During our next day's journey we again fell in with flocks of the wild
pigeon, and our stock was renewed. We were very glad of this, as we
were getting tired of the dry salt bacon, and another "pot-pie" from
Lanty's _cuisine_ was quite welcome. The subject of the pigeons was
exhausted, and we talked no more about them. Ducks were upon the table
in a double sense, for during the march we had fallen in with a brood of
the beautiful little summer ducks (_Anas sponsa_), and had succeeded in
shooting several of them. These little creatures, however, did not
occupy our attention, but the far more celebrated species known as the
"canvas-back" (_Anas vallisneria_).
Of the two dozen species of American wild-ducks, none has a wider
celebrity than that known as the canvas-back; even the eider-duck is
less thought of, as the Americans care little for beds of down. But the
juicy, fine-flavoured flesh of the canvas-back is esteemed by all
classes of people; and epicures prize it above that of all other winged
creatures, with the exception, perhaps, of the reed-bird or
rice-hunting, and the prairie-hen. These last enjoy a celebrity almost
if not altogether equal. The prairie-hen, however, is the _bon morceau_
of western epicures; while the canvas-back is only to be found in the
great cities of the Atlantic. The reed-bird--in the West Indies called
"ortolan"--is also found in the same markets with the canvas-back. The
flesh of all three of these birds--although the birds themselves are of
widely-different families--is really of the most delicious kind; it
would be hard to say which of them is the greatest favourite.
The canvas-back is not a large duck, rarely exceeding three pounds in
weight. Its colour is very similar to the pochard of Europe: its head
is a uniform deep chestnut, its breast black; while the back and upper
parts of the wings present a surface of bluish-grey, so lined and
mottled as to resemble--though very slightly--the texture of canvas:
hence the trivial name of the bird.
Like most of the water-birds of America, the canvas-back is migratory.
It proceeds in spring to the cold countries of the Hudson's Bay
territory, and returns southward in October, appearing in immense flocks
along the Atlantic shores. It does not spread over the fresh-water
lakes of the United States, but confines itself to three or four
well-known haunts, the principal of which is the great Chesapeake Bay.
This preference for the Chesapeake Bay is easily accounted for, as here
its favourite food is found in the greatest abundance. Hound the mouths
of the rivers that run into this bay, there are extensive shoals of
brackish water; these favour the growth of a certain plant of the genus
_vallisneria_--a grass-like plant, standing several feet out of the
water, with deep green leaves, and stems, and having a white and tender
root. On this root, which is of such a character as to have given the
plant, the trivial name of "wild celery," the canvas-back feeds
exclusively; for wherever it is not to be found, neither does the bird
make its appearance. Diving for it, and bringing it up in its bill, the
canvas-back readily breaks off the long lanceolate leaves, which float
off, either to be eaten by another species--the pochard--or to form
immense banks of wrack, that are thrown up against the adjacent shores.
It is to the roots of the wild celery that the flesh of the canvas-back
owes its esteemed flavour, causing it to be in such demand that very
often a pair of these ducks will bring three dollars in the markets of
New York and Philadelphia. When the finest turkey can be had for less
than a third of that sum, some idea may be formed of the superior
estimation in which the web-footed favourites are held.
Of course, shooting the canvas-back duck is extensively practised, not
only as an amusement, but as a professional occupation. Various means
are employed to slaughter these birds: decoys by means of dogs, duck
boats armed with guns that resemble infernal-machines, and disguises of
every possible kind. The birds themselves are extremely shy; and a shot
at them is only obtained by great ingenuity, and after considerable
dodging. They are excellent divers; and when only wounded, almost
always make good their escape. Their shyness is overcome by their
curiosity. A dog placed upon the shore, near where they happen to be,
and trained to run backwards and forwards, will almost always seduce
them within shot. Should the dog himself not succeed, a red rag wrapped
around his body, or tied to his tail, will generally bring about the
desired result. There are times, however, when the ducks have been much
shot at, that even this decoy fails of success.
