Omaha daily bee., 1895-11-24

| up to and a days shoot with him always
means a bag OF birds. He Is protcge oi
Uncle Georges and has lived with him a good
| many years But IL is neither Uncle George
| nor Sam, either that makes Clarks such q
| famous resort for the geese Here the un-
| fettered Platte rushes and gurgles and sings
| along as II under a magicians spell. with the
| soft autumn or spring breezes dancing over
| Its frothy surface and the yellow sunshine
| kissing ragged, wllowy shores, rolling wave
and sandy bar into radiant smiles. Down
| goes the broad river through one OF the
| grandest corn countries In the world, on Il
| goes with mighty impetuosity, wild. lovely
| and fascinating in its sweep of noisy grandeur.
But the Platte is not always the same.
| II Is wonderful stream, parplexing and
| little understood Two weeks ago its broad
| bed at Clarks was as dry as floor, today Il
| 1t savage river cleaning, gittering ex-
| panse OF water, the dim artery Of all the
vast country beyond of more than a mile
| wide and across which you can wade without
| danger at any point. IL is simply a broad
wilderness of rushing narrow channels sand
bars and eddyng pools, with willow-bordered
| and gully-riven banks.
Barrister Myron Learned and his guest, Mr..
Sidney Warner OF Minneapolis, and Charlie
| Metz and myself spent day out there re-
Gently and under the guidance OF the re-
doubtable Richmond, we enjoyed ourselves
| in superlative way.
Early in the morning we drove down the
Platte for a distance of three miles, where
Sam had couple of blinds built On a couple
of much frequented bars These blinds were
about one mile apart, and while Metz and
and Sam occupied the lower one, Learned and
the Minneapolitan took the upper. The birds
we're leaving the bars for The fields While
we were Juggling out our decovs and .rans
and by the time we got snugly fixed, any
where from dozen to score of long lines
of denariing hirds conia ho ao.crio5 a,,ina,
the barl,ernnpd s,fv Thero wero hundrsds ~
tber, ans tha,, 80 81, G.,aSas "uio' Gus VI
1,h.t nv ,ua r.ey 49, ah,.sa.'oa a., ss ,,u,
"a. AZ ',eie ,, was ai auuuahIe VI ol,us .ueIe
WI J ~, Nv '.s ., ms uu' iove, VIE. Vi .he h.iu M nos'
an know tnat plenty OF game does not always
imply plenty OF shooting. any more than
p,ehty oil snoring always implies big n'g
OF game Nowheres have l observed this
truth more forcibly eXemplifed than on the
Platte In the old days goose shooting did
not require the nicely of preparation and
extreme caution 1t does nowadays, although
it was always advisable to be we'll hidden
while waiting for a shot along their line of
flight Ten years ago an old fence. a bunch
of standing corn. clump of sumac bushes
or n small washout was sufficient but nov,
your blind must he carefully and artisticaIIy
arrangnd and vonr shont,ns hnIe doon and
waIi cnncoaIed ''e '''p "''"
Al, ,,,or,ine ,,,,o, m, ,s .o,,,
h,,t 49,. s.. we ,i anu aiu III "ats'eu ,s, GU
sao gu. Ut,, mUt vn ,e.uans s ti.us ulu we
marx, when suddenly sam made dive Tor
the Diind' eXciaiming as ne did 80:
Ihe'e they come!
Metz and l were quickly crouching on the
wet sands beside him, but peer as hard and
eagerly through the network Of brush and
reeds as we might, nothing awarded our
strained vision.
ionk! ahhonk! ahhonk! honk; honk! honk!
is the thrilling sound though. that greets our
hearing, and we feel that Sam knew what
he was talking about. The next moment we
catch sight of them-a long line, with meas
ured wing flap, is approaching from over
the low sandhills to the south. With palpitat-
ing hearts, though as still as craven images,
We crouch and wait. On they come, straight
for us.
They will decoy sure" whispers Sam.
What rapturous moment. We could
hardly control our impatience, but the birds
came steadily on, the grizzled old gander in
the lead. almost constantly sounding his
satisfying honk, while the rest of the flock
mildly responded.
Hear 'em talk" chuckles Colonel Rich
mond.
Now' they begin to rise perceptibly they |
clear the always dangerous shore line. Their !