to have the boat turn over and everything go into the water. Accidents, however, will happen and there are very few duck hunters who have enjoyed that sport for any length of time but what have had that experience. But the ducking is a mild experience to that of getting lost on the marsh. Any large duck marsh is dangerous unless hunters are thoroughly familiar with the locations and are capable of finding their way to a landing in case of fog or a snow storm. It is also very dangerous on a cloudy day. If the water is high enough so that a boat can be pushed through the cane after dead birds, the pusher usually takes this method of going after them, rather than wading, and when the day is cloudy and no wind blowing and there is nothing to indicate directions, and when the boat is in the cane, which reaches many feet above the head and closes around the boat as it passes through, and is so close that one can not see more than three or four yards in any direction, then it is the simplest thing in the world to get turned around so that it is almost impossible to tell in which direction to go. When the hunter is seated in his boat, of course, he has not so much command of the location as the guide, who, while pushing the boat, is standing, and has a wider range of vision; consequently the piloting has to be left to the guide. I have been lost temporarily on the Tolleston Marsh several times, while moving around in the thick high cane. Fortunately, that marsh is not so large that it is much of a task to find one's way out in the daytime, but you may be sure that I make it a point never to be placed in such a position as that towards night, as it would mean that I might have to spend a good many hours after dark there, against my will and in great discomfort.

A friend of mine, a few years ago, had an experience on the Horicon Marsh in Wisconsin, that is fortunately as rare as it was dangerous and unpleasant. It is a wonder that he came out alive. When he went out to shoot in the morning, it happened that there was no guide for him and, if he went, he would be obliged to go alone. This condition ought to have been enough to deter him from going on the marsh at all, as when one has once started on a

duck hunt, although he may have made up his mind firmly that he will not go beyond a certain distance from the landing, still in the excitement of the chase, this resolution is apt to be forgotten, and he is liable to get farther away than he intends. In the case referred to, my friend started out on the morning of a pleasant day in November. He took with him a couple of dozen wooden and two live mallard decoys. He had fair success in shooting and enjoyed himself very much. It was a pleasant day, and he did not notice how late it was, nor had he taken much note of how far he had gotten from the landing until he began to think it might be as well to begin working back, especially as he saw some angry looking clouds coming up from the north and as the wind had changed so that it was quite strong. But the birds began to fly with the change in the wind, and he thought he would stay a little longer. As the sun sank and the clouds began to thicken it began to grow dark, and the wind increased until it was blowing almost a gale, and suddenly a snow squall struck him and before he knew it the storm enveloped him so thickly that it was almost impossible tc face it. He lost no time when he realized the conditions, but began gathering his birds at once and taking up his decoys. He had more trouble with the two live ducks, getting them into the boat than anything else, and he was tempted two or three times to let them go, but luckily he took them. After half an hour's hard work and just before dark, he got his things ready and started to find the landing. Then the question was, which way was he to go? He thought he knew the general direction, and thought he knew also the general direction of the storm. But this particular storm seemed to come from every direction so that he was completely bewildered, and after vainly trying to settle in his own mind what he had best do, he determined to take as straight a course as possible and get somewhere. It was not an easy matter to push the boat (rowing was out of the question) in such a storm, and he had not gone very far before he admitted to himself that he was in an unpleasant predicament. He kept on, however, but the wind and storm and the surroundings made it so absolutely impossible for him to locate

himself that he was finally forced to the conclusion that his situation was desperate. He reasoned that if he kept on trying to find the landing, it would only be a short time before he would be exhausted, and he made up his mind before he reached that point he would make an effort to find a high spot and see what kind of a camp he could construct on the marsh, so he turned his boat for the cane and after wading around and dragging the boat after him, he found a spot that was just above water. He pulled his boat up and turned it over, emptying the water and snow out, and taking his knifehe happened to have a large pocket knife with him, which every hunter ought to have he began cutting cane. After he had cut as much cane as he thought he could use to advantage, he turned his boat over and made a bed of the cane, and also spread some more of it over the boat as a protection from the wind. By this time the temperature had gone down to freezing and the snow had nearly stopped, but it was as dark as pitch and he saw it was going to be very cold. I should have said before that he had fired off ail his cartridges in an endeavor to signal the club house, without result. After he had got his boat covered up, and arranged the best he could for a bed, he took his clothing-luckily he had a good lot of clothes and a rubber coat-and covered himself over with them as snugly as possible, and took the two live ducks under them with him, and in that way he passed the night. When morning came, he was, as may be imagined, more dead than live. He did not suffer from any actual frost bites, but the thermometer had reached about 25° and he was in anything but an enviable situation. When it had become light in the morning, he crawled out from under the covers and got up and looked around him. He could not see over the cane, but he jumped around and got up a little circulation, and finally got his boat out in the water again, which was now covered with a thin skim of ice, and made his way in the direction of the landing. When he had gotten about half way there, he met some of his clubmates, who were coming out to search for him. They had tried to find him the night before but could do absolutely nothing. As may be imagined he was heartily congratulated upon his narrow

escape from the very grave dangers which had threatened. They took him up to the house and after giving him proper restoratives he felt all right and experienced no ill effects, but he has learned a lesson that will last as long as memory serves him.

Such cases, of course, are very rare, and luckily such a combination of circumstances does not often happen. It is, however, no uncommon thing to be caught out in a storm, and there is some foundation for the idea that a good duck day must be stormy and disagreeable. While there are a great many days that are pleasant and warm, when ducks will fly in sufficient numbers to afford fine sport, yet it is true that on stormy and disagreeable days they fly more. For that reason, if it is a stormy day, hunters are not always deterred from going on the marsh; every one who has done much

duck shooting has often stayed out for hours in a furious wind, snow or rain storm, braving any kind of weather, if they can only have good success in getting their game. But the hunter who knows his business will never go duck shooting in any sort of weather without preparing for the worst that may come; when one is dressed with heavy, warm woolen underwear, with one or two pairs of thick, heavy trousers, with a chamois vest and coat, and a rain coat with a waterproof cap, with a cape to keep the rain and snow from his neck, he can stand a pretty cold day and enjoy it, if the ducks are flying. These experiences, however, are more for the young, and if the man is as wise as he should be by the time. he is fifty years old or over, he will give up his stand in such inclement weather and seek the more comfortable quarters at the club house, around a big fire, where he can smoke, with his feet. upon the rail, and swap stories with his fellow members as to what they used to do when they were younger.

The changes of the seasons from winter to spring and from summer to fall is eagerly looked forward to by the hunting fraternity. Many of the varieties of ducks, and especially mallards, follow as near the frost line as possible both in spring and fall. When the first warm spring winds and rains have raised the water in the marshes and rivers so that there is a chance for the birds to settle, they come up from the south in great numbers. As soon as the weather is somewhat settled and warm, the majority of the birds move further north, following the line of frost until they get to their breeding grounds, which range through 20° of latitude, between 45° and 65° north. Some few birds breed as far south as 40°, but by far the larger part breed away north in British America. The first arrivals are mallards and pintails, quickly followed by widgeon, spoonbills, canvas backs, red heads, bluebills, and other varieties. About the last of all to arrive in the spring are the blue-wing teal. Very often they do not get here until after April 15th, when the spring shooting season in Indiana closes. Their breeding places are not so far north as those of mallards, pintails, and other larger ducks. The open season for ducks in