From the first of August to the last of December they stretch athwart the sky from the Atlantic to the Pacific; and although in localities they may appear scarce, still constitute countless hosts. Were it possible to stand on some peak of the Rocky Mountains, and take in at a glance the vast stretch of heavens from ocean to ocean, with the moving myriads of migratory flocks, the mind would be astonished; and it would seem impossible ever to reduce their numbers. This is to a certain degree true; for so long as the lagoons of the South shall remain undisturbed, and the shores of the bays and rivers unoccupied to any great extent, this abundance of the migratory birds will continue. But when the Southern shores shall be frequented with gunners as plenteously as those of Long Island and New Jersey, the last days of the bay-fowl will have arrived. At present we suffer more from improper modes of pursuit than from absolute scarcity of game. The habit of using “batteries” in the South Bay of Long Island, and locating them on the feeding or sanding-grounds, has resulted in frightening away the birds. Where, a few years ago, ten ducks stopped in the water adjoining that famous sand-pit, there can hardly be found one at present. After being disturbed on their feeding-grounds by murderous discharges from an unseen foe in their midst, they become alarmed and leave the locality altogether. To be sure, for a year or so, the number killed from that ingenious mode of ambush will be enormous; but it is at a terrible sacrifice of the supply, and will eventuate in ruin to those engaged in it. At present on Long Island it is hardly possible to obtain a decent day’s sport without using a “battery;” but in the South, along the Chesapeake and Potomac, where the use of these inventions has never been allowed, the ducks are as abundant as ever. There is no meaner mode of shooting than from a battery. In attaining destructiveness, every idea of beauty, comfort, or sportsmanship is sacrificed. The shooter lies on his back in a species of coffin sunk to the level of the water, with his decoys near by; and whenever a flock approaches, he rises to a sitting posture and fires. He cannot leave his battery nor move it, nor hardly turn round in it, and is unable to retrieve his ducks without the aid of an assistant. It is an invention suited solely to the market-gunner, and utterly unfitted to the sportsman. Bad weather prevents its use altogether; and in a moderate breeze the water is apt to break over the narrow rim and destroy the comfort, if not absolutely endanger the safety, of the sportsman.