A DECEMBER DUCK SHOOT. 



A. C. GOOIKHII.D. 



Dick, waiting in front with the team, 

 found waiting tiresome. At times he 

 viewed the prospects which our trip offered 

 us ; but mostly he watched the Eastbound 

 shadow of the old dial in the garden. The 

 afternoon was wearing along and he was 

 becoming anxious; for the 30-mile drive to 

 our destination would already, if every- 

 thing went well, carry us some hours into 

 the night. 



While he was thus occupied I appeared 

 from around the house, bundled dog, guns 

 and myself into the wagon, and we at 

 once took the road. Up and down, past 

 fertile nooks and grassy hillsides we drove, 

 chatting the while, until the short two- 

 lijht gave place to the splendor of a full 

 moon. Southward swept the white line 

 of the coast road 20 miles, and down it we 

 went. 



Soon the horses were plunging across 

 the Arroyo Grande ; luckily there was not 

 much water. Safe across, we continued 

 to turn mile after mile. The tide kept 

 steadily rising and drove us higher and 

 higher on the soft sand. We pushed on as 

 best we could until we came to the outlet of 

 Oso Flaco lake. Without crossing we fol- 

 lowed it over the sandhills to the lake it- 

 self. Another 8 miles, this time over a 

 good road, took us to our destination, 

 an ideal place, under a clump of beautiful 

 trees where water and fuel were in plenty. 

 It was not yet 10 o'clock. 



In a wonderfully short time camp was 

 1 lade, blankets spread over our collapsed 

 tents, and the horses attended to. 



After breakfast next morning some 

 little time was occupied in putting things 

 shipshape. Then with guns in hand we 

 sought the ducking grounds ; Dick go- 

 ing upstream, I downstream. The day 

 came slowly out of the East, and presently 

 the dull report of a gun came over the 

 marsh. The work of the day had beeun ; 

 the ducks were flying. I wondered what 

 Dick had shot, or shot at ; but then it was 

 riy turn and soon Jack was retrieving a 

 plump spoonbill. Some people never use 

 this bird, but when it has attained good 

 condition on a freshwater marsh, the 

 spoonbill, or shoveler, will rank with the 

 best widgeon. Then almost directly a 

 flock of pintails came flying over me. So 

 noiseless was their flight, however, that 

 by the time they had attracted my atten- 

 tion and I had brought my gun to bear 

 they were well nigh out of range of the 

 f jllowing No. 6's. 



The flight did not last long and I made 



slow progress in increasing my bag. Only 

 one solitary widgeon did I shoot, after 

 walking an hour, downstream. I con- 

 tinued to walk leisurely down when 

 swish went a flock of teal some 70 yards 

 from me at full speed. I gave them a 

 salute and to my astonishment 2 responded 

 to the call of my left barrel. Before 1 

 had extracted my shells some widgeons 

 came living by, and in the confusion a 

 bulged shell stuck. Eight widgeons went 

 by within easy shot before I could reload. 

 While i was engaged with that vile 

 shell I heard the call of quails on the hill 

 opposite. There being no ducks in sight 



1 was soon scrambling up the hillside. 

 Jack worked all through the cover but 

 without finding a bird and presently I was 

 retracing my steps down the hill, a sadder 

 but a wiser man. At the foot of the hill 

 was a large jungle of rushes through 

 which ran winding passages. In these 

 Jack separated from me, but on finding my 

 way out I observed him by the water's 

 edge pointing, as staunchly as could be, 

 some butterballs in the water. I flushed 

 the ducks, cut down 2 with mv right barrel, 

 and another with my left. For the first 



2 Jack made but one trip ; for though a 

 pointer the veteran dog does not hesitate 

 to retrieve from water. 



Shortly after, I walked downstream. 

 Away, as far as I could see, several flocks 

 of ducks circled round and round. After 

 a while one flock came nearer. I ad- 

 vanced with excessive caution, but unfor- 

 tunately did not mark them down as 

 well as I might have done, and they flew 

 their way unharmed. Presently I arrived 

 at a bend of the slough, and, having placed 

 my canvas decoys on the mud, I nestled 

 behind a fence which afforded an excellent 

 view of either side. At last I perceived 

 a flock of ducks, and their flight was to- 

 ward me. Presently 2 birds came down, 

 one a gadwall, the other a female mallard. 

 I shot the gadwall, which flew on, evi- 

 dently hard hit. When he had flown 100 

 yards a pigeon hawk appeared, flying from 

 right angles at full speed, struck my bird, 

 and sent him stone dead to the ground. 



By that time it was getting near noon, 

 and I proceeded to shoot my way back to 

 camp along the water course. After a while 

 from behind some tules there fluttered up a 

 teal which, crossing me, presented an easy 

 shot, and I brought him to grass. Shortly 

 after, I got up some others, but with less 

 favorable results, only one finding his way 

 into the bag. On reaching camp I found 



437 



