256 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 1 6, 1907. 
Hoodoos and Brant Shooting. 
“If you fellers expect brant to fly by the 
calendar, you’re goin’ to git left. They come 
when they git ready, providin’ there's cold 
weather further north.” 
These remarks by an old gunner were calcu¬ 
lated to wither our hopes for a repetition of 
the previous year’s experience of at least one 
good day with the oncoming brant. We were 
all in readiness for an early start on Nov. 12 
for a ten-day cruise, when word was received 
that our captain was sick and unable to go. At 
the receipt of this news four faces began to 
lengthen, for, while our party was quite able to 
navigate the old yacht, no one felt able or 
willing to assume the role of cook, especially 
as Pilot, as the captain was familiarly known, 
had an enviable reputation as a salt-water chef, 
particularly in preparing wildfowl and flapjacks. 
Our drooping spirits were somewhat revived 
that evening by learning that the captain was 
feeling considerably better and that if he should 
not be able to go next day, his son would go as 
cook. 
Next morning, all stores having been put 
aboard, a bundle of clothes hove in sight, and 
upon closer inspection, we were gratified to 
find they contained our captain. Hustling him 
into the cabin beside a warm fire, we hoisted 
sail and with four sneak-boxes and a batteau 
making a rather unwieldly tow, we started on 
our 20-mile sail down river and bay, one day 
late, but—horrors! on the 13th of the month! 
A further comparison of dates showed that, 
should history repeat itself, we might look for 
good sport on the 23d. There they were—13 
and 23, the latter the most famous for the time 
being. But superstition had no place in the 
minds of these four expectant good fellows, all 
of whom cared little whether few or many birds 
were killed, provided they had a few to take 
back to town. “Knocking around the bay,” as 
they called it, was good enough fun in itself. 
A favoring breeze carried us steadily down 
the bay, and at 3 o’clock we were snugly 
anchored in a small thoroughfare near the scene 
of our intended operations. As it was then too 
late in the day to think of putting out decoys, 
an evening visit was made to a nearby meadow, 
which resulted in bagging five black ducks, and it 
was agreed that we had made a good beginning. 
Next morning an early start was made for 
the tiny sandbar where we expected to intercept 
the brant as they should come in the inlet and 
follow the winding channel to their feeding and 
resting place in the bay beyond. As the only 
method of concealment was to “bury up” in 
the sand, an hour’s hard work with shovels was 
necessary each time we used the sandbar before 
the four sneak-boxes were hidden to suit N., 
our “boss gunner.” Owing to the rising or 
falling tide this operation was necessarily re¬ 
peated on each tide in order to lay within shoot¬ 
ing distance of the decoys. 
Shortly after getting everything shipshape that 
morning a flock of brant was observed entering 
the inlet a mile or more distant by the course 
they would follow in reaching us. As they 
came nearer we were disappointed to see them 
pass well outside the stools and pay no atten¬ 
tion to them. 
“We should have handed it to ’em,” said N. 
“Too far,” said another. 
“A good distance, I know,” was the rejoinder, 
“but if you never shoot you will never kill. 
Besides, when you get a brant down he can be 
gathered, and that is something you can’t always 
do with other fowl.” 
After a wait of about half an hour another 
bunch of brant was seen following the well- 
known course and headed our way. and we oc¬ 
cupied the few minutes before their arrival in 
mapping out our course of action. The brant 
saw our stools and came in nicely. At the 
word four guns welcomed the newcomers and 
four stayed behind as the now frightened birds 
hurried on. 
“What’s the matter, boys? We should have 
done better than that.” 
“What do you expect from a fellow who hasn’t 
had a gun to his shoulder for a whole year?” 
was the chorus he received in answer. This 
practically ended the brant shooting for the day, 
although several over-curious ducks were added 
to the bag. Thousands of brant sat on the 
feeding grounds a short distance to the north¬ 
west, but would not fly. 
Then followed several mild, Indian summery 
days, unsuited for wildfowling. Each day we 
faithfully did our shoveling stunt on the sand¬ 
bar and patiently waited for the weather to 
change. No blank days were recorded, al¬ 
though the margin was often small. “You wifi 
have to live on ducks if you want to avoid 
throwing them away; it’s too warm to keep 
A KIWI FROM NEW ZEALAND. 
them,” said the captain. As each man passed 
his plate for more it seemed that all agreed it 
was no hardship to keep them from spoiling. 
