214 GAME-BIRDS AT HOME, 



Bang goes the gun, and you almost tear your 

 eyes out breaking from the bHnd as you hear a 

 beat of heavy wings which is not that of flight. 

 In a moment man, dog, and turkey are tumbling 

 about in a heap, and you have the bird by the 

 neck. Only a young one, small and not over- 

 fat ; but still a turkey, as really as if he weighed 

 a ton. 



And don't allow your triumph to be marred 

 by the reflection that you might not have called 

 him so easily if he had been a little larger. 



The wildest of game is sometimes off guard, 

 and the rankest blockhead may have luck enough 

 to make him think himself a born hunter. It is 

 very seldom that the wild turkey is thus found 

 off watch, but I once caught a full drove of 

 them napping, in a way allowed few mortal men. 



It was a little after dawn, in November 1864, 

 when, with several companions, I crossed the 

 Illinois River for a deer-drive in the timbered 

 bluffs on the east side. There were then many 

 miles of heavy timber with scarcely a settler, for 

 plenty of the best prairie lay yet untaken. The 

 first snow of the season had fallen during the 

 night, and lay some two inches deep on the 



