October, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
543 
In the center of the lake there are 
about nine acres of cranberry bushes, 
which do not bear cranberries on account 
of low water. 
Here and there are some patches of 
grass among the bushes. One can jump 
mallards in these patches, especially in 
the early part of the season, as that is 
where the young mallards like to hide 
and it is where we like to see them light, 
for we can row up to the edge of the 
cranberries and flush them. When they 
get out they go right straight up, and 
a good many hunters get fooled by them, 
for they will shoot under their bird eight 
out of ten times. 
When the water is low one can wade 
all through the cranberry bushes without 
much trouble. 
About eighteen years ago this lake 
went dry and willows started to grow. 
This made an excellent place for wood 
ducks, but now on account of so much 
water the last five years it has killed the 
willows, and one does not see any more 
wood ducks. 
I have one of the best dogs in the 
country and he is a great retriever. He 
is a cross between a spaniel and a set- 
ter, and can be worked very hard all day. 
He weighs about sixty-five pounds, and 
some say that he is too heavy, but I have 
seen smaller dogs work and notice that 
they get tired out quickly. 
In the early part of the season one 
can go in the marsh and make all the 
noise he wants to, and even shoot, but the 
young mallards will not get out, but let 
the dog get in there and they will move. 
I had an experience a few years ago 
on this strip of marsh, which is about 60 
yards wide and about 200 yards long. I 
had put old Sport out in this strip, and 
it was not over four minutes before a 
young mallard came fluttering out in a 
little open space. I knocked it down 
and the dog brought it to me. When I 
looked it over I noticed that its body 
was well feathered out, but the wings 
were not feathered enough to fly. I 
rowed down to the other end to try again, 
but on my way down I saw that some 
fellows in a boat had pushed in through 
the marsh, but I thought I would put 
the dog off anyway. When he saw me 
put the dog off he stopped and sure 
enough he hadn’t been in there long be- 
fore three young mallards got up. I got 
one with each barrel and the other one 
went almost over this fellow and he shot 
three times, but the bird was still going 
the last time I saw it. Not long after- 
wards I ran across this same fellow 
and he was trying the same thing with 
his dog. 
About noon when most of the hunters 
have gone home, one usually will find a 
mallard or two dropping in, and sure 
enough about eleven-thirty I discovered 
a mallard coming in, so I said to my 
partner, whom I had met in the marsh: 
“Here is a good chance for me to increase 
my bag limit,” so I rowed over to where 
I had seen it light and it got up within 
25 yards of me. I downed it with the 
first shot, and then up got another which 
I killed with the other barrel. This one 
fell in the cranberries, so I let old Sport 
get it while I picked up the first one 
which had fallen right on the edge. I 
went back to where my partner was, but 
we hadn’t been there over ten minutes 
before we saw six more mallards drop in. 
They lit in a patch of open water near a 
big bunch of grass. He said: “Go over 
and try them.'’ I wanted him to come 
too, but he said: “Oh, we can’t get near 
them.” So I decided to go over and try 
them. While I was sneaking back of the 
patch of grass they swam up to the edge 
of it and when I got to the opposite side 
I looked up, expecting to see them out in 
the open, but could not see them at all, 
so I kept on pushing around the grass. 
There was a good wind blowing and in 
my favor, so they did not hear me mov- 
ing around, and just as the point of my 
boat went around the edge of the grass, 
up they sprang with loud quacks, in fine 
range, and sure enough one fell at the 
report of each barrel That added two 
more nice mallards to my bunch. 
We waited around there for about a 
half hour, but didn’t see any more drop 
in. Finally my partner said he was 
going to go around and see if he could 
jump any more. Sure enough he hadn’t 
been gone very long before I heard his 
gun talking. He had gotten into a flock 
of eight killed three of them, and on the 
way back a blue wing teal flew over him, 
but he stopped it before it got very far. 
After that we picked up one pintail and 
a black mallard and a gray mallard, 
which made fourteen nice birds. A little 
later we pulled up our boats and put them 
on the cart and drove up to the farm 
house, which is about half a mile from 
the lake, put the boats in the corn crib 
and were on our way home at dark. 
Frank Lawrence, Wis. 
WILD OTTER IN NEW YORK 
STATE 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
S TRANGE as it may seem two otter 
were captured alive in the town of 
Lewis, next town north of here, recently. 
One of the otter was a large one, meas- 
uring over four feet from tip to tip and 
was caught by two men and a woman 
while attempting to go through a corn- 
field in the Stowerville section. An 
empty flour barrel was put down and 
the otter crawled into it. 
The other otter was a kitten and was 
caught in the grass on Hale Brook Park, 
about five miles west of Stowerville. A 
man with mittens on picked the little 
fellow up easily. These two otters, a 
male and a female, are in possession 
of Perry A. Cole, proprietor of Pleasant 
Valley Fur Farm, who intends to breed 
them. 
Geo L. Brown, Elizabethtown, N. Y. 
A DAY WITH COAST-TROUT 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
U NLIKE the ancient philosopher who 
declared: “I am an old man; I have 
had many troubles — and the most Oi 
them never happened,” I have had m^ 
fishing-troubles, and all of them hap- 
pened. 
But along with much “Fisherman’s 
luck” I have had some experiences which 
I have framed and hung in the gallery 
of memory; part of which I will now 
give you. 
Coastal fishing is fine when it is fine. 
Two years ago this November I spent 
a day along Chocolate Bayou, about 
thirty miles below Galveston. The day 
was very chilly; clouds came and passed. 
A “Norther” was coming and with it 
myriads of ducks. As I was bent on fish- 
ing only, I only slipped half a dozen 
shells in with my trusty double-barrel, 
thinking that if the ducks really attacked 
me I would have some defence! That’s 
the time the air was, and always is 
full of ducks! 
Well, as luck had it, I got on the wrong 
side of the water, the wind making it 
exceedingly difficult to cast. Then came 
a launch with half a dozen fishermen 
aboard. They tied up opposite and threw 
into the shoals. Every man pulled out 
small mullet, sheep-head, catfish, etc., 
about as fast as he could bait. I set to 
sizing up matters; if those small fish 
were so plentiful in that shallow water, 
they must have been chased there by 
larger ones. I wished those fellows 
would get out and give me a chance!” 
My wish was soon gratified; they left 
disgusted, little thinking that there were 
“Acres of Diamonds” at their feet. 
The Bayou was 16 feet deep and 250 
wide. I had no boat and the water was 
icy! Well, a true fisherman never hesi- 
tates. With rod and bait and lunch 
strapped to back, I was soon across; 
found an old boat; anchored it out as 
far as I could wade, and threw my line. 
The shrimp must have been extra good, 
as the hook no sooner disappeared when, 
swish! Ah, a 1%-lb. beauty — yes, a 
real speckled trout. Another shrimp, 
another throw, and swish again! 
Well, I kept throwing and swishing for 
over two hours; simply dropping the fine 
fellows into the boat before me; my 
lunch on the bank less than 20 feet away 
but who could get hungry under sue 
circumstances? 
My companions growled at me fo 
swimming across; and when they saw 
the white bellies flashing steadily over 
my head, they put in the time growling 
because I would not row over and set 
them across! 
I finally quit and when home that 
night with my fish, counted and weighed, 
it was heralded that I had made the 
finest catch of trout ever taken in one 
