March, 1921 
FOREST AND STREAM 
109 
The pirate Lafitte’s headquarters on Bayou Barataria 
I PULLED a small flash light from my 
pocket and looked at my watch. It 
was ten minutes to 6, pretty cold 
with a light northwest wind, and the 
forerunners of dawn giving a faint 
light to the clouds along the eastern 
horizon. Hundreds of ducks and poules 
d’eau (gallinules) rose when we first 
entered the lagoon. They brushed 
through the air in circles over our 
heads and lit in splashes all about us. 
There was absolutely no shooting at 
fowl on the water and no wing shoot- 
ing until the birds could be easily seen 
in flight. But every man was using 
his duck call to attract any flights with- 
in sound. 
Beyond my decoys and behind a hum- 
mock, a hundred feet away, a flock of 
mallards rose, and I brought one down 
with each barrel and the fun began. I 
had no further use for my decoys or 
duck call. There were flocks of hun- 
dreds of mallards (called French ducks 
locally), teal and pin-tail, with droves 
of gallinules and snipe. My next shot 
was into a flock of teal flying low to 
light. Three came to the water from 
two shots, and then followed two more 
shots into a flock of mallards, but only 
one bird dropped. I was really glad 
for I made a clean hit and a clean miss. 
On account of the continuous shooting, 
the flocks were scattering and rising, 
and single shots were now the rule; but 
I had seventeen good ducks lying in the 
water in front of me. 
Far off to the east toward the river 
and flying low came a flock of what I 
thought were geese, coming up against 
a light wind. As they drew nearer I 
sounded my duck call wildly, and they 
came in my direction. How I prayed 
that no one would shoot to scare them. 
I lay flat across my pirogue with my 
head through the spreading grass and 
gun barrels hidden. They circled close, 
arched their wings and prepared to 
light behind the hummock in front of me 
about forty yards away. I let my knees 
fall in the water and mud along my 
pirogue, raised and picked two that fell 
on the hummock. Two more shells were 
hurriedly thrust into my gun and I 
landed two more before they were again 
in full flight. Four of the finest, fattest 
canvas-backs you ever saw. 
The sun was now well up and the 
clouds had drifted away which allowed 
the full glare of sun in my eyes, but 
after a number of misses and some hits, 
I found my limit of ducks floating about 
me and I amused myself in taking some 
long shots at the big yellow legged snipe 
that bobbed swiftly by. 
Whether or not the ducks knew I had 
my limit, I do not know; but they 
seemed to come closer to me and in 
greater numbers than before. I took my 
observation glasses from my hunting 
coat and studied the birds in their flight. 
I found canvas-back, dosgris, or grey 
backs, zin-zin, or widgeons, black French 
duck, brown duck, and a black and white 
duck I had never seen before. Pelicans, 
blue cranes, jack snipe and innumer- 
able gallinules of all sizes. But I did 
not see a goose, nor did any of us kill 
one on our trip. We saw thousands of 
what the natives call “nigger geese,” a 
black fowl about the size of a loon and 
shaped similarly. They live entirely on 
fish and are not considered edible. 
By 9 o’clock every member of our 
party had his limit of ducks, and was 
well supplied with snipe. By the sun 
and my compass I knew general direc- 
tions ; but I could never have found my 
way out of the lagoon, for the entrance 
to our ditch of ingress and exit was 
totally covered by overhanging grass. 
Our host, however, led the way and we 
were soon pushing and pulling ourselves 
through the marsh to our bayou. As it 
was necessary for our Catholic Father 
to keep an engagement at his church 
the following morning at Grand Isle, we 
could not delay for a fishing evening. 
B Y the time we had changed our wet 
clothes to dry, our real breakfast 
was ready. Again delicious fried 
oysters, fresh eggs and bacon, hot but- 
tered toast, grits and coffee. Our game 
was hauled up on the after deck, our de- 
coys and pirogues placed on the upper 
deck, and with the help of the crew, we 
prepared our ducks and snipe to keep. 
We removed the feathers from the 
breasts and removed all entrails, cleaned 
the gizzards and salted them with the 
hearts and livers and replaced them 
inside the ducks with tooth picks, then 
hung them under the canvas awning, by 
their heads, on the upper deck, to dry in 
the salt breeze. By 4 p. m. we were 
well down into Barataria Bay, and 
shortly after sun down, we were ashore 
at Grand Island. 
This island I consider a paradise. It 
is nine miles long and about a mile 
wide, with a most beautiful grey cres- 
cent beach nine miles long, and an un- 
dulating shore of grey sand that is rest- 
ful to the eye. The gulf is only from 
three to five feet deep, at a distance of 
two hundred yards from shore, with 
numerous sand bars outside that pre- 
vent under currents. On the land side 
of the island is a bay about a half a mile 
wide, in which the water does not ex- 
ceed 4 feet in depth and the bottom is 
composed of light disintegrated shells 
and sand. 
Beautiful old Fort Livingston, with 
its light-house, is just across the pass 
at the east end of the island. Here 
are the finest fishing waters on the Gulf 
coast, containing trout, mackerel, croak- 
ers and jack fish. On the island proper 
are wonderful groves of great live oaks 
with thousands of clumps of oleanders 
bordering them, and beneath the trees 
and among the oleanders are the quaint, 
beautifully colored cottages of the na- 
tives. Oranges, grapefruit and figs 
grow abundantly, and cauliflower and 
cucumbers are the early products of the 
truck gardens. 
For more than two hundred years 
these people have lived in quiet content- 
ment, many of them being nearly a hun- 
dred years of age, and devote their time 
to raising vegetables for the market. 
We were hospitably entertained on the 
island by a doctor from New York who 
came here twenty years ago expecting 
to live only a few months. He is now 
hale and hearty, and as fit as any man 
on the island. Each of us had a big 
room, about twenty feet square, with 
ceilings twelve feet high, a big four- 
posted bed with feather mattress, a fire- 
place, and a hot claret sangaree as a 
night cap. We slept with the lapping 
of the gulf waves in our ears. 
We had a delicious breakfast of fish, 
fried chicken, grits, gravy and coffee 
with hot biscuit, all served by the wife 
of one of the natives in a neat, clean 
cottage under the oleanders and oaks 
on the bay shore. 
A FTER the church ceremonies, dur- 
ing which the writer was shooting 
yellow-leg snipe on the bay shore, 
we made ready for a day’s fishing in 
Livington Pass, and over the oyster 
reefs at the mouths of the bayous. Our 
big boat had a motor dinkey, large 
enough for six people comfortably. We 
took three fishing skiffs containing fish 
wells, and a basket heaping full of live 
lake shrimps for bait. 
Our rods were heavy cane, about six 
feet long, wound strong, with a heavy 
large salt water reel, good strong line 
of 100 yards, with wire leader and 
strong steel hook; everything plain and 
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