Dec.. 3i, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
1045 
WILDFOWLING DEVICES IN HOLLAND 
Some time ago I went for a shooting trip to 
Holland, and saw some phases of wildfowl¬ 
shooting which were decidedly interesting, says 
W. E. in the British Sportsman. I never be¬ 
fore had such sport as I enjoyed then, and I 
must say that the hospitality lavished on me on 
all sides by my Dutch brethren of the trigger 
honestly warmed the cockles of my heart. 
My invitation came from a notary, who, be¬ 
sides being a clever lawyer, is possibly the best 
shot I have ever met. He had been shooting 
with me for a week at the beginning of last 
September, and, thanks to a plentiful supply of 
partridges and hares, I had been able to show 
him some very fair sport. 
“Now,” he had said, as he was getting into 
the train at Holborn Viaduct Station, on his 
return journey home, “you will join me when 
I wire you that it is worth while coming over 
for the duck and snipe shooting.” I said I 
would. “You can stop as long as you like, 
you know, so bring all your paraphernalia, and 
we will enjoy ourselves.” He wrote to me in 
the autumn asking me to go over at once, as 
an enormous passage of wildfowl was in pro¬ 
gress, but I was unable to go until March. 
“The marsh,” said my friend, "has not been 
disturbed for some time, as I kept it quiet pur¬ 
posely for your visit; so I reckon we shall get 
a shot or two there.” He winked knowingly. 
“Now, would you like to ‘walk’ the fowl, or 
use our hut or our stalking-horse?” 
“Well,” I said, “I have shot ducks from a 
hut in the north of France, and I found it rather 
dull work to lie down there until a bunch of 
birds turned up and squatted in front on the 
pond.” 
"Oh,” he replied, “we have improved on that. 
Our hut is not a stationary one. We have it 
rigged up on a flat-bottomed boat, so that we 
can pole her wherever we like, and, as she is 
covered with reed, the fowl take no notice of 
its approach, and we have, therefore, capital 
opportunities afforded us to bowl them over.” 
“Then 1 should very much like to try your 
hut,” I replied. 
“So you shall,” said he. And then it was 
settled. 
Early in the morning we drove to the shoot, 
some eight miles from the town, and the keeper 
met us at the gate. We got our spare guns and 
ammunition into the hut, the man squatted 
astern, and we were soon gliding along a broad, 
reed-fringed canal which cut right through my 
friend's property. 
The hut was so placed in the middle of the 
flat-bottomed boat that there was room to walk 
round it, and thus one was enabled, by hiding 
behind it, to take flying shots at such stray 
ducks as were put up from the reeds as we 
glided on, or at ducks wending their way over¬ 
head. The inside of the hut was only used when 
a heavy shot at a bunch of fowl was to be had 
on the open water, and from there you could 
shoot the birds when they were squatting on 
the water, because you were yourself in such a 
cramped position that it would have been im¬ 
possible to take a flying shot. The game there¬ 
fore, at first was to sit in front of the hut as 
the boat was poled along, and with finger on 
trigger to be on the lookout for any fowl jump¬ 
ing up within shot. 
I had the first pull. A big mallard resting 
among the reeds, evidently had not heard the 
stealthy approach of our craft, for he suddenly 
sprang up within ten yards of us, I let him go 
for a score of yards or so, and then “bang!” he 
came down in mid-stream. We picked it up 
with the landing-net as we went by, and while 
I was doing so my friend nailed a cock teal 
which gave him a somewhat left-to-right shot. 
Thus we went on, till we neared the big pool, 
when the order was to get inside the hut, and 
for the man to keep well behind it and take the 
craft to a big company of widgeon, teal, and duck 
who were holding a meeting in the very middle 
of the broad water. This was the test of our 
man’s skill. But he knew what he was about, 
and, taking advantage of numerous clumps of 
reeds, which, I am told, had been artificially 
planted, he, after a good deal of stealthy navi¬ 
gation, managed to bring 11s within twenty-five 
yards of the unsuspecting birds. 
We had got hold of our two heavy double 8 - 
bores loaded with No. 2 shot, and, as we took 
aim side by s'ide, our hearts beat high with 
excitement. There were about forty fowl, all 
told. I took on a bunch of half a dozen on the 
right- — my side as prearranged—and my friend 
eyeing the left lot, we let fly among them, and 
the four barrels (two as they sat on the water 
and two as they rose) floored eleven birds, and 
three more somewhat severely hit. managed to 
get away for a short distance, and then settled 
in the neighboring ditches, where we marked 
them down. 
We were then quickly landed, and with our 
12-bores we went in search of these lively 
cripples, while the keeper was collecting the 
slain on the pond. We found our three ducks 
and knocked them over. 
When we returned to the boat the sun was 
high in the heavens, and my host proposed de¬ 
jeuner. From the hut was dragged a luncheon 
basket filled with excellent fare, among which 
was hot soup taken from a Norwegian warmer. 
The air was cold, and, as sport had sharpened 
our appetites, we made a capital meal. 
Then we had a smoke and a chat, and went 
ashore again, this time for a long ramble along 
the ditches and across the flooded meadows, 
where we picked up a score of snipe and about 
a dozen ducks and teal. The keeper carried a 
long leaping-pole, without which we should 
have been in a bad way, for most of the ditches 
were too wide to jump even if there had been 
a good take-off and a good landing, which in 
the majority of cases did not exist. 
