And just here I want to suggest something which ought to greatly curtail
the distribution of wild ducks among our friends. In households where no
idea prevails of the difference between properly cooking a wild duck and
one brought up in a barnyard, a complimentary gift of wild fowl is
certainly of questionable advisability; for if these are cooked after
the fashion prescribed for the domestic duck they will be so thoroughly
discredited in the eating that the recipient of the gift will come near
suspecting a practical joke, and the donor will be nearly guilty of
waste.
In Virginia they have a very good law prohibiting duck shooting on
Wednesdays and Saturdays, and of course on Sundays. These are called
rest days. We arrived at the very comfortable club-house of the Back Bay
Club, in Princess Anne County, about noon one Saturday, with weather
very fair and quiet--too much so for good ducking. From the time of our
arrival until very early Monday morning, besides eating and sleeping, we
had nothing to do but to "get ready." It must not be supposed that those
words only mean the settlement in our quarters and the preparation of
guns, ammunition and other outfit. Many other things are necessary by
way of stimulating interest and filling the minds of waiting gunners
with lively anticipation and hope. Thus during the preparatory hours
left to us our eyes were strained hundreds of times from every favorable
point of observation in search of flying ducks; hundreds of times the
question as to the most desirable shooting points was discussed, and
thousands of times the wish was expressed that Monday, instead of being
a "blue bird day," would present us with a good, stiff breeze from the
right direction. The field of prediction was open to all of us, and none
avoided it. A telling hit was made by the most self-satisfied
weather-prophet of the party, who foretold an east wind at sundown,
which promptly made its appearance on schedule time.
When we were roused out of bed at 4.30 o'clock that Monday morning we
found our east wind still with us in pretty good volume, and although we
all knew it was not in the most favorable quarter, and that the weather
was too warm for the best shooting, it was with high hopes that we got
into our boats and started in midnight darkness for our blinds. Whatever
anticipation of good shooting I had indulged met with a severe reverse
when I learned that my shooting companion and I were expected to kill
ducks with our decoys placed to the windward of us. I warmly protested
against this, declaring that I had never done such a thing in my life,
and in the strongest language I objected to the arrangement; but all to
no purpose.
As I expected, the ducks that were inclined to fly within our range,
coming up the wind behind us, saw our blinds and us before they saw the
decoys, and when we tried to turn and get a shot, a sudden flare or
tower put them out of reach. As for fair decoying, they had no notion of
such a thing. We killed a few ducks through much tribulation; but the
irritation of knowing that many good opportunities had been lost by our
improper location more than overbalanced all the satisfaction of our
slight success. That my theory on the subject of windward decoys is
correct was proved when on Thursday, with a west wind and decoys to the
leeward, we killed at the same place more than twice as many ducks as we
killed the first day. This was not because more came to us, but because
they came in proper fashion.