Two dead fish recently greeted Demar and his companions at the marsh, a species he called mudfish. There were some frolicking muskrats, chickadees in the ash and willow trees, and shell casings from an 8mm Mauser. ("Oh, that's made for blowing them out of the water," Rushford said.)
There were not, however, enough live fish to shoot. So Demar tested his gun on a log in the water, and spray shot up.
"I got a little water on my sunglasses," he said sheepishly. "That's the thing about pickerel shooting. Afterward, you have to turn away, or you get sprayed in the face."
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