CURLEW IN LITTLE RHODA. 



J. I). DUNN, JR. 



About 3.45 a. m., August 9th, 1896, it 

 was raining great guns. Buhker and I 

 had planned and made all preparations the 

 day before for a trip to the marsh, and no 

 amount of rain could stop us. We did not 

 expect to get many birds, so, with the ex- 

 ception of a few charges of 2's, we carried 

 nothing but light shot. Soon after we left 

 the house, however, the rain ceased, and 

 by the time we reached the marsh the 

 weather looked as if it would clear. 



A large sand iiat lay to the Westward 

 of the marsh. We landed on that, pulling 

 our boat well up, out of the reach of the 

 tide. While doing this I noticed several 

 large birds feeding quietly on the sand, 

 some 200 yards 3 way. Having secured the 

 boat, we held a council of war. As the 

 birds did not seem frightened, we decided 

 to try to crawl up within gun range. We 

 separated, both advancing cautiously, one 

 on either side. We had gone but a short 

 distance when the flock arose and started 

 toward us, but instead of going over us 

 they \eered and came past me, about 50 

 yards away. My gun was a 24-inch barrel. 

 Although small, it would show astonish- 

 ing results at long range, and when the 

 birds got ?bout opposite I gave them a 

 charge of 8's. At first I believed I had 

 made a clean miss, but Bunker, although 

 farther away from the birds than I, de- 

 clared he saw one drop out of the bunch 

 shortly after I fired. In a few minutes 

 we discovered him lying in the water, 

 about 100 yards off shore. As the water 

 was deep, I was compelled to swim for 

 my game; but on picking him up I was 

 surprised and delighted to find I had 

 knocked over a curlew. I speedily came 

 to the conclusion that the whole bunch 

 must have been curlew, instead of plover, 

 which we first supposed them to be. 



While I was putting on my clothes I 

 noticed several bunches of large birds go- 

 ing up the pond, and we made haste to get 

 behind a blind, expecting every second to 

 see a bunch coming over the marsh. We 

 had hardly got settled before a large flock 

 came our way. They got within 50 yards 

 before they turned, and that was near 

 enough for us to get one apiece. After a 



number of bunches had come up at long 

 range and gone off again, more or less 

 unharmed, we began to lament having left 

 our heavy shot at home. Now and then, 

 however, a bunch would come near 

 enough for us to get in 4 or 6 barrels with 

 good results, although we never succeeded 

 in getting more than one to a barrel. My 

 companion had a Winchester repeating 

 shot gun. 



The flight slackened between 6 and 7 

 o'clock, so we sat on the marsh grass, 

 talking over our wonderful good luck. I 

 happened to cast my eyes Eastward, for 

 the curlew had been coming from the 

 East, going West, when I saw one of the 

 grandest sights I ever expect to see while 

 shooting shore birds. Over the beach bank 

 more than 54 of a mile away I saw at least 

 150 dark objects strung out in one long, 

 unbroken line, and steadily advancing to- 

 ward us. They were curlew. As they 

 came near we could see them distinctly, 

 and we began to hug that wet, soggy 

 ground as if it were our dearest friend. 

 When they were within 150 yards of us 

 they started to turn off toward the pond. 

 but a few well executed whistles changed 

 their minds and on they came. Soon they 

 were so near we could hear the whistle of 

 their wings, and a moment later they 

 heard the whistle of 8's. We killed 4 and 

 knocked down 2 others. That may seem 

 a small number out of so many birds, yet 

 each bird required a charge of shot. 



After that large bunch had passed we 

 only got one or 2 more shots, and about 8 

 o'clock we started for home. As we were 

 pushing the boat off we saw a small bunch 

 coming up the marsh, and by calling suc- 

 ceeded in getting them near enough to se- 

 cure one. 



All the fun wasn't in killing the birds. 

 The look of amazement on my brother's 

 face when we got home was worth the price 

 of admission. I met an old settler a few 

 days later, and he said such flights oc- 

 curred regularly years before, bul he had 

 not heard of one in 10 years. Thev were 

 our first curlew, too, although we didn't tell 

 anybody that. 



"You are a jewel," said a iady to a gen- 

 tleman who had given up his seat to her. 



"Oh, no." he replied. "I am a jeweler: 

 I have just set the jewel."— Chicago News. 

 417 



