556 
FOREST AND STREAM 
surface. All at once a hurricane of wind puffed 
from the bellows of Boreas with a crash and 
a roar. It picked up the heavily anchored de¬ 
coys like they were feathers loosed from a 
good wife’s pillow and carried them out of 
sight and across the lake in half a minute’s time 
besides almost blowing the writer from his plat¬ 
form, naturally the water rose rapidly. 
The boy in his small boat, alarmed by the 
increasing storm, made for the protected shore 
and fortunately had sense enough to realize that 
to come and try the rescue act would simply- 
put two in danger instead of one; so he did 
the best he could, which was to follow the 
shelter of the cane until he came to a fishing 
camp, where pulled up on the bank was a 
large partly decked-over boat, built with high 
sides for service in the rough waters of the 
Gulf. The fisher people with the willingness 
of their kind needed no second asking to launch 
their boat and hasten to the blind. 
While the boy was away, the ducks, perhaps 
blinded by wind and spray, acted crazy like. 
They showed no fear. Some that were headed 
toward the blind almost struck it; none shied 
or even turned at report of gun, which at best 
could scarcely be heard. The shot was so drifted 
that shooting was mere guess work and the 
wind so puffy that a four foot lead on a close 
bird at one time would be far short of enough, 
while soon after on the same kind of a chance, 
a foot or more too much, else a wave would 
rise and catch the load half way, for the ducks 
all were flying very low and close to the water- 
Once in awhile the shot would go true and a 
bird surprised that in all this war of the ele¬ 
ments man too was hostile, would fall and 
quickly drift for a mile and a half across to 
where the decoys were bobbing about, their 
anchors caught in the weeds, or else with parted 
lines were lying high on the bank where the 
waves had thrown them. 
Things kept getting worse and worse about 
the blind. It shook at every blast, as if the 
stakes were about to pull up. A powder keg 
with a heavy shell box on top served as a seat 
and soon the rising water covered the keg and 
reached half way up the sides of the box. The 
situation became desperate and preparing for 
the worst, the box was opened, a hank of strong 
decoy line taken out, after which it was closed, 
locked and lashed around one of the stakes sup¬ 
porting the platform. As a last defiance of wind 
and waves, two final shots were fired at a strag¬ 
gling line of canvas backs and the hindmost one 
of the lot—feet behind where the gun had been 
held—killed; then the gun was placed, muzzle 
down, in a corner and tied through trigger guard 
and around barrels to another stake, and as one 
more section of cord was being cut to make a 
life preserver of the keg, there came a shout to 
windward which caused the writer to turn. He 
saw close at hand the fishing boat drifting stern 
first, down on the blind with two men in it, each 
straining at an oar to keep from being blown 
across the lake. 
“Jump!” one of the oarsmen shouted. “Jump 
quick now!” 
Gun and box were cut loose, thrown into the 
rescuing craft over its wide stern, quickly fol¬ 
lowed by their owner and then began a battle 
royal for safety. 
With two men rowing and one paddling, head¬ 
way was only made between gusts and sometimes 
when the wind was strongest, it was not head¬ 
way, but sternway the boat showed. However, 
as we neared the back water became smoother, 
speed shoreward increased, until at last the boat 
was run safely into the cane. 
Unlike a similar, storm which a few years 
later destroyed Galveston, this soon blew itself 
out, the sky cleared, by noon the sun was shin¬ 
ing on a quiet lake, and with the light skiff, the 
boy and I were picking up and untangling decoys 
and looking for the few ducks killed during the 
blow. The powder keg though, was never seen 
again, for relieved of the combined weight of 
shell box and shooter, it must have gone across 
the lake scarcely touching its surface, rolled over 
the bank and on and on, so long as the wind 
kept up its force. 
Another near accident, as unavoidable as they 
make them, occurred one November day on the 
Illinois River. A sudden freeze closed nearly 
all the sloughs and open ponds. It took away 
on the wings of a cold north wind most of the 
ducks leaving only a lot of megansers, some 
butter-ball, with once in a while a canvas or 
mallard to fly up and down the open river chan¬ 
nel. There was a jutting point around which 
the river made a sharp bend and across which 
many ducks were passing. The very spot to 
locate. 
When a blind had been built and decoys set, 
the shooting, considering time and conditions 
was good. 
While picking up a killed bird that had fallen 
into the river, the writer’s woolen glove got 
very wet- Just before reaching his blind, he saw 
a lone shell drake coming head on and very fast. 
He took his gun hurriedly and swung for the 
bird which saw the motion and sheered off out 
of shot. 
In lowering the gun the wet glove touched 
and froze to its front trigger, which resulted 
in the right barrel being discharged unexpectedly 
and the concussion caused the gun to jump from 
the hands of its holder. It slid over the snow 
and ice, struck one end of the blind, turned and 
was pointing directly at the writer when it 
stopped. Had the back trigger caught in any 
little bush or stick so as to cause the left barrel 
to go off, there would have been but one ending 
to the accident. 
Mishaps of this kind are very different from 
those caused by careless shooting and reckless 
handling of firearms often by experienced gun¬ 
ners. As an instance may be mentioned when 
shooting chickens. A man of thirty years’ ex¬ 
perience and the best chicken hunter and the 
surest finder the writer ever met was the guilty 
one. He got rattled when a chicken flushed at 
the bottom of a rather sudden rise of ground 
and flew in line with a team of horses navigated 
by his wife and standing on top of the hill a 
hundred yards distant. Between the bird and 
the wagon were the writer trying hard to dodge 
out of line, an innocent old cow, grazing, two 
dogs backing the one which found the game and 
yet another gunner. When the man shot, all 
were hit, that is all except the chicken which 
seemed unhurt and with a sarcastic cackle as 
if laughing, disappeared over the hill. This was 
done by a man who had never met with an 
accident when gunning and who was a constant 
preacher against want of care with guns. 
One never could tell when a heedless com¬ 
panion would do something that would shame a 
schoolboy, as a man did in muzzle loader days, 
who put a lighted pipe into a coat pocket with 
a package of powder for company. The writer 
fortunately was in front, driving, and the pipe 
and powder combination on the rear seat. He 
went shooting again next day. The other two 
remained home for several weeks. 
But enough of accidents. Now concerning op¬ 
portunities. Was there ever a more free-hearted 
class of men than those who use the rod and 
handle the gun? Dating from way back in 
THE CANVAS-BACK. 
Illustration from “American Duck-Shooting.” 
