Chapter VII: Hints on Shooting Different Game Birds

The limits of this book will not permit me to treat shooting the various game birds at length. Indeed, full instructions for handling the ordinary varieties of game which fall before the shotgun in this country would require a volume of itself. The best that I can do in this one chapter on the subject is to give a few hints which the beginner may find worth consulting.

THE BOB WHITE QUAIL

This little fellow is to head the list because he is the most widely distributed and best loved of all our game birds. In all the South, the West to the mountains, and throughout the Middle States, not a sportsman can be found who will not assert a fondness for quail shooting, the sport of many being limited to this one bird. The friendly brown chap ranges from Minnesota to the southern extremity of Florida, and in all this region the lad who has any shooting instinct born in him must have longed to follow the pointers and the quail, years ere he was able to bear the weight of a gun.

Little Bob affords shooting under many conditions, some of them so easy as to make him one of the least difficult of all our game birds to bag, and others quite hard enough to call forth the highest skill of the most expert gun. The tyro can kill some quail, and the practiced shot will fall far short of securing them all.

The marked characteristics of quail are that he lies best to the dog and rises nearer the gun than any other game bird of the uplands; he is found both in the open and in heavy cover; he can be pursued on foot, on horseback, and sometimes in wagons; the bevies break away all in a bunch, with a tremendous rush and whir of wings, with a startling rapidity only rivaled by the ruffed grouse; and he is a winged athlete, capable of swerving and dodging when occasion demands in a manner to shame a jack snipe. Parenthetically permit me to venture here the opinion that quail do not dodge maliciously, their powers in this respect being merely called forth by circumstances.

In an open, level, ragweed field, where the vegetation is from knee to waist high, Bob sails away on an even keel, as straight as an arrow, whereupon a right and left should be within the powers of the average shot. However, let trees and brush intervene and the course of the little bird is beyond the foresight of man; then, too, he will swerve so quickly as to escape a charge of shot that has been sent direct for him.

One of the difficulties of quail shooting lies in the very fact that would apparently make his killing a simple proposition, his rising near the gun. Let me illustrate: If a quail rose within ten feet of the gun and continued sailing around the shooter’s head at a mile a minute gait, the chances are that he couldn’t be killed in ten shots, both the bird and the gun changing angle with a rapidity beyond the ability of the mind to calculate. In the same way a close springing bird may change his angle with regard to the gun so rapidly as to entail a long and accurate swing before he can be covered.

He may rise within twenty feet of the gun, be killed within fifty feet, and yet meantime he has half boxed the compass. For such a shot as this the poise of the gunner’s body must be maintained very nicely, if he is to turn half about without disturbing the balance, and at the same time cover a small, rapidly moving object with precision. This lengthy swing is a mechanically troublesome proposition on the principle that anything at all hard to accomplish becomes more trying the longer continued. Making a long and accurate swing with a shotgun might aptly be compared with rifle shooting at a thousand yards. Any rifleman could hit the bull’s-eye if you put him close enough, and the shotgun shooter could best place his charge upon the mark when he did not have to swing the arm at all.

The nature of the quail’s flight frequently makes this long swing unavoidable. The bird may rise to the north, pass to the west, and be killed to the south. Had it been possible to foresee that the bird would swing about to the south before being killed, the gun might have been pointed there, rendering unnecessary a complex gun movement, but meantime the quarry would probably have gone in some other direction. The quail work that calls for care and skill is cover shooting, and the only safe rule there is to point your gun as near the bird as you can when he breaks and shoot as quickly as you can get on.

It is all well enough to give the trite advice not to shoot too quickly, give the bird time enough to straighten out, but half the time that this is done no shot will be fired at all. An old German hunting axiom covers this ground: “Any time you fail to shoot you have made a miss.” We have all been out with the individual who withheld his fire because he “couldn’t get on to that fellow,” and he is a most exasperating companion where the other gun is waiting for him to shoot. The promptest possible work is requisite in quail shooting, the nerves of the gunner awaiting a rise being really keyed up as high as those of a sprinter on the mark listening for the pistol shot. A trained quail shot can be made to fairly jump into the air by roughly imitating the rush of the bird’s wings.

