FOREST AND STREAM 
1085 
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other direction and somewhat farther from camp, 
to the “brant grounds.” The brant is half the 
size of a goose, is harder to decoy, flies faster 
while circling, and is a much smaller target. 
They usually move in larger flocks, however, 
than do the geese, so a favorable position for wing 
shooting offers by no means a bad day’s sport. 
This morning we were in the blind and ready 
by sunrise. For a time we were doomed to dis¬ 
appointment. There was little or no wind, and 
in consequence few birds were moving. Occa¬ 
sionally a single bird or a pair was attracted to 
the decoys, and circled within range over them, 
but up to noon we had collected only six. A 
huge flock on the water near us had seemed to 
attract everything to itself, as is often the case. 
Our guide came up for lunch, and we decided 
to have him try and float this large flock to¬ 
ward our blind. He accomplished this in a very 
clever and skillful manner. Making a long de¬ 
tour in his skiff, he finally succeeded in placing 
the main flock directly between himself and our 
blind. Poling his boat in the shallow water so 
slowly that it hardly seemed to move, he gradu¬ 
ally edged toward the flock. The birds nearest 
him became a little restless and began to swim 
away, but gradually the large part of the flock 
moved toward us. The guide was very careful 
not to frighten them, but kept at such a distance 
that their natural drift was toward the blind. 
On they came, very slowly but in the right di¬ 
rection. The reader can imagine our excitement 
while, cautiously looking out, we could see hun¬ 
dreds of these fine birds approaching nearer and 
nearer. In a short time—it seemed ages to us— 
the first birds came within range. 'We waited, 
however, for a considerable number to approach 
quite near.- Then it seemed impossible to re¬ 
strain ourselves another second. 
We rose together, and as the birds went into 
the air, we cut loose with our pump guns. There 
followed one of my few experiences at having 
more than one bird fall to a single shot. They 
were flying so close that four fell at the first 
crack of my gun, and several more at each suc¬ 
cessive pull of the trigger. 
Our guns both worked at lightning speed 
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through all six shells, and when the smoke 
cleared away we found twenty-six dead and 
crippled brant on the water. The latter demand¬ 
ed several minutes of quick action, in both long 
distance snooting and wading in knee-deep water. 
But we succeeded in gathering them all in, ex¬ 
cept one bird which swam away. This gave us a 
total of some thirty-one brant. And though the 
afternoon was less than half over, there was not 
a breath of air stirring, and the prospects were 
poor for more shooting that day. We signalled 
the guide, who packed our birds and decoys into 
the skiff, and headed back toward camp. 
The next few days were warm and calm with 
few birds moving except at dusk when we some¬ 
times had an hour of fair sport. We managed 
to kill from four to eight geese a day, which 
gave us something to add to our collection hung 
on the side of the cabin. 
Each night we had geese for dinner, and noth¬ 
ing has ever tasted better than those birds, filled 
with oyster stuffing made from small oysters 
gathered on the island, and roasted to a turn. 
When the morning came to leave, we packed our 
outfits in the power boat and headed for Oriental 
—and New York. 
Our geese and brant, packed in ice and ex¬ 
pressed to the city, irrived only twelve hours be¬ 
hind us. Many a dinner we made with these 
birds as the “piece-de-resistance,” but mne sur¬ 
passed the meals we sat down to in that little 
camp at Ocracoke. 
In going fishing or hunting one’s boots fre¬ 
quently get wet—that’s all in the game—how¬ 
ever, wet boots if not cared for become stiff on 
drying, so listen, brother, here is a way to pre¬ 
vent it. 
Just before the boots become completely dry 
rub castor oil all over them. This will do the 
trick. We frequently forget to watch these little 
things and it is the little things that make life in 
a camp worth living. 
A Composite Picture—In Summer Dreamed—in Fall Come True—Perhaps! 
