marsh. All of this time we four have been sifting quietly 
enjoying the ever-changing scenery, laughing al the dry wit 
of ‘Mr. President” or listening to “the latest’ from F., the 
time passing so quickly that we all jump when the brakeman, 
thrusting his head in the door, yells ‘“Leal Station,” and as 
we scramble fot our bags the train slows up and stops at our 
destination, 
We are cordially greeted by Charley and Jake, two of the 
crew, as we step on the platform, and the first word gener- 
ally is, ‘‘Well, how are the birds?” and we then hear the 
Jatest news from the ponds. A five minutes’ walk along the 
irack brings us to the yacht and the arks where, descending 
into the cabin, we find a steaming hot dinner of ‘18 min- 
utes canvas-back” and salad; dishes fit for aking. Here 
discarding our city attire, we put on our comfortable flan- 
nels, and sit down to our sumptuous repast. The record 
book is pulled out, the latest scores criticised, and the pros- 
pect for the morning’s shoot discussed. Dinner over, the 
dogs, which have been standing all this time with their 
noses in the cabin door, nearly wagging their tails off at the 
| delight of seeing their masters and the prospect of the morn- 
ing’s hunt, are fed and caressed, Cartridge cases and traps 
_ are then looked oyer, and everything gol in readiness for 
_ the early morning’s start. A rubber of whist or a game of 
_ draw is hardly over before the clock reminds us that, we had 
_ better turn in if we want to shoot with a quick eye and a 
steady hand in the morning, . 
li seems as if I had only been asleep five minutes, when 
| whir-rz goes the alarm clock, and out we turn to find a 
steaming hot breakfast already on the table, and the cabin 
_ as warm as toast. The hands of the clock mark five, and 
_ we must be off by half-past, so tumbling into our warmest 
clothes, as the weather at this season of the year is none of 
the mildest, we dispatch our breakfast of crushed Indian 
and cream, “‘Bunker’s club sausages and buckwheats,” and 
are soon ready for the boats. Going outside we find them 
loaded and ready, with Jake and the dogs waiting patiently 
our departure. In afew minutes we are all aboard and the 
oars are going mertily, : 
The ponds on which we are to shoot vary in size from 
small “mallard holes” not one hundred feet across to sheets 
of water covering three or four acres, These are permanent 
ponds, the depth of water being about tbree feet, and that 
of the mud immeasurable. Each pond is connected with 
the slough, which runs nearest it by a small artificial ditch, 
which does away with the necessity of making carries, and 
sometimes ponds are ditched into each other, making a string 
a mile or more in length. In these ponds grow the ccle- 
brated yallisneria, miscalled wild celery, which makes the 
“can’-such a “royal blued.” F, and I, whoare goingdown 
to the Haywards, spin along ahead of the others, who are 
to shoot nearer inthe string. By the time we reach the 
landing, the eastern sky has begun to assume a reddish tinge, 
which gradually increases as the day approaches, telling us 
to ey if we wish to be in our blinds in time for the first 
flight. 
he rule is to never fire a gun until it is light enough to 
eclipse the flash, as.it is that which frightens the birds more 
than the report. Our traps are soon transferred at the ditch 
from the skiffs to the pond boats, each man occupying one 
to himself, with his dog, gun, etc., and paddling silently 
down the ditch and out upon the pond, we startle the flocks 
of feeding ducks, which whirr in dark streaks oyer our 
heads, and the geese flying more slowly, but filling the air 
with their ceaseless honk! honk! F. and I are to shoot the 
two blinds at each end of Hayward’s, which will leave us 
about 200 yards «part. We paddle quietly to our blinds, 
and as Jake puts out our decoys, we arrange everything 
ready for the morning's flight. 
There is 2 moderate southeast breeze blowing, just enough 
to ripple the water and make the decoys bob around in a 
niost life-like manner, I have just seated myself on my 
cartridge fub and am talking to Rob, my spaniel, when 
“Mark! South! Cans!” comes booming over the water from 
F., and peering over my blind I spy a flock of ‘royal 
bloods” (you can tell them by their size and speed) heading 
directly for me. Down I go in the bottom of the blind, 
and remain perfectly motionless as the birds coming up wind 
circle oyer my decoys once, and in completing the circle 
they pass with a rush so close over my blind that I could 
strike them with an oar; but I remain breathlessly motion- 
less, then as they swing olf to the left I give them a coaxing 
call, which brings them back immediately, and, after circling 
once more, they alight among the decoys. I peep through 
my blind and select the thickest of the bunch and, rising, 
give them one barrel on the sct and, as the survivors rise, 
startled and bewildered, I pour in the other barrel, and there 
lie five fine ‘‘cans’—four cocks and a hen. As the flock 
passes F., at the other end of the pond, he rises suddenly 
and makes one of the prettiest right-and-lefts I have ever 
seen. As Rob zoes for two of my birds which are wounded, 
IT reload my treechloader and look out for another advent. 
