Birds of Nebraska: Newspaper Accounts, 1854-1923

February 2, 1911. Omaha Sunday World-Herald 46(19): 10-N.

O, You Duck Hunt.

  • I love the gentle rains of spring -
  • The robin's song.
  • How sweet the smell of waking earth;
  • The days grow long.
  • I love the meadow lark's refrain,
  • I rural ways;
  • Greeting the time of nature's birth,
  • And balmier days.
  • I love the open marsh and slough -
  • The mallard's call;
  • Then fix the hunting outfit up,
  • We had last fall.
  • I love to join the boys, and go
  • To lake or stream,
  • Where birds are thick and shooting good,
  • Ah what a dream,
  • I love to find an ideal spot,
  • Then build my blind;
  • Then leave the world with all it's cares,
  • Far, far behind.
  • I love to watch the wavelets dance
  • 'Round my decoys,
  • And note the "chances taken by
  • The other boys.
  • I love to sit within my blind,
  • And smoke my pipe;
  • Sometimes a nip of Yellowstone,
  • that's good and ripe.
  • I love to try my marksmanship
  • On some big goose;
  • Take chances on a long, hard shot,
  • And jar him loose.
  • I love to see the teal dash in,
  • Like cannon balls;
  • For each barrel of my hammerless
  • A green wing falls.
  • I love the campfire's ruddy glow -
  • The grub we chew;
  • When Piper He'dseick's passed around,
  • I love that too.
  • I love to feel my heart beat in
  • Each finger tip.
  • As campfire stories help promote
  • Good fellowship.
  • I love to write these little rhymes
  • Sometimes, don't you?
  • Here comes a bunch of redheads - quick
  • Binb-b'ng! Adieu.
  • - Ray E. Love