again in the open space from where 
they started or would they come on 
over our pass to the south lake? 
We had not long to wait. Some 
of them did drop back into the north 
lake but a half dozen kept right on com- 
ing straight at our heads. Blinds? We 
did not need blinds. Those bluebills 
gave every indication of a desire to 
knock our hats off. 
N they came only a few feet over 
the ice. When directly in front 
they saw us and raised just a little and 
we picked on those that went off to the 
side far enough to permit shooting 
without danger of complete oblivion. 
Three stayed with us, one apiece. 
When general shooting started other 
ducks took flight from both lakes and 
we had quite a number in the air. Now, 
if we could only keep them that way. 
Ducks were coming over our pass from 
both directions so we had to arrange 
two of us facing south and one north, 
so that timely warning could be passed 
around at the approach of a target. 
Now we simply forgot about blinds and 
stood up in plain view, hoping to get 
those bluebills up in the air so we could 
take straight over shots withéut tear- 
ing them to pieces. We also found that 
we would have to avoid dropping any 
of our ducks in the north lake as it 
could not be waded over fifteen feet 
from the shore and neither lake offered 
a boat, except an old discarded one high 
up on the east shore of the north lake. 
We found it much easier shooting 
while standing. When a bluebill comes 
at you not over fifteen feet over your 
head you must do some quick turning 
to get a line on him before he is out 
of range. We were stationed about fifty 
yards apart and nearly every duck that 
came over that pass offered a shot for 
at least one of us. 
Here came two black balls straight 
for me from the north lake. I turned 
my back to them and after they passed 
made a nice double, dropping both on 
dry land. It was the only double that 
I made that day. We were making 
every effort to drop all of our birds on 
that pass, as we had only a pair of 
high waders to aid in retrieving, and 
the south lake was also too deep to be 
waded very far from shore. We had no 
dog and if we had, he would have been 
of very little use as he would have 
broken through the ice in most places. 
About three trips out would have tired 
out even a Chesapeake. 
UST after I dropped my double a 
single tried to sneak over near my 
friend, Bill Elton. Bill is North Dakota 
state tennis champion and does every- 
thing well. He did that duck well. 
Said duck was about fifteen feet from 
the end of Bill’s gun and at the report 
I heard the charge strike with a sound 
something like “punk.” At least, that 
was the condition we found that duck 
in when we picked him up—by one foot. 
He was turned inside out. He was the 
only duck bagged that day that we did 
not take home. We instructed Bill that 
he need not be as close to ducks as he 
does to tennis balls in order to do busi- 
ness. 
Most of the ducks raised so far had 
been out of the north lake and we finally 
got them all out of there. The open 
place in the south lake was still full 
of ducks but were so far out that we 
could not raise them by shooting from 
cur pass. I decided to walk around the 
shore of the lake, getting as close as 
possible to those ducks, and then try 
to wade out within range of them. I 
had to break ice with the stock of my 
gun and after a lot of hard work suc- 
ceeded in getting out about half way, 
then had to stop as the water was get- 
ting very near the top of my waders. 
Still I was successful in putting a few 
of them into the air by shooting from 
where I stood, and I had the satisfac- 
tion of watching those chaps go over 
our pass. That was good sport stand- 
ing there in that icy water nearly up 
to my armpits watching bluebills go 
over that pass, to see one fold up and 
come straight down. But a lot of them 
would get over and sometimes they 
would go away off north, circle around, 
and come right back over that pass and 
offer another chance. 
TR again went over the pass. I 
could not see my friends who had 
decided to get down into their blinds 
again as the ducks were flying higher, 
but watched two crumple and _ start 
down, and a moment afterward heard a 
number of reports, I don’t remember 
how many. You don’t get them all 
when you are shooting at bluebills. 
After I fired a few more shots those 
ducks seemed to get used to it and I 
did not succeed in getting them to 
flush. 
While looking toward the pass I no- 
ticed a single coming over the north 
lake and he seemed somewhat larger 
than the others. Suddenly he folded up 
and Hank ran out to retrieve him. I 
looked again at those ducks out a few 
yards beyond range. What would I 
have given just then for a boat? Or 
merely a raft? Anything to transport 
me out a few more yards toward that 
open water. And there was that fine 
bunch of marsh grass right beside the 
open water where a boat could be an- 
chored. What could I have done there 
in about ten minutes’ shooting? 
Reluctantly I turned toward shore 
and followed the winding path through 
the ice back to dry land. Arriving at 
the pass I discovered that the large 
duck that I had seen annihilated was 
a fine canvasback. Possibly we were 
to have a mixed bag, but that was the 
only “can” bagged that day. 
BOUT noon a strong south wind 
came and it was remarkable how 
fast those open places in both lakes 
widened out. We could actually see 
those spaces getting larger. The wind 
created some good sized waves and 
these raised havoc with the ice. In- 
side of two hours there was no ice to — 
be seen in the center of either lake, 
but there was still a fringe all around 
the edge, extending out probably one 
hundred yards. 
The question now was how to re- 
trieve a half dozen ducks lying out 
in the north lake where it was too deep 
to wade. We examined the old boat ly- 
ing up on the shore and decided that 
it should hold together until those ducks 
were brought to bag, so the three of us 
dragged the thing down to the water. 
There were no oars so we pulled part 
of a board off a fence and used it like 
a pole. Hank Glass and Bill went out 
in the boat which was leaking like a 
sieve and threatened to fall to pieces, 
but they pulled those ducks aboard. 
Now they turned about against the wind 
to come back to shore, and found that 
the wind had carried them out to where 
it was so deep that they could not touch 
bottom with the board, and it was too 
narrow to use as a paddle effectively. 
And how that boat did leak. Perhaps 
you think I did not spend a bad quarter 
hour watching those two friends of 
mine trying to get back to land. They 
were rigged out with heavy clothing. 
And I am a poor swimmer. If that 
boat had gone to pieces, or sprung a 
few more leaks, I would not now be 
taking any pleasure in writing this 
article. By stooping down low in the 
boat they avoided some of the strength 
of the wind and finally paddled to 
shore. Believe me, I was pulling as 
hard on that oar as they were. There 
was nothing left now but to keep our 
positions for any possible pass shoot- 
ing. 
SUPPOSE every duck shooter has 
made one shot that stands out in his 
memory above all others, and it was 
that afternoon that I made “mine.” A 
high duck came over from the north 
lake and I missed the first shot but 
brought him down with the second and 
he dropped out about one hundred feet 
in the south lake on the ice. I broke ice 
out to where he lay and had just turned 
around to return to shore. The water 
was now about two inches from the top 
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