A gallop among American scenery: or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventureSilliman, Augustus E. (Augustus Ely)
History
A gallop among American scenery: or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventure
Silliman, Augustus E. (Augustus Ely)
Atlantic States -- Description and travel
Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the stones await the
breaking of the dawn, when the wild-fowl feeding within the bay arise
and fly to the south-ward over it. Dark objects, one after another,
would glide by us, and in silence take their places along the bar, bent
on the same sport that we were awaiting, and nothing would break the
stillness save the gentle wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands,
or the uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on the long
sedge within the wide-extended bay. The stars would ere long begin to
fade, the east grow grey, then streaked with light, and every sportsman’s
piece be cocked with eager expectation. A flash—a puff of smoke at the
extreme end, showed that a flock had risen, and simultaneously birds
would be seen tumbling headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along
the bar—flash—flash—puff—bang, would meet them, their numbers thinning
at each discharge, till passing along the whole line of sportsmen,
they would be almost annihilated; or wildly dashing through some wider
interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross the bar and escape
in safety. Then as the light increased followed the excitement; the
birds getting up in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete
feu-de-joie saluted them—flash—flash—flash—the reports creeping slowly
after, the wild-fowl tumbling headlong, some into the water, and some
upon the sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, might be
seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly after his victim, and there
some staunch dog’s nose just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the
wing-broken sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near approach.
Ah, ha! that—that was sport. Hundreds of wild-fowl, from the little
graceful teal to the great fishy loon and red-head brant, were the fruits
of the morning’s adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling eyes and
glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to the city’s pale and care-worn
countenances. They were a true democracy, white man, and black, and
half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in like equality.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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