sea 
On the Kankakee Duck Marshes. 
"Duck, shooting is not what it used to be twenty-five 
or thirty years ago. Many is the time 1 have gone out 
-in the morning after sunrise, paddled a mile or two 
'round Lake Calumet, followmg the shore hue and back 
home within three hours from time ot starting and had 
fifty to a hundred ducks to show for my work. What 
kind.-* Jivery Kind — mallards, teal, redheads, pintails and 
canvasbacks." 
How often has the younger generation of Chicago 
spoilsmen heard something like the above. I listened to 
this tune only yesterday from an old-timer, and it started 
me to write this article, with a view of le^hng the readers 
of J-OUKST AND bXKKAM of the duck shooung ol to-day 
within a radius of two hours of Chicago. Duck hunting 
in the old days was simply butchery. Any one that could 
hold a gun could repeat the performance mentioned at 
the beginning with tlie old style of muzzle, loader, or 
even the good grades of hammer-breechloaders. There 
were, undoubtedly, many excellent shots, but it did not 
at that time require the science of eye and aim, the pa- 
tience to endure cold and solitude from betore daybreak 
until dark, the experience to locate good natural biinds, 
to call the rovers down, that is at the present time abso- 
lutely necessary in order to get even ordinary strings. 
Ihere are thotisanUs of sportsmen who feel ail the ex- 
hiiarat.on of this God-given recreation. Sportsmen that 
have fine guns and hunting clothes carry a high grade of 
old rye, shoot only the highest priced shells, possess 
splendid boats, hire as good pushers as can be had that 
come in night after night and the following dialogue is a 
very fair examp.e of the experience of the majority: 
"Hello, Jack! what luck?" 
"Got twenty mallards, but d the luck, seventeen 
cripples got away. (He brought home four.) Never had 
such a time in my life. Ducks by the thousand; never 
saw them so thick, and decoyed bcautitull}^, but some- 
thing was wrong with my aim to-day. I believe my shells 
are bum. Several shots I dropped from one to three, but 
the minute they touched water gone they were. How do 
you account for it?" 
"Oh, I suppose it's your ofif-day; we all have them." 
That's what I answer. After dinner, through a little 
spiritual persuasion, I gain the following from his pusher: 
"Say, Sherm (short for Sherman Hyatte, a well-known 
and able Kankakee marsh hunter), what was the trouble 
with the ducks to-day?" 
"Oh, tlie ducks were all right ; should have had twenty- 
five anyway, but your friend can't hit 'em. The four he 
did get were setters. Lord, but he had some fine chances. 
He wouldn't let me shoot. Told me he had shot more 
ducks than I'd ever seen. So I said to myself, 'all right, 
old man, if that's the case, you don't want any pointers 
from Sherm,' and so I used the decoy whistle and brought 
the ducks down in great style to see your friend make 
some of the most scientific misses I ever saw in my life. 
Say. once I had to laugh. I couldn't help it. A bunch of 
about eighteen green-winged teal came across the marsh 
and noticed our decoys. You know the little critters love 
to mix with mallards. I called Dr. Carver's (?) (this is 
a joke of Sherm's) attention to them. He saw them com- 
ing. Our blind was at a point of timber, sticking out 
probably ten rods from the main shore line. You know 
how teal can go, a streak of greased lightning is a lob- 
ster compared to them. Well, they came sailing over the 
decoys as pretty as you please. They didn't set their 
wings, because it was only the first time round, and didn't 
feel inclined to settle. Your friend Jack stood up, aimed, 
and bang, bang, the shot flew about ten feet in their rear. 
Teal, as you know, can start up and turn quicker than 
any other ducks. 
"Dr. Carver (?), I notice, closes his eyes when he 
shoots. He did so this time, and Teal and Company, 
scared by the noise, took a drop of about ten feet, turned 
right around the point and were out of sight in less than 
READY TO START FOR THE MARSHES. 
half a second. Jack opened his eyes, looked for the teal 
a-llying. and not seeing a bird, hollers: 
■■ 'Say. Sherm, I got the whole lot.' 
"li took me a long time to convince him that the fairies 
were only playing with him. The trouble with your friend 
is, he doesn't know how to hunt. He makes too much 
noise, moves about all the time, talks incessantly, and the 
best shot.s are past before he makes up his mind to shoot. 
And then.- again, he — well, he can't shoot ducks anyway." 
I want to tell you about nur duck hunting of to-day 
ard to prove that even within a radius of two hours from 
Chicago r can give you spon equal to any. It is grand, 
because, with patience, endurance and ordinary luck, I 
never fail to bring home from twenty-five to seventy-five 
ducks as the result of a three-days' trip. 
It will be a good idea to relate what happens during 
one entire d.Tv on the duck mars^ies of the Kankakee. 
T_nm a membpr of the Nickle Plate Gun Club. We are 
limiter' to twenty-five members, own our farm and 
grn'i"d.s hiiiUI'TTS's ftirni''urp. e^c. 
Our locatifiri ideal. A hWh nnint on the N'clde Plate 
Pai'ropd "-here it crosses the Kankakee River, in Starke 
county, Tnd. 
