42 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 16, 189-?. 
DUCKING IN GREAT SOUTH BAY. 
Although the aristocratic canvasback and redtiead are 
now rarely, if ever, found in Great South Bay, the aver- 
age sportsman, if he be enthusiastic and not too fastidious, 
can secure good sport there. When the conditions are 
favorable, which means, in the bayman's vernacular, 
"whan ther win' 's p'intin' right," broadbill and brant 
swarm on the flats and the festive coot and "old mammy" 
are at their juiciest in its waters. Doubtless I have seen 
wildfowlers who, after bagging dozens of the two last- 
mentioned tidbits of the wave, have turned up their noses 
and called their luck ''tough." But let us be reasonable. 
There is an old English saying, " When all fruit fails wel- 
come haws." Besides, can there be a more appropriate 
gift for an over-importunate rural family, with insatiable 
palates for anything gamy, than a brace of succulent "old 
mammies"? If they look dark and doubtful afterward 
(I mean, of course, the family), let the giver look puzzled 
in return, shake his head, and say it was "all in the 
cookin'," which is sometimes the trouole with wood- 
cock. 
The fall of '95 was, as is well known, a banner one for 
sportsmen in Great South Bay. And so it came to pass 
that a party of four of us wenc down in November to try 
our luck. My friend Harold was one — as fine, generous 
and whole-souled a fellow as ever walked on corns or 
missed a ruffed grouse. He was then and is now deeply 
interested in foreign missions, and has since, because of 
his eminent fitness for the position, been appointed chap- 
lain of his lodge. Only one unpardonable sin has he been 
guilty of to my knowledge. He went forth on the trail 
of the ruffed grouse in Sullivan county. New York, on a 
memorable day in '94, dressed in patent leathers, a fash- 
ionable dark blue overcoat reaching to his heels, and a 
canary-colored yachting cap. But, as Eudyard is fond of 
putting it, that is another story. Many a jolly trip we've 
made together, and long may he live to win his traveling 
expenses from the writer at penny ante. 
Then there was Frank, an all-round good fellow and ex- 
cellent shot, who knew more about wiidfowling than all 
the rest of us put together. Frank's great weakness was 
potatoes. He was never seen to eat a meal witnout them. 
Give him half a bushel of 'em, a peck of Spanish onions, 
and all the fat pork he could get his hands on, and he 'd 
cook you a dish that would leave your stomach on your 
hands, and vice versa, for a week. The third member of 
our party was Scnnupps, a protuberant Dutchman, 
Schnupps had evidently baen brought up on the bottle, 
and retained a lingering fondness which gave grave cause 
to doubt he nad ever been weaned. As we had picked 
him up merely to round out the party, he was not in 
touch with us, so to speak. He was, in fact, a dummy; 
or to be exact, considering bis favorite posture during the 
trip, a lay figure who paid one-fourth of the expenses. 
Fourth and last came the writer, whoae faults and pecu- 
liarities, if indeed he have any, shall be carefully con- 
cealed in this narrative. 
Captain Funk, our good skipper, who knew Frank, and 
Sart, his mate and cook and crew all rolled into one, 
were standing on the dock to receive us, and a phosphor- 
escent gleam stole int j their weather eyes as a case of 
beer and some other bottled combustibles were trundled 
aboard. Funk was a typical bayman, rotund and ruddy, 
opinionated'to the last oitch, and when crossed in his pro- 
fessional duties as unmanageable and hard to handle as a 
grand opera prima donna. Tnere was a waggish look in 
his eye, and he had an astonishing relish for a good joke 
— ^on somebody else. 
"Waal, I swan I An' har' y' bel" howled the Captain, 
as if he were matched against a gale. "Glad ter see y' 
ennyhaowl Laow bridge! ' he added warningiy, as we 
huddled down the companionway of the Marie Liuise. 
