Jan. 31, 1914 - 
FOREST AND STREAM 
135 
say that a small man could stand more than a 
large one (he weighs 120 pounds while I weigh 
165 or 170). I said nothing, in fact I didn’t 
have much breath to waste on words, but I did 
manage to keep up and in due time we reached 
Twin Mountain. After dinner we went over to 
the store and I noticed that, among other things, 
the Camera-man bought a bottle of strong lini¬ 
ment. In the afternoon we tramped it up the 
railroad track to Bretton Woods and took sup¬ 
per at the Bretton Arms. We had ordered some 
films shipped to this office and were disappointed 
because they had not come, for a man in that 
country without films is worse than a hunter 
without cartridges. We left word to have them 
forwarded to Jackson and tramped down to the 
Crawford house that night. 
When we were going to bed I noticed that the 
Camera-man used the liniment most liberally on 
his ankles. I mistrusted that the tramp to Twin 
Mountain had been at too fast a pace even for a 
“The Camera-Man Even Climbed Upon a Shelf 
of Ice and Posed for His Picture.” 
small man. While we were eathig breakfast we 
made our plans to go up Mount Williard then 
follow the railroad track down through the 
notch. The Camera-man’s ankles were -worse 
instead of better, so he decided to rest while 1 
went up alone. 
Williard stands at the head of the Crawford 
Notch, and from its submit which is one and 
one-half miles from the Crawford House, a 
splendid view may be had of the notch and sur¬ 
rounding mountains. A large tr^ct of this land 
had recently been purchased by the Government 
and set aside as a National Park. The wind was 
so cold that I didn’t spend much time there. 
When I got back down I found the Camera¬ 
man down at the switchman’s house discussing 
with him, the advantages and disadvantages of 
their respective snowshoes. We soon swung the 
shoes on our backs, turned hobos and started 
down the track. The snow was deep and had 
been piled high on either side of the track by 
the snow plow. The switchman warned us to 
be careful in going through cuts not to be caught 
by trains. We paused a few times to take pic¬ 
tures and got to Bemis for dinner. We could 
have covered the same ground on the train, but 
one needs time in such a place to take in the 
grandeur of the scenery. The afternoon was 
much the same. The Camera-man stopped sev¬ 
eral times to apply liniment. Once I got out my 
camera very quietly and took his picture making 
the application. He looked up when the shutter 
clicked. 
“What are you doing?” he asked. 
“Taking a ‘been there’ picture to go with the 
one you took of me over in Benton,” I replied. 
The night was spent at Glen. Our host proved 
to be a snowshoe maker and as my shoes were 
rather the worse for wear, we decided to wait 
over one day and have them refilled, hoping too 
that our films would come in the meantime. Our 
host was also a guide and chuck full of informa¬ 
tion regarding the mountains, so the day passed 
quite pleasantly. We waited until the nine 
o’clock train next morning, still hoping the films 
would come, but they did not, so we started for 
Jackson. It was nearly noon when we got there 
and we decided to try a store dinner, thinking 
to save time thereby. 
When we left Jackson we took the wrong 
road and went up the Wildcat River. When we 
learned our mistake we were so far up that we 
hated to go back, so put on the snowshoes and 
tramped across the ridge to the other road. At 
five o’clock we got a light lunch at the last house 
and started on an eight mile snowshoe tramp to 
the Glen House. We got another lunch at a lum- 
Cold, crisp weather had come and with it, re¬ 
ported flight of the Broad Bill on their southern 
migration. It was this report that urged both 
Bish and myself to don our warmest clothes, 
collect our scattered decoys of the former sea¬ 
son, and with Branford in mind prepare for a 
day’s shoot that was destined to be a much great¬ 
er success than our imaginations had pictured. 
Branford, one of Connecticut’s smallest shore 
towns, would not, by the casual observer, be 
chosen as a shooting ground, yet off the coast 
of this small village, Bish and myself bagged 
more ducks than even a pot-hunter of our west¬ 
ern rice marshes could boast of. Branford har¬ 
bor and its vicinity is dotted with small rock 
islands .and promontories, back ..of which the 
Broad Bill seems to pick as his resting place. 
