Almost always our sporting expeditions were of this casual character, sandwiched in among other occupations. Guns were handy, as was the game. To seize the one and pursue the other on the whim1 of the moment was the normal and usual thing. Thus one day Mrs. Kitty drove me over to look at a horse I was thinking of buying. On the way home, in a corner of brush, I hopped2 out and bagged twelve quail3; and a little farther on, by a lucky sneak4, I managed to gather in five ducks from an irrigation pond. On another occasion, having a spare hour before lunch, I started out afoot from the ranch5 house at five minutes past eleven, found my quail within a quarter mile, had luck in scattering6 them, secured my limit of twenty-five, and was back at the house at twelve twenty-five! Before this I had been to drive with Mrs. Kitty; and after lunch we drove twelve miles to call on a neighbour. Although I had enjoyed a full day's quail shoot, it had been, as it were, merely an interpolation.
Occasionally, however, it was elected to make a grand and formal raid on the game. This could be either a get-up-early-in-the-morning session in the blinds, a formal quail hunt, or the Grand Tour.
To take the Grand Tour we got out the Liver Invigorator and as many saddle horses as might be needed to accommodate the shooters. On reaching the hog7 field it was proper to disembark, and to line up for an advance on the corner of the irrigation ditch where I had so unexpectedly jumped the ducks my first morning on the ranch. In extended order we approached. If ducks were there, they got a great hammering. Everybody shot joyously--whether in sure range or not, it must be confessed. The birds went into a common bag, for it would be impossible to say who had killed what. After congratulations and reproaches, both of which might be looked upon as sacrifices to the great god Josh, we swung to the left and tramped a half mile to the artesian well. The Invigorator and saddle horses followed at a respectful distance. When we had investigated the chances at the well, we climbed aboard again and rattlety-banged across country to the Slough8.
The Slough comprised a wide and varied9 country. In proper application it was a little winding10 ravine sunk eight or ten feet below the flat plain, and filled with water. This water had been grown thick with trees, but occasionally, for some reason to me unknown, the growth gave space for tiny open ponds or channels. These were further screened by occasional willows11 or greasewood growing on the banks. They were famous loafing places for mallards.
It was great fun to slip from bend to bend of the Slough, peering keenly, moving softly, trying to spy through the thick growth to a glimpse of the clear water. The ducks were very wary13. It was necessary to know the exact location of each piece of open water, its surroundings, and how best it was to be approached. Only too often, peer as cautiously as we might, the wily old mallards would catch a glimpse of some slight motion. At once they would begin to swim back and forth14 uneasily. Always then we would withdraw cautiously, hoping against hope that suspicion would die. It never did. Our stalk would disclose to us only a troubled surface of water on which floated lightly a half dozen feathers.
But when things went right we had a beautiful shot. The ducks towered straight up, trying to get above the level of the brush, affording a shot at twenty-five or thirty yards' range. We always tried to avoid shooting at the same bird, but did not always succeed. Old Ben delighted in this work, for now he had a chance to plunge15 in after the fallen. As a matter of fact, it would have been quite useless to shoot ducks in these circumstances had we not possessed16 a good retriever like Old Ben.
The Slough proper was about two miles long, and had probably eight or ten "holes" in which ducks might be expected. The region of the Slough was, however, a different matter.
It was a fascinating stretch of country, partly marshy17, partly dry, but all of it overgrown with tall and rustling18 tules. These reeds were sometimes so dense19 that one could not force his way through them; at others so low and thin that they barely made good quail cover. Almost everywhere a team could be driven; and yet there were soft places and water channels and pond holes in which a horse would bog20 down hopelessly. From a point on the main north-and-south ditch a man afoot left the bank to plunge directly into a jungle of reeds ten feet tall. Through them narrow passages led him winding and twisting and doubting in a labyrinth21. He waded22 in knee-deep water, but confidently, for he knew the bottom to be solid beneath his feet. On either side, fairly touching23 his elbows, the reeds stood tall and dense, so that it seemed to him that he walked down a narrow and winding hallway. And every once in a while the hallway debouched into a secret shallow pond lying in the middle of the tule jungle in which might or might not be ducks. If there were ducks, it behooved24 him to shoot very, very quickly, for those that fell in the tules were probably not to be recovered. Then more narrow passages led to other ponds.
Always the footing was good, so that a man could strike forward confidently. But again there are other places in the Slough region where one has to walk for half a mile to pass a miserable25 little trickle26 only just too wide to step across. The watercress grows thick against either oozy27 bank, leaving a clear of only a foot. Yet it is bottomless.
The Captain knew this region thoroughly28, and drove in it by landmarks29 of his own. After many visits I myself got to know the leading "points of interest" and how to get to them by a set route; but their relations one to another have always remained a little vague.