"Look aout fer yer heads, an' sit aaown forrard. Siai!" 
he shouted to the mate, "put on Frank's 'taters, an' git 
the supper good 'n quicb ! " 
"Ycs, yebl" answered Sart, and he proceeded to pile up 
the narrow table thac ran along the centerboard with 
steak and onions, fried potatoes, coffee, bread and butter, 
and "home-made" pie, of which we partook heartily,' 
topping it all tff witn a rousing jorum of Arizona puncn. 
A mild game of poker was then begun, after we had got 
into our shooting togs and made our traps ready for the 
morrow. We were nappy, and we showed it. We were 
already bending to the Dretze on our way to the shooting 
grounds and leaving the "madding crowd" behind. In 
imagination, at least, we could hear the ducks quacking 
outside, obligingly waiting to be shot, and our spirits rose 
with the ante. Schnupps had been taken immediately 
after supper with an attack of wbat he feelingly alluded 
to as ■ Gottl gramp golic," and it must be stated in j astice 
that he gave a cnoiCd bottle of painkiller, which stood at 
his elbow, a fair and impartial trial. The medicinal 
properties of this palliative manifested themselves in s j 
remarkable a manner that Schnupps soon had one le^ 
over the centerboard and the other coiled lovingly about 
the mate's neck; and when he slapped the ace of diamonds 
on the table and insisted it was tae deuce of hearts, our 
honorable instincts asserted themselves and we threw up 
our hands and turned in for the night. 
But not for long. What with the continual glug, glug 
of the water against the boat, and the strangeness of the 
surroundings, we were all soon up again, except the Cap- 
tain, swapping stories, looking for comets, and singing 
salt sea songs. The skipper's nasal solo disturbed our har- 
mony, and we determined to have him out at any risk. 
Harold, who was assisting FranK peeling potatoes, jumped 
up and put the ship's chronometer forward from 1 to 3:30, 
and a well-aimed rubber boot did. the rest, combined with 
our chorus of yells that it was past time to "fix out." 
The old sea dog crawled out of hia bunk, growling like a 
mastiff. "Seems ter me I ain't had no nat'ral amaount 
er sleep yit. Half -past three, eh?" as he glanced at the 
clock. "Wal, haow's the win' a-pintin'?" and he floun- 
dered up on deck. The moment he stuck his nose among 
the stars he saw through it all. 
"Bd gol darnedl I daon't see no sense inter bein' a 
pack er gro wed-up fools, nohaowl" he bellowed, after 
jumping down among us. "Saat, who sot thet clock 
lorrard? Whan yer git me aout ag'in ter fix aout 
ducks 'il be rainin' laike blizzardl" and he tumbled into 
hifl cubby-hole in the bow. 
But we did get him out nevertheless, about 4 o'clock, 
corrected time, and he and Sart set to work after a pre- 
liminary skirmish with Frank as to choice of locality, 
Frank wanted to anchor on Yellow Flats. "Yaller 
Flaats! Not by er jugfull Thar ain't er bird on Great 
South Bay as knaows enuff ter fly baoth wings ter onc't 
what ain't on Edl Pot Flaats right naowl" 
There was no appeal from this and the Eal Pot Fiats 
had the call. The battery, with its twin sink-boxes, is 
now got out, anchored in shallow water, and weighted 
down with pigs of lead and iron decoys until its over- 
hanging leaves float horizontal on the surface. The stools 
are grouped about it and make a brave show as they 
dance and courtesy to the whistling of the morning 
breeze, which soon grows to a cutting wind, whipping 
and chopping the bay into spiteful little waves. The Fire 
Island light still blinks drowsily in the gray dawn, and 
the great round sun, a prophetic blood-red, rolls slowly 
and majestically above the horizon. Away toward the 
Fire Island shore a mighty sound, as of a million rustling 
wings, greets our ears. Look! a vast cloud rises from 
the bay and circles and wheels and circles again. The 
feathered denizens of the waves have left their watery 
beds, and as the god of day shoots his raya in among 
them, catching them on wing and breast, the black mass 
quickens and lightens into white and gold. Now and 
again a shot from a distant battery tells that the battle 
has already begun. After a sleepless night, warmly 
clothed though we were, we shook like the palsied par- 
ent in a Bowery melodrama; and our noses and gills 
were a pronounced duck-hunter's blue- Our indulgent 
friends, therefore, on both sides of the Atlantic, will not 
consider it an unpardonable breach of etiquette that Har- 
old and I, when we stepped into our boxes to open the 
ball, proceeded first to op^n a modest flask which I acci- 
dentally found in my pistol pocket. Not so the Captain. 
