The same remarks apply equally to pintail, shoveler, and teal, though, as before remarked, pintail often appear exceptionally early—in September,—and are again extremely conspicuous (after being scarce all winter) on their return journey—de vuelta paso, as it is called—in February.
Gadwall, preferring deep waters, are not numerous in the shallow marisma. A big bag therein, nevertheless, will always include a few couples of this species.
Shoveler are so numerous that we have known over eighty bagged by one gun in a day.
Garganey chiefly occur in early autumn and again de vuelta paso in March. They winter in Africa.
Marbled duck breed here, and in September large bags may be made; but in mid-winter (when they have retired to Africa) it is rare to secure more than half-a-dozen or so in a day. They are very bad eating.
Shelduck only occur in dry seasons. They fall easy victims to any sort of “decoy” provided it is white. A local fowler told us he had killed many by substituting (in default of natural decoys) the dry bones and skulls of cattle! Ruddy shelduck do not frequent the marisma, preferring the sweeter waters and shallows adjoining Doñana.
Diving-ducks avoid the marisma except only in the wettest winters.
An hour before sun-down, as above stated, all bird-movement ceases. For a brief space absolute tranquillity reigns over the illimitable marisma. The dusky masses that cover the lucios seem lulled to sleep and silence. But the interlude is very temporary. Hardly has night thrown her mantle across the wastes, than all that tremendous, eager, vital energy is reawakened to fresh activities. A striking and a memorable experience will be gained by awaiting that exact hour at some favourite feeding-ground. Within a few minutes, as darkness deepens, the ambient air fairly hisses and surges with the pulsation of thousand strong pinions hurtling close by one’s ear, and with the splash of heavy bodies flung down by fifties and hundreds in the shallows almost within arm’s-length—the nearest approximation that occurs to us is a bombardment of pompoms. Yet, for all that, night-flighting in the marisma (having regard to the quantities concerned) produces but insignificant results. The ducks come in so low and so direct—no preliminary circling overhead—and at such velocity that this flight-shooting may be likened to an attempt to hit cannon-balls in the dark. Our expert shots score, say, eight or ten, but what is that? The nocturnal disturbance, moreover, may be (and usually is) prejudicial to the next day’s operations, and it is clearly not worth the risk, for half-a-dozen shots in the twilight, to discount a hundred at dawn.
The fewer shots ducks hear, the better. Never disturb them unless you have every reasonable prospect of exacting a proportionate toll.