On account of the high price the canvas-backs bring in the market, they
are pursued by the hunters with great assiduity, and are looked upon as
a source of much profit. So important has this been considered, that in
the international treaties between the States bordering upon the
Chesapeake, there are several clauses or articles relating to them that
limit the right of shooting to certain parties. An infringement of this
right, some three or four years ago, led to serious collisions between
the gunners of Philadelphia and Baltimore. So far was the dispute
carried, that schooners armed, and filled with armed men, cruised for
some time on the waters of the Chesapeake, and all the initiatory steps
of a little war were taken by both parties. The interference of the
general government prevented what would have proved, had it been left to
itself, a very sanguinary affair.
It so chanced that I had met with a rather singular adventure while
duck-shooting on the Chesapeake Bay, and the story was related thus: "I
was staying for some days at the house of a friend--a planter--who lived
near the mouth of a small river that runs into the Chesapeake. I felt
inclined to have a shot at the far-famed canvas-backs. I had often
eaten of these birds, but had novel shot one, or even seen them in their
natural _habitat_. I was, therefore, anxious to try my hand upon them,
and I accordingly set out one morning for that purpose.
"My friend lived upon the bank of the river, some distance above
tide-water. As the wild celery grows only in brackish water--that is,
neither in the salt sea itself nor yet in the fresh-water rivers--I had
to pass down the little stream a mile or more before I came to the
proper place for finding the ducks. I went in a small skiff, with no
other companion than an ill-favoured cur-dog, with which I had been
furnished, and which was represented to me as one of the best
`duck-dogs' in the country.
"My friend having business elsewhere, unfortunately could not upon that
day give me his company; but I knew something of the place, and being
_au fait_ in most of the dodges of duck-hunting, I fancied I was quite
able to take care of myself.
"Floating and rowing by turns, I soon came in sight of the bay and the
wild celery fields, and also of flocks of water-fowl of different
species, among which I could recognise the pochards, the canvas-backs,
and the common American widgeon.
"Seeking a convenient place near the mouth of the stream, I landed; and,
tying the skiff to some weeds, proceeded in search of a cover. This was
soon found--some bushes favoured me; and having taken my position, I set
the dog to his work. The brute, however, took but little notice of my
words and gestures of encouragement, I fancied that he had a wild and
frightened look, but I attributed this to my being partially a stranger
to him; and was in hopes that, as soon as we became better acquainted,
he would work in a different manner.
"I was disappointed, however, as, do what I might, he would not go near
the water, nor would he perform the trick of running to and fro which I
had been assured by my friend he would be certain to do. On the
contrary, he cowered among the bushes, near where I had stationed
myself, and seemed unwilling to move out of them. Two or three times,
when I dragged him forward, and motioned him toward the water, he rushed
back again, and ran under the brushwood.
"I was exceedingly provoked with this conduct of the dog, the more so
that a flock of canvas-backs, consisting of several thousands, was
seated upon the water not more than half a mile from the shore. Had my
dog done his duty, I have no doubt they might have been brought within
range; and, calculating upon this, I had made sure of a noble shot. My
expectations, however, were defeated by the waywardness of the dog, and
I saw there was no hope of doing anything with him.
"Having arrived at this conclusion, after some hours spent to no
purpose, I rose from my cover, and marched back to the skiff. I did not
even motion the wretched cur to follow me; and I should have rowed off
without him, risking the chances of my friend's displeasure, but it
pleased the animal himself to trot after me without invitation, and, on
arriving at the boat, to leap voluntarily into it.
"I was really so provoked with the brute, that I felt much inclined to
pitch him out, again. My vexation, however, gradually left me; and I
stood up in the skiff, turning over in my mind what course I should
pursue next.
"I looked toward the flock of canvas-backs. It, was a tantalising
sight. They sat upon the water as light as corks, and as close together
as sportsman could desire for a shot. A well-aimed discharge could not
have failed to kill a score of them at least.
"Was there no way of approaching them? This question I had put to
myself for the twentieth time without being able to answer it to my
satisfaction.
"An idea at length flitted across my brain. I had often approached
common mallards by concealing my boat under branches or furze, and then
floating down upon them, impelled either by the wind or the current of a
stream. Might not this also succeed with the canvas-backs?
"I resolved upon making the experiment. The flock was in a position to
enable me to do so. They were to the leeward of a sedge of the
_vallisneria_. The wind would carry my skiff through this; and the
green bushes with which I intended to disguise it would not be
distinguished from the sedge, which was also green.