This idea of waiting for a quail to fly a certain distance reminds me of the advice of dear old Frank Forester. His scheme was never to cock his piece until the bird was on the wing, then raise the left hammer, shift and pull up the right, by which time the shooter would have recovered his coolness, and the mark would be just the distance to be killed with ease and absolute certainty. I tried the plan when a boy, and can fully believe an old market gunner who said that Frank Forester never could shoot quail. The time to shoot a quail in the brush is when and where you can see him; the opportunity perhaps not lasting a quarter of a second.

The quail shot must possess mechanical steadiness, rapidity of action, nerve force, and nerve control. Mechanically there is no comparison between following, making a half turn and cutting down a quail at fifty feet, and throwing up the gun with a five-inch swing to lead a mallard ten feet at fifty yards. Which of the shots will be the more difficult of accomplishment is a matter of training and experience. The quail shot must possess mechanics and nerve, the duck hunter, shooting knowledge. Personally I believe that quail work takes a great deal more out of a man, so that killing fifty quail will result in a nerve exhaustion that would not accompany bagging a hundred ducks.

Sporting writers are disposed to dwell upon the necessity for holding high in quail shooting, didactically stating that nearly all misses either go low or fall behind. Our literary gunners either get this idea from one another, accepting it without question as people do most of their wisdom, or their logic, so far as they have any, is that as the bird is rising from the ground, the charge must necessarily drop beneath unless care be taken to hold above. This theory really applies to pigeon shooting from the traps, originating from the demands of that sport.

The plain principle that should be remembered is that any bird flying away from the gun, beneath the line of aim, demands high holding whether or not the mark is rising; on the other hand, a target above the level of the eye may require low holding even when it is gradually rising. Let us make this plain. A bird rises near the gun and the weapon is pointed there, the muzzle being directed down toward the ground. Now the mark may fly away nearly along the ground, as pigeons often do, and yet the line of aim must steadily rise until the gun is nearly in a horizontal position.

On the contrary, if the bird rises sharply at the first bound to a height some distance above the gun and then goes off level, or even rises somewhat, the gun will first be elevated to an angle of perhaps forty-five degrees and then with the receding target must drop until near the horizontal. Applying this principle we find that shots must be directed high for all outgoing birds that are beneath the level of the eye and low for all outgoing birds that are above the level of the eye unless they continue to rise at a very sharp angle.

I shall call attention briefly to the shots that are liable to go high; those in which the tendency is to fall under; the manner of flight when the charge often strikes behind; and where the error will be leading too much. To begin with, permit me to repeat a statement previously made that in upland shooting only the occasional bird requires any great amount of lead. The obvious reason for this is that any target which rises close to the gun must in the nature of things go away from it and cannot maintain a right-angled flight for any great distance.

A bird may be readily overshot when he is flying straight away and perfectly level, in consequence of the line of swing being so very short. The gun comes to the shoulder pointing but a few inches beneath the target; then if it is brought up quickly the probability is that it travels above the mark while the trigger is being pressed. The problem of the shooter here is to start his line of swing sufficiently below the mark so that the finger can receive fair warning before the time comes to pull. Another shot often going high is when the bird rises to some little elevation and then drives away with a lowering flight before the aim is secured.

One of the most troublesome of open quail shots to gauge is when the little chap rises near the gun to a height of twenty or thirty feet and then goes off level. The natural inclination is to swing after him, unconscious that he is really going down toward the horizontal line and that the aim must in many instances be taken at least a foot low. Another quail shot in which few ever become proficient is the incomer. Flying low as this bird does, should he be allowed to approach within less than forty-five feet it is almost impossible to strike him owing to the rapidity with which the gun must be moved to keep pace with the flight. The nearer the bird comes to you the faster the muzzle swing, and at that the bird either outpaces you or you jerk ahead blindly without any aim and kill only by accident. The incomer should be fired upon when fifty feet or more away, should he be seen in time, or, failing to get in the shot there, turn on the bird and take him after he passes by. When attempting this last feat always hold under such a distance as would appear a sure miss, usually a foot and a half unless the bird is rising.

