750 
FOREST AND STREAM 
A Real Southern Duck Shooting Story 
Among the Currituck Bay Birds—II. 
By Alex Hunter. 
I used that morning a No. 12 Colts gun, and 
found it worked admirably. The natives here 
though invariably shoot snipe with a No. 10 bore. 
As regards the size of shot the standard seems 
to be No. 8, but I think that it is too large for 
the work, one size smaller, or even two, being 
better adapted to the task, as the snipe is not a 
tough bird and is easily killed. 
The sun was about an hour high when the 
sky became overcast with clouds, and one of 
those sudden storms so common to the North 
Carolina coast burst upon us. The rain came 
down in a perfect deluge, and driven almost 
horizontally by the gale of wind. Now it was 
that the bay birds came with a rush, and it was 
something new to me to shoot in the face of 
a tropical thunder storm. The rain was so dense 
it was impossible to see the snipe until they 
■were well over the decoys, and it was tough 
work bringing them down. I had to shoot en¬ 
tirely with my back to the wind, it was utterly 
impossible to see how to aim facing the blast- 
The rain came like buckets of water dashed in 
my face, completely blurring my vision. As it 
was I made many misses, and only knocked over 
about one for every two shots. In a few mo¬ 
ments the face of the whole country became 
changed; instead of the level sea meadows with 
here and there a pond, the scene was reversed, 
and as the storm died away and the sun burst 
out his struggling beams showed a vast sheet 
of water, with only here and there a hillock 
of sand. 
Then ensued some minutes of rest which we 
all utilized in gathering our game. My setter 
Jessie saved me many a long chase after crip¬ 
ples. It is a singular fact that a blue-blooded 
setter hates to retrieve a salt-water snipe. From 
long generations of hunting the quail, they learn 
to know that kind of game by instinct, and any 
bird so different in scent from the quail, or up¬ 
land game birds, ceases to afford them pleasure. 
Certainly, Jessie manifested at first great reluc¬ 
tance to touch them, and it was only the result 
of implicit obedience brought about by thorough 
training that made her obey my commands. 
Unless one forces himself to eat at the unto¬ 
ward hour before sunrise he is certain to suffer 
for it. Nature abhors a vacuum and shooting 
at such a place on an empty stomach is sure 
to be followed 'by a violent headache; the face 
becomes flushed, the eyes glassy, and the tem¬ 
ples throb painfully. The summer before all 
my three companions were compelled to stop 
shooting and be taken back home in the cart 
utterly prostrated. This time I insisted upon 
the crowd eating at least a biscuit apiece, so 
when we knocked off for the morning all hands 
were as fresh as the proverbial lark. 
A count up showed that my pile contained 114 
A Most Alluring Opportunity. 
birds to 150 shells fired. Cap came next with 
a score of 80, while York made.a fine showing; 
it was his first experience with the bay birds, 
and with 100 shells used he had, brought down 
57 birds, all single shots. 
Tuesday we varied the proceedings by a water 
trip to the various clubs in the Sound. The 
Swan Island property is very valuable, so also 
is that of the Lighthouse Club, and a glance 
over their register shows they are a set of 
genial, jolly fellows, sportsmen and gentlemen 
to the core. Our party is much indebted to the 
courteous keeper of fhe Lighthouse Club for 
many kindnesses. Monkey Island Club is a se¬ 
cluded retreat and is probably the smallest club 
in existence, having only four members. 
Returning, we reached our own club about 10 
o’clock, nearly starved, only to find Shant gone 
to bed and nothing in the house to eat, he not 
expecting us until next day. We then went over 
to Leon’s house, and found the remains of a 
supper. As hungry as we were, the sight took 
away our appetites, and we told him we would 
eat no supper if he would have a smoking hot 
breakfast for us early in the morning. To this 
he assented, and we returned to sleep with such 
aching voids that it tinctured our dreams. 
We aroused ourselves and went over to Leon’s 
to eat that hot breakfast; to our dismay the 
whole house was buried in a profound sleep. 
After hammering at the door that worthy came 
yawning into the porch, his “gallusses” hanging 
down his back. He then drawled out he “hadn’t 
no breakfast,” and he ushered us into the same 
table that had already turned our stomachs the 
evening before. There lay the greasy ham and 
the saleratus biscuits. It was eat or starve, we 
could not go to the blinds in our condition, since 
we had not eaten a square meal for twenty-four 
hours. We were like the man who had to eat 
crow, “we got outside of it, but we didn’t hanker 
arter it.” 
Getting Shant White to hitch up his team, 
York and I put out for the blinds, and during 
the whole journey not a word was spoken. We 
were too mad. But the bay birds flew beauti¬ 
fully, and kept us working at our guns in a 
lively manner. I used a No. 10 and 16, and the 
latter fully answered my purpose in the ma¬ 
jority of shots. 
After the first rush of birds was over I filled 
my briarroot, and discovered I had forgotten 
to bring matches. Calling Jessie, I strolled over 
to York’s blind and found him puffing away at 
his pipe, the perfect picture of contentment. I 
noticed a couple of strange men in the blinds 
banging away like mad. I was amazed, for I 
knew none of the clubmen had arrived, so I 
inquired of my companion what it meant. 
“Why,” said he, “they are two visitors that 
Shant White invited to shoot.” 
“Who gave him fhe power to invite people 
to shoot over the club grounds?” was my na¬ 
tural question. “No one,” responded York, 
