Fjlb. 23, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



83 



AFTER MISSISSIPPI DUCKS. — II. 



BUR-R-R-R-R-R— R— R-goes the little Seth Thomas 

 alarm clock. What a vexation that thing is. It 

 arouses one from a sound slumber, grates on the ear 

 harshly and irritates by its prolonged clatter. Long be- 

 fore it stops an ordinary mortal has lost all sense of sleep 

 and i s exasperated to th e verge of profanity . The Fi reman , 

 however, slept on. As a sleeper, he is a young man 

 promising great possibilities. Young hurricanes, earth- 

 quakes, the falling of the stars, the frantic squalls of a 

 policy baby— none of these would disturb him during a 

 night's repose. He was rolled and shaken, and yelled at, 

 and finally yielded a grunt. At last he became conscious, 

 when he complained of not having slept well. 



"Goodness, what do you call sleep?" exclaimed the 

 Pilot. "From 8 P. M. to 5 A. M. you have been at it, while 

 1 have been mashed all night and have not slept a wink. 

 I wish I could sleep like you." 



The Fireman rolls over, draws up the blankets and courts 

 Bilence. He wants more sleep, but another shaking and 

 some tramping on him by the Pilot who is on a search for 

 clothes causes him to get up at last. 



The bed is rolled up in the rubber and pushed back to 

 the stern, the bed plank taken tip and pushed under the 

 roll of bedding and room made for eating. Except ex- 

 cellent coffee a cold meal is partaken of, and by good 

 daylight the Green wing is under way, making good time 

 through Old River. As she proceeds the river broadens, 

 the current diminishes, and better speed is attained. 

 Gaining confidence in the clamp over the bursted steam 

 chest, steam is allowed to a attain a pressure of some- 

 thing over lOOlbs., and the little launch splits the water 

 at a lively rate. 



Two miles ahead the towhead looms up and just east 

 of that is McKee Pocket. Already the water is fairly 

 sprinkled with ducks and Engineer and Fireman are in the 

 bow on either side of the Pilot, while all are interestedly 

 watching the movements of the birds. A loaded gun is 

 at hand, but the game is wild and takes wing out of 

 range. Last winter, over this same water, with Mr. 

 Warner as pilot, with the present Fireman and Engineer, 

 fine sport was had shooting from the launch. The water 

 was black with ducks which kept constantly flying up in 

 great masses out of range ahead. Stragglers, however, 

 would loiter in front and along the west shore until within 

 gunshot, when the three guns would combine on them. 

 Generally it was poor shooting, and many ducks were 

 crippled and had to be chased either with the launch or 

 the canoe. But it was exciting sport, and in an horn- or 

 two about forty ducks were bagged in this way. 

 Just to the left of where the Green wing now makes her 

 • way. on the main shore later in the day on that hunt, 

 two blinds were made and decoys put out. Here a fine 

 evening and morning shoot was had, about 100 mallards 

 falling to bag. 



This time, however, the Greenwing went on without 

 such opportunity for sport. The ducks were wild and not 

 near so plentiful. McKee Pocket was passed. It, too, had 

 afforded many an hours grand sport, but the water was 

 deemed too high for a successful shoot now. 



Two miles to the mouth of Yazoo River, and two up the 

 Yazoo, brings us to the mouth of Steel's Bayou. Up this 

 we turn and continue. Here, again, more ducks are seen. 

 They get up and fly ahead. After a bit one lingers a little 

 too long and tbe Fireman cuts him down as the bird takes 

 flight. He is only winged, however, and the Engineer 

 and Amateur give chase and bag him. He is a beautiful 

 greenhead and graces the Amateur in a becoming manner. 



"Now hasn't the Greenwing been doing nicely with her 

 patchwork, boys?" 



"Of course she has," chorus the Fireman and Pilot. 