Northeast weather and a steady breeze were 
the conditions we desired, judging by our 
previous experience, and one morning as we 
left the yacht an hour or more before daybreak, 
the wind was northeast and steadily increasing. 
A strong flood tide was expected to carry us 
quickly to the''sandbar, the friendly gleam from 
the lighthouse being our main reliance in getting 
our bearings in the darkness. We underesti¬ 
mated the strength of the tide and wind, and 
daybreak found us several miles from the sand¬ 
bar and a stiff northeaster, making a tide so 
high that our point was entirely submerged. 
The row back to the yacht against tide, wind 
and rain was decidedly the most strenuous any 
of us had ever experienced. We had hoped for 
northeast weather, but now we had more than 
we could use. After warning the yacht into 
more sheltered quarters, with four anchors hold¬ 
ing her securely, a visit was made just at night 
to the meadows, which were now knee-deep 
with the storm tide. On account of the storm, 
black ducks fairly swarmed in, but we could 
Next day the tide continued so high that we 
gave up all idea of gunning from the bar. The 
only gather a half dozen. 
following day, however, a strong west wind 
prevailing, we again visited the familiar spot. 
To our surprise, we found that it had been 
possible to use the bar for at least a portion of 
the previous day, as two holes dug in the sand 
and a plentiful splashing of blood showed there 
had been “something doing.” Soon after getting 
located and our 200 decoys arranged to the sat¬ 
isfaction of N., the brant began to arrive, but 
the strong wind induced them to fly very close 
to the water and thus many failed to see our 
decoys. However, some did come to us, and 
we took fair toll each time, being well satisfied 
with our luck at the end of the day. 
Next day we planned to get an early start and, 
in fact, “do it right.” Eating breakfast at 
4 o’clock, we were readv to leave the yacht, 
when the writer distinguished himself by a very 
foolish move. Pulling a sneak-box toward him, 
he then laid his gun on the slack painter on the 
deck of the yacht as he turned to get some other 
article, and the boat falling back promptly threw 
the gun overboard in 12 feet of water. Our 
early start hung fire while we rowed a mile or 
more and borrowed a pair of oyster tongs with 
which the gun was recovered. It was long after 
daybreak when we finally found ourselves in 
position on the sandbar. As we were getting 
ready several flocks of brant came in, but we 
were not prepared for them, which went to show 
we had missed some good shooting. Soon a 
flock of at least thirty came to us, and after 
we had paid our respects to them and taken ac¬ 
count of stock, we found we had killed thirteen. 
Then it was that C., the most enthusiastic wild- 
fowler I have ever known, sung out: “I suppose 
you know, boys, this is the 23d of the month!” 
There they were again—13 and 23. But the 
latter figures had an added significance now, as. 
this was our last day on the sandbar, for we 
must head for home. As a light breeze carried 
us slowly up the bay all were in good spirits, 
even if we had just torn ourselves away from 
good shooting, for we had on board 103 head, 
including 66 brant—quite enough to pass around 
among friends at home. 
Should you wish to see a broad smile illumine 
the face of any member of the party, you have 
only to ask: “Do brant fly by date?” 
Ocean. 
Legislation at Albany. 
The following bills have been introduced in 
the Assembly: 
No. 559, introduced by Mr. Averell, relates to 
the taking, possession and sale of Mongolian, 
ring-necked and English pheasants in Orleans, 
Monroe, Wayne, Ontario, Livingston and Suf¬ 
folk counties. 
No. 564, Mr. Mills, would change the law as 
to the transportation of deer or venison, making 
the season for possession Sept. 15 to Nov. 4 in¬ 
clusive. 
No. 266 (554), Mr. Boshart, relates to the 
closed season for bear and excepts Essex and 
Lewis county. 
No. 566 relates to trout, extending the closed 
season therefor in certain counties. 
No. 186 (533), Mr. Apgar, relates to the use 
of nets in the Hudson River between Tarrytown 
and Annsville Creek. 
No. 565, by Mr. Mills, is to repeal Section 75a 
of Chapter 20, of the laws of 1900, and relates 
to nets in Lake Erie in certain parts of Chau¬ 
tauqua county. 
No. 411, by Mr. Merritt, relates to water stor¬ 
age in the Adirondack?. 
House bill No. 409, by Mr. Merritt, provides 
for the issuing of $15,000,000 in bonds for the 
acquisition of land in the Adirondacks, and pro¬ 
viding for a submission of the same to the people 
to be voted oh at the general election next fall. 