The dead birds are allowed to remain on the ponds till after 
the shooting is oyer and are then recovered, so a doz is not 
absolutely necessary, but I consider one a great help and 
pleasure, as you never lose a wounded bird. 
The canvas-back has two calls, one as he is flying or rising 
from the water, and the other while feeding. The first may 
best be imitated by the words purr-r-r, purr-r-r, with a 
peculiar roll to the r, which is repeated several times and 
sounds about as loud as the quack of a drake mallard. The 
other call sounds yery much like the grunting of a hog and 
is only given out when the bird is feeding. I was just ad- 
miring the symmetrical beauty of the old cock which Rob 
had just placed in my hand, when bang, bang! goes F.’s 
_ hammerless and the flock of teal which he has fired into 
come running toward me just skimming the surface of the 
poud, They are well bunched for a raking shot, and as they 
get abreast of me Llet go both barrels in quick succession 
into them,-and looking up I expect to see the water covered 
with dead and wounded, and there all alone flaps one poor 
_ little teal with a broken wing. My miss is easily accounted 
for when I come to think of the speed at which they were 
going with a southeast breeze af their tails, and the extra. 
allowance caused by F.’s shot. I should have leld fifteen 
. feet ahead of them instead of five. Just as Rub springs into 
the water after that duck, 1 see, waving lis hands wildly 
| ducks on top. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
as pointing to the east he yells, ‘“Swans, swans!” and sure 
enough there came a flock of those magnificent trumpeters, 
They are very wary birds, and it is just my luck to have 
the dog on the pond as they are approaching, but there is no 
calling him back when once atter a wounded bird, but, 
nevertheless, I cronch in my blind and urge him as much as 
possible. I watch first the swans and then the dog. 
As the former approach they spy F.’s decoys and swing 
off toward him; but, no, they change their course and are 
coming directly to me, when suddenly spying the dog, which 
has caught his duck and is half way in shore, they turn 
abruptly to the left, and as they pass about sixty yards from 
F,, he springs up and gives them right and left. ‘The shot 
has no apparent effect, as they go steadily along as if nothing 
had happened, when suddenly the leader Commences to 
wayer in his flight, and, turning on his back in the air, he 
comes down with such a crash that we know that it is a shot 
in the brain, Wossing our hats in the air we both give a 
simultaneous cheer, which immediately arouses Jake, who 
has been asleep in his boat hidden in some tall rushes, and 
he starts to retrieve the swan, and soon returns with a mag- 
nificent specimen of the ‘‘king of waterfowl.” There is a 
curious incident connected with the movement or non-move- 
ment of the swan while on the wing, and for a long time I 
have been unable to account for it, and that is, as they fly 
along, in passing over a blind, the sportsman may spring up 
and pour both barrels or a dozen barrels at them, and unless 
you wound or kill them the discharge has uo effect either in 
frightening them or making them change their course; they 
do not even try to rise out of the way of the shot, as is the 
case of every other waterfowl, but fly along in the same 
order and with the same regularity, just as if you had never 
fired your gun. While looking the matter up I came across 
the following, which probably explains the reason: The 
swan’s wings, though yery large in themselves, are inade- 
quate in size to do more than just sustain the immense weight 
of the bird in flight; so that he cannot indulge in any move- 
ments outside the usual mode of flying. 
By this time the sun is just rising behind a bank of clouds, 
and the birds, both ducks and geese, are leading from all 
directions, back and forth from the bay to the ponds, and 
vice versa, and a continual fusilade is kept up, which grows 
more and more exciting as the flight increases. By 9 o’clock 
the morning's flight is practically over, but nevertheless, the 
birds keep moving more or Jess all day, and at about eleven, 
F. calls for lunch; so shoving from our blinds we paddle to 
a point which juts out about half way between the two 
blinds, and there we join forces, and throwing ourselyes on 
the luxuriant grass, we proceed to demolish our lunch of 
cold duck, bread and butter and claret. In the meantime 
Jake paddles around the pond and collects the spoils of the 
morning’s shoot. Our noonday siesta, being ended by a 
snooze Or a pipe, the. programme for the afternoon’s shoot 
is discussed. Our debate is whether to stick to the blinds, 
skull the sloughs, go for snipe or goose shooting. We both 
agree on leaying the blinds to givethe ducks a chance, so to 
speak, and F. decides to skull, while 1 am to take my chances 
with the snipe, and then give the geese a rattle on the way 
home. 
So leaving Jake to pick up the decoys and follow me in 
the skiff down the slough, I fill my pockets full of shells 
from my cartridge bag and start out over the snipe patch. 