"The thing was feasible. I deemed it so. I set about cutting some
leafy branches that grew near, and trying them along the gunwales of my
little craft. In less than half an hour, I pushed her from the shore;
and no one at a distance would have taken her for aught else than a
floating raft of brushwood.
"I now pulled quietly out until I had got exactly to windward of the
ducks, at about half a mile's distance from the edge of the flock. I
then took in the paddles, and permitted the skiff to glide before the
wind. I took the precaution to place myself in such a manner that I was
completely hidden, while through the branches I commanded a view of the
surface on any side I might wish to look.
"The bushes acted as a sail, and I was soon drifted down among the
plants of the wild celery. I feared that this might stay my progress,
as the breeze was light, and might not carry me through. But the sward,
contrary to what is usual, was thin at the place where the skiff had
entered, and I felt, to my satisfaction, that I was moving, though
slowly, in the right direction.
"I remember that the heat annoyed me at the time. It was the month of
November; but it was that peculiar season known as `Indian summer', and
the heat was excessive--not under 90 degrees, I am certain. The
shrubbery that encircled me prevented a breath of air from reaching my
body; and the rays of the noonday sun fell almost vertically in that
southern latitude, scorching me as I lay along the bottom of the boat.
Under other circumstances, I should not have liked to undergo such a
roasting; but with the prospect of a splendid shot before me, I endured
it as best I could.
"The skiff was nearly an hour in pushing its way through the field of
_vallisneria_, and once or twice it remained for a considerable time
motionless. A stronger breeze, however, would spring up, and then the
sound of the reeds rubbing the sides of the boat would gratefully
admonish me that I was moving ahead.
"I saw, at length, to my great gratification, that I was approaching the
selvage of the sedge, and, moreover, that the flock itself was moving,
as it were, to meet me! Many of the birds were diving and feeding in
the direction of the skiff.
"I lay watching them with interest. I saw that the canvas-backs were
accompanied by another species of a very different colour from
themselves: this was the American widgeon. It was a curious sight to
witness the constant warfare that was carried on between these two
species of birds. The widgeon is but a poor diver, while the
canvas-back is one of the very best. The widgeon, however, is equally
fond of the roots of the wild celery with his congener; but he has no
means of obtaining them except by robbing the latter. Being a smaller
and less powerful bird, he is not able to do this openly; and it was
curious to observe the means by which he effected his purpose. It was
as follows: When the canvas-back descends, he must perforce remain some
moments under water. It requires time to seize hold of the plant, and
pluck it up by the roots. In consequence of this, he usually reaches
the surface in a state of half-blindness, holding the luscious morsel in
his bill. The widgeon has observed him going down; and, calculating to
a nicety the spot where he will reappear, seats himself in readiness.
The moment the other emerges, and before he can fully recover his sight
or his senses, the active spoliator makes a dash, seizes the celery in
his horny mandibles, and makes off with it as fast as his webbed feet
can propel him. The canvas-back, although chagrined at being plundered
in this impudent manner, knows that pursuit would be idle, and, setting
the root down as lost, draws a fresh breath, and dives for another. I
noticed in the flock a continual recurrence of such scenes.
"A third species of birds drew my attention. These were the pochards,
or, as they are termed by the gunners of the Chesapeake, `red-heads.'
These creatures bear a very great resemblance to the canvas-backs, and
can hardly be distinguished except by their bills: those of the former
being concave along the upper surface, while the bills of the
canvas-backs exhibit a nearly straight line.
"I saw that the pochards did not interfere with either of the other
species, contenting themselves with feeding upon what neither of the
others cared for--the green leaves of the _vallisneria_, which, after
being stripped of their roots, were floating in quantities on the
surface of the water. Yet these pochards are almost as much prized for
the table as their cousins the canvas-backs; and, indeed, I have since
learnt that they are often put off for the latter by the poulterers of
New York and Philadelphia. Those who would buy a real canvas-back
should know something of natural history. The form and colour of the
bill would serve as a criterion to prevent their being deceived. In the
pochard, the bill is of a bluish colour; that of the canvas-back is dark
green; moreover, the eye of the pochard is yellow, while that of its
congener is fiery red.