In the afternoon we went back to the boat 
and sculled to the keeper’s lodge, shooting as 
we went along and to me, I must say, the 
novelty of the trip was delightful. 
The next day, my friend, having business to 
attend to, left me in charge of the keeper, with 
injunctions to show me the duck-net. For this 
the man took me before daybreak to a flooded 
marshy field, about an acre in extent, in the 
midst of Which there appeared to be a large 
dog kennel built of reeds. This kennel, how¬ 
ever, turned out to be a hut wherein we could 
just squeeze ourselves. In the shallow water 
before us a mesh was already spread pretty 
taut, and but a few inches below the surface of 
the water. 
A dozen decoy-ducks tethered outside the 
limits of the net were busy clamoring for food, 
which their keeper promptly threw out to them, 
and after their “quacks” were then more ener¬ 
getic than ever. We could hear some wildfowl 
flying swiftly overhead, but we got none until 
dawn, when five teal and a mallard paid us a 
visit. They first exchanged a few passing re¬ 
marks with our tame ducks, then proceeded to 
preen and wash themselves and finally to feed. 
This was the decisive moment. No sooner 
were their legs down than a convulsive twitch¬ 
ing of their legs and a severe struggling to get 
iree made it clear that something had gone 
wrong. The fact was that they had got their 
necks entangled in the meshes and were fatally 
caught. The keeper got out and waded to 
them, released each in its turn, twisted its neck, 
spread out the net again with a good shake, 
and then rejoined me in the hut. 
We waited for an hour or so without any 
further result, so we made tracks for home and 
breakfast, just as the villagers were opening 
their shutters. 
We devoted the afternoon to stalking peewits, 
of which there were many thousands in the 
plowed fields. And old gray horse was used 
by the keeper for his part of the business. He 
had a long-barreled muzzle-loading duck gun 
carrying about 3(4 ounces of shot, and when he 
had a rake into the birds he mowed them dowm 
in a lane. Fie walked by the side of the horse, 
guiding it with an old pair of reins, and when 
he was near enough for a shot he rested the 
barrel of his blunderbus on the horse’s back 
and fired deliberately. The horse never winced. 
I wondered at that. But, as it turned out that 
its ears were tightly plugged with cotton-wool, 
its equanimity under fire was not so astonish¬ 
ing after all. 
Big w 
Game _ 
in Africa 
The East Coast—Where the Lion is at Home 
and the Elephant, the Leopard, the Hippopotamus, 
the Rhinoceros, the Tiger. 
The Palatial Steamers of the 
Union-Castle Line 
Enable the Tourist to 
Circumnavigate Africa 
in Either Direction 
Via West Coast — weekly sailings of Royal Mail 
Steamers from Southampton for Madeira. Cape Town, 
Port Elizabeth, East London, Natal. Intermediate 
ships leave London and Southampton weekly for Cape 
Town, Port Elizabeth, East London, calling fort¬ 
nightly at Teneriffe, Las Palmas and Mossel Bay, and 
monthly at Ascension and St. Helena, and proceeding 
monthly to Beira and Mauritius, 
Via East Coast —Sailings from London every four 
weeks (Thursdays) and from Southampton following 
day for Natal, via Suez Canal, calling at Marseilles, 
Naples. Port Said, Suez, Mombasa, Zanzibar, Mozam¬ 
bique, Chinde, Beira and Delagoa Bay. 
THE DELIGHTS OF AN AFRICAN TOUR 
are hundred-fold. The Victoria Falls, that greatest of 
all cataracts, with a sheer drop of 420 feet, may be 
reached by either West Coast or East Coast service by 
rail from Cape Town. Port Elizabeth, East London, 
Natal or Beira. 
The Biblical Ruins of Sheba—supposed to be the ruins 
of Solomon’s temple, are only a few miles from Victoria. 
Intending Tourists and Hunters are invited to address, 
for full information, literature, and through hookings 
G r 8 e e r ncie A softe an Union-Castle Line 
281 Fifth Avenue—N EW YORK— 8-10 Bridge Street 
Donald Currie & Co., Managers, 3-4 Fenchurch Street, London 
Uncle Lisha’s Shop. 
Life in a Corner of Yankeeland. By Rowland E. 
Robinson. Cloth. 187 paces. Price, $1.2S, 
The shop itself, the place of business of Uncla Lisha 
Peggs, bootmaker and repairer, was a sort of sportsman’* 
exchange, where, as one of the fraternity expressed it, 
the hunters and fishermen of the widely scattered neigh¬ 
borhood used to meet of evenings and dull outdoor days 
“to swap lies.” 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO. 
Let Us Tan Yonr Hide. 
And let us do your head mounting, rug. robe, coat, and 
glove making. You never lose anything and generally 
gain by dealing direct with headquarters. 
We tan deer skins with hair on for rugs, or trophies, or 
dress them into buckskin glove leather. Bear, dog, calf, 
cow, horse or any other kind of hide or skin tanned with 
the hair or fur on, and finished soft, light, odorless moth 
proof and made up into rugs, gloves, caps, men s and 
women’s garments when so ordered. 
Get our illustrated catalog which gives prices of tanning, 
taxidermy and head mounting. Also prices of fur goods 
and big mounted game heads we sell. 
THE CROSBY FRISIAN FUR COMPANY. 
584 Lyell Avenue - - Rochester, N. Y. 
