est degree. Away down in front of us, watch that big flock of mallards; they circle and sail, undecided where to alight. It does seem that-whew! That was a close call. He didn't miss my head two feet, and he was going fully a hundred and fifty miles an hour. If he had struck me, you would have had a green-winged teal, and I would have been laid up for repairs. It has always seemed strange to me that more hunters don't get hit with low flying ducks, when the light is dim. I once knew of a friend being knocked senseless by a falling duck, and one time in Western Iowa I had a narrow escape myself. But the worse scare I ever had was when shooting geese in Dakota. A twelve pounder just missed my head. Hello! Just look at them down there; by Willow Island. Some hunter has routed them out. Keep quiet, there they come. Don't shoot! Don't shoot! See how they turn to my call. Watch sharp! Hold two feet ahead of that drake, and let him have it. Good shot! But then you ought to have killed the duck. I got my pair. The trouble was you shot too quick and got behind her. is crippled; shoot him again. What? the water? Try him again. Well, I haven't missed again. Try it once more, and hold at the line of his body where it touches the water. There, that's more like it; you have filled him full. It is not surprising that you missed him twice, for you shot over him. I could see where your shot struck the water. Oh, I don't doubt but that you held on the duck; that's just where you were in error. Instead of holding on you should have held under. The tendency with a shot-gun at a stationary mark is always to over-shoot. One instinctively pulls with a slight jerk, and the

One of mine Missed him on declare if you

muzzle flies up at the moment of firing. To obviate that you should hold low; besides, as you are usually but slightly higher than the object shot at, the shot striking between you and the duck, will glance on the water, losing but little, if any, of its force; these same shots are often the ones that kill the bird. Here comes more of them, and for a few minutes you and I are kept busy. Then there comes a lull in the flight, and feeling assured that we will only get occasional shots, we send the dog through the wild rice after the dead and crippled, while we pick up those lying dead in the open water. You noticed how the dog, a few moments ago, passed two dead ones and started after a cripple? Some hunters claim dogs should be trained that way. It isn't necessary; their natural instinct prompts them to do this. The fluttering, moving duck, filled with life, trying its utmost to escape, flapping its wings against the water, maybe uttering frightened quacks, attracts the dog's attention, and he hastens after the escaping bird. Of course, as time adds knowledge and experience to a dog's hunting education, he sees the necessity of first catching cripples; but a young dog will also do it, because he loves the excitement of the chase.

While we have been picking up these birds, I noticed about half a mile east of us, ducks dropping into some spot. There are others there feeding and enticing them down. We will go there and place our decoys. The day is pleasant, with wind blowing freshly from the south,-possibly it is not to your liking, and you recall stories of stormy days, northwest winds, lowering and threatening clouds, you look around for the screeching gulls, harbingers of violent winds, for then you feel

you will surely get good shooting. This is the impression fixed on the mind of every young hunter. If the reader has that thought, and seriously believes it, ask an experienced duck-hunter if he don't usually have good shooting on warm, calm days. The only advantage on blustering days is, that birds flying against the wind fly slower and lower. My experience has been that some of the finest shooting may be had on the warmest, calmest days. One September afternoon, three years ago, I had as good shooting as one could wish for. The day was simply delightful, no wind and very warm. This was only one of many days of the same kind that I have experienced. The day I like for ducks is the day they are in their feeding grounds, and then it makes no particular difference whether the wind blows mildly or strong, whether the day is warm or cold.

Never mind! Don't shoot unless you are sure of killing. They have been feeding here, and will come back much sooner, and presert better shots, if we don't frighten them by shooting. Nice place here for them, isn't it? Plenty of rice, and far enough from shore, so "stalkers and hoosiers" can't sneak them. This pond must be fully one hundred yards long; that is, counting the little neck where you see so many dried pond lilies, and at least sixty yards wide. I will push the boat out so you can place the decoys where we want them. Take that smallest sack first, of red-heads. Throw them out in the open water; they have weights on, and will come right side up. Don't be afraid to stand up, the boat won't upset or rock. I have hunted too much to have a cranky boat. Years ago I shot quickly from a cranky boat; didn't hurt the boat any, but I went out backward, head first, into water