eyes detected the Snipe as he skulked behind a tussock on
the edge of the water. We paddled to within ten yards of
him but he remained perfectly motionless, squatting  on
mud his bill slightly raised he large eyes glistening
in the light. Finally I clapped my hands and he
rose dropping dead in the meadow grass at my shot.
[margin]Wilson's
Snipe[/margin]
  Landed for lunch just below the forks where we built
a large and very hot fire of dead alders. After a 
smoke we started again at about 3 P.M. We did not
expect to see anything more but the passage down to the
mill was made memorable by the number of birds found
and the wretched luck in my shooting at them.
[margin]Lunch at 
the Forks.[/margin]
  First we came on a flock of about 12 Black Ducks strung
out in a long line feeding along the margin. They were
fully 90 yds. off but I shot - just as they rose - and got
nothing. Only two bends below we came similarly on another flock
of four and with them a Mallard. I tried a second
almost impossible shot but this time brought down a
single Black Duck. Still further down we surprised a
[female] Wood Duck. Again I had a very long shot, perhaps 60 yds.,
Both barrels seemed to take effect but the Duck kept on
falteringly and was of course never seen again.
[margin]Black Ducks[/margin]
[margin]Mallard[/margin]
[margin]Wood Duck[/margin]
  The final and most mortifying experience of all was
with a Grouse which shirred up from the bank and
alighted on the branch of a green spruce. She was less
than twenty yards away and I thought I saw her
distinctly but the light was getting poor and I must
have made some mistake for at the report of my
shot or rather just a second after it she hummed
off unhurt among the trees. This episode closes
the record of a most unlucky day. But of a
generally fortunate and very pleasant trip.
[margin]Partridge[/margin]