Jack the Young Canoeman: An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe

by George Bird Grinnell

"No," said Jack, "I don't believe it. I think that I would rather have the fun of catching those two fish than eating the best meal that was ever cooked."

From the camp Jack wandered away along the beach and over the meadows back toward the forest that came down from the higher land. Here he saw that this must be quite a camping place for Indians, and that some had been there within a few days. There were the remains of recent fires, tent poles that had been cut only a few days before; and some little way back from the beach, and hardly to be seen among the timber, was an Indian house in which Jack discovered four canoes.

When he returned to camp, Charlie said: "I heard them fellows shooting, but I reckon they didn't get nothing; maybe a duck or two, but nothing fit to eat, like them fish you brought in."

"Yes," said Jack, "I heard the shot, but it was from the shot-gun, not from a rifle."

In the meantime the party in the canoe had pushed its way quite a long distance up the river. There was a possibility that a deer might be seen along the bank, or a brood of ducks feeding in the shallow water, and rifles and shot-gun were ready to secure anything that might make its appearance. For a long way the canoe advanced through the dense forest without much difficulty. Then it came to a series of shallow rapids, up which so large a craft could not be taken. The canoe was then drawn as near the bank as possible. The Indian carried the two white men ashore on his shoulders, and all three followed up the stream through the now darkening woods. They found many old tracks of deer, and from time to time passed the fresher slide of an otter; but no game was seen. As the light grew more and more dim, they faced about, went back to the canoe, and turned its nose down the stream.

As the vessel swept noiselessly along the swift current, two or three broods of ducks were surprised by its sudden approach from behind the bend. On the upward journey the birds, warned by the noise of the paddles, had seen the craft before it was near them, and had crept ashore and hidden themselves in the grass. But now there was not time for this. A flock of mallards, startled from the water, sprang away in flight, and two of them were stopped by Fannin, and fell back into the stream, to be picked up by Hamset as the canoe swept by.

It was only gray light next morning when all hands were astir. While the breakfast was being cooked bundles of bedding were rolled up and transported to the shore; and as soon as breakfast was over and the dishes washed, the canoe was pushed off and loaded; the paddlers took their places, and they set out again at just six o'clock by Mr. Fannin's watch.

The day was bright and pleasant, with light airs from half a dozen quarters, but no breeze strong enough to justify the setting of the sail.

Just after they had pushed out of the mouth of the river, Jack called Fannin's attention to a flock of birds sitting on the water; and they were presently made out to be scoter ducks, of two kinds. There was an enormous multitude of them, and almost all seemed to be males. When too closely approached, fifty or five hundred of them would rise on the wing, swing out over their fellows, and then alight on the outside of the flock.

"Where in the world do all those birds come from, Mr. Fannin?" asked Jack. "These are the birds that we call coots down on the Atlantic coast; but I don't think at any one time I ever saw so many of them as we see this morning."