May 15, 1909-] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
769 
mud, punt paddles fell into good use. Then one 
and all vve stood up in the boats to take a sur¬ 
vey of the marsh and determine where the 
greatest number of ducks were feeding. No 
sooner had we done so than Joe uttered an ex¬ 
clamation. 
“Dere dey go!” he cried, waving an arm to¬ 
ward the fringe of willows that bordered on 
the lake front, shutting it from view. And 
even as he spoke there sounded the clamor of 
myriads of wings as a thousand or more black 
ducks and mallards jumped simultaneously into 
mid-air. 
“Did you ever saw such a pile of duck—ain’t 
it?” Pete gazed at the cloud of circling wild¬ 
fowl in exultation. 
“Jus’ let’s see how dem bird is goin’ ter 
work,” said Joe. 
“You t’ink it’s goin’ ter blow?” 
“Oh 1 it’s goin’ ter blow all right. Don’t you 
see dat scud cornin’ up in the west?” And Joe 
pulled down the .ear tabs of his cap to empha¬ 
size his belief. 
“Well, sir, where’ll we set out?” inquired 
Pete, turning to the Veteran. 
“If we kin get in over by Rat Island”—inter¬ 
posed Joe. 
The other threw him a crushing glance as 
though no place in the marsh could have been 
more ill chosen. The Veteran, however, 
quenched the brewing argument. 
“That’s where we’ll go,” said he, and forth¬ 
with the flotilla moved forward, breaking ice at 
every foot. Once more the ducks clattered up 
before us and streamed out into the lake in one 
great swaying column. After some hard push¬ 
ing the pond-hole was gained and the work of 
setting out the decoys commenced. At the end 
of a half hour preparations were completed, the 
duck boat hid snugly in a blind of wild rice 
and the mallards were flapping and tugging at 
their icy moorings. 
“Dere goes de las decoy,” sighed old Joe, 
plunging a lusty bird overboard and tying him 
fast. 
“Now burn ’em,” were Pete’s final injunc¬ 
tions. “Dey’s going ter come, an’ by golly, 
dey’ll come hard.” 
As there was sufficient room and cover for 
only one person in the blind, the Veteran and 
I arranged to take turns shooting off and on 
every hour. And with Pete’s final words of en¬ 
couragement, we pushed away from the blind 
and headed across the marsh. 
Under the lee of a muskrat house we found 
a snug shelter where the wind broke over our 
heads and the intermittent dashes of sunshine 
played warmly on our backs. From here our 
view commanded a fine sweep of the marsh, in¬ 
cluding at a distance the pond-hole over which 
the Veteran was mounting guard. Seated on 
the end of his boat, Pete proceeded to care¬ 
fully light a black, ferocious looking stogie. In 
a moment clouds of evil-smelling smoke went 
ballooning off into the air, and a benign satis¬ 
faction overspread his features. 
“Pete,” said I, when, strange as it may seem, 
he had burned half of the cigar in silence, “are 
there many snakes in the marsh during warm 
weather?” 
“Snakes!” he echoed, giving me a look of 
deep intelligence, “millions of dem! Well, sir, 
when I use ter be workin’ on the island I send 
my little girl arter my gun an’ shoot ’em! 
Wow! but dey was big feilers. Some one call 
’em timber snakes. By gracious, one day I got 
a sugar barrel full!” 
“Any turtles?” I asked. 
“Oh, yes, but by golly, I never take much 
stock in dis turtle business. Dey get dem 
leather-backs out in the lake, an’ der marsh 
use ter be full of big snappers; never let go if 
they get hole of you, no sir.” 
“Look, look!” cried Joe, “couple of ole green- 
heads goin’ in ter decoy.” 
“Now you jus’ watch dem tumble,” said Pete 
comfortably. As he spoke two faint threads of 
smoke whisked up from the blind and one of 
the pair doubled over backward arnd came 
tumbling down on to the ice. 
“What’d I tell you,” remarked Pete; “dat 
other feller’s hit hard, too. Watch him, Joe.” 
An hour passed in this manner, and it was 
easy to see that the Veteran was in excellent 
shooting trim. Numbers of birds were moving 
about the marsh and many steered for the pond- 
hole only to fly away with their ranks griev¬ 
ously thinned. We could see that the shooting 
was hard, and that most of them flew high, 
buffeted and bullied by the wind. Presently the 
rare compliment came from Joe: “By golly, he 
knock dem good in dis win’!” And iwdeed if 
you knew Joe and had experienced his scathing 
criticism when you had made a balky day of it 
in the marsh, you would esteem these words at 
their proper value. 
