There was a hum of pleasant voices—words like, “Oh! Deb, we should not have got in;” “Why, Mary, we may as well ride—it’s all in our way.” “But these gentlemen are strangers, and may think it wrong of us.” “Oh, Lib, don’t talk that way; they know better.” We assured them that nothing could be more perfectly proper. So situated, the ride appeared very short, and the next mile, which was as far as our delightful freight would go, was passed seemingly in about a minute and a half, decidedly the fastest time on record. At the end of it, on a suggestion from the driver, who lived in that section and knew the country, toll was taken of their rosy lips as passage-money. Jersey is a glorious place.
Passing Charley’s, as he is generally called, the son of the old man, who for years was famous as the first hunter in that land, we turned off beyond, down the beach. The bay between the mainland and the sand-bar, known everywhere as “The Beach,” was narrow, widening slowly as we advanced, until, at the end of our seven miles’ journey, it was nearly three miles across. There was little vegetation beside salt grass and bay-berry bushes; but of the animal kingdom the only representatives—the mosquitoes—were thicker than the mind of man can conceive; they rose in crowds, pursuing us fiercely, covering the horses in an unbroken mass, settling upon ourselves, flying into our eyes, crawling upon our necks, stinging through our clothes, and filling the air. Although small, the were hungry beyond belief, and, following their prey relentlessly, compelled us to fight them off with bushes of bay-berry for our lives.
Mosquitoes are found plentifully at our summer watering-places, and still more numerously in the wild woods, grow abundantly in Canada, and are over-plentiful at Lake Superior; but nowhere are they so merciless, fierce, and numerous, as, on occasions, at the New Jersey beach. They are a beautiful little creature, delicate, graceful, and elegant, but obtrusive in their attentions; although the ardent lover was anxious to be bitten by the same mosquito that had bitten his lady-love, that their blood might mingle in the same body.
One good effect they had, however, was to compel the driver to urge on his weary team, and leave him no time to gossip at Jakey’s Tavern, over the beach party that was to be held there next day. A beach party is another delightful institution of the Jerseyites, and consists of a congregation of the youths of both sexes, especially the female, collected from the main shore, and meeting on the beach for a frolic, a dance, and a bath. As it rarely breaks up till daylight, the pleasantest intimacies are sometimes formed, and soft words uttered that could not be wrung from blushing beauty in broad day.
The establishment of the “old man”—the sporting “old man,” not the political one—since he has been gathered to his forefathers, is kept up by his son-in-law, usually known by the abbreviation—Bill. It is not an elegant place; sportsmen do not demand elegance, and willingly sleep, if not in the same room, in chambers that lead into one another; but it is situated within a hundred yards of the best shooting ground, and is as well kept as any other tavern on the beach. Sportsmen do not mind waiting their turn to use the solitary wash basin, drawing water from the hogshead, or wiping on the same towel, but are thankful for good food, and the luxury of a well filled ice-house.
In addition to the general directions heretofore given, it may be well in this connexion to describe more particularly the mode of killing bay-snipe. A number of imitation birds, usually called stools, are cut from wood, and painted to resemble the various species; they have a long stick, or leg, inserted into the lower part of the body, and a sufficient number to constitute a large flock are set up in shallow water, or upon some bar where the birds are accustomed to feed. They are made from thin wood, or even from tin, and are headed various ways so as to show in all directions; the coarsest and least perfect imitations will answer.
The most remarkable trait of the shore birds, or bay-snipe, is their gregarious nature and sociability. A flock flying high in air, apparently intent upon some settled course, will, the moment they see another flock feeding, turn and join it. Their natural history, or the object which they evidently have in thus joining forces, does not seem to be understood; but the baymen, by imitation-birds and calls, take advantage of this instinct. Farther south, along the shores of Florida and Texas, these snipe collect in crowds; and either this is the first step towards that purpose, or they are merely attracted by the feeding birds to a promising place for a plentiful repast.
Although ordinarily they will come to the stools of themselves, if they happen to be at a distance flying fast and high, the gunner must trust to the shrillness of his whistle and the perfection of his call, to attract their attention. If they turn towards the decoys and answer the whistle—which they will do at an immense distance—they are almost sure to come straight on, and their confidence once gained, rarely wavers.
There is a common expression among the baymen, that birds have a trade, or are trading up and down over a certain course, by which they mean that they fly backward and forward at regular hours, and to and from regular places. Snipe that are thus engaged trading are not only in the finest condition, but come to the decoys, or stool, as it is termed, the most readily. They are probably stopping on the meadows, and fly to their feeding-grounds in the morning and back at night. The great migratory bodies, which frequently stretch in broken lines almost across the horizon, and which are pursuing their steady course to their southern homes, rarely heed the whistle, or turn to the silly flock that is eating while it should be travelling.
The best days are those with a cloudy sky, and a south-westerly wind. On such occasions the birds often come in myriads, delighting the sportsman’s heart, testing his nerves, and filling his bag to repletion. When the object is to kill the greatest number possible, they are permitted to alight among the stools and collect together before the gun is fired; then the first discharge is followed rapidly by the second, which tears among their thinned ranks as they rise; and, if there be a second gun, by the third and fourth barrel, till frequently all are killed. The scientific and sportsmanlike mode is to fire before they alight, selecting two or three together and firing at the foremost.