DUCKING ON THE NINNESCAH. 



83 



the lake. En route we quietly ascended a steep 

 bluff and took a survey of the lake, and " great 

 Caesar, look at the ducks," burst from the lips of 

 my friend. It was really a sight to quicken the 

 blood of a sportsman. There, right in front of 

 us, bunched on the water and on a bar near the 

 shore, were at least a 1000 ducks. The bank at 

 that point was high, and we could easily have 

 approached them within 40 yards, and how we 

 could have " mowed them !" What a pic-nic it 

 would have been for a pot hunter; but we did not 

 go for that kind of shooting. 



We were now assured of good sport and, on 

 reaching the pass, got the decovs out and took 

 to the blinds where we had fair shooting till 

 dark ; but the majority of the ducks were sprig 

 tails. Not having any decoys of that kind and 

 the other ducks flying high, we did not do as 

 well as we had anticipated. 



During the evening a light snow commenced 

 falling, and before midnight a howling Kansas 

 blizzard was on in full force. We hustled all 

 the blankets the club owned, and wished for 

 more — filled the stove full of coal and tried to 

 sleep ; but between thinking of the ducks, and 

 being nipped by the extreme cold, we didn't sleep 

 much. We got up before daylight, built a rous- 

 ing fire, had a red hot breakfast, and after that 

 felt equal to any weather. 



We donned our shooting traps and made a bee 

 line for the lake. We could hear the musical 

 "quack" of the ducks, going over us, but it 

 was yet too dark to shoot. We soon reached 

 the lake and, to our great surprise, found it frozen 

 over, solid, from end to end. We were not 

 aware it had been so cold, but learned, later, that 

 the mercury had reached 10 degrees below zero. 

 We took to the blinds, but soon found that we 

 ducks gave us the go by and 

 the river, where there was open 

 teal came along, which fell to 

 then, being stiff with the cold, 

 for the river, where we had 

 sport, and only regretted not 

 retriever, as we lost a number of 

 ducks in the tall and thickly matted grass. Our 

 shooting was mainly on singles and small 

 bunches, getting up out of the bends of the river. 

 In the evening I came to a small pond of open 

 water, fed by a spring, and only a short distance 

 from the club house, where I had the best sport 

 of the day. I shot till the ducks looked like big 

 blotches of ink floating before my eyes. Then 

 I thought it time to quit, and shouldering my 

 gun and ducks I made a short cut for the house, 

 but came to grief in crossing a pond. The ice 

 broke and I went into the water over my hip 

 boots. With the ducks and gun to manage I 

 had a tussle to get out, but finally reached the 

 house. I was tired, wet and cold, but well 

 satisfied with the day's shoot. 



My friend was there, had a good hot supper 

 ready, and I assure you the commissary was 

 considerably depleted by the time we had 

 filled up. 



We lost no time in getting to sleep that night, 

 and left for home on the early train in the morn- 

 ing with 75 ducks and one goose. Mr. Bald- 

 win photographed the string and I send you a 

 copy of the picture herewith. I think you will 

 seldom see a better record of a day's shooting. 



A. W. Bitting. 



were left. The 

 followed along 

 water. A few 

 our guns, and 

 we pulled out 

 a grand day's 

 having a good 



It is my painful duty to announce the death of 

 another of my best friends, Major William H. 

 Schieffelin, author of the series of articles now 

 being published in Recreation, under the title 

 of " Across the Rockies in '61." He died at his 

 home in New York, on the 21st of June, at the 

 age of 59 years. He had been an invalid ever 

 since the close of the war, and for some weeks 



preceding his death had been confined to his 

 room. The immediate cause of his death was 

 gastritis. 



Major Schieffelin was one of the most genial, 

 kind-hearted, sympathetic, and, in every way. 

 lovable men, it has ever been my good fortune 

 to know. All who knew him loved him. 

 To me he was like a brother. He took 

 me into his confidence at our first meeting, and 

 ever after gave me sympathy, valuable ad- 

 vice and kindly assistance. Only three days 

 before his death he wrote me a letter, re- 

 questing me to visit his father, and expressing 

 feelings of tender interest and regard, such as 

 are rare in this matter-of-fact world. 1 shall 

 always feel the loss of so generous and valued a 

 friend as Major Schieffelin. 



Marysvale, Jacksons Hole, Wyo. 

 Have just returned from a two weeks' camp- 

 ing trip on the west side of Snake river. S. I 

 Adams camped with me part of the time. He 

 put out one bear trap, went to it twice, and got 

 a bear each time. So far I have heard of 11 

 bear being caught near here this spring. While 

 at work across the river I could see small 

 bunches of elk almost every day, and by going 

 out of the timber a short distance, on the tlat, 

 could see antelope at anytime. Game wintered 

 well last season and there will be great shooting 

 here this fall, O. I '. BlKR. 



