January, 1918 
FOREST AND S T R E A M 
21 
arrived, but the steady “Bang! Bang !” of 
Uncle William’s gun urged me on. On my 
arrival, I found Uncle very much excited. 
He had shot away nearly half of his ammu¬ 
nition, and had only three teal and one mal¬ 
lard to show for it. He said they would not 
come close enough. “Why have you taken 
in your geese decoys?” I asked him. “Be¬ 
cause they seemed to keep the ducks away,” 
he said. Just then a flock of geese came up 
the bay, and after circling lit on the “Dry 
Flats”; at once all the ducks in sight made 
for them. This convinced me and I imme¬ 
diately put out the geese decoys, and then 
the sport began to be exciting. 
The wind 
was direct 
northwest; eve¬ 
ry few minutes 
a black cloud 
would come 
driving across 
the bay bring¬ 
ing a snow 
squall with it, 
the ducks whir¬ 
ling through the 
snow like au¬ 
tumn 1e a ve s . 
Never had I 
seen such shoot¬ 
ing. It was a 
genuine 
“ widgeon day” 
such as I had 
been waiting 
for so long and 
patiently, and it 
grew colder 
every minute. 
The ducks were 
nearly all 
widgeons, and 
decoyed as tame 
as chickens. 
They came so close under pressure of 
the gale that I frequently had to wait after 
rising to shoot, to let them fly away a lit¬ 
tle distance. They came so handy that I 
made eleven doubles (rights and lefts) that 
afternoon—this on widgeons, which as all 
duck shooters of experience know, fly very 
much “scattered” when coming to the de¬ 
coys in any kind of weather. 
Y OU will remember that Uncle William 
was shooting a muzzle loader. Now 
Uncle was a man six feet, six inches 
tall in his stockings, and when he stood 
up to load his gun in that gale of wind 
and snow, it was not an easy job. About 
the time he would get the powder in his 
gun I would cry, “Down, Uncle! Here 
they come!” He would then lie down, and 
I would shoot, then he would try it again, 
with the same result. Sometimes I would 
get three or four shots while he was load¬ 
ing once. It was plainly getting on his 
nerves. About this time, large flocks would 
drive in before the wind to the beach, 
where Lavallette now stands, then follow 
the shore back and cross the point behind 
us. As we lay in our sneak boxes we 
could not turn around to shoot, so these 
flocks would go scot free. After this had 
happened several times, I determined to 
try a new plan; so when I saw the next 
flock coming, I lay back in the boat, and 
placing the gun to my shoulder upside 
down, as Annie O'akley shoots “Blue 
Rocks,” I waited until they came in range 
behind me, then pulled the trigger, killing 
two of them. Strange to relate, not an¬ 
other flock flew that way during the rest 
of the day. Shortly after this I made a 
double that nearly put me out of business. 
The birds were over the decoys, and my 
first bird dropped in them, the second bird 
sprang up in the wind directly in front 
of the blind. At the crack of the gun the 
duck, killed stone dead, dropped like a 
“plummet” from the sky. Ducking my 
head quickly, the bird grazed my hunting 
cap, struck the bow of the box with a 
crash, and bounced fully ten feet in the 
air, with every bone in bis body broken. 
If it had struck me on the head, it would 
have done me a very serious injury. 
All this time Uncle William was shoot¬ 
ing very poorly, and getting more excited 
every minute. Presently a small bunch 
came in. I missed with my first barrel, 
and killed with the second, while both his 
caps snapped. This was the last straw. 
“D—n the gun,” said Uncle, while I smiled. 
Out came his “nipple” needle, and powder 
was carefully picked in. Another flock 
came in and I dropped two. “Snap! snap 1 ” 
from Uncle, who was now furiously angry. 
I did not dare look at him as with in¬ 
finite care and patience he again picked 
powder in the tubes. There came a little 
lull in the wind about this time, and a 
single drake “smee” came in very high. 
I gave him both barrels, and “sagging” 
away with the wind, he fell on the point 
of the bar, in the direction of Stooling 
Point. My shells were getting low, so 
when I waded out to pick him up I sig¬ 
naled for Uncle Billy to come over, which 
he did, reaching us when the sun was well 
down in the west. All hands getting busy, 
we soon had Uncle Billy snugly fixed be¬ 
side us. Then came the fiercest snow 
squall of the day. The air was full of 
ducks, flying like bumble bees in every di¬ 
rection. Soon a small flock came our way, 
from which Uncle Billy and I took toll of 
three, while Uncle William’s gun again 
“snapped.” Throwing it down, he gave 
vent to a burst of language that would not 
look well in print, while Uncle Billy and 
I looked slyly at. each other. Uncle Wil¬ 
liam then took out his ramrod and drew 
off his loads, and lo! in his excitement he 
had put his shot charges in first, with his 
powder charges on top. It is best to draw 
the curtain on what followed. 
After the northwest wind had blown the 
blue smoke and sulphur fumes from the 
air. Uncle William, a much chastened 
man, loaded his old gun, got out of his 
boat and delivered himself thus: “I won’t 
shoot her again today, except at cripples 
you boys shoot, and I’ll tie up the game,” 
and in spite of our protests he stuck to 
his word for the remainder of the day. 
When the sun 
was about a 
half hour high, 
Uncle Billy and 
I counted up our 
cartridges, and 
found we had 
twenty-four be¬ 
tween us. We 
decided to shoot 
only at ducks 
that were in 
easy range, and 
make as good a 
showing as pos¬ 
sible with our 
remaining 
shells. A small 
flock came in 
close. I killed 
a right and left, 
but Uncle Billy 
missed his first 
bird. Very 
carefully 
he drew on his 
second, and 
killed it clean, 
and also an- 
other that 
crossed his aim, fully sixty yards away. 
Said he, in his dry way, “Now that is 
what I call shootin’.” 
Shooting with great deliberation Uncle 
Billy and I added materially to our score, 
and when the last angry red rays, ; of the 
winter sun faded in the west, stopped 
shooting with three shells left. While we 
were out taking up the decoys, the best 
shot of the day passed over us, as often 
happens, and we wished we had waited a 
few minutes longer to have shot those 
away also and “broken even.” 
Uncle William had been working faith¬ 
fully tying the ducks in pairs, and now 
announced the score: forty-eight widgeon, 
eight smees, three teal and one mallard 
—sixty head in about four hours’ actual 
shooting, by practically two guns. Truly 
a “red letter day,” when you consider the 
quality of the game. 
Now came the problem of getting the 
ducks to the house, for they were very fat 
and very heavy. The tide had fallen so 
low that we could not use the boats, so 
there wes nothing else to do but carry 
them in. Uncle Billy and I stood up with 
an oar on our shoulders while Uncle Wil¬ 
liam strung the ducks on the oar, then with 
gun in hand, and Uncle William bringing 
up the rear with the empty cartridge boxes, 
we started on our mile walk, through the 
falling darkness across the meadows. It had 
become very cold and was freezing hard, but 
with that load to carry Uncle Billy and I 
(continued on page 62) 