Naturally the shape of a man’s gunstock will modify his holding for any of the shots that should go high or low. This particular flight, the bird passing overhead and going away, was the most successfully accomplished with the use of one peculiar weapon which the author owned fifteen or twenty years ago. It was a straight stocked gun to begin with, made emphatically so by the addition of a Monte Carlo comb which caused it to shoot high and to the left. With this piece there was never any of the trouble with the incomers that I have experienced with other arms. The incomer was allowed to pass and then the aim taken about two feet low and four inches to the right, and down he came stone dead, seemingly the most certain shot that could be taken.

Shot charges should be delivered high when the game rises so wild as to require snapping before reaching the end of its climbing bound, the snap shot being demanded to prevent the quarry getting beyond range. Under such circumstances the line of aim would not follow the line of flight with a swing, but would pass straight up in front to the connecting point. Such shots as this more often occur in prairie chicken shooting than with quail. Another problem that necessitates quick perception is when the bird meets some obstruction to his flight. The inclination of a quail is always to jump over rather than dodge under anything that comes in his way, the rise beginning some distance ere he reaches the obstruction. Hence watch your mark closely, should he be winging toward a low tree or brush, for he is nearly certain to rise, and it is then a safe rule to hold over anyway.

It should be known that the majority of under shots are due, not so much to the flight of the bird, as to the nerves of the gunner. When there is need of quick action, in a semi-snap or rapid swing, with the sportsman’s nerves tensely strung, there is more than a possibility of the finger betraying the judgment by letting off ere the piece has quite traveled up to cover the mark. In every instance of this kind the charge must either go low or behind, and usually both.

Take it for granted that in upland shooting two-thirds of the misses that fall beneath and back are the result of rebellious nerves. Nerves are especially hard to manage where the swing is a long one, which we have shown it must often be with quail, and hence the pigeon shooter’s axiom of “shoot high and in front” might apply to Bob White, only it should read “don’t pull until you are on.” If you cannot avoid doing this, harden the trigger of your gun.

Individuals differ, and the personality of the gunner must always govern largely, but the writer has always had his best success in quail shooting by firing a semi-snap shot with the first barrel and swinging after with the second. With practice, too, it will be found that the gun can be swung with greater ease and certainty, and a better view maintained of the mark, when the head is held upright, free of the gunstock.

PRAIRIE CHICKEN SHOOTING

Chicken shooting was once such a simple business as scarcely to deserve the name of sport, for the half-grown chicks were killed in August while still under charge of the old hen. At present the hunting of these grouse begins with October, and the work upon the mature and powerful fowl is not only elegant sport, but of a nature to test the skill of any man. The bevies now become broken up, scattering about singly, in pairs, and small bunches, and then with the approach of winter packing into coveys of several hundred. The larger the packs or the colder the weather, the wilder chickens become.

The very finest of prairie grouse shooting is to be had on the occasional warm, sunny days that come in November and December. Then while the big fellows are not tame, and certainly not tame shooting, they will frequently permit the gunner to approach within half gunshot, and a few brace of the powerful birds in the strength of their lusty growth and the beauty of their winter plumage will afford intense satisfaction to any sportsman who prefers quality to quantity. We will treat of bagging these strong, brown fellows rather than the September fledglings that even the tyro would require no special instruction to kill.

The full-grown pinnated grouse is rather more powerful of wing than a quail, though from his size he seems to move slower. He is, however, not so sharp in getting away from the mark as his little cousin, and hence if he lay to a point like the latter would be easier shooting, but the late fall chicken doesn’t lie as close as a quail, the rise being anywhere from twenty yards to a long gunshot. It follows that straightaway chances are the exception rather than the rule, and the distance of the spring makes it needful that nearly every shot be well judged and given its proper allowance ahead. Almost invariably daylight should be seen between the point of aim and the bird, the lead being anywhere from a foot to eight feet where an old cock is crossing at forty-five yards.

