What Became of the Wild Pigeon? 165 



loaded tree adjoining, and, that, too, was stripped of 

 its long and limber branches. Suffice it to say that in 

 a half hour's time this beautiful sugar orchard was 

 entirely ruined by the loads of birds which had at- 

 tempted to rest from the storm. 



About this time I enjoyed my first pigeon hunt in 

 a roost. Being a boy about sixteen years of age, having 

 a brother about thirteen, and as we had seen the pigeons 

 going by to their roost for hours and knowing that 

 many people went there every night to shoot pigeons 

 on the roost, my brother and I were seized with a de- 

 sire to go and enjoy this exciting sport. Then arose 

 the difficulty of a gun suitable for the occasion. As 

 we had nothing but a small-bore rifle and not owning 

 a shotgun, we appealed to father as to what we should 

 do for a gun. We had previously gained his consent 

 to our going. He suggested that we take the old horse 

 pistol; one of the Revolutionary time, which had been 

 kept in the family as a reminder of troublesome years. 



Let the young man of to-day, who hunts with the 

 improved breechloader, think of two boys starting 

 pigeon hunting, their only outfit consisting of a horse 

 pistol, barrel twelve inches long, caliber 12-gauge, flint- 

 lock, one pound of No. 4 shot, a quarter of a pound of 

 powder, a pocket full of old newspaper for wadding, 

 a two-bushel bag to carry game in, and a tin lantern. 

 Thus equipped, we started for the pigeon roost a little 

 after dark. Although three miles from the roost when 