He pounced upon the vial after the manner of an alder- 
man upon a franchise. 
"Yer daont take no demij ihn aboard this baatry ef I 
knaow iti Yer can't shoot no ducks on rum!" and with 
that he tossed the flask 25yd8. distant into the bay, and 
busied himself, head down, putting the finishing touches 
to the stools. Now, Harold has a wee bit o' hot Scotch 
temper, and 'tis not healthy to trifle wi' the bairn beyond 
a certain point. "Fetch back that bottle, Cap'nl" he 
cried, "we're no soaks," and I could see him draw his lips 
together and pull his cap rim down while he watched our 
only visible means of warmth float with the tide. But 
our skipper, who was now pulling away, heeded not. 
When he arrived opposite the derelict he suddenly made 
a sensational turn, picked it up, and put it in his face for 
a space of time that gave us an excellent idea of eternity. 
"Yah! thar's good licker — put hair on yer elbows!" he 
gasped, smacking his lips, and broke into a roar of laugh- 
ter that startled the ducks into midair for miles around, 
in which we joined on one side of the mouth only. Then, 
like the 600 at Balaklava, he rowed back, but not the 
same. "Thar y' be," said he, with a grin, and jerkod the 
now half empty receptacle to Harold; "hain't enuff into 
her naow ter keep fr'm shootin' stret, eh? Ha, ha! Lay 
daown baoth an' make fur fly !" My comrade looked im- 
mensely relieved, and it has struck me since that he 
feared the insidious poison might have drifted to the 
shore of some South Sea island and demoralized the 
dusky inhabitants, whose spiritual welfare has ever been 
his constant solicitude. 
Bd that as it may, the birds were now flying thick and 
fast, so we stretched flat on our backs, gazing wistfully at 
the zenith and waited. We had pig-lead pillows. It was 
my first experience in a sink box, and my shouldf r blades 
beinx anything but retiring, I soon reached a degree of 
misery that induced me to breathe language that could 
only have been the result of extreme nervousness. The 
back of my neck began to petrify, and my thoughts wan- 
dered on such remote subjects as the honest, hot old yule 
logs of bygone days and the Chicago fire. Harold was 
just out of sight in his box, but I could hear his teeth 
clatter, and presently he hissed between clatters: "Here 
they c-comel Hare they c-comel Kkeep down!" 
"Wh- where? Wh- where?" I hissed back and sat bolt up- 
right, scanning the horizon through hazy spectacles, but 
could see nothing with feathers on, Ob! it was delight- 
ful to sit up for a moment and get off my ear. "Great 
Scott!" growled Harold in disgust, "don't jump up so soon 
like a Jack-in-the-box! Let the birds come over the 
stools. That flock's gone, sure." This little ceremony 
was repeated ay often that my kind and good friend began 
to get hot undet the collar, and frequently he passed com- 
pliments across to my loge which, I am pained to state, 
were not couchedin the phraseology of a chaplain. Yet 
he shot several birds in spite of this. As for me, I 
couldn't hit a cathedral. My position was such that I 
couldn't even hit the pipe to keep my face warm. And, 
worse than all, a great dampness now invaded me, and 
we discovered to our dlstnay that the bay was pouring 
into my lair through a leak in the joining. This ended 
the shooting temporarily and gave me a valid excuse to 
stand up, which I eagerly did, and Harold followed suit. 
