GOOSE SHOOTING ON THE SACRAMENTO. 



GIBBS HUNTLEY. 



I am thankful I have seen the Sacra- 

 mento overflow and its attending sights, be- 

 cause in a few years such sights will be 

 gone forever unless game is better pro- 

 tected than it is at present. 



Imagine a stretch of country las level as a 

 board, reaching North and South as far 

 as the eye can see. In the East the gently 

 rising foothills of the Sierra Nevadas and 

 beyond them the lowering heights of that 

 range. On the West the rugged, seamy, 

 Coast range snake tracks its way, and the 

 air is so clear that it seems but a short dis- 

 tance to the snow capped summits which 

 are really 50 miles away. That is the 

 Sacramento valley. Paralleling the Coast 

 range is a vast stretch of water, so wide 

 that one can not see across it, and so shal- 

 low that in places a man can wade out of 

 sight of land without wetting the tops of 

 his hip boots. That is the Sacramento 

 overflow, the home of countless water- 

 fowl of every description. 



The geese rest on the overflow during 

 the night and fly to wheat fields to feed 

 in the morning, returning about noon. The 

 ducks float around and play all day, and 

 feed on the wheat at night. Looking out 

 over the overflow you can see ducks in 

 all directions ; some feeding, some lazily 

 floating, some sleeping. But look where 

 you will you see ducks, ducks, ducks every- 

 where. Occasionally a flock of swans go 

 whirling down among them, sending spray 

 6 feet in the air. But for all their tanta- 

 lizing abundance the birds are safe enough. 

 Not until they leave the water can any 

 shooting be done. Then, if you can find a 

 pass, you may perhaps get a few for dinner. 

 There is no cover on the overflow, and for 

 hundreds of yards back from the water 

 there is no vegetation, not a spear of grass 

 longer than your finger. A sink box would 

 be the only thing, but they are prohibited 

 by law land I am glad of it. 



About 3 years ago I left home at 3 o'clock 

 one cloudy morning for a trial at the geese. 

 I had heard they were coming in thickly on 

 the wheat fields about 4 miles back from 

 the overflow. I could scarcely see my 

 horse in the darkness las he trotted cheer- 

 fully along. In about an hour I turned in 

 on a side road and found a convenient 

 stable in which I put my horse. Then, has- 

 tily feeding him, I took my gun and cart- 



ridge bag and skipped across the field 

 toward a broken down fence in the middle 

 of a wheat field, which I intended to use as 

 a blind. Arriving there, I found a clump 

 of weeds close to the fence and between 

 them and the rails I could lie hidden yet 

 look in the direction from which I knew the 

 geese would come. 



There I waited until dawn and watched 

 the Coast range turn different colors every 

 minute until it was broad daylight. Still 

 not ia sign of geese ; everything was as quiet 

 as it possibly could be. A stranger would 

 have been willing to bet his boots there 

 was not a goose within 50 miles. At length 

 I heard a sound which caused me to dive 

 into my blind and look carefully toward 

 the overflow. Presently I could distin- 

 guish dark, threadlike lines in the distance. 

 Yes, there was another flock, too, and they 

 were honkers. Gee! how fast they grew 

 big as they came on ; but they, like the oth- 

 ers, passed by on the other side. 



Then my attention was drawn to a flock 

 of snow geese that were heading directly 

 for my blind, and at the same moment a 

 bunch of gray geese went over from behind 

 me, calling loudly as they flew. I killed 

 one, and by that time the air, in all direc- 

 tions, was full of geese. The noise they 

 made was deafening, and the sight was one 

 not seen often in a lifetime. The myriads 

 of birds dropped on the wheat, noisily jab- 

 bering the while. Occasionally a small 

 bunch of honkers would break from the 

 main flock, sail away and settle by them- 

 selves. One of those small flocks headed 

 for my blind, and my grip tightened on my 

 gun as they began to lower. At first they 

 looked as big as ducks, then like small 

 geese, then as big as pillows. They were 

 about 30 yards away when I rose and 2 

 loads of B B's cut the 2 leaders out of the 

 flock, while the rest climbed straight up. 

 I gathered my birds and started home- 

 ward. As I rode slowly along I could see 

 the black necks and white throats of thou- 

 sands of geese feeding on each side .of the 

 road, as safe as if they were miles from 

 me. 



But all that happened 3 years ago. 



The morning flight of geese today is not 

 half so big and the wheat ranchers rejoice 

 because of it. Yet they take Recreation, 

 too. 



"If you don't believe that speech is some- 

 times quicker than thought," said the Talk- 

 ative Critic, "listen attentively to the next 

 woman who talks to you."'— N. Y. Herald. 

 261 



