterca nihil, marching forward savagely with cries 

 and squalls and cutting of teeth. The wind was contrary; 

 with - many tacks at four o'clock we reached the outlet of 

 Frenchman's Creek chilled through and hungry. A small 

 boat containing the baker came off and took us ashore. Camp 

 consisted of a tent upon the sandy point— near by two crotches 

 with a pole across held the camp kettle. The table, a plank 

 with a four-foot high support at each end; a bench upon each 

 side of like formation completed the arrangements for feeding 

 and comfort and fresh air. The camp kettle contained the 

 "boullion, just arrived at perfection," so the baker informed 

 me, and he brought me a bowl of it, which was very welcome, 



also coffee strong enough to bear up an iron wedge, 

 without milk but with plenty of sugarand sand. " Boullion" 

 was a new experience. I learned its composition : pepper, 

 potatoes, beef, salt, sugar and sand, and last, the main thing, 

 mud hens, 



All boiled together 



With many a feather. 



Black bread q. s. This was our constant bill of fare, It was 

 always good, only the difference between old mud hens and 

 young mud hens. 



The life-giving compound hastily swallowed, anxious to get 

 at the ducks, I inquired where I should go, " Oh, push 

 out into the rice anywhere, but no use to shoot for an hour 

 yet." I fancied I could see upon a stretch of open water the 

 black heads of a mass of ducks. Considering there was noth- 

 ing morally wrong in killing ducks by daylight, I picked out 

 one of the small clinker built boats, secured the ouly pair of 

 oars, happy over this — how fortunate that I went first and 

 pushed out. The oars didn't work first-rate on account of the 

 mud and weeds, a hundred pounds of which I raked up at 

 every stroke. One spot of open water gave me a little head- 

 way, which, checked suddenly, pitched me forward into the bot- 

 tom of the boat upon my knees. The position was prayerful, but 

 the three inches of water was not at all conducive to a proper 

 spirit. No time to bale out; the ducks were ahead, their black 

 heads bobbing about. Within ten rods I dropped the oars 

 and grabbed my firearm for a sitting shot. Then first I com- 

 prehended that they were mud hens, every blessed one of 

 them. I had one of their friends inside of me and did not 

 care for more. Slowly and sadly I rowed and poked my way 

 into the first patch of rice. An hour's waiting — a flock of 

 blue bills came circling along at a mile a minute. One barrel 

 six feet ahead sent me backward into the three inches of 

 water, now increased to four. Didn't feel so wet as it did the 

 first time. One duck dropped dead, another wounded. 

 Pushed out, secured the dead bird, the wounded one dove; 

 the water not deep I could see the ripple of his swimming. 

 When his head came up I pushed carefully within easy range, 



raised an oar and let him have By some surprising deflection 



the blade came not nearer than two feet, splashing me thorough- 

 ly. Three times tried I this, my best stroke ten inches ; be- 

 coming desperate, I shoved the boat up near him and grabbed 

 him, vengef ully wringing his head off, and with much toil re- 

 turned to my rice as evening came on. The mallard flying in 

 from the Lake circled around everywhere except where I was. 

 One at last came almost over me, I dropped him, but he fell in 

 the rice ; one wood duck I cut down as he flew past. As it 

 grew darker the mallard came in more carelessly, with many 

 a teal fairly brushing my face with then- swift moving wings. 

 I banged away a dozen or twenty shots, wishing I had'eyes in 

 the back of my head. Securing two mallard and two teal, as 

 many more dropped, but unless killed dead had better not 

 have been hit at all. Now dark. I rowed and poked and dug 

 my, way to the camp fire. The others were all in. Found 

 that with my seven ducks I was two ahead of the biggest bag. 

 All said that the flight was not good. Thought so myself. 

 The blue hills and teal a little too fast, the mallard too slow, 

 so that with my inexperience I fired too far behind and too 

 far aheadsystematically. Changed my wet clothes in the sand 

 and darkness of the tent. There was a lamp— great comfort 

 to know it — but there was no oil ; went out to the camp fire, 

 swallowed my dose of mud hen and coffee, then back into the 

 tent, bunked in under the buffalo skins spoon fashion, slept 

 cold and half awake all night. At four a. m. wc were routed 

 out, swallowed our hot coffee hastily, and each man to his 

 boat, pushed off into the darkness. 



This time I left the oars and took a hunting pole, a new ex- 

 perience, delightful and refreshing. Jabbing it furiously into 

 the mud until it struck bottom, I shoved ahead vigorously, 

 congratulating myself upon this effective mode of propulsion. 

