110 
FOREST AND STREAM 
March, 1919 
T he decoys being ready, you and one 
of your guides climb in and lie 
side by side on your backs with 
your guns across your laps and conveni- 
ent boxes of cartridges at your feet. 
The little motor pushes off and re- 
treats to a convenient hearing distance 
a quarter of a mile away. For a time 
you lie flat, concealed by the iron decoys 
and peep furtively over the side to note 
the approach of any game. The flocks 
that fly high see into the box and sheer 
off out of range, but others that see 
the decoys from the far horizon and de- 
cide to alight to join them in feeding, 
swing low at some distance away, espe- 
cially if one of the hunters kicks up once 
or twice with his rubber boot in imita- 
tion of ducks standing erect and flapping 
their wings. The live ducks honk loudly 
and finally the flock takes the water close 
to the decoys with a rush and splash 
without detecting your presence in the 
box. At the moment of their arrival 
both you and your guide sit upright in 
your box and blaze away at the rising 
birds according to a prearranged order, 
in which each fnan shoots, the one on 
the left taking those farthest to the left 
and the man at the right those behind. 
Shots at the right or over one’s head are 
extremely difficult in a sitting position 
to become proficient in, but it can be 
done, as was proven time and again by 
your expert companion. A bag of four 
or five out of a flock is not uncommon 
to an expert with a repeater. One. and 
one-eighth ounces of number four shot 
with three and one-quarter drams of 
ballistite powder is preferred for gen- 
eral use on large and small water fowl. 
Killed and wounded birds are secured by 
wading after them in the shallow water, 
and if they fly too far away before they 
can be gathered in, a system of signals 
which has been arranged with the mo- 
tor boat brings it quickly to the rescue. 
Little game that is severely wounded 
escapes, and the guide usually sees to it 
that little of the game needs further at- 
tention after he has shot. Bags are 
limited by law for each day’s shooting 
to reasonable numbers, and no market 
fihooting is now permitted. 
L ying still in the box does not prove 
as cold as one might expect, as the 
sides break the wind and one goes 
warmly clad. In rain, however, even 
with oil skins on, one’s face is well 
washed and other parts of the body nicely 
soaked, if the hunting proves, as it usu- 
ally does at such times, exciting; but 
relief can be had at any time by call- 
ing in the small motor boat and repair- 
ing to the warm cabin where hot coffee 
and sandwiches are available. 
The way your guide can tell at a 
glance the species of bird approaching 
when far on the horizon, and usually 
whether he is intending to come within 
range, is uncanny. Your guide will also 
imitate calls of the various birds to bring 
them down when they fly high. 
You will have a most restful and en- 
tertaining time lying in your little coffin 
out to sea, with enough excitement all 
day to keep you keenly interested. If 
you wish more exercise, the hunting is 
good along the shore of the little island 
for snipe and plover. All told you will 
find the little island of Ocracote an ideal 
resort for a tired business man if you 
are in any way proficient with your gun, 
and in any event your guide sees to it 
that you have something to take home 
to the questioning family and friends. 
A COMPLICATED FOX HUNT 
••HAMLET WITH THE DANE LEFT OUT” BEST DESCRIBES 
THIS CHASE ACROSS FROSTY NEW ENGLAND FIELDS 
By RICHARD BULLOCK 
I N September, with a brother sports- 
man I bought a fox hound from an 
old hunter in Connecticut who was no 
longer able to hike. We paid thirty-five 
dollars for the dog, knew we were get- 
ting a good one, but did not think him 
anything fancy. My friend, a farmer by 
profession, who had the care of the dog, 
was anxious to exhibit him in the Wor- 
cester North Agricultural Fair. We did 
so. Sankey, for that was his name, took 
a blue ribbon, a special ribbon, won a 
silver cup, and five points towards a 
championship. His value immediately 
increased by leaps and bounds until we 
were offered one hundred and fifty dol- 
lars for him. We decided, however, that 
as he was the only good dog we had ever 
owned, and had cost us so little, we would 
keep him in the hope of future sport. 
During October and November, in or- 
der to improve my health, I stayed at 
the Harvey Hale farm in New Hamp- 
shire, for two periods of two weeks each. 
This farm, a real old New England 
homestead of the finest type, is most 
richly endowed by nature. Situated on 
a high hill, with Emerson Pond to the 
east and Grassy Pond spread out on 
the west, together with Mount Monad- 
nock at its most attractive distance, the 
combination of land and water affords 
scenery of rare beauty. Sunrise and 
sunset, in themselves a treat, were en- 
hanced by the sight of numerous flocks 
of ducks, and occasionally of geese, which 
stopped in their flight to the sunny south 
to rest and feed in the ponds. 
“ Sankey,” the best dog we ever owned 
M y second visit, just previous to 
Thanksgiving, found the best of 
the hir'd season passed, and the 
flight of ducks almost at an end. Re- 
alizing that such would be the case, I 
took with me my hound Sankey, since 
fox hunting promised to be the most 
likely source of amusement. Many a 
night, earlier in the fall, I had heard 
the barking of foxes, while more than 
once, at daybreak or at dusk, I had 
seen them mousing in the fields immedi- 
ately surrounding the buildings. Their 
tracks were everywhere. No question 
but that they were very plentiful! Be- 
fore leaving home, I had had forty-nine 
minds as to whether or not I should 
risk taking the dog, owing to past sad 
experience in similar ventures. 
The first morning after my arrival 
was clear, with little wind and a light 
white frost, ideal for pestering Mr. Fox. 
Harvey and I set out soon after break- 
fast and had been gone less than three- 
quarters of an hour in the direction of 
Hubbard Pond, so-called, when the dog 
took a fresh track and was soon driv- 
ing finely. Shortly he passed out of 
hearing, and, as the doctor’s orders al- 
lowed me only moderate exercise, Harvey 
and I dropped down in the lee of a stone 
wall where we could enjoy the welcome 
sunshine and await developments. I had 
just remarked to Harvey that I had 
walked as far as I was going to — was 
going to play a waiting game. After 
some twenty minutes, we once more heard 
the dog, faintly, and knew that the game 
had made a turn. Soon he came nearer, 
packing the supposed fox hard. Then, 
when within good hearing, he suddenly 
changed tongue and barked “in.” I had 
been told that when a fox “holed up,” 
Sankey would stay not more than five 
minutes before starting in search of his 
master. He kept on barking, however. 
