The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1890-11-27

pretty tiresome at first It is cold and
damp morning. The thick fog hangs
around you. You lay cramped and
still in your coffin like box, with your
half cooked gun across your knees,
every nerve strained in preparation for
the shot which you hope soon to have
chance to make Your companion gives
you points, describes the swift flight of
the duck, and hopes you are "quick on
the trigger" You are to take care Of
your side of the water. You lie still,
and listen, as through the gray fog como
sounds that grow more and more sig
nificant. "Quack, quack!" You heard
that before, but dyou did not notice it.
Now the "quacks" float in through the
heavy air in every direction. A beating
of the water and whir of wings almost
causes you to start up. The report of a
distant gun sounds from the shore, and
another and another from the water.
ALI. the fun has begun. But where are
the ducks? You hear their discordant
calls in every direction. Once or twice
you have seen dim black body cross
in swift flight far up in the foggy at
mosphere. What is that? A sound
like the beating of innumerable pad
dies OH the water, the whir Of thousands
of wings, and rush through the air
that fairly takes your breath away.
"Only rank of ducks rising" says
your companion.
You wait and wait How tiresome it
is! You are shivering with cold, and
cramped with pain. The fog has grown
thinner. and you see an occasional
small flock of ducks crossing t. sky
far above you. The reports of dis mt
guns grow less frequent. You get dull
and Indifferent. Ha! Your companion
suddenly rises, and fires-bang! bang!-
directly across your body. Down tumbles
duck right among the decoys on your
side. I'D. -, .0..:
"That was your shot, but had to take
him, he says. -a> y.
Now you are aroused and all excite
ment again. Every nerve quivers, and
your heart thumps so that you think
your companion must hear it, The
leaden minutes drag on. Suddenly a
dark object crosses your sight and you
raise and fire both barrels ainlessly and
recklessy after it as i: disappears in
the gloom. You sink back disappointed,
feeling that you have missed.
Hes a sailor" remarks your COM
panion. who has been peering intently
through the fog.
"A sailor! What's tl,at2"
"You hit him all right, but his wings
were spread, and he sailed off obliquely
to the water. Well find him after a
While"
You now feel secure and confident.
You are no longer cramped or cold, and
you wait cheerfully and alert for your
next shot. It comes again-you miss.
The next time, however, you score a
hit. Then you call for the boat, and
change places with your waiting COM
panions on the sloop while one of the
crew rows about and picks up your
floating game.
Such is duck shooting when you have
luck. Sometimes you don't have luck,
and there is no excitement, and no rec
ompense for cramped limbs and chilled
frame.
There is no sport more exciting than
duck shooting when the ducks are
plenty and not too wild. The writer
has seen at one time three or four ranks
Of ducks on the Chesapeake, each a
mile long, and composed Of innumer.
able thousands Of fowl When one oi
these ranks arose the air was darkened
by flying wings and the noise was almost
! like that Of q Niagara. G. IL B.