"I was gratified in perceiving that I had at last drifted within range
of a thick clump of the ducks. Nothing now remained but to poke my gun
noiselessly through the bushes, set the cocks of both barrels, take aim,
and fire.
"It was my intention to follow the usual plan--that is, fire one barrel
at the birds while sitting, and give them the second as they rose upon
the wing. This intention was carried out the moment after; and I had
the gratification of seeing some fifteen or twenty ducks strewed over
the water, at my service. The rest of the flock rose into the heavens,
and the clapping of their wings filled the air with a noise that
resembled thunder.
"I say that there appeared to have been fifteen or twenty killed; how
many I never knew: I never laid my hands upon a single bird of them. I
became differently occupied, and with a matter that soon drove
canvas-backs, and widgeons, and pochards as clean out of my head as if
no such creatures had ever existed.
"While drifting through the sedge, my attention had several times been
attracted by what appeared to be strange conduct on the part of my
canine companion. He lay cowering in the bottom of the boat near the
bow, and half covered by the bushes; but every now and then he would
start to his feet, look wildly around, utter a strange whimpering, and
then resume his crouching attitude. I noticed, moreover, that at
intervals he trembled as if he was about to shake out his teeth. All
this had caused me wonder--nothing more. I was too much occupied in
watching the game, to speculate upon causes; I believed, if I formed any
belief on the subject, that these manoeuvres were caused by fear; that
the cur had never been to sea, and that he was now either sea-sick or
sea-scared.
"This explanation had hitherto satisfied me, and I had thought no more
upon the matter. I had scarcely delivered my second barrel, however,
when my attention was anew attracted to the dog; and this time was so
arrested, that in one half-second I thought of nothing else. The animal
had arisen, and stood within three feet of me, whining hideously. His
eyes glared upon me with a wild and unnatural expression, his tongue
lolled out, and saliva fell copiously from his lips. _The dog was mad_!
"I saw that the dog was mad, as certainly as I saw the dog. I had seen
mad dogs before, and knew the symptoms well. It was hydrophobia of the
most dangerous character.
"Fear, quick and sudden, came over me. Fear is a tame word; horror I
should call it; and the phrase would not be too strong to express my
sensations at that moment. I knew myself to be in a situation of
extreme peril, and I saw not the way out of it. Death--death painful
and horrid--appeared to be nigh, appeared to confront me, glaring from
out the eyes of the hideous brute.
"Instinct had caused me to put myself in an attitude of defence. My
first instinct was a false one. I raised my gun, at the same moment
manipulating the lock, with the design of cocking her. In the confusion
of terror, I had even forgotten that both barrels were empty, that I had
just scattered their contents in the sea.
"I thought of re-loading; but a movement of the dog towards me showed
that that would be a dangerous experiment; and a third thought or
instinct directed me to turn the piece in my hand, and defend myself, if
necessary, with the butt. This instinct was instantly obeyed, and in a
second's time I held the piece clubbed and ready to strike.
"I had retreated backward until I stood in the stern of the skiff. The
dog had hitherto lain close up to the bow, but after the shots, he had
sprung up and taken a position nearer the centre of the boat. In fact,
he had been within biting distance of me before I had noticed his
madness. The position into which I had thus half involuntarily thrown
myself, offered me but a trifling security.
"Any one who has ever rowed an American skiff will remember that these
little vessels are `crank' to an extreme degree. Although boat-shaped
above, they are without keels, and a rude step will turn them bottom
upward in an instant. Even to stand upright in them, requires careful
balancing; but to fight a mad dog in one without being bitten, would
require the skill and adroitness of an acrobat. With all my caution, as
I half stood, half crouched in the stern, the skiff rocked from side to
side, and I was in danger of being pitched out. Should the dog spring
at me, I knew that any violent exertion to fend him off would either
cause me to be precipitated into the water, or would upset the boat--a
still more dreadful alternative.
"These thoughts did not occupy half the time I have taken to describe
them. Short, however, as that time was in actual duration, to me it
seemed long enough, for the dog still held a threatening attitude, his
forepaws resting upon one of the seats, while his eyes continued to
glare upon me with a wild and uncertain expression.