The breeze from the south makes the birds lie well, and they 
all flush within thirty yards and dart away as they utter 
their sharp scaipe! scaipe!! Now is the time the sportsman 
glories in the possession of a good retriever, as I would have 
Jost a large number of my birds on account of the grass 
which is knee deep, had it not been for Rob, my spaniel. He 
is a little hard-mouthed on account of beiug used entirely in 
retrieving heavier game, but neyerthcless works splendidly, 
Iam not much of a shot on snipe, and therefore my count 
would not well compare with my empty shells, but still I 
have a goodly string as I reach the turn of the slough and 
find Jake with the boat, waiting as patiently and contented 
as ever, and smoking the ‘‘everlasting weed.” I reniember 
well the day that Jake, by some oversight, left his pipe and 
tobacco behind him at the yacht, and of all the woe-begone 
darkies, he was the worst; he could not keep still in the 
boat, and it being a rainy day, he was perfectly miserable. 
A little below us on the slough the geese were feeding, 
but I did not feel like stalking them, as I had shot half a 
dozen from the blind in the morning and was very tired. 
The geese we have here are of five different varieties, there 
are four gray species and one white. The gray is the Can- 
ada goose or “‘honker” (Bernicla canadensis), the speckle- 
breasted goose (Anser gambelt) also the common brant, and 
very rarely the black brant. But in numbers these all com- 
bined do not compare by one hundred or one-thousandth 
part with the white gecse, or snow goose, as it is called in 
the East (Anser hyperboreus). They arrive here every year, 
from the 15th to 18th of October and stay until March, 
They come by thousands and ten thousands. I have seen 
acres and acres of the tule just white with them, and they 
keep up a continual cackle, day and night, it is the first 
thing you hear as you step off the train and the last thing as 
you leave. When the large flocks rise it sounds like thunder or 
4 train going over a trestle-work. This sounds very much 
like exaggeration to one who has not seen them, and 
the sight is sometimes worth traveling to see. On some 
mornings, just after sunrise, when the geese are all moving, 
you can see nothing around the whole horizon but clouds 
and clouds of geese. Of course all the club men get very 
blasé about shooting them, and after shooting half a dozen 
in a morning, you generally have had enough. They are 
very good, however, to fill up your sack with and put the 
One afternoon for amusement, I bagged 
thirty in about two hours, and could have easily shot thirty 
more, but they loaded my boat, and were all that I could 
really use, as of course they are good eating as the old song 
says: 
f “Ti is my own opinion, 
When cooked with sage and ‘inion,” 
No bird which flies, 
‘Is half so ‘nize,’ 
As Foose, with sage and ‘inion.’ *’ 
On coming round a bend in the slough, we meet F., who 
has been sculling, and has quite a number of fine birds in 
the bottom of bis boat as the result of his afternoon’s shoot. 
This sculling requires a peculiarly-built boat, and the hunt- 
ers on this marsh, who always build their own hoats, have, 
With years of experience, succeeded in constructing a perfect 
model] adapted in eyery way for the work for which it is in- 
tended, They are so well built that they can be propelled 
very swiftly with the long, flexible sculling oar, and are so 
perfectly noiseless that an adept can approach yery close to 
birds sitting in the rushes at the edge of the sloughs, 
I think that it is one of the prettiest ways to shoot, as it 
requires some skitl both to propel your boat and handle your 
gun successfully, and you have also to be on the alert all the 
time, a8 you never know the momenta bird is going to 
spring from the rushes not twenty yards away. 
Our party soon arrived at the station, and found the others 
there ahead of us. After unloading the boats, we assort 
and count our game, which is duly entered in the record 
book with the incidents of the day. Our bag of to-day 
shows a majority of sprig, teal and widgeon, with a sprink- 
ling of mallard, “‘cans” and gadwell. 
Those of us that have fo return by the eyening train pro- 
ceed to change our comfortable corduroys for our abom- 
inable (at least, they seem so to us at present) city clothes 
and sit down to discuss one of ihe cook Jim’s pet dishes— 
a goose stew with dumplings. 
The great beauty of the shooting on these marshes is the 
length of time which it lasts; it commences in the middle of 
September and lasts until the middle or end of February, 
and we have good shooting the whole of the time, This 
marsh is not just a stopping place, as the birds migrate, but 
arendezyous where they come to spend the whole winter, 
and being well protected, there is no reason why the sport 
should not be good for years to come. In some places the 
widgeons collect as the white geese do, and when you hear 
ten thousand or more widgeons all whistling at once, it 
makes a sound unlike anything else I have ever heard, and 
very startling to a person unacquainted with the noise. It 
ig very pretty shooting to call widgeon down to decoys by 
answering and imitating their whistle, which can easily be 
done by the means of asmall tin whistle, and which will 
also bring them down when flying at an immense height. I 
have seen some flying so high that on ordinary occasions you 
would suppose them to be migrating. But on answering 
their whistle down they will come, at a tremendous rate of 
speed, similar to the dive of the hawk; and checking them- 
selves just before reaching the water they alight right among 
the decoys. After dinner we lounge around the arks until 
train time, either shooting white geese from the railroad 
track or amusing ourselves with the dogs, until the whistle 
of the train far up the track reminds us that there is not 
much time to lose, and we are soon at the station with bags 
and game, and asthe train stops we step aboard and bid 
good-bye to the station for a week or two. 6. 
