FOREST AND STREAM 
155 
ties of amphibious life; too far away to shoot 
and provokingly near to look at. We remained 
silent watchers for the space of ten minutes or 
so, endeavoring to conjure up some plan to get 
the birds within range. I noticed the current of 
the water set quite strongly to the east by south, 
showing it must have an outlet into the river 
further south of us. Joe, having seen our signal 
of departure in shore, was now within speaking 
distance. Being a river man in different capaci¬ 
ties, he at once solved the problem. 
There was an outlet less than half-a-mile be¬ 
low us, the mouth of a creek, up which at this 
stage of the water a boat could be paddled. It 
was soon arranged. Joe was to take the shoot¬ 
ing boat, it being easiest to handle, go below 
and enter the outlet, get on the other side of the 
water fowl and drive them up to our position. 
The driving required skill and judgment, the 
idea being to paddle on the ducks just fast 
enough to keep them moving and at the same 
time not cause them to take wing. It did not 
seem possible that this could be done with so 
wild a thing as a wild duck. It certainly was 
beyond my experience, yet it succeeded. 
The transfer from boat to boat was quickly 
made, and Joe disappeared. We waited, watched 
the ducks dimly seen far in advance, and the 
numerous colony of black squirrels in the trees 
nearby. These squirrels were the largest I had 
ever seen; their black, glossy coats and long 
bushy tails were very beautiful. One great, 
handsome fellow came down a tree trunk, occu¬ 
pied a post of observation not twenty feet away 
and examined the strange party to his entire 
satisfaction, after which, having us believe he 
was terribly alarmed, ran with great swiftness 
up to nearly the top of the tree, out on a limb, 
sprang from thence to a neighboring tree full 
, thirty feet away, ran into a hole with a flash 
and immediately turned around and looked out. 
Joe had been gone fully two hours. “Sad 
day iz a cornin’ yer day shu. Mista Josef hab 
made de pint,” said Alex in a whisper. Ten 
minutes more passed, then it was plainly seen 
that the birds were leisurely paddling toward us. 
Five minutes more and we were amazed at the 
number of ducks. It was momentarily expected 
they would take wing. Well screened, we sat in 
the batteau and watched with much satisfaction 
the distance lessening. It was a goodly sight. 
Nearer and nearer they came in solid columns, 
rank on rank, spreading out and lengthening the 
lines as they approached the river. The moment 
came, and the reports of our guns reverberated 
through the woods. In an instant the air was 
filled with flying birds, frightened and 'fairly 
demoralized. Above the roar of their wings could 
be heard Alex’s yell of victory and the crack, 
crack of the 12-gauges. Shot after shot was 
made at single birds when the bulk of the great 
flock became scattered, as they flew here and 
there, trying to get out of the woods. The first 
duck I aimed at was climbing up through the 
tree branches. I caught him, and the next moment 
killed another left-quartering bird. Quickly 
picking up the second gun, I killed two more. 
Sam killed five, getting two in line with the 
barrel of his second gun. One mallard that was 
always thereafter remembered as the “fool mal¬ 
lard,” came with a rush and struck the water 
less than ten feet from the boat, and spinning 
round, dazed, demoralized and evidently unaware 
of his close proximity to danger, was spared 
for the laughter he caused. The whole 
manoeuvre resulted in nine ducks; a remarkable 
experience and lots of fun. 
While Joe was getting supper the rest of us 
selected and prepared the ducks we wished to 
send up the river to home and friends by the 
next steamboat. The little steamer was expected 
at the landing below us by 7 o’clock. We had 
just finished supper when she rounded the point. 
Alex and Joe put off and delivered the ducks, in¬ 
cluding a brace of mallards for the captain, a 
friend of ours. 
We arrived at the Esty plantation Friday even¬ 
ing and by Saturday evening had' camp tidied up 
and all comfortable. The major came and stay¬ 
ed a couple of hours with us and left an invita¬ 
tion to take dinner with him Sunday which we 
heartily accepted. 
The fire was bright and cheerful; we felt in 
accord. Reclining comfortably on the blankets 
with the pipe to soothe and comfort we went 
over our adventures thus far, and concluded we 
were having a pretty good time though fraught 
with danger that brought death rather near. The 
major said it was a 'wonder we escaped. 
So far as a turkey hunt was concerned we 
simply had to wait until Bobby found a gang 
that were coming regularly to the bait, and 
that might be a week, more or less. He had 
found one flock and they took the bait, but did 
not return. Something had startled this flock, 
or else they were ranging and feeding over an 
extensive territory, in which event we must ex¬ 
ercise patience as to their return. 
Monday the major invited, us to a horseback- 
ride around the country. Sam begged to be ex¬ 
cused, seldom riding, being fleshy and weighing 
about two hundred pounds. So he joined the 
ladies on the veranda, the major and I departed. 
