Onward as they came, the black spots grew larger and larger, and the distinct outlines of the ducks began to be distinguishable; still they sat on the water, rising and falling to the swell as unconcernedly as ever.
The flanking boats were already ahead of them, and the Parson, with his long gun in his hand, had begun to calculate his distance—which, out at sea, is particularly deceptive,—when, with one accord, the dozen tails began to wriggle, and at once the whole flock were under water, disappearing simultaneously, and as if by signal.
EIDER DUCK SHOOTING.
The men, who, much to the Parson’s impatience, had been pulling very leisurely indeed, now stretched out with all their might, and as they shot across the spot lately occupied by the ducks, marked the chain of air-bubbles, which tended out to seaward. A signal conveyed this information to the Captain’s boat, which pulled into the line to intercept them; Birger, who was thus thrown out, closing in with all his might, and the Parson following up the track—each stood up as well as he could in the roll of the sea, and looked out with all his eyes. Six, eight, ten minutes elapsed, and nothing to be seen: it was impossible that the birds could be under so long. At last, far to the rear of even Birger’s boat, twelve black spots were seen rising and falling on the swell as unconcernedly as they were at first. The ducks had headed back under water, and the boats had pulled over them.
The same manœuvre was repeated, and with the same result; the centre boat approached almost within firing distance, when the twelve tails again wriggled simultaneously, and the twelve bodies went under at once. This time, however, they rose within shot of Birger’s boat, but before he could get his gun to bear on them, they were under again.
This was precisely what was wanted; the only chance of getting a shot, at this season of the year, is to make the birds dive till they are exhausted: they are said not to duck the flash like the divers—perhaps they do not, but, at all events, they are generally under water long before the quickest gunner can get a shot at them, and that, practically, comes to the same thing.
The dive this time was a short one, though it carried them out of shot, for the Captain, catching the line of their chain, had pulled on their track, and headed them back to his friends. This time they rose among the boats, and one or two attempted a heavy lumbering flight, which was speedily put a stop to by the fowling-pieces. The rest dispersed, diving each his own way, and pursued by the boats independently.
The object of approaching in a crescent, is to prevent the birds from doing this before they are too much exhausted to dive far. A separated flock can seldom be marked, inasmuch as it is more difficult to catch sight of one black spot than a dozen; and besides, under such circumstances, the boats can no longer act in concert. If a flock disperses early in the chase, the chances are that not above one or two birds will be secured; if kept pretty well together, not above as many will escape.
It is a singular thing that eider ducks should be so unwilling to take the wing in summer, for, though they rise heavily, they are by no means bad flyers; but so long as they have breath to dive, nothing will get them into the air; and this peculiarity, which in ordinary weather is their preservation, during the calms is their destruction.