In the course of a day upon the prairies nearly every description of shot known in wing-shooting may be afforded. Occasionally a bird will rise under your feet and drive away low over the short coated prairie, but the majority will be quartering shots at every conceivable angle from a straightaway to a direct incomer. Frequently the cackling chaps will spring to a height of thirty or forty feet, and then drop away with whip and twist and flash of wings toward the distant horizon--the most careful gunner finding plenty of empty space along these curves of flight. Numbers will cross at right angles, demanding as much lead as a mallard duck, and sometimes a pack will come stringing along like English driven game, yielding the sportsman as hot a thirty seconds as he ever experienced.

The chicken being a heavy bird cannot reach top speed so promptly as a quail, and they have a way of climbing for the first few yards that keeps them within gunshot, when a quail or ruffed grouse would be putting such space between himself and the gun that shooting at him would be useless.

I should estimate that a quail would fly forty-five feet the first second after his jump, a ruffed grouse from forty-five to fifty-five feet, a chicken perhaps not above thirty, though in doing this he might rise to a height of twenty feet. As a consequence pinnated grouse can sometimes be bagged that take wing forty yards from the gun, but it calls for a high degree of shooting skill to gauge both his speed away from the gun and his angle of elevation. With these long range shots the gun should always come up to the point of discharge with the least possible lost motion, something of accuracy being sacrificed to prompt delivery of the charge, care being taken to shoot plenty high--sometimes as much as two feet above the climbing fowl. This work has more resemblance to jumping ducks than anything quail shooting develops.

The mature chicken is suspicious, preferring rather to trust in the strength of his strong wings than to any ability to hide. With the wild fellows it is better to chance a miss with a rough snap that has power to drive the pellets home in place of a precise aim that could only rattle the shot upon his stiff wing feathers. Nevertheless, I have found the quick half snap to be the most killing style, care being taken to steady the gun before lifting it to the mark.

The second barrel will naturally follow the first in a quick swing and should snap in after the first with the same celerity as in pigeon shooting from the traps. The best policy in all wing-shooting is to consider any bird near enough for the second barrel that was within reach of the first. Otherwise an indecisive second barrel will grow upon you to the detriment of all your shooting.

Where the utmost rapidity is requisite the obvious thing to do is to get your weapon to shoulder with the flash of the springing bird; then in the slight interim needed to steady the piece the calculation for lead can be made, and the charge sent there instantly, care being taken not to jerk the weapon with uncontrollable roughness. With the shooter walking up his bird, and of course without having gun, legs, or body in shooting position, a grouse can be stopped by a fast man within five yards of where it breaks cover, the time taken to accomplish all the separate, complex movements not being over half a second.

Only the wisest old chicken dog will be found serviceable on November grouse, an animal which can scent his game at from fifty to two hundred yards and one that will not attempt to approach it except in close company with the gun. On birds that have packed and become excessively wild, two men may often work together to advantage, the one hiding in the grass while the other drives the game over him.

There are times when not a single chicken will permit an unconcealed gunner to approach a foot within one hundred yards. Under the circumstances the only recourse is to either drive the birds or to endeavor to shoot them from horseback or wagon. A horse can sometimes be galloped right among the fowl, especially in a country where they have become accustomed to the unmolesting cowpuncher. A driven wagon sometimes proves equally serviceable, but the second time you endeavor to drive up to a flushed pack you will learn that the wise birds have sized up the situation perfectly, and chickens can fly about over the rough prairie faster than horses can trot.

THE RUFFED GROUSE

The ruffed grouse is the wisest of all his tribe, of which all have brains, and as a winged sprinter is the quickest away from scratch of anything that flies. The quail dodges with phenomenal suddenness when anything obstructs his path, the wind sometimes unbalances a jack snipe, giving his flight the acme of eccentricity, but the partridge does it all deliberately and maliciously. With gunner and ruffed grouse, as with pitcher and batter, it is a guessing game, and whichever outguesses comes off the victor. Flush a quail in the thick woods and should there be an opening he may fly straight down it; a partridge might, too, but be sure he will not. I have seen one of the birds sitting before a dog’s point in a perfectly open spot, but there was a tree within twenty feet. I planned to get a shot at him before he could reach that tree, and ordered the dog to crawl in while I stood with gun ready. The wise old scoundrel got up with provoking deliberation, spread his tail, legged it around behind the tree and then took wing with a tremendous hurrah.

