The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1911-01-26
HUNTING IN THE PHILIPPINES.
SpOrtsmen Shoot Where Ducks Have
Not Heard Sound of Gun.

Not long ago, while stationed in
the Province of Albay, P. l., Capt.
Burt, 18th Infantry, and myself de-
cided to take trip to Lake Bato,
some forty miles inland. We packed
all our duffie into an army wagon,
and with four sturdy mules to draw
it started early one morning for our
long drive, arriving at the lake that
night. The next morning we hired
two cantamarans, threw our baggage
aboard and crossed the lake. Then
we made camp and cooked chow.
Can you imagine a lake fifteen
miles in diameter and literally cov-
cred with fowl? The report Of gun
was unknown in the vicinity, and of
course the fowl were not gun shy.
We took life easy until 2 o'clock the
following morning, when our guides
awakened us. Creeping out Of our
blankets we got into our baucas, or
boats, and started down the lake
shore. About three o'clock we
reached rushing stream some forty
feet wide, and I can safely swear
that each and every mosquito from
tip to tip measured the same. Wow!
We plunged into the marsh, sink
ing to our knees in many places, and
waded some three miles. 1t was still
dark and I had visions of horrible
snakes and mammoth Lizards, in
which this country abounds. After
an hour of this sort of travel we ar
rived at the edge Of a little mud
pond some hundred yards in diane
ter. One of the guides motioned for
the captain to remain with him, and
my guide, beckoning to me to follow,
jumped into the water to his waist.
In I jumped. Ugh! I'll never forget
it as long as 1 live; soft, Shiny mud
for the bottom and now and then a
snake gliding silently along the water
in front of me.
We reached the other side and en-
tered a little inlet. Passing through
this we came out into another pond
exactly like the first. The guide took
me to little clump Of partly sub
merged alders, and we waded in and
got among them as best we could.
1 was sitting in mud and water up to
my waist But the air was simply
alive with ducks, as we knew from
the whir of their wings.
Daylight came, and I shall never
forget the sight. Flock after flock
came dropping down into the pond.
I heard the captains rifle and knew
the shooting was on. It seemed like
deliberate murder Flocks of ducks
numbering 500 would fly within
twenty yards, and after being shot
at would circle and come right back.
At about 9 o'clock, gathering our
kill, we went back to the first pond.
Between us we had ducks enough to
give the battalion a Thanksgiving
dinner. We shot them all with our
rifles.
Since leaving that station my field
of labor has been changed to Allin-
danao, and while stationed on a hill
on the shores of Lake Lanoa I have
been able to shoot wild hogs by
moonlight from the guard house.
One night while returning from a
small scrap with the Moros, in the
Taraca valley, I shot several ducks,
feeding in the rice paddles, the full
tropical moon making it as light as
day. At my present station, Misa-
mis-, 1 have good snipe shooting.
There are monkeys everywhere, but
they are too human to kill. If they are
wounded they cry and sob like small
children. The natives eat them and
use their hides to make drum heads.
For the big game we have the wa
ter buffalo, which, if wounded, will
put up a pretty stiff fight, and in a
good many cases it is the hunter
hunted if he is not an excellent shot.
The woods are full of deer, but they
are very small, being about the size
of a hound or shepherd dog. They
are easily tanned and almost every
American in the province keeps one
or two tame deer=Recreation.