 Wshe-e-e-e-e-e e — . Well, it don't do to brag. Some- 

 thing had let loose on the forward side of the boiler. The 

 Pilot and Fireman were lost to view in volumes of hissing 

 steam, but they could be heard around. Shortly the fuss 

 of the steam is stopped. The Fireman had been prompt 

 and closed a couple of valves which open into a glass 

 water gauge. It was nothing new this bursting of a glass 

 water gauge. It is an old trick of the Greenwing's. When 

 she can't do anything else she bursts a water gauge. It 

 gives diversion and stirs up the crew. In order that she 

 may have plenty of fun in this way she is provided with 

 two, one fore and one aft of the boiler, and a few loose 

 ones are stowed in the locker to replace bursted ones. It 

 tickles a ne w man on the trip — stirs up his blood as it 

 were, and gives him something to enliven his nerves and 

 talk about when he goes home. On this particular occa- 

 sion the Pilot being a new man, was stirred up, enlivened, 

 etc., and during the rumpus, if the steam could have sud- 

 denly been blown away, this particular Pilot might have 

 been seen to hastily climb over his wheel and nervously to 

 clutch the jack staff. But when the steam cleared as it 

 did gradually, the Pilot was at his post with a resolve in 

 his expression to stay there if he perished in the act. He 

 played the heroic well, but in an unguarded moment he 

 gave it away and turned the laugh on 'himself. 



Three miles up Steel's Bayou to the Right Fork, which 

 we take. Plere we meet shoal water and the speed is 

 reduced one-half. Half a mile further and the mouth of 

 Goose Lake is reached. Until the water rises more, this 

 is as far as can be gone up the Right Fork. It was yet 

 four miles to Burgess Lake, which is one of the best duck- 

 ing grounds in the whole country. To-morrow the water 

 would be high enough to let us up there. In the -mean- 

 time the Greenwing must cast anchor here. 



Two of the crew paddle a mile into Goose Lake, select 

 a place for a blind, leave half of the decoys and go back. 

 Later the Pilot and Fireman take the Boss, go into Goose 

 Lake, put out these decoys and make a blind, leaving the 

 Engineer with the Amateur to explore for a location, who 

 announces his intention to paddle to Burgess Lake if pos- 

 sible. 



"Well, you will get the ducks if you go up there," 

 remarks the Pilot as the Boss is pulled away for Goose 

 Lake. But for some time the Engineer has been eying 

 dubiously an ominous glitter in the bend of the Right Fork 

 above him. It is ice, but is it too thick for his thin canoe. 

 He would see. 



Gently is the bow pushed into it, which at first yields 

 freely, then resists, and finally cracks stubbornly and 

 harshly before the Amateur, menacing its safety. It won't 

 do to push a boat in that kind of stuff. The ice is thin but 



hard and sharp, and cuts keenly at the surface line. A 

 standing position shows the ice to extend from bank to 

 bank as far up as the eye could reach. The trip can't be 

 made. By to-morrow it may thaw, when all can go with 

 the launch. The Engineer' then determines to explore 

 Steel's Bayou, which, having a current, bad not frozen. 

 The outriggers having been put on, he sits down to the 

 oars and begins to stroke vigorously. He turns one bend 

 and checks up; he meditates. What good can he do in 

 Steel's Bayou ? The water is too high there for good shoot- 

 ing. He will go back to the ice, and with ammunition 

 enough for an evening's shoot, he will foot it to Burgess 

 Lake. He can't give that up just yet. Had he ever bad 

 a poor shoot up there ? No, he hadn't. It was j ust a "Jim 

 Dandy" place and he would go there, or blow out a glass 

 gauge cock or something else desperate in the attempt. 

 The ice is reached again, and the canoe dragged on shore. 

