Whenever It Got Bad I Was
Permitted To Put It Into The Cart Sent To Town Periodically, To Have
It Repaired, And Would Then Go Gunless For A Week Or Ten Days.
On one
of these occasions I one day saw a party of shoveller duck dibbling in
a small rain-pool at the side of the plantation, within a dozen yards
of the old moat which surrounded it.
Ducks always appeared to be
exceptionally tame and bold when I was without a gun, but the boldness
of those shovellers was more than I could stand, and running to the
house I got out the old blunderbuss, which I had never been forbidden
to use, since no one had ever thought it possible that I should want
to use such a monster of a gun. But I was desperate, and loading it
for the first (and last) time, I went after those shovellers.
I had once been told that it would be impossible to shoot wild duck or
anything with the blunderbuss unless one could get within a dozen
yards of them, on account of its tremendous scattering power. Well, by
going along the bottom of the moat, which was luckily without water
just then, I could get as near the birds as I liked and kill the whole
flock. When I arrived abreast of the pool I crept up the grassy
crumbling outside bank, and resting the ponderous barrel on the top of
the bank, fired at the shovellers at a distance of about fifteen
yards, and killed nothing, but received a kick which sent me flying to
the bottom of the foss. It was several days before I got over that
pain in my shoulder.
Later on there was a period of trouble and scarcity in the land. There
was war, and the city from which we obtained our supplies was besieged
by an army from the "upper provinces" which had come down to break the
power and humble the pride of Buenos Ayres. Our elders missed their
tea and coffee most, but our anxiety was that we should soon be
without powder and shot. My brother constantly warned me not to be so
wasteful, although he fired half a dozen shots to my one without
getting more birds for the table. At length there came a day when
there was little shot left - just about enough to fill one shot-pouch -
and knowing it was his intention to have a day out, I sneaked into the
gun-room and loaded my fowling-piece just to have one shot more. He
was going to try for upland geese that day, and, as I had expected,
carried off all the shot.
After he had gone I took my gun, and being determined to make the most
of my one shot, refused to be tempted by any of the small parties of
duck I found in the pools near home, even when they appeared quite
tame. At length I encountered a good-sized flock of rosy-bills by the
side of a marshy stream about two miles from home.
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