THE PASSING OF THE COOT. 



275 



numbers, but as they feed before dawn they 

 cannot be killed from a blind. 



As it was getting light I looked for a 

 good place to build a blind. Soon it was 

 ready, with my decoys in position, and I 

 didn't have long to wait. A bunch of about 

 8 geese came toward me. I lay flat on my 

 back, with my feet toward the decoys, sg 

 I could rise to a shooting position in an 

 instant. They were right over the decoys, 

 ready to light, when I fired. When the 

 smoke rolled away, I saw 3 geese on the 

 ground. Another, wounded, had left the 

 flock and was trying his best to reach a 

 place of safety. He soon weakened and 

 fell a quarter of a mile away. I marked 

 the spot, gathered my 3 dead and was ready 

 for further orders. 



A large flock next came my way. They 

 seemed to suspect danger and shied out 

 of their course a little. Still they were 

 within reach and as they evidently did not 



intend to stop, I rose and picked out a 

 goose. At the crack of the gun he started 

 for the ground and lit with a thump. 

 Another did the same thing at the report of 

 the second barrel. The string closed up the 

 2 vacancies as though nothing had hap- 

 pened, and went on without changing their 

 course. 



I paced off the distance as I went to get 

 my birds and found it 60 yards. 



Another bunch followed, these, but my 

 shooting frightened them away. I waited 

 about 20 minutes, when, a small flock headed 

 my way. It did not take them long to reach 

 me, and they deserved a better reception 

 than they got. I missed with both barrels 

 through not rising soon enough. However, 

 I had 5 geese by my side, and one in the 

 distance, and was satisfied. I found the 

 wounded bird, tied all together and took 

 them home, along with a ravenous appetite 

 for breakfast. 



THE PASSING OF THE COOT. 



ST. EARNS. 



" Big flight of blue bills and black ducks." 



Thus read a telegram I found on my desk 

 after lunch one day. It meant several 

 things; the opening of the season, the first 

 flight, a day off, a good long breath of 

 fresh air and all sorts of possibilities. 



Arriving at Patcnogue, Capt. Ackerly 

 remarked sententiously: "Well, birds is 

 plenty, but wind's to the North and they 

 hain't no lee. Shan't we try the woodcock, 

 and wait for the wind? " But no, we were 

 loaded for ducks; woodcock or anything 

 else would not do. Besides, we'd a tender- 

 foot with us who'd always killed " 10 

 straight," at the trap, exhibited a gun he'd 

 won at a " State Snoot," always had his 

 name in the sportsmen's papers, and was im- 

 maculate in the get up of his duds and 

 impedimenta generally. Yet I doubt if he 

 had ever seen ducks — outside a market 

 crate or the Waldorf table, where more 

 kinds do duty as canvasbacks than Coues 

 ever dreamed of in his philosophy. 



What a supper we had; fried clams, fried 

 scallops, fried potatoes, " punkin " pie. We 

 finished with tight waistbands, got every- 

 thing aboard the sloop and sailed away for 

 Fire Island light and the sleep of the just. 



" Yes, my dear, I'll get right up," was 

 my reply to Capt. Ackerly's call: — " Col- 

 onel, breakfast is all ready, Sir." From 

 that on, until the dawn in the East re- 

 vealed Tenderfoot and his partner in the 

 battery, surrounded by 125 decoys, the inter- 

 val was short. 



My bed-fellow, in the battery, was short, 

 fat, and deliberate in his movements. When 

 a surge of the box sent a quart or so of 



green water over the leaden guard, his 

 mute appeal for assurances of safety, his 

 verbal " Is it all right? " and his spasmodic 

 and ponderous hitch toward my side, 

 seemed to me a complete revenge for his 

 holding " straights," " threes " and " fulls " 

 the night before. 



"Mark North!" shrunk me 2 sizes, all 

 but my eyes, but Tenderfoot didn't shrink 

 a cent's worth. On the contrary, he ex- 

 panded a full atmosphere and whispered: 

 " Two to one, I'll get 'em both." 



" Go you," said I. 



" Spat ! Spat ! " 



" Lost bird ! " 



" Good Lord ! " was recorded against 

 him, and then he yelled, " Dead out of 

 bounds ! " while 2 coots that flew as one, 

 Southward went their way. 



Then he earnestly discussed, after the 

 manner of us all, the whys and the where- 

 fores that prevented his gathering them in, 

 but the rich, red golden rim of the sun 

 was just on the edge of the horizon and 

 the accepted time had come. 



Eagerly we watched, closely we scanned 

 the water line Eastward, till our eyes 

 ached, till our necks cracked, till hope de- 

 ferred made our hearts sick, and, with vis- 

 ions of inquiring friends who " Just 

 dropped in to hear what luck," we peered 

 closer still; but alas! and alas! no birds. 

 Five, 6, 7, 8 o'clock and still no birds-; and 

 as we got off the train, and until we ar- 

 rived at Fulton Market, no word left Ten- 

 derfoot's lips, except : 



" Yes, please, 6 pair," and " Duck shoot- 

 ing be darned." 