In partridge shooting, knowledge of the bird’s habits will avail more than shooting skill. The hunter should have that rare sort of partridge wisdom that few are born with and less ever acquire. One man always luckily selects the spot where the fish will bite if there are any, and the old partridge crank can forever place himself in just the spot to get his opportunity, while all the other fellows have to take what happens to come.

The thing for the ruffed grouse hunter to do is to shoot and never count shells. Should the bird fly behind a tree and not reappear, shoot the tree in two if you can. When he simply roars in beyond the limbs, make no hesitation, for that is the very place to kill him. Swing along on the line of flight, so much of it as you have seen, take it for granted that he is still going the same course, at the same rate of speed, and when you know you are right pull with as much confidence as though the bird were yet in plain sight. Then listen for the bird to fall--and sometimes he will. If he doesn’t simply blame the limbs, they have no shooting conceit to be aggrieved. Seeing sparkles and flashes of light glinting through the woods, left there by the partridge’s wings, shoot as far ahead as your conscience will let you, and more than likely another bird will be added to the bag.

In the rare times when you catch a ruffed grouse in the open, as in little isolated clumps from which he must fly, or along old, overgrown fencerows, he is no more difficult target than a quail or chicken. He is quicker away from the gun in heavy cover, but in full flight has no greater speed than either of the others. Generally no great amount of lead need be taken, but the shots he affords are of such diversified character that there can be no such thing as systematic partridge shooting. The marksman must simply suit his style to the nature of the shot as it comes. At the odd times when an easy shot appears, make sure of that bird, with all the precision and steadiness possessed, for he is the bird that should add weight to the back coat pocket.

When there is but a ten-foot opening in the trees snap the bird there no matter what the odds against a kill, that is where the fun comes in and the rare pleasure of a kill that occurs rarely. The ruffed grouse, by the way, is the only bird upon which the ethics of sportsmanship should tolerate the use of a cylinder bored gun. When this bird is killed fairly upon the wing I should not feel disposed to lecture the man who used a bell muzzled piece. Like the grouse hunter, the partridge dog just happens to be one. If nature hasn’t done a great deal for him man can do little. Training can teach the dog to hunt close to the gun, to flush to order, and to be stanch, and then he may or may not be a partridge dog.

It is well to hunt ruffed grouse with a reliable companion, one that can be depended upon not to shoot you first and feel sorry afterwards. The right kind of a hunting partner will enable both guns to secure better results, since the second gun will often get its chance while the wily bird is out-maneuvering the other. Further advantages, such as marking the birds, will be obvious without dwelling upon them.

Next to purely open shots the easiest partridge problem is when the bird is climbing through the thin limbs or just as he tops the undergrowth; the hardest is where he drops, like a bullet, out of a tree and skims the ground. One partridge killed in three shots is good shooting; fifty per cent. on quail is of about the same order, and three out of four chickens.

SNIPE SHOOTING

The writer once hung a jury because he knew the other eleven fellows were wrong. They wished to clear a man of the charge of murder who had shot another in the back, the plea being self-defense. Utterly regardless of the risk of being in a minority of one, I propose to maintain now that snipe are the easiest to kill of all our common game birds with the exception of the rail which at best doesn’t deserve to be listed as game. That the snipe is a difficult shooting proposition seems to be one of the popular sporting errors that appear to have been accepted as an inheritance. Naturally the fiction writer and the book-learned gunner perpetuate the error, considering themselves surely upon safe ground when dwelling upon the difficulties of snipe shooting.

It is true that jack sometimes flies very erratically on windy days when he finds trouble in balancing himself while gaining sufficient momentum to progress steadily. Like other birds, too, his temper is affected by cold, raw weather, or when he is hungry and food scarce; at such times he has little hesitation about getting up well out of range and leaving promptly for some more genial snipe world. When flushing wild it is quite a literal statement of fact that snipe are hard to hit, for if tied to a post out of gun range not many would be hurt. It appears, too, that a snipe really requires some ballast of fat if he is to sail upon an even keel, the thin little chaps surprising themselves with aerial gymnastics.