In mv first illustration you can see two hunters and 
two pushers ready for an early start. This view is direct- 
FuREST AND bTREAM. 
ly in from of oiu' club house, showing the railroad bridge 
and the river. 
W^e have a man and his wife in charge and they keep 
our premises in perfect condition and set a table as good 
as one could wish. 
The trip I want to tell you about took place the 2ist day 
of last October. I had received a telegram from Mr, 
Horner, the warden, saying: "Ducks plenty; waiting to 
be shot.". 
That settled it. I inimeditely hunted up Enoch Colby, 
the father of the club, and the best all around hunter in 
Illinois. But, more of him later. Colby is a modest man 
and I must be careful. 
Yes, Colby said he woidd go, so next day we took the 
2:50 train in the afternoon and that brought us to our 
grounds at 5:20 P. M. 
The officials of the Nickle Plate Railroad are very kind 
to us. They > e>- ier the train stopped at the club house. 
_ At this time '.f the year it is just about dark as we ar- 
rive, but we take our baggage to the gun room, put on 
hunting garments; trim and fix our guns, fill our shell 
[Aprii, 7, igon 
HERE IS MY PET DRAKE. 
boxes and get everything in shape for an early morning 
start. After supper we examine the boats, decoys, etc., 
and then look up my pusher, Sherman Hyatte. 
Sherman Hyatte is fond ot me — so mucn so that his last 
boy bears my name. If the stork cabs once more he'll 
have a baker's dozen in his family. I am going to write 
the story of Sherman's life, describe his egg-eating ca- 
pacity, his total abhorrence of spirits (unless they are bot- 
tled up) for your perusal, to appear in some future num- 
ber. The article will be illustrated from photos taken 
from life and Sherm. I found Sherm at home and he 
agreed to be at the club house at 5 A. M., one hour before 
daybreak. 
Promptly at half-past w'ur Mr. Horner awakened Mr. 
Colby and myself. We dress, and in the gun room find 
a roaring wood fire. I take mv usual dose of three grains 
of quinine with a little and water, and then sit 
down to a good hot breakfast. Sherm has arrived by this 
time, the boats are in the river, and, inviting him to eat 
breakfast with us, he informed me that he had breakfast 
at home. A little coaxing brings him in, however. Soon 
we are through, take our dinner pails and all other para- 
phernalia and start for Bellmore Marsh. This is only a 
twenty-minutes' push from the club house. Colby goes 
to the Yellow River bottoms, so we part company until 
night, wishing each other good luck. I am at the front 
door of my blind in a very short time. 
I own a green bay duck boat, as seen in the illustration. 
In my opinion, it is the safest and easiest to push. The 
holes in the stern and bow give you an excellent oppor- 
tunity to stake your boat firmly, after you ate in your 
blind, preventing any danger of tripping. 
Of course, the blind has been prepared in advance by 
Nature. The marsh grass in the Kankakee Marshes 
grows to a height of from 8 to 12 feet. 
Look at illustration No. 2. Can you see us? 
No; of course you can't. You can see our decoys 
staked out, that's all. To the right of the river, in the 
marsh, is our boat firmly staked and Sherm and I are in 
it, waiting for a friendly visit from Mr, Drake and Mrs. 
Hen. 
What's that about staking decoys, you ask? Oh, yes, 
T forgot to tell you about my live wild mallards. In 
marsh hunting you don't require a large number of de- 
coys. What you want is the kind that look right, act 
right and call ihcir friends from above as they fly over. 
Well, I have them. Last spring, a year ago, I found a 
nest of fourteen wild mahard eggs on the Yellow River 
Bottoms. This was in the forepart of April. I took them 
to the club and Mr. Horner put them under a setting hen. 
They bore fruit, every one of them, and by fall they were 
splendid specimens of wild mallards. One wing was 
clipped after four of them, one day during early October, 
seeing a flight of wild ones crossing over the club grounds, 
turned up one eye to the sky. gave a mighty squawk and 
flew away — and they may be flying yet. Then Mr. Horner 
sewed on each right foot a little piece of waterproof can- 
vas, inclosing a small brass ring; on this ring a snap with 
a strong fish line with a 4-pound lead weight,and there 
you have a genuine wild live mallard decoy. I generally 
carry six in a box in my boat. By feeding them corn 
every time you take them from the water, they will soon 
come to expect it, and in two weeks, when ready to go 
home, take in the weight, unsnap it, and the ducks will 
fly into the boat, to be put into their box and get their 
corn. 
Can you see his mottled green-headed highness on top 
of the box containing his brothers and sisters? Here 1 
am in my boat ready to go home, with my pusher at my 
back. This gentlemanly drake has become so tame, he 
stands on the box and positively declines to go into it. 
He knows by this time I will feed him corn from the 
hollow of my hand. So tame is he, that in going up or 
down the river, on jump shots, I level m)' gun over his 
head and the exnlosion never phases him. He may turn 
and look for results, but never moves from his perch. 