The day we chose was cold—cold ias a mid¬ 
winter’s day, and the wind off the sound was 
blowing a perfect gale. It was a typical “duck 
day.” On waking at four o’clock it seemed as 
though it would be impossible to worm our way 
out to Spectacle Rock, which lay not more than 
a half mile off shore. Anyhow we weren’t in 
the mood to let such a day pass, so with all our 
stool, guns, shells, and blankets, we set out 
through this raging water. It was taking a big 
chance, as both Bish and I realized only too well, 
but the whir of wings in the darkness above our 
heads only drove us on toward Spectacle. 
The lee side of Spectacle was calm, and the 
wind only reached us in little gusts as it came 
sweeping around the rocky ends. Here in this 
smooth water Bish put out the stool, while I 
managed the boat and held him in place for an 
imposing looking decoy. I can’t describe the dis¬ 
comfort of putting those decoys in the water; 
wet hands and arms, and the chill wind biting 
and stinging to the bone, yet to us at the time 
it seemed comfort and only the continuous quack 
of the broadbill black duck changed the place 
from hell to a paradise. 
Finally all set, we snuggled up among the rocks 
to await day break, and.the first birds to our 
ber camp six miles up and arrived at the hotel 
about nine o’clock. 
We had planned 'to climb Mount Washington 
from this point and were glad to find it clear 
next morning. While we were eating breakfast, 
however, a cloud settled down over the summit 
and the people at the hotel said it had every ap¬ 
pearance of staying. We had no films to expose 
and thought it would not be worth while to go 
up if it was to be cloudy, so we tramped down 
to Gorham and took the train for home. 
Winter is a splendid season in which to take 
a trip through the mountains. The air is sharp 
and filled with health-giving ozone. You can 
get better views through the leafless tree than 
if they were covered with foliage. One can stay 
at the hotels in the winter time for much less 
than in the summer, consequently it is more eco¬ 
nomical. Snowshoeing is a very satisfactory 
way of traveling. It seems hard to believe, but 
one can walk farther, and faster and with less 
fatigue on snowshoes than on the bare ground. 
We did not make so many miles and were far 
more tired when we followed the railroad track 
than when we used the. webs. A flat toed shoe 
is the best for mountain climbing, as it is less 
liable to slip back and gives one a toe hold. One 
should wear good woolen clothing, but not too 
much weight, only when you are above the tim¬ 
ber line, then the more the better. 
decoy. Our decoys lay glimmering and bobbing 
on the water ahead of us and seemed in good 
line for the course the ducks would take that 
day. The wind from out on the Sound would 
drive all living water fowl shoreward, and keep 
them either in the air or under the protection of 
the sheltered rocks and points. 
Day seemed a long time in coming, and with 
the first break we could make out several flocks, 
some sky high, others just clearing the waves 
and flying at tremendous speed. Bish’s first cry 
of “Mark east” brought us both down on our 
backs with our pump guns ready at hand. With 
not a muscle moving, and one eye trying to look 
backward, I could just make out five ducks com¬ 
ing toward Spectacle. What were they? Too 
large for broadbills; a minute more and they 
were, over our Heads, far out of gun shot, but 
look! The leader breaks and drops, just a short 
drop, but enough to satisfy us both'. In big- 
circling bounds he couldn't reach our stool fast 
enough; around and around with four black 
duck madly following him, the big bird came. 
A minute more and all five were coming up in 
the wind, their one ambition seemingly to drop 
in the edge of our decoy. “Alright. Bish.” I said, 
“take those on the right,” and on that word, our 
guns spoke. Three startled and frightened ducks 
began a hurried scramble for the open sea, but 
only one reached a place of safety, and he went 
tearing off, finally to disappear in the darkness 
of the horizon. Bish was busy shooting a crip¬ 
ple while I took the boat and picked up the dead. 
Four huge black duck were the result, and a 
rather good nucleus to build upon that morning. 
Still keeping our bodies flat to the rocks, we 
waited, but only for a few seconds before I was 
watching the flight of probably 100 broadbill to 
the north, and Bish an equal number flying to 1 
ward the west. Both flocks seemed destined to 
meet over our heads and we two “would-be duck 
shooters” were getting rather excited at the pros¬ 
pect of such a number decoying to our stool. One 
flock turned and joined with a gathering of coots 
(Continued on page 131.) 
After Ducks 
