CHAPTER VIII
DUCKS
The Captain rapped on my door. It was pitch dark, and the wind, whichhad arisen during the night, was sweeping through the open windows,blowing the light curtains about. Also it was very cold.
"All right," I answered, took my resolution in my hands, and steppedforth.
Ten minutes later, by the light of a single candle, we were manipulatingthe coffee-and-egg machine, and devouring the tall pile ofbread-and-butter sandwiches that had been left for us over night. Then,stepping as softly as we could in our clumping rubber boots, our armsburdened with guns and wraps, we stole into the outer darkness.
It was almost black, but we could dimly make out the treetops whippedabout by the wind. Over by the stable we caught the intermittent flashesof many lanterns where the teamsters were feeding their stock. Presentlya merry and vigorous _rattle_--_rattle_--_rattle_ arose and came nearer.The Invigorator was ready and under way.
We put on all the coats and sweaters, and climbed aboard. The Captainspoke to his horses, and we were off.
That morning I had my first experience of a phenomenon I have neverceased admiring--and wondering at. I refer to the Captain's driving inthe dark.
The night was absolutely black, so that I could hardly make out thehorses. In all the world were only two elements, the sky full of starsand the mass of the earth. The value of this latter, as a means ofshowing us where we were, was nullified by the fact that the skylineconsisted, not of recognizable and serviceable landmarks, but of thedistant mountains. We went a certain length of time, and bumped over acertain number of things. Then the Captain pulled his team sharp aroundto the left. Why he did so I could not tell you. We drove an hour over ameandering course.
"Hang tight," remarked the Captain.
I did so. The front end of the Invigorator immediately fell away fromunder me, so that if I had not been obeying orders by hanging tight Ishould most certainly have plunged forward against the horses. We seemedto slide and slither down a steep declivity, then hit water with asplash, and began to flounder forward. The water rose high enough tocover the floor of the Invigorator, causing the Captain to speculate onwhether Redmond had packed in the shells properly. Then the bow rosewith a mighty jerk and we scrambled out the other side.
"That's the upper ford on the Slough," observed the Captain, calmly.
Everywhere else along the Slough, as I subsequently discovered, thebanks fell off perpendicular, the water was deep, and the bottom soft.The approach was down no fenced lane, but across the open, with no otherlandmarks even in daylight than the break of low willows andcottonwoods exactly like a hundred others. Ten minutes later theCaptain drew rein.
"Here you are," said he, cautiously. "You can dump your stuff off righthere. I can't get through the fence with the team; but it's only a shortdistance to carry."
Accordingly, in entire faith, I descended and unloaded my three sacks ofwooden decoys and my three sacks of live ducks and my gun and shells.
"I'll drive on to another hole," said the Captain. "Good luck!"
"Would you mind," I suggested, meekly, "telling me in which directionthis mythical fence is situated; what kind of a fence it is; and where Icarry to when I get through it?"
The Captain chuckled.
"Why," he explained, "the fence is straight ahead of you; and it'sbarbed wire; and as for where you're headed, you'll find the pond wherewe saw all those ducks last night about a hundred yards or so west."
Where we saw all those ducks! My blood increased its pace through myveins. Now that I was afoot, I could begin to make out things in thestarlight--the silhouettes of bushes or brush, and even three or fourposts of the fence.
The Invigorator rattled into the distance. I got my stuff the other sideof the wires, and, shouldering a sack, plodded away due west.
But now I made out the pond gleaming; and by this and by the dimgrayness of the earth immediately about me knew that dawn was at lastunder way. The night had not yet begun to withdraw, but its firststrength was going. Objects in the world about became, not visible, butexistent. By the time I had carried my last load the rather liberalhundred yards to the shores of the pond the eastern sky had banished itsstars.
My movements had, of course, alarmed the ducks. There were not many ofthem, as I could judge by the whistling of their departing wings and bythe silvery furrows where they had left the water. It is curious howstrong the daylight must become before the eye can distinguish a duck inflight. The comparative paucity of numbers, I reflected, was probablydue to the fact that the ducks used this pond merely as a loafing placeduring the day. Therefore I should anticipate a good flight as soon asfeeding time should be over; especially as one end of the pond proved tobe fairly well sheltered from the high wind.
At once I set to work to build me a blind. This I constructed oftumbleweed and willow shoots, with a lucky sagebrush as a good basis. Imade it thick below and thin on top, so I could crouch hidden, and riseeasily to shoot. Also I made it hastily, working away with aconcentration that would prove very valuable could it be brought to auseful line of work. There can nothing equal the busyness of a manhastening to perfect his arrangements before a flight of ducks is due tostart. Every few moments I would look anxiously up to see how thingswere going with the morning. The light was indubitably increasing. Thatis to say, I could make out the whole width of the pond, for example,although the farther banks were still in silhouette, and the sky wasalmost free of stars. Also the perpendicular plane of the mountains tothe west, in some subtle manner, was beginning to break. It was not yetdaylight; but the dawn was here.
I reached cautiously into one of the sacks and brought forth one of thedecoy ducks. Around his neck I buckled a little leather collar to a ringin which had been attached a cord and weight. Then I cautiously wadedout and anchored him.
He was delighted, and proceeded immediately to take a bath, ducking hishead under and out again, ruffling his wings, and wagging his absurdlittle tail. Apparently the whole experience was a matter of course tohim; but he was willing to show pleasure that this phase of it was over.I anchored out his five companions, and then proceeded to arrange thewooden decoys artistically around the outskirts. By now it was quitegenuinely early daylight. Three times the overhead whistle of wings hadwarned me to hurry; and twice small flocks of ducks had actually swungdown within range only to discover me at the last moment and tower awayagain. When younger, I used, at such junctures, to rush for my gun. Thatis a puppy stage, for by the time you get your gun those ducks are gone;and by the time you have regained your abandoned task more ducks are in.Therefore one early learns that when he goes out from his blind to pickup ducks, or catch cripples, or arrange decoys, he would better do so,paying no attention whatever to the game that will immediately appear.So now the whistle of wings merely caused me to work the faster. Atlength I was able to wade ashore and sink into my blind.