SAN FRANCISCO, Cal. 
DEER IN NORTH CAROLINA. 
66 ALT, let’s try the deer in the morning. 
W your" 
“All right; count me in.” 
“Thet’s get off early, and take Ike or Smith, or both, and 
see what we can do. I’ve spoken to some of the boys and 
they do not seem inclined to go, so let’s get off anyway, and 
if we kill a big buck they will feel badly. If we fail they 
can’t get the laugh on us, as we'll tell them we merely went 
to see if there was any sign.” 
So next morning early found us at the cabins of the afore: 
said Ike and Smith, two stalwart Fifteenth Amendments, 
always ready fora hunt—deer, fox or coon, But if seems 
that on this particular morniug Ike is troubled about many 
things. Having, by tooting horn and howling hound, at 
last aroused him, he began a series of mournful excuses. 
‘Boss, you knows Id like ter go huntin’ wid ye dis maunin’, 
but I'll hush my jaw ef I kin see any way er gittin’ off. I'm 
got er job er work ter do ter-day dat [ can’t put off ’dout 
ketchin’ Hail Columbus. An’ mor’n dat, I’m boun’ ter be 
dar soon, too, Smith ‘ll go, an’ he kin manage dese dogs 
most’s good as I kin.” 
After a little more parleying, we chose three of the most 
reliable deer dogs and set out for the deer grounds, some 
seven miles distant. Arriving there, we make our horses 
fast and make the best of our way to the stands previously 
decided upon. In the meantime Smith has gone in with the 
hounds. Not many minutes elapse ere we hear the bugle- 
like notes of Monroe, our strike dog. The trail seems cold, 
so we take a seat at the foot of a gum tree and break a pine 
twig to fight ‘‘skeeters.” Soon we hear the other dogs trail- 
ing also, and we know that the scent is warming up. But 
the dogs are working away from us, and soon it is difficult 
to tell whether the buzzing one hears comes from dogs or is 
caused hy the millions of mosquitoes. After a few moments, 
however, we know that the dogs have jumped the game and 
are going directly away from us and up into the great Dis- 
mal Swamp. Very soon all sound of them is lost, but we 
have faith in the dogs and know that sooner or later, unless 
he takes water, the deer will come ashore and strike for 
high land, but woe unto him if he should stay in the swamp 
unlil he begins to fag, for should he do so he will be caught 
by his swift-footed pursuers in a very short time after strik- 
ing high land, even should we fail to get shots. 
After waiting and listening for three hours or more, we 
seem to hear the faintest murmur of dogs away off to the 
right, too faint to be sure of it, yet we think they must be 
coming. A little later we are sure of it. They are coming— 
ouly two dogs in full ery—the third dog has gone in another 
direction, so there are two deer up. Straining every nerve, 
Llisten. He is passing to my right about a mile, also below 
the stand where Walt. is waiting. Soon he turns and bears 
for the millpond some two miles away, and all seems over. 
But hark! they are coming again, and the deer is making 
back for the swamp. Again he passes to the right of Walt., 
and allis quiet. Soon they are coming again, this time in 
my direction, and only one dogin hearing. Nearer and 
nearer come the notes of my favorite Monroe, and again he 
swerves and bears to my left, and is gone like the honk of a 
gang of wild geese, and soon again all is still, We wait 
until we are tired, and gettmg cur horses we sadly start 
home. We feel badly, for having examined the track, we 
know itisa very large buck that has been chased, and we 
dislike to lose him. 
We have not gone more than a mile, when on tooting our 
horn, Monroe comes running to us. Weconclude that the 
game is up and start on. Passing a cabin, the woman of the 
house comes to the door, and calling us tells that the deer 
ran through her yard, with ‘‘that same dog” (referring to 
Monroe) close on him; that the “dog ran off through the 
woods and soon hushed up.” We immediately got down, 
tied our borses, and calling the dog, put him on the scent 
where the deer had crossed. The dog immediately gaye 
tongue, and although he had been once over the tracks, took 
the trail through the dense wood and undergrowth for about 
a quarter of a mile, when he stopped and began whining, 
and on going up we were surprised to find him sniffing as 
fine a buck as it has ever been my good fortune to behold, 
He had actually run the deer down and killed him, and no 
doubt lain by him until bearing the horn, retraced his steps 
tous. We were not long in getting the buck out of the 
woods, and making the best of our way home, where the 
What say 
