DUCKS AND QUAILS IN FLORIDA. 



II. B. ALLEN. 



Alter a lapse of 6 months without any 

 .shooting, Jake and I became restless, and 

 longed lor another Florida outing. As we 

 take our vacation together, in the winter, 

 and as that time was drawing near, we got 

 together one evening. After talking the 

 matter over, we decided to make a second 

 trip to the land of the alligator and the 

 cracker. 



Arrangements were begun at once. Gun- 

 ning duds were gotten down and packed; 

 guns and ammunition looked after; and, 

 fully as important, our 2 pointers, Pete and 

 Chum, were made comfortable in their 

 respective portable kennels. 



The trip to Jacksonville was made by 

 steamer. A day later and we were at the 



home of A , a friend of ours. His house 



was on a shell mound, not many miles from 

 the head of Indian river, where he had lived 

 for a number of years, so knew the country. 



Our first day's sport was a go at the 

 ducks, in a saw-grass pond a mile from the 

 house. The water was reached just as the 

 sun showed himself above the horizon. To 

 build a blind and to set out the decoys, oc- 

 cupied only a few minutes. Taking our 

 places, we were ready for the ducks. 



Soon the warning " mark," from A 



caused me to crouch low and to look sky- 

 ward. A string of black-ducks were cir- 

 cling toward the decoys. A second later 

 the 3 gunners straightened up and opened 

 the engagement with a volley that brought 



4 birds tumbling into, the water. A 



dropped 2 of them with his Winchester 

 " corn-sheller," while Jake and I killed one 

 each. Our host's spaniel retrieved the 

 birds nicely. So the fun went on until 

 noon, wdien we pulled out for home. 



Now comes the part of the story I have 

 been trying to get around to. All along I 

 bad been bragging to our friend about the 

 merits of my dog — what a wonderful nose 

 he had and what a hard worker he was. To 

 show off these qualities, I determined the 

 first day we should have with the quails, to 

 leave the other dog at home, and to have 

 Chum do all the hunting. 



The day after our little hunt, my friends 

 tried the ducks again, but I took Chum and 

 started for the pine woods, after quails. I 

 wanted to get the dog into trim before 

 showing him off. Birds were plentiful, 

 covey after covey was found. Chum did 

 pretty work from the outset, and I soon had 

 a good bag. 



On getting back to the house I found the 

 other hunters ahead of me. They said the 

 ducks had come fast and furious, and their 

 story was verified with a pile of mallards, 

 teal and baldpates. 



After supper we all drew up to the open 

 lire, for the night was cool, and had a pipe 

 all around, intermingling a few pipe stories. 

 it was decided to try the quails in the 

 morning. Then, after a night-cap of orange- 

 wine, we went to bed. 



With the sun. we were up and ready for 

 the day's sport. I made straight for the 

 pines, the scene of yesterday^ hunt, giving 

 Chum the word to get to work, as soon as 

 we left the house. Before reaching the 

 woods, he made a stiff point, 100 yards 

 ahead. We walked up to him and flushed a 

 bunch of birds, which sailed away, minus 

 3 of their number. 



The covey was marked down : Chum 

 found 5 of the birds in rapid succession, all 

 singles. No more getting up, we went on 

 toward the woods. 



At the edge of the pines we hunters got 

 a scent, and not an old one either, nor were 

 we deceived as to the quality of the game. 

 Not wishing to force our company on the 

 animal, I called Chum to heel. Then we 

 hurried on toward the woods again. It was 

 ordered differently, however, for we had 

 gone only a rod or 2 when we saw the 

 skunk in a sandy spot a few yards ahead, 

 calmly awaiting us. 



We had evidently surprised him, but he 

 had already cleared decks and was ready 

 for action. I seized Chum by the collar, 

 handing him over to Jake, while I should 

 take a shot at the skunk. As I raised my 

 gun, the animal started to run. This was 

 too much for the dog. He broke away 

 from Jake and ran in, to mix with the 

 animal. He did mix it, and so did the 

 skunk, which soon escaped into a hollow 

 log. 



Well, we poked around and finally killed 

 the beast. In the meantime. Chum had been 

 forgotten. When we looked for him. he 

 could not be found. Appreciating his con- 

 dition, we concluded he had gone to the 

 house. This knocked out my scheme, as I 

 thought, for showing him off; but luck this 

 time was kind. 



Rounding a little swamp, on our way to 

 the house, imagine our surprise to see 

 Chum on one of the prettiest points man 

 ever saw! How long he had held it. is more 

 than I can tell. Stepping up to him. I 

 flushed a single woodcock, which I missed. 



It was several days before I could get 

 near enough my dog to pet him for his 

 good work under such difficulties. I was 

 proud of him, for he had shown himself to 

 much better advantage than even I had 



hoped for. A has not to this day gotten 



over talking about that last point. 



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