We proceeded to signal the boat and were in the midst of 
an animated debate as to the proper way to shoot ducks 
over decoys, when we spied Funk coming toward us in 
the sharpie with a Leander stroke. Even then we could 
see he was mad clean through. A big bag means a 
good advertisement for the boat, and the old man couldn't 
figure it out that the Marie Louise would be likely to go 
thundering down the newspapers as a result of this trip. 
When scarcely within hailing distance he stood up in the 
boat, waving his headgear and yelling like seven 
lunatics: 
"Git daown thar! Git daownl Yer loom up liker 
praayer meetin'!" And he was down again in a jiffy and 
pulling furiously, only to rise anew before he had ad- 
vanced 25yd8. 
"Git daown thar in th' baat'ry! Look thet big bunch 
bro'dbiU cummin' yonner! 'Tarnal mud! Y' ain't gittin' 
no ducks a-stannin' up laike tew smoke stacks!" 
We were indeed enjoying a smoke just then, and we 
let the old chap come alongside before we explained elab- 
orately but quietly that there was water to burn in one 
of the boxes, due to his carelessness. 
"Waal, why didn't yer lay daown ehhyhaowl" he flung 
at me. ' 'I never seed no man draown into 3in. er good 
salt water yit. Bay's plum full er ducks, an' ef yer shot 
enuff yit ter take the skunk off, I'm er liar." 
The box having been bailed out and the leak stopped 
with an old glove finger, he left, picking up the few dead 
birds as he went. 
We had been warmed over somewhat by the moving 
about and the smoking, and felt more comfortable as we 
settled down to business. And hardly were we ready 
before a splendid flock of broadbills came skimming along 
the water toward us. I see them at last, and my heart 
thumps against my palate as they swoop down upon the 
stools. I can now clearly see the green in their eyes. 
"Up now," says Harold; and we rise together in the nick 
of time; and as they struggle and twist in air to get away 
we let 'em have it, making two doubles. Four barrels, 
four birds! "Say, Willie, you're a dandy!" chortled Har- 
old in his joy, and I felt I could agree with him. (He 
often calls me Willie when under the strain of great ex- 
citement.) We nudged each other in the ribs, winked 
knowingly and shook hands, We shook hands again all 
around and said nice thiugs to one another, too sacred to 
be set down here. 
There was no lack of birds, and we both shot well after 
that. An assignment of broadbills would barely be off our 
hands and our guns loaded before a dozen or sixteen 
coots, with the best intentions in the world, would sail 
up to our very feet and look in on us for a moment. And 
it was a study in mental panics to see their awkward em- 
barrassment and shock when we, rose to pay them our 
respects and they discovered we didn't belong in their set. 
Sometimes a wedge of black ducks, high in air, passed 
over us, laughing no doubtj if ducks over laugh out of i 
the mating season, at our clumsy contrivance; or a bunch ' 
of geese, talkative as "sweet girl graduates," but far shyer, 
gave us the slip to the right or left. 
But our time was now more than up, and as we stepped 
later on board the yacht (let me call ic a "yacht" for once) j 
Frank and Schnupps stood ready for their turn. Although | 
the battery was anchored in not more than 3ft. of water, 
Schnupps had taken the precaution to encircle his person 
with a life preserver, in spite of the jeers of the Captain 
and crew, who stood lined up on deck to salute and see 
him off, to the accompaniment of bad jokes and worse \ 
onions. Frank upheld his reputation for marksmanship I 
during the afternoon, and kept the mate bupy gathering I 
in dead ducks. He did it all alone too, because Schnupps, I 
after discharging his gun twice or thrice into the " wound- 
less air," had the tact and courage to fall asleep in the ' 
embrace of the life preserver. Meantime Harold and I 
burned powder on board, blazing away at wing- tipped 
and otherwise crippled birds. And here it may be re- 
marked what an infernal fusillade a wounded duck will 
stand without dropping an eyelid! And how easy 'tis to 
miss a placid "old mammy," sitting mayhap "in maiden 
meditation, fancy free, "not 40yd8. from the muzzle! How 
provocative of wit from the fellow who isn't handling the 
pump! 