 Sixty shells are pocketed and a bundle of 2 doz. sticks, 

 sharpened at one end and copper-wired at the other, are 

 taken to put out dead ducks for decoys. A 9i-lb. gun, 60 

 rounds of ammunition, 2 doz. decoy sticks, and heavy 

 clothing made a heavy load. The Engineer climbed the 

 icy bank and began to break sleet in the direction of Bur- 

 gess. Presently again he slowed up and stopped. Could 

 he go to Burgess with that load, and return probably with 

 a heavier load of game without being broken down? No 

 ho couldn't. It wouldn't be wise. Well, then, what could 

 he do? Why, he would go into Goose Lake and make a 

 blind and put out his decoys half a mile or more beyond 

 the other boys. 



How many ducks did we get on Goose Lake that after- 

 noon ? Well, we had some fun anyway. Didn't the ducks 

 find out we were there though with plenty of ammunition 

 to salute them as they went by. 



That was Wednesday. The wind remained in the north 

 and the temperature continued to lower. That night the 

 Right Fork froze deeper and harder and all of Goose Lake 

 scaled over, except near the mouth where the current was 

 sufficiently active to prevent it. We were forced to Steel's 

 Bayou as the only available location. To add to our dis- 

 comfiture the weather got miserably bright, and not a 

 cloud intervened to take away Hie glare. The decoys 

 looked like ghosts of ducks, and the chaps which they 

 assumed to imitate would generally flap their wings 

 lustily for an additional height and increased speed. No 

 luck "to brag of that day, though a few tumbled to the 

 loud call of the breechloaders. 



Friday morning was again rather bright and Steel's 

 Bayou was again tried. "The Engineer's location was 

 utterly ruined by a tent which some hunters from Vicks- 

 burg had pitched the night before within sight of his 

 decoys. A noisy axe and a column of blue smoke in that 

 Ideality put the birds high and turned them square over 

 the tall timber. It was ho use. The Engineer did not get 

 a shot, and, in disgust, took up his decoys to seek mother 

 location. None to suit him was found, however, and 

 according to previous understanding he went aboard the 

 launch, raised steam, blew the whistle, took up — excuse 

 me— weighed anchor , opened the throttle, took the wheel, 

 and steamed down the Right Fork to Steel's Bayou. 

 Here the Fireman and Pilot Were met, having taken up 

 decoys at the sound of the whistle, and were taken aboard, 

 and the Greenwing's nose pointed homeward. Not that 

 she was going directly home, that depended. If game 

 could be found on the way, the anchor was to be tumbled 

 overboard again. There was not enough game aboard to 

 satisfy all parties. The Fireman said if we went in port 

 now the Greenwing would have the lowest score she had 

 ever taken. Couldn't a few more ducks be had? All 

 agreed to increase the score if possible. 



Going down Steel's Bayou another duck was crippled 

 at long range. The engine was stopped and the Engineer 

 gave chase in the Amateur. The duck swam ashore and 

 got in some brush. While searching for it, something let 

 loose on the Greenwing again. The interior suddenly 

 became enveloped in steam. That blasted water gauge 

 again, thought the Engineer, the Fireman will soon attend 

 to that. A little twist of a couple of valves would fix it. 

 The Fireman was a little slow this time — the steam kept 

 coming. The crew was in obscurity — what could they 

 be doing ? Things began to rattle on the Greenwing. Evi- 

 dently some one was moving about. Loud and excited 

 conversation is heard, and the steam continues to hiss 

 with increased violence. What the devil's up ? The En- 

 gineer gets interested, leaves his search, leaps into the 

 Amateur and pulls for the Greenwing vigorously. The 

 safety-valve joins her music to that of the interior. She's 

 got some pressure now, is guessed. Next chimes in the 

 shrill whistle. That fellow is demoralized, and wants 

 help. Well, isn't the Engineer straining himself to get 

 there ? Away goes the safety-valve again while the whistle 

 takes breath, but only for an instant, when it shrieks out 

 again— first one then the other, and sometimes both at 

 once, while the interior goes bravely on. Loud and excited 

 talking is indulged in by the invisible Fireman and Pilot. 

