Like most of the water-birds of America, the canvas-back is migratory. It proceeds in spring to the cold countries of the Hudson’s Bay territory, and returns southward in October, appearing in immense flocks along the Atlantic shores. It does not spread over the fresh-water lakes of the United States, but confines itself to three or four well-known haunts, the principal of which is the great Chesapeake Bay. This preference for the Chesapeake Bay is easily accounted for, as here its favourite food is found in the greatest abundance. Hound the mouths of the rivers that run into this bay, there are extensive shoals of brackish water; these favour the growth of a certain plant of the genus vallisneria—a grass-like plant, standing several feet out of the water, with deep green leaves, and stems, and having a white and tender root. On this root, which is of such a character as to have given the plant, the trivial name of “wild celery,” the canvas-back feeds exclusively; for wherever it is not to be found, neither does the bird make its appearance. Diving for it, and bringing it up in its bill, the canvas-back readily breaks off the long lanceolate leaves, which float off, either to be eaten by another species—the pochard—or to form immense banks of wrack, that are thrown up against the adjacent shores.
It is to the roots of the wild celery that the flesh of the canvas-back owes its esteemed flavour, causing it to be in such demand that very often a pair of these ducks will bring three dollars in the markets of New York and Philadelphia. When the finest turkey can be had for less than a third of that sum, some idea may be formed of the superior estimation in which the web-footed favourites are held.
Of course, shooting the canvas-back duck is extensively practised, not only as an amusement, but as a professional occupation. Various means are employed to slaughter these birds: decoys by means of dogs, duck boats armed with guns that resemble infernal-machines, and disguises of every possible kind. The birds themselves are extremely shy; and a shot at them is only obtained by great ingenuity, and after considerable dodging. They are excellent divers; and when only wounded, almost always make good their escape. Their shyness is overcome by their curiosity. A dog placed upon the shore, near where they happen to be, and trained to run backwards and forwards, will almost always seduce them within shot. Should the dog himself not succeed, a red rag wrapped around his body, or tied to his tail, will generally bring about the desired result. There are times, however, when the ducks have been much shot at, that even this decoy fails of success.
On account of the high price the canvas-backs bring in the market, they are pursued by the hunters with great assiduity, and are looked upon as a source of much profit. So important has this been considered, that in the international treaties between the States bordering upon the Chesapeake, there are several clauses or articles relating to them that limit the right of shooting to certain parties. An infringement of this right, some three or four years ago, led to serious collisions between the gunners of Philadelphia and Baltimore. So far was the dispute carried, that schooners armed, and filled with armed men, cruised for some time on the waters of the Chesapeake, and all the initiatory steps of a little war were taken by both parties. The interference of the general government prevented what would have proved, had it been left to itself, a very sanguinary affair.
It so chanced that I had met with a rather singular adventure while duck-shooting on the Chesapeake Bay, and the story was related thus: “I was staying for some days at the house of a friend—a planter—who lived near the mouth of a small river that runs into the Chesapeake. I felt inclined to have a shot at the far-famed canvas-backs. I had often eaten of these birds, but had novel shot one, or even seen them in their natural habitat. I was, therefore, anxious to try my hand upon them, and I accordingly set out one morning for that purpose.
“My friend lived upon the bank of the river, some distance above tide-water. As the wild celery grows only in brackish water—that is, neither in the salt sea itself nor yet in the fresh-water rivers—I had to pass down the little stream a mile or more before I came to the proper place for finding the ducks. I went in a small skiff, with no other companion than an ill-favoured cur-dog, with which I had been furnished, and which was represented to me as one of the best ‘duck-dogs’ in the country.
“My friend having business elsewhere, unfortunately could not upon that day give me his company; but I knew something of the place, and being au fait in most of the dodges of duck-hunting, I fancied I was quite able to take care of myself.
“Floating and rowing by turns, I soon came in sight of the bay and the wild celery fields, and also of flocks of water-fowl of different species, among which I could recognise the pochards, the canvas-backs, and the common American widgeon.
“Seeking a convenient place near the mouth of the stream, I landed; and, tying the skiff to some weeds, proceeded in search of a cover. This was soon found—some bushes favoured me; and having taken my position, I set the dog to his work. The brute, however, took but little notice of my words and gestures of encouragement, I fancied that he had a wild and frightened look, but I attributed this to my being partially a stranger to him; and was in hopes that, as soon as we became better acquainted, he would work in a different manner.
“I was disappointed, however, as, do what I might, he would not go near the water, nor would he perform the trick of running to and fro which I had been assured by my friend he would be certain to do. On the contrary, he cowered among the bushes, near where I had stationed myself, and seemed unwilling to move out of them. Two or three times, when I dragged him forward, and motioned him toward the water, he rushed back again, and ran under the brushwood.