All of which reminds me that as we were about to sus- 
pend operations for the day the Captain hailed us hur- 
riedly to the port side. 
"Y<jn'8 a crepplt! — over thar, nigh thet clammer." 
Between the queenly schooner Maud E and ourselves 
an object bobbed up and down on the waves, a duck if i 
there ever was one. 
"1 guass," said Funk, turning to Harold, "thet's thei 
bro'dbill yer wing'd 'baout tenner clock, eh?" 
"That's right; same bird!" cried Harold, reaching for 
his 10 bore, delighted at the prospect of adding another 
to his score. 
"Shucks, thet toothpeck don't fetch her I" exclaimed 
the Captain, scornfully. "Ren daown belaow an' git my 
4- bore — she'll sock it to her." Hirold returned in a 
twinkling with a double-barreled cannon, and our now 
strangely obliging skipper put the Marie Louise through a 
startling evolution in the spanking breeza to get out of 
the line of the Maud E. and give the eager marksman a 
clear sweep at the "crepple." 
"Be kaarful," he cautioned, as Harold put the engine to 
his shoulder, "she's chuck full Ih' blaack'st kamder paow- 
der, an' she kicks laike mule critter. Ladder gao! ' 
Boom! The spray rose about the object of this deli 
cate attention as it rises at Sandy Hook when big gunsi 
are under test. 
"Naver phased her, biegosh!" bawled Funk, as he^ 
leaned on the tiller and winked at us, "giver th' lafti" 
He gave her the left, hut the tantalizing "crepple' 
seemed only to be warming up and getting into line for 
another volley, which would undoubtedly have been 
forthcoming had not a stentorian voice been hurled from! 
the Maud E. : 
"What are yew farmer people shootin' intew my, 
buoy for? Can't yer taal wooden duck fr'm laive un?" 
In the uproarious hilarity that followed, Harold was 
th.e only one who didn't join. The joke was on him and ' 
the Captain had got even for the little trick of the night 
before. 
Thus ended the day. Our bag did not reach into the 
hundreds, but that sportsman is to be pitied who counts < 
his pleasure by the number of birds in his basket. 'Tis \ 
not all of shooting to shoot. Indeed, it is only when the • 
thrill of the skillful shot is intermingled with the glow of I 
good-fellowship, and with the gladness that springs from • 
the contemplation of the ever restless sea, or the forest i 
with its myriad life, that the charm which eternally j 
beckons the sportsman from the artificial haunts of men • 
is rightly understood. Pellets. | 
Tennessee Notes. 
Gea.ni> View, Tenn., Jan. 7. — This is not a good season - 
for botanizing, but I have met with one plant which has \ 
much interest for me, and which I believe is not found , 
north of Kentucky — the climbing fern, sometimes called ► 
"finger fern" {Lygodium palmatum, Swartz). It is fairly ' 
plentiful here in some localities, and seems to me to be ' 
the most beautiful of the family to which it belongs. 
I am sorry that my bird notes are usually so meager, i 
but my eyes and ears are not as acute as of yore, and I , 
cannot always identify the little fellows I see flitting about i 
among the thickets. * 
I saw a woodcock on Dec. 19, and on the 25th was most J 
agreeably surprised at the sight of eight bluebirds. These < 
were at Towstring, and there were also several meadow- 
larks and four or five scarlet tanagers. 
The particular Towstring to which I refer is about nine i 
miles long. Some try to dignify it with the name of 
Pleasant Valley. It is in the valley of the Tennessee, and 
is not far from Roddy, which, as you are aware, lies a 
few miles to the eastward of Possumtrot. ' 
We heard the note of a bluebird and a robin near here 
a week ago, and I am of the opinion that both these birdS' 
are often sojourners in this region through the winter, 
though they keep near thick coverts. Kelpie. 
