own fertilizer, making the soil light and 
nitrogenous, as skilfully perhaps as the 
thrifty farmer does when he plows 
under the soil the corn stalks, and the 
vines of the peas that he plants be- 
tween the rows for that purpose. 
W ELL, after fifteen or twenty miles 
of travel through these dismal 
bayous and canals, we got away from 
the dreary and more or less depressing 
effect of the cypress swamps, and then 
emerged into a broad expanse of sea 
marsh, which characterizes the whole 
of the low lying country within twenty 
or twenty-five miles of the shores of the 
Gulf of Mexico. True, there is nothing 
approaching the poetic, nor especially 
inspiring about a sea marsh, but at 
least you are in the wide open country 
to breath more freely again. Daylight 
and sunlight are on all sides; the land 
of semi-night has been left behind. A 
healthier atmosphere pervades, and we 
sensed an invigorating smell of the dis- 
tant salty waters of the Gulf of Mex- 
ico. 
The water, though still tinged with 
the darkened flow from the swampy 
bayous, looked better and being slightly 
brackish is in fact really good fishing 
water for both fresh water and salt 
water fish. We then reached bayous of 
broad expanse, and lakes of boastful 
size. Here is also the ideal duck coun- 
try, which in the Fall, beginning as 
early as the middle of September, fairly 
teems with flights of mallards, pin- 
tail, blue bills, black duck, teal duck and 
most every known species of the migrat- 
ing duck family. Here the ducks come 
to grow fat on the natural feed that 
grows in the fresh water ponds and 
lagoons of these marshes. 
HERE some years ago came some mis- 
guided farmers to locate on a tract 
of this marsh land, professed to have 
been reclaimed from salt water, ducks, 
alligators and mosquitoes. These 
farmers were lured to this promised 
land from their farms in the middle 
west by an ambitious drainage decla- 
mation project which undertook the 
drainage of ‘a’ bédy of this marsh land 
“comp ising over three thousand. acres. 
Dykes were built around’ the ‘tract, and 
the surface water was to be pumped 
over the dykes by a powerful draining 
this project recokened apparently with- 
out their host. 
Periodical tropical storms and high 
tides destroyed the dykes, and soon the 
marsh reverted to its wild state. It is 
said that a million dollars was sunk in 
this unfortunate venture. Marsh land, 
if it can be reclaimed, has on its sur- 
face a humus from the decayed vegeta- 
tion of centuries a foot in depth, and 
when cultivated and plowed under the 
sub-surface soil, makes the most fertile 
land, perhaps, in the world. But it 
takes more money, greater fortitude 
and persistency than has so far been 
exhibited to conquer it from its highly 
saturated state. 
So far the elements have defied all 
serious encroachment of mere man. 
Supermen, in small numbers, have 
braved the destructive elements and 
have obtained a foothold to erect their 
shacks, only to enable their making a 
meagre living as professional guides, 
hunters and fishermen. But otherwise 
the marsh is as free for the wild crea- 
tures, apparently, as it was at the time 
of creation. 
UPON the heels of the departing 
farmers came the foresighted or- 
ganizers of the hunting and fishing club, 
which was to be our first stop on the 
trip. The abandoned drainage project 
provided one of the greatest duck hunt- 
ing grounds in the country; behind the 
dykes a great body of fresh surface 
water was collected to attract the ducks 
and to grow duck feed. During the sea- 
son the members may leave on a week 
end hunt on Saturday afternoon, ar- 
rive at the club about dusk; have a 
restful night’s sleep in the most com- 
fortable of beds, in the coziest club, and 
on the following day, after killing the 
bag limit of ducks, can by means of the 
good ship Buccaneer again be at their 
homes in the city the next night by 
dusk. Some convenient duck shooting. 
In the summer time, the members 
may make the same journey, and right 
at the doors of the club, can readily 
catch in the adjacent deep bayous, green 
trout, black bass, speckled trout (weak- 
fish), red fish, sheepshead, croakers, ¢ : 
' seen; the same as sardines packed in a 
flounders, drums,, jack’ fish jand many 
‘othet species of tfish found in this lo- 
eality. Of course, much of the degree 
of succees at fishing there, as else- 
machine. However, the promoters of where, depends on the prevailing tides, 
winds and weather, all of which affect 
the condition of the waters. 
Well, we did not stop at the club any 
longer than was necessary to put two 
comfortable beds with springs and mat- 
tresses in the screened house on the 
forepart of the upper deck. We also 
took on board two guides, Jack, who is 
the keeper of the club and a number 
one cook, and Johnnie, one of the resi- 
dent club guides, who is a native of 
this country, and who knows when and 
where to fish. 
W "th Jack and Johnnie aboard we 
were off again, bound for the blue 
waters of the Gulf of Mexico, where the 
water is so salty that it stings your eyes 
when you go swimming. Of course, you 
do go swimming when you see the roll- 
ing surf, illuminated by a matchless 
golden sunset on the immaculate white 
sandy beaches found on the land’s end 
bordering on the Gulf. We did not stop 
to fish until we got there. 
There we knew in the deep briny 
water of the passes, and bayous, were 
to be found the big fellows that some- 
times take your hook as though it had 
been grabbed by a swiftly darting tor- 
pedo under the water, and without any 
stop, or chance to stop, your line, 
leader, sinker and hook leave you for- 
ever. Jack will tell you “it must have 
been a shark.” Well, maybe so. You 
are ready to believe it, since it was ap- 
parent that from the time of the strike, 
you had no chance of stoping the rush 
of the monster. Then again you~ were 
prepared to believe almost anything 
Jack would tell you about fishing or 
hunting, because of the foundation he 
had previously laid by his amazing tales 
told in a few hours you had known 
him. é 
NE of Jack’s best stories is his 
“shark story,” in which he tells 
you that once, while trawling for 
shrimp in the Gulf, the sharks follow- 
ing his boat were so numerous that for 
acres in the wake of the vessel it was 
impossible to see the water. Only the 
bodies of the fish, and their fierce fins, 
swimming closely together, could be 
can. Doc’s credulity was so severely 
strained by this story, that I asked 
Jack to take off a few sharks to make 
(Continued on page 763) 

Page 727 