But in actual snipe weather, warm, sunny days, with cover good and food plentiful, jack snipe shooting is little more of a feat than smashing clay birds, than which there is no simpler shotgun work with which to compare.

The statement often made that the shooter should always withhold his fire until the bird is from twenty-five to thirty yards distant is the height of absurdity. The same shooting principle applies to snipe that holds with any other game bird, catch him before he becomes hard. When these birds are lying well to the dog and gun they get up lazily and float away with long, easy bounds. The first jump may carry his snipeship twenty feet, and then with a twist of his body he covers half a dozen yards at a more or less acute angle, but at the end of one of these aerial leaps the bird hangs for the fraction of a second, and there you can almost catch him with a rifle bullet.

The preliminary spring with accompanying saucy “scaipe” should warn the gunner and the end of the next leg of the zigzag ought to find poor jack ready to be smoothed down and placed in the bag, the man of ordinary quickness striking his mark inside of sixty feet or not over forty-five from where it broke cover. The motion of a snipe is really something like that of a skater who shoves out first upon one foot and then the other, the bird, however, making longer and quicker strokes, which become very choppy when he is sprinting.

There is a bit of up and down movement to the flight of a snipe under some conditions, but not a great deal, and when he is passing or circling the gun, the in and out motion is little in evidence, and he flies practically as level as other birds. When going straightaway his criss-cross style is most apparent, and such shots are the hardest in consequence. It is this feature of his flight that makes hunting down wind the most effective, since the bird has a preference for rising against the wind, and will then beat back, affording a crossing shot, while should the shooter walk up wind his target would likely be a straightaway. Nevertheless, up wind or down wind, should the quarry rise within twenty yards, he cannot escape without hazarding both barrels, one of which will generally suffice.

The movements of a snipe should never be followed by the line of swing. To do so would render his flight as hard to solve as sporting literature has pronounced. Get the gun up pointed under him and then snap ahead on one of his long bounds before he can tack. The thing is so easily done that I will leave it to any experienced snipe shot if there is any great feat about cutting down twenty of the little beauties straight.

Indeed, this bird is one that calls for a hunter’s forbearance in the matter of bag. Some years ago immense bags of snipe were common. The record so far as I know was something over six hundred birds killed by a Louisiana planter in one day. In the vicinity of St. Louis two hundred snipe a day were not considered shooting worthy of special note, and no snipe were in unless fifty could be killed. To-day twenty-five longbills should be considered the limit per gun, though the number may be secured in a few hours’ shooting over favorable ground.

Jack is the gentlest and most unsuspicious little vagabond in the world. Should you miss him he will pitch about for a few minutes, perhaps to settle down again within fifty yards of the gun for another hazard with the death whistling lead.

A clever shot on snipe should account for eighty per cent. of the birds shot at, a performance not to be expected with any other upland game bird. They are not only a simple proposition to hit but are easily killed, which permits the use of lightly charged and small gauge weapons.

WILDFOWL SHOOTING

Duck shooting is the billiards of work with a scatter gun. The uniform flight of the fowl, the absence of any interference with the aim, the preparedness of the shooter from having been given due warning of the approaching bird, tend to place every factor of the shooting problem at the gunner’s command. Always, however, the hunter’s skill and experience must equal the demand, the whole situation resolving itself finally into a knowledge of where to hold. In quail shooting a man’s difficulty lies in being unable to place his charge to the spot which he knows is right; in duck shooting the main question is where to point the gun, the pattern being readily sent to the estimated lead. It is nearly as easy to direct the aim ten feet in front of the mark as two feet, always provided you know it should lead ten feet and not two or six. Therefore, conclude that every successful shot must be made with an absolutely correct estimate of speed of flight and distance of mark. When this can be done with regularity the pleasure of verifying the judgment with a long, clean kill is superior to that connected with any other style of shooting.