From this start, Mr. Horner has raised fifty-six other 
little mallards thi? spring, and he has no trouble in getting 
$1.50 each for them from eager sportsmen, who have 
heard of m^^ exneriments. I claim nothing original about 
this scheme, except that I found the eggs that brought 
forth the ducks. _ >i 
Now we II go back to our duck hunting. The weath 
is perfect— no sun, no rain, but cloudy ; a little threat? 
ing, perhaps, but an ideal duck day. _ 
We have our decoys staked — four of them, three draRta 
and one hen. One other hen is moored on the opposii 
side of the river, beyond the point on the left, out c 
sight of the staked ones. A second hen is kept in th 
box. 
Why do^ I do that? Because a mallard hen is a dud 
woman. She can hear the ducks in the river. Remembe 
her lover is out there calling for his sweetheart. Sl^i 
hears him, and not being able to see him, do you thiii 
she'd keep her mouth shut and she a woman, even if onl 
a duck woman? ' 
No, siree, not she, nor her sister above the point. Tl 
drakes call with their svbilant. penetrating "Mamphi 
"Mamph," "Mamph," and Mrs. Hen answers with a siii 
cession of "Quack," "Quack," "Quacks," that can 1^ 
heard for a mile, and certainly ought to attract the atteri 
tion of any kindred flying in the sky above. 
"Look up the river," says Sherman. 
I see eight mallards come sailing down toward us. Ot 
what a noise my six are making— a regular barnyard a, 
feeding time. When they come within range, I send twi 
loads from my Francotte, and am satisfied to see one he; 
and one drake tumble down — stone dead. 
. "Good starter," says Sherman, and proceeds to get thi 
game. 
Not more than ten minutes have elapsed when five mal 
lards swing high overhead. My birds quack nobly ant 
succeed in turning the flight of the five. They whee 
round lower, and come up toward the decoy, settle in thi 
river about two gun shots away. If you will look in th 
picture of the decoys, you. will see the five sitting cloSi 
to the bank. I took the photo from the blind. The sm 
not being out, I had to depend on the reflection from i| 
water for light, but, everything considered, I think T 
quite a novelty to produce a photo containing the picturi 
of five wild mallards slowly but surely swimming towan 
my decoys. 
Will I .shoot them sitting if I get a chance? That di 
pends. Not so early in the day— but by this time tli 
five strangers are mixing with my property. Of courg 
now I cannot shoot. 
I know of no greater privilege than to watch, unperl 
ceived, the antics of a lot of wild ducks. Not a momed 
that the ducks do not crane their necks, look in evefjj 
direction, give a "Mamph" or two, intended either as j 
warning or a sign of safety, swim here, there, everywhere 
the very personification of wariness and activity. Now 
one of them sees his staked brethren. ; 
"Why, what sort of a snooser is this, anyway?" m 
asks, as plain as any action can talk. He is very sus- 
picious. He sounds a "Mamph" of retreat and by some 
peculiar action of his feet, raises his entire body out oi 
the water and is about to fly. Something evidently re-3 
assures him, however, and he again drops into the water, 
but apparently believes that safety lies at the botto: 
After giving vent to a sound of discovery, he dives, to 1 
followed by three of his companions. One lone hen stay* 
up above, whether to keep watch or too lazy to gQ 
down I cannot say, but I believe she is a watcher, fo( 
she will not feed, but continuously looks up and down the 
river, now at the left bank, then toward our blind. ^ 
suspicious old dame. Her folks have just reappeared^' 
She is telling each one of them something strange, swim- 
ming from one to the other, and I should not be "surprised 
if she was talking about her neighbors, my decoys, and 
I_ imagine she is not talking very nicely about them 
either, for the five strangers edge off by themselves, andl 
now I know their instinct of distrust is thoroughly; 
aroused; they scent danger. It is a performance I hav© 
watched so often, that I know now is my time to gred 
them with a shower of number sixes, if I want any part 
of them. 
So getting my gun in position I rise quickly; they se 
YOU CAN SEE NOTHING BtTT THE DECOYS. 
me, start up with all the noise and confusion peculiar to 
mallards, and fly away, just as I let both barrels into then 
rears, and being within easy range, three of the five drop, 
two dead and one crippled. I reload quickly, and hit the 
cripple just as he is about to hide himself in the high 
grass on the left bank. This time we are obliged to 
take one boat to get our dead ones. The current of the 
river is considerable, and in a few minutes they would 
be out of reach and at the mercy of coon, mink or 'hawk 
_ It only takes about fiften minutes, however, and by the 
time we are again staked in our blind, our watch tells us 
it is fifteen minutes past eight, and -five dead birds in 
our boat. 
We are feeling pretty good, and Sherman complaii 
for the first time to-day. His stomach aches. Shermai 
has pushed me now for four years, spring and fall, and i 
know that each day I have been out with him, he has the 
stomach ache from five to eight times. It depends on tli 
degree of cold, the wetness of the rain, the qualitv of m\ 
spirits, and the quantity. Quantity is judged by the size 
of the bottle. 
When I hear the word "stomach ache" coming from 
Sherman, I mechanically reach for the bottle and hand it 
to him. He understands and acts accordingly — a soff 