Immediately, as usual, the flights ceased for the time being. I hadnothing to do but sit tight and wait.
This was no unpleasant task. The mountains to the west had becomelucent, and glowed pink in the dawn; those to the east looked likesilhouettes of very thin slate-coloured cardboard stuck up on edge,across which a pearl wash had been laid. The flatter world of the plainsall about me lay half revealed in an unearthly gray light. The windswooped and tore away at the brush, sending its fan-shaped cat's-pawsacross the surface of the pond. My ducks, having finished theirablutions, now gave a leisurely attention to smoothing out their plumesruffled by the night in the gunnysack. They ran each feather separatelythrough their bills, preening and smoothing. All the time they conversedtogether in low tones of voice. Whenever one made a rather cleverremark, or smoothed to glossiness a particularly rumpled feather, hewagged his short tail vigorously from side to side in satisfaction.
Suddenly the one farthest out in the pond stilled to attention andcraned forward his neck.
"_Mark_!" quoth he, loudly, and then again: "_Mark_!_quok_--_quok_--_quok_!"
&
nbsp; The other five looked in the same direction, and then they, too, liftedup their voices. Cautiously I turned my head. Low against the growingsplendour of the sunrise, wings rigidly set, came a flock of mallards.My ducks fairly stood up on their tails the better to hurl invitationsand inducements at their wild brethren. The chorus praising thisparticular spot was vociferous and unanimous, I wonder what the mallardsthought of the other fifty or sixty in my flock, the wooden ones, thatsat placidly aloof. Did they consider these remarkably exclusive; or didthey perhaps look upon the live ones as the "boosters" committee forthis particular piece of duck real estate? At any rate, they dropped inwithout the slightest hesitation, which shows the value of live decoys.The mallard is ordinarily a wily bird and circles your pond a number oftimes before deciding to come in to wooden decoys. At the proper momentI got to my feet, and, by good fortune, knocked down two fatgreen-heads.
They fell with a splash right among my ducks. Did the latter exhibitalarm over either the double concussion of the gun or this fall ofdefunct game from above? Not at all! they were tickled to death. Eachswam vigorously around and around at the limit of his tether, rufflinghis plumage and waggling his tail with the utmost vigour.
"Well, I rather think we fooled that bunch!" said they, one to another."Did you ever see an easier lot? Came right down without a look! If theCaptain had been here he'd have killed a half dozen of the chumps beforethey got out of range!" and so on. For your experienced decoy alwaysseems to enjoy the game hugely, and to enter into it with muchenthusiasm and intelligence. And all the while the flock of woodendecoys headed unanimously up wind, and bobbed in the wavelets; and thesun went on gilding the mountains to the west.
Next a flock of teal whirled down wind, stooped, and were gone like aflash. I got in both barrels; and missed both. The dissatisfaction ofthis was almost immediately mitigated by a fine smash at a flock ofsprig that went by overhead at extreme long range, but from which Imanaged to bring down a fine drake. When the shot hit him he faltered,then, still flying, left the ranks at an acute angle, sloping ever thequicker downward, until he fell on a long slant, his wings set, his neckstill outstretched. I marked the direction as well as I could, andimmediately went in search of him. Fortunately he lay in the open, quitedead. Looking back, I could see another good flock fairly hovering overthe decoys.
The sun came up, and grew warm. The wind died. I took off my sweater.Between flights I basked deliciously. The affair was outside of allprecedent and reason. A duck shooter ought to be out in a storm, a goodcold storm. He ought to break the scum ice when he puts out his decoys.He ought to sit half frozen in a wintry blast, his fingers numb, hisnose blue, his body shivering. That sort of discomfort goes with duckshooting. Yet here I was sitting out in a warm, summerlike day in myshirt sleeves, waiting comfortably--and the ducks were coming in, too!
After a time I heard the mighty rattle of the Invigorator, and theCaptain's voice shouting. Reluctantly I disentangled myself from myblind and went over to see what all the row was about.
"Had enough?" he demanded, cheerily.
I saw that I was supposed to say yes; so I said it. The ducks were stillcoming in fast. You see, I was not yet free from the traditions to whichI had been brought up. Back in Michigan, when a man went for a day'sshoot, he stayed with it all day. It was serious business. I was notyet accustomed to being so close to the game that the casual expeditionwas after all the most fun.
So I pulled up my rubber boots, and waded out, gathering in the game. Tomy immense surprise I found that I had thirty-seven ducks down. It hadnot occurred to me that I had shot half that number, which is perhapscommentary on how fast ducks had been coming in. It was then only abouteight o'clock. After gathering them in, next we performed the slow andvery moist task of lifting the wooden decoys and winding their anchorcords around their placid necks. Lastly we gathered in the live ducks.They came, towed at the end of their tethers, with manifest reluctance;hanging back at their strings, flapping their wings, and hissing at usindignantly. I do not think they were frightened, for once we had ourhands on them, they resumed their dignified calm. Only they enjoyed thefun outside; and they did not fancy the bags inside; a choice eminentlycreditable to their sense.
So back we drove to the ranch. The Captain, too, had had good shooting.Redmond appeared with an immense open hamper into which he dumped thebirds two by two, keeping tally in a loud voice. Redmond thoroughlyenjoyed all the small details.
The Killer Page 38