 Then with much effort, steadily pulling upon the pole, the 

 boat slowly and surely retraced its coarse. The next trial I 

 gained a foot, but not for a long time did I learn to work the 

 the thing with any sort of satisfaction, Then I could not 

 poke upon both sides at once, and the bow would turn at every 

 poke. It was very tiresome indeed continually changing 

 the pole from one side to the other— like riding a velocipede, 

 apparently impossible. Others did it, why notl? So in 

 spite of blisters and wondrous waste of muscle I kept at it, 

 bound for my last night's rice patch. But alas, fetching up 



in the open, fast in the mud, where daylight found me, and 

 where the ducks found me. Not one of them came near 

 enough to see What I was after, whether fishing or diggingfor 

 turtles. Suffice it to say that being here I am not there yet. 

 At seven o'clock I had worked hack to camp, not having had 

 a shot, but lots of practice with the hunting pole, though I 

 could not perceive that I had improved very much in its man- 

 agement. The baker and Ned, the elder, had eight ducks, 

 ¥oung Ned had three large green heads. The priest had not 

 gone out, but had been better employed stewing the boullion 

 and coffee. 



The weather was fine, altogether too much so. Toward 

 noon the wind was from the south. Making interest with 

 the baker, we started out together. He said he would take 

 me up Frenchman's creek to some small ponds where we should 

 have good shooting. He went ahead, we were soon in the 

 creek, which I found was a crooked streak of water through th 

 the rice, averaging tour to six feet wide. 1 could but admire 

 the dexterity with which he handled that infernal hunting 

 pole, working on one side only, pushing and steering at the 

 same time, whereas I worked upon both sides, every time 

 turning the bow into the mud upon the opposite side of the 

 channel. Every littlewhile I would call to him to "holdon." 

 At last overtaking him I requested him to explain "why my 

 boat wouldn't go straight ?" and why his pole didn't stick 

 fast in the mud at every stroke. Said he, "Put down your 

 pole so, with short quick pushes." That, after many trials, I 

 succeeded in doing, but my boat never qviite got rid of the 

 habit of turning up into the mud. We kept on and on: French- 

 man's Creek appeared to be a very long creek indeed, I judged 

 about twenty miles. At last, greatly to my relief, wc came 

 out into a pond sorue. twenty rods long by six or eight wide. 

 Said the baker, ' ' Bun your boat into the grass and get out your 

 decoys, I will go to the lower end ; in an hour there will be 

 lots of ducks." I did so. A blue wing teal come skimming 

 along. .1 dropped him. Two pintails came next, flying rather 

 high. Cave them each a barrel. One came down dead, the 

 oth;r with a wing broken fell in the grass beyond reach. A 

 mallard from below came over the mai-sh straight for me. 

 Just ready to raise my gun when a puff of smoke from the 

 baker, and down pitched the mallard. These two mallard from 

 the same direction appeared to be almost within shot of me, 

 the baker stopped them both, but neither dead. Just then a 

 boat with three men in it pushed slowly by me and down to- 

 ■ard my friend, and located their decoys not many rods from 

 him. A few ducks came along, but the new comers wore 

 black coats, and were so conspicuous that none came near. 

 Three-quarters of an hour went by and the baker came rapid- 

 ly pushing up to me, pouring forth a solid six-inch stream of 

 profanity, exhausting the capabilities of two languages, ana- 

 thematizing the "black-coated blackguards," as he called them. 

 Wc again undertook the navigation of the creek back toward 

 camp. When out of the creek we turned sharp to the right, 

 and coming to some moderately large patches of open water 

 I was directed to put out my decoys and push my boat into a 

 clump of buUrushes, while B. took his stand twenty rods he- 

 low. It was now five o'clock. Not long before a mallard 

 came over the marsh straight for me. As he saw the decoys 

 he lowered a little. I took careful aim and fired. Not a shot 

 touched him, he began to climb and the second barrel dropped 

 hi m dead. A black duck came for the Frenchman, who broke 

 a wing, the second ban-el missed, the duck slanted down 

 hi I r. for my head. I fired at 30 feet, and with a heavy 

 thud he struck in the stern of my boat. As it grew dark the 

 ducks came in plentifully, and we hammered away, dropping 

 them in all directions. This was soon over. The wind was 

 now blowing hard and driving the water out of the marsh, so 

 that we had a hard time getting back to camp, but we did it, 

 and it was nine o'clock. Old Ned and young Ned had gone 

 up to town, the priest was asleep. The fire was out and we 

 were wet and tired, the baker so hoarse he couldn't swear. 

 Quickly we raked up the fire, ripped off the skins of some 

 ducks— couldn't spend time to pick them, and at ten o'clock 

 p. &r. precisely we sat down to dinner— coffee and ducks and 

 duck soup and black bread— and first-class appetites. Our din- 

 ning room was a little cold, for the wind now blew a gale. It 

 blew the tent down before morning, where we let it lie, and 

 froze ice one inch thick. At four o'clock the ducks were 

 quacking all around us, the marsh was crammed full of them. 

 We were dead used up, so we let them quack, and rolling over 

 slept until broad daylight. Aliqcis. 