For instance, there was an earthen reservoir comprising two circular connecting ponds, elevated slightly above the surrounding flats, so that a man ascended30 an incline to stand on its banks. One half of this reservoir is bordered thickly by tules; but the other half is without growth. We left the Invigorator at some hundreds of yards distance; and, single file, followed the Captain. We stopped when he did, crawled when he did, watched to see what dry and rustling footing he avoided, every sense alert to play accurately31 this unique game of "follow my leader." He alone kept watch of the cover, the game, and the plan of attack. We were like the tail of a snake, merely following where the head directed. This was not because the Captain was so much more expert than ourselves, but so as to concentrate the chances of remaining undiscovered. If each of us had worked out his own stalk we should have multiplied the chances of alarming the game; we should have created the necessity for signals; and we should have had the greatest difficulty in synchronizing32 our arrival at the shooting point. We moved a step at a time, feeling circumspectly33 before resting our weight. At the last moment the Captain motioned with his hand. Wriggling34 forward, we came into line. Then, very cautiously, we crawled up the bank of the reservoir and peered over! That was the supreme35 moment! The wildfowl might arise in countless36 numbers; in which case we shot as carefully and as quickly as possible, reloading and squatting37 motionless in the almost certain hope of a long-range shot or so at a straggler as the main body swung back over us. Or, again, our eager eyes were quite likely to rest upon nothing but a family party of mud-hens gossiping sociably38.
Just beyond the reservoir on the other side was an overflowed39 small flat. It was simply hummocky41 solid ground with a little green grass and some water. Behind the hummocks42, even after a cannonade at the reservoir, we were almost certain to jump two or three single spoonbills or teal. Why they stayed there, I could not tell you; but stay they did. We walked them up one at a time, as we would quail. The range was long. Sometimes we got them; and sometimes we did not.
From the reservoir we drove out into the illimitable tules. The horses went forward steadily43, breasting the rustling growth. Behind them the Invigorator rocked and swayed like a small boat in a tide rip. We stayed in as best we could, our guns bristling44 up in all directions. The Captain drove from a knowledge of his own. After some time, across the yellow, waving expanse of the rushes, we made out a small dead willow12 stub slanted45 rakishly. At sight of this we came to a halt. Just beyond that stub lay a denser46 thicket47 of tules, and in the middle of them was known to be a patch of open water about twenty feet across. There was not much to it; but invariably a small bunch of fat old greenheads were loafing in the sun.
It now became, not a question of game, for it was always there, but a question of getting near enough to shoot. To be sure, the tiny pond was so well covered that a stranger to the country would actually be unaware48 of its existence until he broke through the last barrier of tules; but, by the same token, that cover was the noisiest cover invented for the protection of ducks. Often and often, when still sixty or seventy yards distant, we heard the derisive49 _quack_, _quack_, _quack_, with which a mallard always takes wing, and, a moment later, would see those wily birds rising above the horizon. A false step meant a crackle; a stumble meant a crash. We fairly wormed our way in by inches. Each yard gained was a triumph. When, finally, after a half hour of Indian work, we had managed to line up ready for the shot, we felt that we had really a few congratulations coming. We knew that within fifteen or twenty feet floated the wariest50 of feathered game; and _absolutely unconscious of our presence_.
"Now!" the Captain remarked, aloud, in conversational51 tones.
We stood up, guns at present. The Captain's command was answered by the instant beat of wings and the confused quicker calling of alarm. In the briefest fraction of a second the ducks appeared above the tules. They had to tower straight up, for the pond was too small and the reeds too high to permit of any sneaking52 away. So close were they that we could see the markings of every feather--the iridescence53 of the heads, the delicate, wave-marked cinnamons and grays and browns, even the absurd little curled plumes54 over the tails. The guns cracked merrily, the shooters aiming at the up-stretched necks. Down came the quarry55 with mighty56 splashes that threw the water high. The remnant of the flock swung away. We stood upright and laughed and joked and exulted57 after the long strain of our stalk. Ben plunged58 in again and again, bringing out the game.
Of these tule holes there were three. When we had visited them each in turn we swung back toward the west. There, after much driving, we came to the land of irrigation ditches again. At each new angle one of us would descend59, sneak cautiously to the bank and, bending low, peer down the length of the ditch. If ducks were in sight, he located them carefully and then we made our sneak. If not, we drove on to the next bend. Once we all lay behind an embankment like a lot of soldiers behind a breastwork while one of us made a long detour60 around a big flock resting in an overflow40 across the ditch. The ruse61 was successful. The ducks, rising at sight of the scout62, flew high directly over the ambuscade. A battery of six or eight guns thereupon opened up. I believe we killed three or four ducks among us; but if we had not brought down a feather we should have been satisfied with the fact that our stratagem63 succeeded.
So at the last, just as the sun was setting, we completed the circle and landed at the ranch. We had been out all day in the warm California sun and the breezes that blow from the great mountains across the plains; we had worked hard enough to deserve an appetite; we had in a dozen instances exercised our wit or our skill against the keen senses of wild game; we had used our ingenuity64 in meeting unexpected conditions; we had had a heap of companionship and good-natured fun one with another; we had seen a lot of country. This was much better than sitting solitary65 anchored in a blind. To be sure a man could kill more ducks from a blind; but what of that?
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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behooved
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| v.适宜( behoove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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oozy
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| adj.软泥的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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synchronizing
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| v.同步，整步adj.同步的 | |
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circumspectly
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| adv.慎重地，留心地 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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sociably
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| adv.成群地 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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hummocky
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| adj.圆丘般的，多圆丘的；波丘地 | |
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hummocks
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| n.小丘，岗( hummock的名词复数 ) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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50
wariest
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| 谨慎的，小心翼翼的( wary的最高级 ) | |
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51
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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52
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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53
iridescence
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| n.彩虹色；放光彩；晕色；晕彩 | |
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54
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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55
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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59
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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60
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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