 Finally the Engineer gets alongside, finds one of the valves 

 to the glass gauge still open, closes it and stops the in- 

 ternal racket. A glance over the boat revealed an inter- 

 esting sight. On the larboard to the string leading to the 

 safety-valve hung the Fireman, and on the starboard to 

 the whistle string hung the Pilot. Each was just there 

 with an expression indicating a determination to stay on 

 until the end came. They had the boat beautifully fres- 

 coed with steam; she was as white as a bride in full dress. 



"What did you blow those things off for, boys?" asked 

 the Engineer. 



"To let out the steam," both replied. 



"Why didn't you close the other valve. Mr. Fireman?" 



"I did try, but she would not close." 



"Guess, my boy, you was a little rattled that time. 

 When that gauge bursts again close both valves quickly 

 and you have the trouble stopped." 



"1 did try to close both valves," repeated the Fireman 

 positively. 



This time the gauge had not burst, but the packing at 

 the upper end had blown out, which was soon remedied 

 by putting in new packing. No harm had been done, and 

 the alarm that had been created among the crew soon 

 gave place to jests and merriment. The Fireman wanted 

 to know of the Pilot what was the tensile strength of the 

 whistle cord ? 



"One hundred and forty pounds, equal to my own 

 weight or more; what is the strength of the safety-valve 

 string, Mr. Fireman?" 



"One hundred and fifty pounds, sir." 



"Mr. Engineer, what is the highest speed ever attained 

 by the Amateur, and when was it made ?" 



"Fifteen miles an hour, sir, and just a few moments 

 ago." 



"Now, boys, don't let's give this away in town," and it 

 was agreed; but when we get down there, it could not be 

 kept. And when the Pilot would go forward to serve a 

 customer the Fireman would toot toot him off, when the 

 Pilot would turn and greet the Fireman with a prolonged 

 sh-e-e-e-e— in imitation of escaping steam through the 

 safety-valve. And finally the Engineer was beguiled into 

 a rehearsal of the whole affair, which is now known as 

 the fresco on Steel's Bayou. 



On reaching McKee Pocket we steamed over to the 

 upper side, threw over the anchor and paddled to the nar- 

 row neck of land extending between it and Old River, 

 ;ot out and walked at the water's edge for several hun- 

 red yards. A few ducks were flushed out of range. The 

 prospect was not over encouraging, but it was believed a 

 few ducks could be brought to bag here. The weather 

 had become cloudy with threatening rain, so the launch 

 was taken below the towhead and partially up into the 

 Pocket. That afternoon a few ducks were killed but not 

 enough to excessively elate the crew. 



Next morning, an hour before daybreak, when the 

 alarm sang out, rain was heard to patter on the roof of 

 the little launch in a musical way to an old duck hunter. 

 If ducks can be had at all , it is on such days that they will 

 come in without their usual caution and suspicion. Be- 

 sides, the decoys have a natural appearance and there is 

 generally sufficient breeze to keep them in graceful 

 motion. It was with no little pleasure that the Engineer 

 lay there and listened to the falling drops, for while there 

 were not many ducks about the Pocket, some would be 

 sure to tumble to the report of his gun. The Pilot and 

 Fireman, however, did not readily catch on. That rain 

 was a cold one they said. "All the better," edges in En- 

 gineer. "And our decoys are in a poor location, for they 

 are tied back in .the willows where they can't well be 

 seen." 



"Put them out in the open water." 



"And the rising water is ten or twelve inches deep in 

 our blind by this time." 



"Move the whole caboodle to a better place, then, it 

 won't take long." 



"Ugh !— ugh!" comes from the depths of the blankets 

 as the Fireman and Pilot cuddle down apparently for 

 another snooze. Didn't the Engineer pity those two young 

 sportsmen. Hadn't they gone to no end of trouble to pre- 

 pare for this hunt, and been put to some expense ? Hadn't 

 they wanted weather of the right kind for days, and now 

 that they had it, to want to remain aboard and sleep? 