"I remained for some moments in fearful suspense. I was half paralysed
with terror, and uncertain what action it would be best to take. I
feared that any movement would attract the fierce animal, and be the
signal for him to spring upon me. I thought of jumping out of the skiff
into the water. I could not wade in it. It was shallow enough--not
over five feet in depth, but the bottom appeared to be of soft mud. I
might sink another foot in the mud. No; I could not have waded. The
idea was dismissed.
"To swim to the shore? I glanced sideways in that direction: it was
nearly half a mile distant. I could never reach it, cumbered with my
clothes. To have stripped these off, would have tempted the attack.
Even could I have done so, might not the dog follow and seize me in the
water? A horrible thought!
"I abandoned all hope of escape, at least that might arise from any
active measures on my part. I could do nothing to save myself; my only
hope lay in passively awaiting the result.
"Impressed with this idea, I remained motionless as a statue; I moved
neither hand nor foot from the attitude I had first assumed; I scarcely
permitted myself to breathe, so much did I dread attracting the farther
attention of my terrible companion, and interrupting the neutrality that
existed.
"For some minutes--they seemed hours--this state of affairs continued.
The dog still stood up, with his forepaws raised upon the bench; the
oars were among his feet. In this position he remained, gazing wildly,
though it did not appear to me steadily, in my face. Several times I
thought he was about to spring on me; and, although I carefully avoided
making any movement, I instinctively grasped my gun with a firmer hold.
To add to my embarrassment, I saw that I was fast drifting seaward! The
wind was from the shore; it was impelling the boat with considerable
velocity, in consequence of the mass of bushes acting as sails. Already
it had cleared the sedge, and was floating out in open water. To my
dismay, at less than a mile's distance, I descried a line of breakers!
"A side-glance was sufficient to convince me, that unless the skiff was
checked, she would drift upon these in the space of ten minutes.
"A fearful alternative now presented itself: I must either drive the dog
from the oars, or allow the skiff to be swamped among the breakers. The
latter would be certain death, the former offered a chance for life;
and, nerving myself with the palpable necessity for action, I instantly
resolved to make the attack.
"Whether the dog had read my intention in my eyes; or observed my
fingers taking a firmer clutch of my gun, I know not, but at this moment
he seemed to evince sudden fear, and, dropping down from the seat, he
ran backward to the bow, and cowered there as before.
"My first impulse was to get hold of the oars, for the roar of the
breakers already filled my ears. A better idea suggested itself
immediately after, and that was to load my gun. This was a delicate
business, but I set about it with all the caution I could command.
"I kept my eyes fixed upon the animal, and _felt_ the powder, the
wadding, and the shot, into the muzzle. I succeeded in loading one
barrel, and fixing the cap.
"As I had now something upon which I could rely, I proceeded with more
confidence, and loaded the second barrel with greater care, the dog
eyeing me all the while. Had madness not obscured his intelligence, he
would no doubt have interrupted my manipulations; as it was, he remained
still until both barrels were loaded, capped, and cocked.
"I had no time to spare; the breakers were nigh; their hoarse `sough'
warned me of their perilous proximity; a minute more, and the little
skiff would be dancing among them like a shell, or sunk for ever.
"Not a moment was to be lost, and yet I had to proceed with caution. I
dared not raise the gun to my shoulder--I dared not glance along the
barrels: the manoeuvre might rouse the dangerous brute.
"I held the piece low, slanting along my thighs. I guided the barrels
with my mind, and, feeling the direction to be true, I fired.
"I scarcely heard the report, on account of the roaring of the sea; but
I saw the dog roll over, kicking violently. I saw a livid patch over
his ribs, where the shot had entered in a clump. This would no doubt
have proved sufficient; but to make sure, I raised the gun to my
shoulder, took aim, and sent the contents of the second barrel through
the ribs of the miserable brute. His kicking ended almost instantly,
and he lay dead in the bottom of the boat.
"I dropped my gun and flew to the oars: it was a close `shave;' the
skiff was already in white water, and dancing like a feather; but with a
few strokes I succeeded in backing her out, and then heading her away
from the breakers, I pulled in a direct line for the shore.
"I thought not of my canvas-backs--they had floated by this time, I
neither knew nor cared whither: the sharks might have them for me. My
only care was to get away from the scene as quickly as possible,
determined never again to go duck-shooting with a cur for my companion."