The ride took us through the timber by culti¬ 
vated fields, to the Thomas plantation house 
where we made a brief and pleasant oall, the 
major accepting for his guests an invitation 
from Mr. George Thomas to arrange a day to 
take supper at his house and spend the evening. 
“Evening” in the south is anywhere from two 
o’clock to ten p. m. 
Sam and I accompanied by a colored boy and 
pointer dog went down the river to the sweet 
water marsh, in hopes of getting some woodcock 
shooting, after which go for the quail. We had a 
very substantial noon lunch in our pockets; 
equipped for an all day tramp and shooting. 
We expected to find some fair woodcock 
shooting. The dog was cast off and entered the 
thick cover of second growth trees and bushes, 
and immediately pointed. 1 motioned to Sam to 
be ready. I went in by the dog and almost to 
him when two long bills flushed. Sam killed 
one, but missed his second. We worked the 
thick cover and open marsh and raised four 
more birds, two killed by Sam and two by myself 
and this was all we could find. 
Rather disappointed at not finding more wood¬ 
cock we went to the higher ground for quail. 
There were big brown sedge fields, old fields, 
some open timber, rail fences with good cover 
at their foot, so the ground looked good. Soon 
two big coveys were well scattered. The dog 
worked well on covey and single birds, but did 
not retrieve very well. The dog m!ade up for this, 
his sharp eye marking dead birds. We had good 
sport up to lunch time and for a couple of hours 
later when we turned homeward, four miles or 
so away. And now something happened after 
we had walked a mile or so. We had all climbed 
over an old rail fence, the dog trotting ahead. 
Suddenly he raced away, head well up, stopped, 
nosed the ground, licked his chops, advanced, 
stopped; and then fairly bolted to the left down 
through the woods. There was a flap of wings, 
accompanied by “Put-put” and we counted eight 
turkeys flying far away through the tree tops, 
and more we did not see, all out of range 
even if we had the proper loaded shells. We 
looked at each other, almost solemnly, then 
smiled, then roared. “The idiosyncrasy of 
meleagris gallopavo” said I. Arid said Sam: 
“Wouldn’t that jar you.” 
The fine weather ruled since the storm that 
caught us camping on the beach. This morning 
we awoke to find a light rain and a dull leaJden 
sky—a poor outlook for a day’s shooting at any¬ 
thing but ducks. 
The storm had cleared. It was about half 
past three, a. m., and two horses and a mule stood 
saddled awaiting, while Sam, Bobby and I were 
having hot coffee, eggs on toast, cooked and 
served by Aunt Tamer, an old fashioned planta¬ 
tion cook, and such a cook—well words fail here 
in any description. The recollection of \unt 
Tamer’s good things, will never be forgotten. 
Half a dozen ham sandwiches, big ones, “cut 
all around the loaf size,” some coffee, three tin 
cups, all went into a haversack, so we could 
have a hot drink and something to eat after the 
shooting. Thus we fared forth to meet the most 
wily of game bird, to pit our intelligence 
against his sharp eye and ear with the chances 
about even of success either way. 
It was starlight. Bobby led the way, we march¬ 
ing by file. It was very d'ark in the woods, we 
could not at times see our file leader, the horses 
simply followed the mule. An hour and a half 
later we arrived at the blind. Bobby examined 
the ground in front of it and found corn all 
right for the birds might be expected to come for 
the bait by the first streaks of day. 
Bobby mounted the mule and led the horses 
back a mile or more, to remain there until he 
heard the guns, so sure were we that the game 
would come to the bait. 
It was cold, the air smelt and felt frosty; we 
had wisely brought a double blanket; this we 
spread on the ground and being warmly clad in 
woolen jackets and cord coats we kept fairly 
warm. But it was chilly waiting in that long 
vigil, not being allowed to take exercise. Simply 
sit in the blind, watch and wait and converse in 
low tones, whispers in fact. Your true sports¬ 
man puts up with inconveniences and disap¬ 
pointments, he makes them a part of the sport 
and laughs them aside, and makes the best of 
the weather be it foul or fair, hot or cold. 
Time passed; the long winter night was almost 
spent, the woods grew darker, there was an 
added-chill in 'the air—the signs of coming day. 
A half hour passed, the woods lightened, objects 
could be faintly made out; in the east the grav 
light came and brightened. Now was the minute, 
the hour waited for. They might come any 
moment. 
Daylight and the game not in sight—another 
half hour and then the first rays of the sun—no 
turkeys yet; the sun fairly above the eastern 
horizon and not a sign of a bird. We kept very 
still, knowing full well they were liable to come 
any moment for the next half or three-quarters 