 Why, anybody can sleep, and sleep every day in the year 

 and at home without extra expense or trouble. Did they 

 aspire to be duck hunters and forego such weather as 

 this? Where was the Engineer's old companion who 

 gloried in such opportunities for sport ? Business had de- 

 tained him, and no doubt at that moment he was indulg- 

 ing in the luxury of a soft warm bed, but uneasy must 

 have been his rest could he have been conscious of the 

 situation that morning at the Pocket. Recollections of 

 another sportsman come crowding up, of one who took 

 in keenly every vestige of enjoyment to be had in an out- 

 iug of this kind, and grumbling over no hardships to be 

 met with. And here, before the Engineer, lay a couple 

 of gentlemen who would lose such an opportunity on so 

 trifling a pretext. Failing to find language adequate to 

 the case, the Engineer did the next best thing that offered. 

 He got up and tramped over the bed in a promiscuous 

 and careless manner until things hegin to stir, and then 

 to finish the work thus partly done, the Pilot was sat on 

 while a pair of rubber boots were kicked on over the body 

 of the Fireman. This put life on the interior of the Green- 

 wing, and in due time the Boss was being energetically 

 paddled for the submerged blind on the west side of the 

 Pocket, while the Amateur was as lustily being pulled for 

 a clump of bushes on the opposite shore. 



After reaching a ducking ground the most important- 

 thing to do is to get a good location. To do this often . 

 calls for the exercise of the best judgment of the sports- 

 man, and even then he will frequently find, after spending 

 an hour or more in putting out decoys and making a good 

 blind, that he will be badly located, and the ducks instead 

 of flying or settling in that particular locality prefer a 

 spot some hundreds of yards or so from there. In deter- 

 mining upon a location it is generally best not to be in too t 

 much haste. If there is a flight, an hour spent in watch- 

 ing will not be amiss. Notice from which direction 

 mainly the ducks come, the course they take in circling, 

 the feeding locality, and the place where the most lighting- 

 is done. In a strong wind the ducks will always decoy 

 against it — bear that in mind. In selecting for a blind 

 recollect also that your decoys ought to be in open water 

 where they can be seen by incoming ducks at a long 

 distance, so they can determine on that spot in time to 

 check up a little before reaching there, otherwise they 

 will do a shade too much circling and some sharp-eyed 

 old fellow spy the danger. Avoid, if possible, making a 

 blind in such a position that the game in their flight will 

 get you between them and the setting or rising sun. 

 Tilings in a blind loom up rather conspicuously in such a 

 position. And above all, remember you are bigger than 

 a duck, that a duck has a much sharper eye than you, and 

 that there are frequently a score of them scanning your 

 layout. Let your blind be as natural to the surroundings 

 as possible. If it is a ma«s of brush out on a naked bar, 

 just as well take up and quit. You will be sailed over 

 and around and by out of reach until you are identified, 

 and some wise chap will say. Quack! quack! in sharp 

 discordant notes, and the flock gives yon an exhibition of 

 some movements that soon puts it in the dim distance. 

 And after taking your location, if it is not the proper one, 

 relocate as speedily as possible, and don't be chagrined, 

 for the best judgeln such matters will often have to do 

 likewise. 



It was something like this that put us out at McKee 

 Pocket. The evening before had been almost destitute of 

 flight, and the Pocket being in the shape of three-quarters 

 of a circle with no breaks in the growth for "fly-bys" 

 added to the difficulty. The PUot and Fireman stood on 

 the ground at the water's edge in high willows, with a 

 stretch of open water thirty or forty yards wide and two 

 or three hundred yards long not far in front of them, with 

 a narrow ribbon of willows between that and the main 

 body of the pond. Apparently it was a good location, but 

 during the morning shoot it was demonstrated that a 

 couple of hundred or so yards further down, the grass 

 seed was a little sweeter than up there, but the boys failed 

 to relocate and fought it out at the old stand. 



