Brant Shooting at Tabusintac. 
>n the New Brunswick sea coast, close to 
i broad estuary of the Miramichi River and 
[ osite Prince Edward Island, there is a series 
flong, shallow tidal bays, shut in from the 
ndering surf of the Atlantic by narrow low- 
ig sandbars and beaches. In these protected 
losures the long-stemmed bay grasses grow 
ich profusion, and here during the fall mi- 
•.ion the hosts of wildfowl assemble in count- 
s thousands. From distant inland lakes, 
[i Northern mossy barrens, from salt water 
;sh and creek, they flock with their broods— 
> ig birds that have yet to learn a whole- 
le terror for mankind—and here they pause 
-ed on the tender grasses and prepare for 
v final flight to the far-away sun-kissed 
» h. « 
-!> e true bird of the Northland loves to 
But the brant shooting is what concerns us, 
and this is adapted to the particular habits of 
the brant themselves. Brant, unlike most of 
our delicately-flavored wildfowl, are entirely a 
salt-water bird, hence the shooting is entirely 
from batteries anchored in the bay among the 
feeding grounds or along the line of flight. The 
rise and fall of the tide is here not usually over 
two feet, and very irregular, so that while the 
flood tide will sometimes cause a flight of 
birds, it cannot be depended on. The gov¬ 
erning feature of the shooting is the curious 
fact that the brant leave the bay after sunset 
and pass the night outside the beach, resting on 
the ocean swell just beyond the surf line. At 
break of day they fly in over the beach, eager 
for the feeding grounds. If the night is windy 
they sometimes drift miles down the beach, and 
then hi the morning they feed for an hour or 
two wherever they come in and later fly up to 
bundle up in warm clothes. Woolen under¬ 
clothes, flannel shirts, sweaters, rubber boots 
and oilskins are the proper things. As the 
dawn begins to light up the east and the morn¬ 
ing star fades dimly into the infinite gray, you 
can see the distant outline of the low beach and 
peihaps hear the soft purring feeding-call of 
some early brant or the clear ringing honk of a 
flock of passing geese. Somehow, in spite of 
the darkness, you hold a true course and sud¬ 
denly you faintly discern a dark object on the 
water ahead of you, and five minutes later the 
canoe is alongside of your battery. You step 
into the sinkbox, shovel out any water that may 
be inside, spread your oil coat over the bottom 
and arrange your gun and shells while the boat¬ 
man with rocks -loads your floating coffin to 
within an inch of the waterline. Incidentally a 
discreet sportsman will be very careful to main¬ 
tain a proper equilibrium, and if it gets rough 
SHOOTING FROM THE BATTERY. 
BOATMAN AND DECOYS IN A CANOE. 
I, in this bleak climate and welcomes the 
i^ach of winter. Many of them seem to 
i; the balmy South, and delay their retreat 
ae converging ice-floes have shut in the 
$nd skimmed the feeding grounds, and not 
te last of the open water is frozen over do 
rake their departure. 
aisintac Bay is a spot to charm the sports- 
land lover of the open. The bay itself is 
i eight miles long, from two to three miles 
eand is connected by a tide channel with 
ic Bay and the Miramichi River to the 
t It is a favorite resting place for many 
ees of our migratory Atlantic coast birds. 
Mgust the shore birds—plover, yellowleg 
urlews—frequent the beaches and sand- 
in September the summer black duck can 
sot either from a battery or at the clear 
s fresh water ponds; in October come the 
's of brant, together with a lesser num- 
< broadbills, whistlers and big red-legged 
6 black duck, and the battery shooting is 
-height; in November the Canada geese 
ethe bay with the brant and can be suc- 
ily decoyed to the sandbars. Besides, a 
( ys canoe trip to the headwaters of the 
intac River will take the hunter to the 
the many-pronged caribou and massive- 
id moose. Such are the possibilities of 
r son and the district. 
the windward end of the bay. Thus there are 
usually a few birds moving all day long, al¬ 
though the best of the shooting is at sunrise. 
The boats used to tend the batteries are a 
species of dugout, hollowed out from a single 
lo g. snd are called canoes. They are about 
twenty feet long and very narrow, but sur¬ 
prisingly effective in rough water. With a free 
wind they sail very well, but if the wind is ahead 
they must be poled through the shoal waters 
and sculled across « the deep tide channels. 
Fortunately the water is almost everywhere 
shallow—from two to six feet in depth—and 
you can make much faster progress poling than 
you could rowing, and at the same time it is 
less tiring, as it brings all of your, muscles into 
play. To a novice it seems pretty hard work, 
but he will soon get used to it and enjoy the 
vigorous play of muscle. The boatmen are a 
fine hardy set of men, mostly of Scotch descent. 
They hunt for the market, but can be reason¬ 
ably induced to place themselves and their 
shooting rig at your disposal. 
The brant shooter, therefore, tears himself 
away from his comfortable bed at 4 o’clock in 
the morning, eats a hasty breakfast and an hour 
before dawn he starts for the shooting ground 
where his battery is anchored. If he is sail¬ 
ing before a brisk wind, he will find the October 
morning very sharp, and it is necessary to 
he will throw overboard enough ballast to keep 
afloat. The decoys are then put out—pretty 
well strung out in line—with the geese decoys 
to windward and the brant decoys hiding the 
sides of the battery and massed to leeward. 
Several flocks have already passed wide, and as 
the boatman poles away to wait for dead birds 
you cock your gun and lie back in the battery. 
It is now light enough to shoot, and as you 
survey the watery horizon, your eye suddenly 
catches a long black streak moving across the 
eastern clouds already brilliant with a crimson 
glow. It is a flock of brant coming in over the 
beach and headed for the big patch of eel grass 
behind you. They are rapidly approaching and 
the black line broadens out into a string of a 
dozen brant flying abreast, their slende/necks 
outstretched and their pinions quivering in rapid 
sweeping wing-strokes. You flatten down in 
your sinkbox, bracing yourself tensely rigid, 
your head held just high enough, so that you 
can barely see the oncoming birds over the foot 
of the box; and thrilling with excitement you 
await them with your finger on the trigger. The 
birds rush toward the decoys, looming larger 
every second, and suddenly just before they 
reach the leeward decoys they utter a sharp cry 
of alarm and flare up over the battery with in- 
credible swiftness. At the very instant you 
lift your gun, throwing it to your shoulder as 