When at length it came time to change places, 
some sixteen or seventeen of the slain lay scat¬ 
tered about the pond hole. They were gathered 
in with gusto by the two punters, while I duly 
installed myself in the blind and drained a cup 
of steaming coffee which the Veteran passed 
over to me from his boat. Then the three 
pushed off and left me alone. 
Huddled under a blanket I slid down out of 
sight and waited. The wind had risen consider¬ 
ably. I could hear it rattling and hissing 
through the frail walls of the blind and feel it 
pinch the top of my head with an unkindly cold. 
A scurry of snowflakes drove across the tawny 
fields of rice, and ducks raced by overhead, 
traveling high and out of gunshot. 
A loud quack from one of the decoys roused 
me to vigilance. I peered out through the blind 
and discovered a pair of black ducks swinging 
into the firing line, their long necks stretched 
and stout wings beating slowly against the 
wind. Impatient to fire, I raised up a moment 
sooner than I should have, and saw my mistake 
when it was too late. At the crack of the gun 
both birds went towering into the sky, re¬ 
mained for an instant directly over the blind 
and vanished unscathed with twinkling tail 
feathers. I felt abashed and vowed hard venge¬ 
ance against their kind. Black ducks have a 
tantalizing way of thus abusing one’s self 
esteem. 
The snow now commenced to fly thicker, and 
black squalls whipped across the pond hole; 
indeed, the wind threatened to blow all the 
water out of the marsh and leave it dry, for in 
the region of the Great Lakes so the tides are 
regulated; and while a strong southwesterly 
gale usually brings the water up, a north or 
northeasterly blow invariably draws it down. 
Just at the present time the wind was coming 
out of the northwest and probably in a couple 
of hours the marsh would resemble a slough of 
black mud. It was biting cold. Between the 
excitement of shooting, however, and a hasty 
mouthful of lunch snatched during a lull, I suc¬ 
ceeded in keeping warm. But the best was yet 
in store, and with the advent of another snow 
flurry the mallards began to pour in from the 
lake. I doubt if it will ever be my good 
fortune to witness such a sight again. By twos 
and threes, in bunches of ten and fifteen, and 
sometimes in flocks of thirty or forty, they 
rode over the willows and bore down on the 
decoys. While there were many that passed 
by out of range, there were dozens that came 
in as straight as though they had been pulled 
on a string. 
At one time a flock of a dozen or fifteen 
birds, made up largely of drakes, swung around 
to leeward, and flying very low, dropped neatly 
into the thick of the decoys. With the first 
barrel a pair came tumbling down on the ice, 
and with the second I wing-tipped a third and 
sent him pitching into a tangle of rice stalks 
from which Pete eventually recovered him. It 
was a rare interval that allowed the gun barrels 
to cool, and indeed the marsh appeared swarm¬ 
ing with ducks. 
There are few sights more exhilarating than 
to see a flock of these splendid wildfowl coming 
toward one in the face of a strong wind; to 
watch them draw near, with bright plumage 
packed close to trim bodies and the velvet green 
heads of the drakes showing here and there a 
spot of rich color. Then to see them lower 
as with stiffened pinions they glide into the 
circle of danger—poise for an instant over the 
decoys, their orange feet paddling the air, and 
settle with a soft splash into the water. In a 
moment the duck hunter finds his golden re¬ 
ward. 
When we shifted places for the second time 
there were eighteen or nineteen birds to add to 
the score, making a total of about thirty-eight 
in all. Joe and Pete were full of enthusiasm. 
“We mils’ stay till we get de limit—fifty bird 
—before we go home; yes, sir,” declared Pete. 
“But the water’s running out like a mill 
race,” said the Veteran with a dubious look. 
Here Joe piped up, having listened in silence 
to the conversation, “Well, if de water go out, 
me and Pete will lug you home on our back,” 
said he. 
Thence ensued a brief council which ended 
agreeably for both parties, and the Veteran 
went back in the blind for another half hour. 
Thus he brought to bag eight more birds, as 
they came from afar lured by the quacks of 
their deceivers; and thus, too, brought a weight 
of satisfaction to the hearts of the faithful 
punters. 
It was two o’clock before we reached the 
island. By four the water had drained out of 
the river until only the channel remained; and in 
every direction stretched a sea of mud; indeed, 
we congratulated ourselves in having deserted 
the pond hole at a proper time, else we might 
have been marooned over night on a grassy 
bog. 
I remember that evening as a lean foreboder 
of the coming winter. We hugged the stove, 
listening to the wind as it scampered around 
the house and leaked through the door lintels. 
A film of clouds shut out the stars. It was 
such a night as lent homely significance to the 
warmth of a wood fire and a romantic halo to 