The most that I can do here is to call attention to some of the various shots which the wildfowler will be called upon to solve as primary lessons in the duck shooting game.

The overhead, incoming shot is made by throwing the gun beneath the target and pitching it rapidly upward until it passes the bird, firing the instant the mark is quite hidden by the barrels. Little conscious allowance ahead will be found necessary in making this shot, but the speedier the mark the more rapidly the gun should be swung. It can readily be understood that with a rapidly moving muzzle a greater lead will be taken automatically at a long distance than a short. In any event it has been found in practice that swinging the gun from beneath to cover and hide the mark will usually result in a kill. This is probably the easiest shot made in duck shooting for the first barrel.

No sooner, though, has this first load been fired than the second charge has its work cut out for it. Many species of ducks will tower with the bang of the gun, maybe rising straight into the air or even beating back upon the course they came. In consequence the left barrel if not sent in promptly will have to be fired well above and possibly, paradoxical as it may seem, behind the duck, considering the route it was traveling when the right was pulled. Most likely the scared flock will merely sheer off, mounting at the same time, and the new angle of flight must be instantly reckoned with if the shot is to go home.

A duck that is coming at a high clip which he deflects into a sheering, curving tower is about as hard a nut to crack as comes under the wingshooter’s mallet. One half second may take the mark out of range, and a man’s thinking apparatus must work fast. Certain other varieties of duck, like the bluewing teal and the canvasback, will not flinch or tower, but continue directly on with redoubled speed. Now the bird will pass the gun which must turn on him, affording quite a different shot from the other. Then in order to lead the hold must be low--well under--sometimes as much as three feet, but the farther the mark is allowed to go the closer it is covered, since with distance it comes more directly into the line of fire.

Many birds passing well out will also swerve and rise with the report, which necessitates a lessening of the front lead to direct the second charge higher. A certain duck might be killed by shooting eight feet ahead of him, but to kill his mate with the second barrel it should go only two feet in front and two feet high. On firing the right barrel an experienced shot ought to be able to foretell pretty well what the remainder of the flock would do by knowing the species of fowl. The acme of duck shooting is to make both shots tell, the indifferent performer frequently being effective with the first.

It will usually be discovered that birds which pass to the right call for a greater lead than those flying to the left, because a right-hand gunner swings less freely and rapidly in that direction. In the case of the writer, a third more lead must be given when swinging to the right. Of course the opposite would be true were the shooter left-handed.

The surest double is to be made while the birds are approaching the gun, never permitting them to pass by. Turning to shoot in a restricted blind is trying and more so from a duck boat. If the ducks are close up take the leader first, but if farther out select the rear fowl and those closer up can hardly escape being shot at. There is room for coolness and good judgment in this. Should you choose the leading bird and fire too quickly, those behind him may climb out of reach, while trying for a rear fowl after they are well in may force a difficult turn on the others.

A descending bird is a hard shot, both by reason of his increased speed, and because a gun cannot will be swung down, and the descending line of flight must be met by a still gun, as in snap shooting, causing a loss of all the advantage of swinging with the target. A rising bird is far easier, and hence it is well in decoy shooting to pull just as the fowl is hovering to alight, or take him in his upward climb away from danger.

In jumping ducks close study should be given as to the variety of fowl we are starting. A mallard usually climbs nearly straight upward, a shot just in front of the bill should get him. On the contrary, a teal scurries off low along the marsh, and the holding must be well ahead and only a trifle high. A widgeon makes one great bound upward and then goes off at a sharp angle. If quick enough the hunter’s surest shot on the widgeon is at the end of this leap when the duck will be about ten feet high. Any dwelling upon the aim here is fatal since the bird will change his line of flight acutely, and a long swing will have to be made after the speeding mark.

A pintail climbs and gradually bears off, at the same time circling the gun. When jumped he is one of the easiest birds to kill, because of this circling habit which keeps him within range of the gun for such a length of time. A greenwing teal behaves very like a mallard but is quicker in action. It is seldom that any except fresh water ducks are killed by jumping them from the edge of a marsh.