and rose again; they fed
busily; they streamed in from all points of the compass, cleaving the
air with a whistling of wings.

Cover there was none. It was exactly like a big, flat cow pasture
without any fences. We pulled up the Invigorator and eyed the scene with
speculative eyes. Finally, we did as follows:

Into the middle of that field waded we. The ducks, of course, arose with
a roar, circled once out of range, and departed. We knew that in less
than a minute the boldest would return to see if, perchance, we might
have been mere passers-by. Finding us still there, they would, in the
natural course of events, circle once or twice and then depart for
good.

Now we had noticed this: ducks will approach to within two or three
hundred yards of a man standing upright, but they will come within one
hundred--or almost in range--if he squats and holds quite still. This,
we figured, is because he is that much more difficult to recognize as a
man, even though he is in plain sight. We had to remain in plain sight;
but could we not make ourselves more difficult to recognize?

After pulling up our rubber boots carefully, we knelt in the two inches
of water, placed our chests across two wooden shell boxes we had brought
for the purpose, ducked our heads, and waited. After a few moments
overhead came the peculiar swift whistle of wings. We waited, rigid.
When that whistle sounded very loud indeed, we jerked ourselves upright
and looked up. Immediately above us, already towering frantically, was a
flock of sprig. They were out of range, but we were convinced that this
was only because we had mistakenly looked up too soon.

It was fascinating work, for we had to depend entirely on the sense of
hearing. The moment we stirred in the slightest degree away went the
ducks. As it took an appreciable time to rise to our feet, locate the
flock, and get into action, we had to guess very accurately. We fired a
great many times, and killed a very few; but each duck was an
achievement.

Though the bag could not be guaranteed, the sight of ducks could. When
my brother went with me to the ranch, the duck shooting was very poor.
This was owing to the fact that sudden melting of the snows in the
Sierras had overflowed an immense tract of country to form a lake eight
or nine miles across. On this lake the ducks were safe, and thither they
resorted in vast numbers. As a consequence, the customary resorts were
deserted. We could see the ducks