take much notice of us until we were 
nearly upon them. Then they merely 
scuttled across the water and settled 
again a short distance away. 
E were rather disappointed as we 
wished to get a shot of a mass of 
birds rising rapidly and we felt that 
these coots or marsh hens were a cari- 
cature on the real duck tribe. 
“There’s a big patch of wild rice 
near here,’ said Morris, who had 
sensed our disappointment. “I think 
I can slip you up reasonably close 
without being seen, and you’ll be able 
to get a shot at the real thing.” 
We slipped across the pond, leaving 
the coots articulating nonsensically in 
our wake, and reached the thickly- 
growing reeds on the farther border. 
In a few minutes we were on the rim 
of another smaller pond. On the op- 
posite margin there was a_ heavy 
growth of tuft brown vegetation, which 
our punter informed us was wild rice. 
We could see the gleam of small pools 
beyond, and, as Morris manoeuvred 
the punt into position on the edge of 
the reeds there was a loud quacking. 
“Quick,” whispered Morris. “They’re 
about to rise.” 
Tash started to grind, and not a 
moment too soon. A great cloud of 
ducks puffed up like a burst of black 
shrapnel, breaking up into small par- 
ties and scattering as they saw us. 
“You got the goods there, all right, 
I guess,” grinned the waterman. “Kind 
of assorted game, too. There was black 
duck, pin-tail and red-heads in that 
lot.” 
We passed the rice fields and came 
out into another pond where there was 
an abundance of wild celery. 
“If it was heavy weather, them can- 
vas-backs would be in here feeding,” 
commented our punter. 
“That wild celery doesn’t look very 
palate ble aLyre- 
marked. 
“You don’t see the 
real luscious parts,” 
explained our guide. 
“It?s the roots they 
gofor. They get right 
down into the heart 
of it. Them canvas- 
backs and red-heads 
blow in here from the 
North as thin.as 
matches and ina 
short time they’re fat- 
tened up so their own 
mothers  wouldn’t 
know them. Give me 
a fat young canvas- 
back and a mess of 
wild rice, done right, 
and I wouldn’t swap 
courses with a king.” 
The wild rite is 
712 
black with a much smaller grain than 
that of the cultivated variety. When 
ripe the pods burst and the grain is 
scattered in the water. When they 
come in from the North many of the 
ducks have a distinct and not alto- 
gether agreeable fishy flavor, but a 
short sojourn among the fields of wild 
rice and celery makes their flesh a real 
delicacy. Prepared for the table by the 
keeper’s wife we found this black rice 
sustained the reputation given it by 
Morris. 
The wild celery is not always in- 
digenous in Ontario marshes, but, in 
many instances, has been planted at 
considerable expense by the shooting 
clubs.. This delectable feed has been 
a great factor in attracting the birds: 
to the marshes, and some species seem 
to prefer to breed there instead of pro- 
ceeding farther north. Another factor 
which has been of inestimable benefit 
is the recent legislation which prohibits 
spring shooting in the Southern States, 
and thus enables the ducks, which 
have come safely through the winter 
to reach the Northern breeding- 
grounds without further casualties, ex- 
cepting, of course, the inevitable losses 
imposed by Nature. The Ontario 
Government has enacted regulations 
greatly restricting the bag in the lim- 
ited shooting season, while the clubs, 
themselves, strictly limit the hours 
during which their members may shoot. 
HESE sensible measures for the 
preservation of wild fowl have 
brought about splendid results, and 
old-timers aver that there is better 
shooting over Ontario marshes today 
than there was forty years ago, at 
which period the popular imagination 
pictures the country teeming with 
game. 
It was now nearly eleven o’clock and 
the marsh was bathed in sunshine. 

Adjusting the “property.” 
Far away on our left a line.of. hard 
woods had come.into sight, marking — 
the easterly confines. So mild ‘had 
been the weather that these trees were 
not yet bereft’ of their autumnal 
glories. On our right, very high, 
framed against the azure sky, two 
giant white-headed eagles soared on 
motionless wings, the very embodiment 
of controlled power and dignity. 
“T T’S funny,” mused Morris. ‘Those 
birds have nested hereabouts for 
years. Nobody ever molests them, and 
still there don’t seem to be any young 
ones joining up with them on their 
hunting expeditions. Perhaps the 
young ones go away somewhere else.” 
The eagle certainly is a solitary bird. 
Usually they travel in pairs, male and 
female. I remember seeing six to- — 
gether once on the North Pacific Coast, 
but I think this must have been an un- 
usual spectacle. 
The eagles prey on the rodents and 
smaller animals which live in the 
marshes, but they are not averse to 
attacking the ducks, which are swooped 
down upon before they have time to 
get on the wing. In straight flying the 
eagle would have no chance with the 
speedy duck, but the latter plays at a 
losing hazard if he doesn’t get off the 
water before that thunderbolt of beak 
and talons begins its descent from the 
sky at a falling speed of possible more 
than three hundred miles per hour. 
We entered an open lagoon, and 
Jackson began to look about for a suit- 
able location to get out his decoys. As 
we were going to take pictures of the 
shooting, several positions that 
promised good sport had to be aban- 
doned on account of our being unable 
to set up the camera advantageously. 
Finally Jackson established himself 
where a point of tussocky reeds ex- 
tended out into the pond. This point 
formed one horn of a 
% shallow crescent. At 
the other tip, some 
| twenty yards away, 
we dragged our punt 
ashore, treading gin- 
gerly on the tufted 
grass. pitted with 
wells of mud and 
water. 
Before we left the 
water we had taken a 
shot of Snooks cut- 
ting the quill grass, 
and making the blind 
for Jackson, and now 
Morris set about 
making cover for the 
camera and ourselves. 
This was a difficult 
job. At first we tried. 
to fix up a position — 
(Cont. on page 752). 

