DUCK SHOOTING.
Memphis, Tenn., Dec. 20, 1903.--We ran in here last Sunday morning, Dec.
13, intending to stock up and get out on Wednesday. But Handwerker had
arranged a shoot for us at Beaver Dam Club, and there we spent Tuesday
afternoon and Wednesday morning, bagging 26 ducks--12 mallards, 8
green-winged teal, 4 pintails, one widgeon and one spoonbill. Met Mr.
Selden, the president of the club, and Mr. O'Sullivan, and of course
enjoyed every minute of the time.
The club is built on social principles, with a large sleeping room with
four beds; better conducive to fun than seclusion--and the first is what
we seek at such resorts. After lunch we set out, with negro boatmen,
finding a thin coat of ice over the lake. This is an old river bed, of
half-moon shape, with a little water and bottomless mud. Thousands of
ducks were perched on the ice and swimming in the few small open spaces.
We laboriously broke our way through the ice to our chosen stands, and
constructed blinds. Each boat had three live decoys; and after this
first experience with these we must say that we retired fully convinced
of our innate regularity as physicians--for we cannot quack a bit! Every
time a flight of ducks appeared, our tethered ducks quacked lustily, the
drake keeping silent; and it was effective. That evening the shooting
was the most exasperating in our experience. Twice we brought down
doubles, but not a bird of either did we bag. We had eight birds down,
wounded, which in falling broke holes in the ice--and we left them till
we were going in, as they could neither fly nor swim off; but the sun
came out warmer, melted the ice, and not a bird of the lot did we bag.
If there is anything that takes the edge off a duck hunter's
pleasure--at least of this one's--it is wounding a bird and not being
able to put it out of misery.
A good dinner made some amends, and the story telling continued far into
the night--in fact was still going when the writer fell asleep.
Next morning we had better luck, and got every bird knocked down, as
well as one of those winged the preceding day. In all we bagged 26
ducks during the two days--and that for a party of 12 on the two boats
is not an excessive supply. Not an ounce of the meat was wasted, and we
could have enjoyed another meal of them.
One singular accident robbed us of a fine greenhead. A flock of five
passed directly over our heads, so high that the guide said it was
useless to try for them; but strong in our confidence in the Winchester
we took the leader, and he tumbled. Yes, tumbled so hard, from such a
height that he broke through the ice and plunged so deeply into the mud
that we were unable to find him, after most diligent trials. We had been
impressed with the force of a duck's fall, when shooting one coming
directly head on, and can realize that a blow from one may be dangerous.
In Utah we heard of a man who was knocked out of his boat and his head
driven into the mud so far that he would have been smothered had not the
guide been able to draw him out.
On reaching the boat Wednesday evening we found that J. J. had improved
the opportunity of our absence by getting drunk, and had frightened the
folk by developing that most objectionable form of it, a fighting drunk.
After a few days he wound up in the lock-up, and there we leave
him--thoroughly disgusted that he should have done such a thing when
entrusted with the care of the sick wife and little ones.
The wife and Doctor took dinner with some friends, meeting a number of
Memphis folk; and it is with unusual regret we bid adieu to this fine
city. Stores are dearer than in St. Louis.
* * * * *
We were all ready to start by Saturday morning, but it was raining and
foggy, the wind from the south too strong for our launch. Then the bank
to which we were tied began to cave in, and soon our towlines were
adrift. The _Desplaines_ got up steam and took us north, where we
remained all day; but as it was changing toward the north by evening we
pulled down below town and tied in a little cove under but at a distance
from the bluff. All night it blew hard from the west, and drove us into
the mud bank, where we are solidly planted now. Three lines out and the
anchor, with the mud, held us pretty steady, but the tug heaved against
us all night. Jim had cemented the front baseboard with white lead and
this kept out the water, but it came in under the sides, and we will
have to treat them similarly. The roof seemed tight. The windows leak,
too, and will have to be sealed somehow--with putty, or the seams
covered with strips of muslin glued on with varnish.
Our Cairo wood is gone, and we are using drift, which is wet. We must
saw and split about a cord, and let it dry out. There is great plenty
along the shores. The Missis has had asthma as bad as ever before--small
wonder.
The _Desplaines_ seems to be overmanned, for the owner, Mr. Woodruff,
asked us to take Taylor off his hands. This we are very glad to do, as
we are short, since losing J. J., and Taylor has gotten our launch in
good shape at last. In fact we might have used her from St. Louis if we
had had him. Taylor is an Englishman, a teetotaler, and is studying with
a correspondence school to fit himself for the highest positions
attainable by an engineer.
One has to be careful what he says to the Memphis people. We mentioned
to Prof. Handwerker our need of a dog, and added that we preferred one
that did not like negroes, as we wanted him to give warning when any
stray ones came near. Next day down came a crate containing a little
dog, a brindle terrier, with the word that he could not abide negroes.
He at once proceeded to endear himself to every one on board, and fully
verified his recommendations. His name is Bluff; and surely never was
dog better named. The brave little creature would, we verily believe,
bluff an elephant.