410 AMERICAN GAME, BIRD SHOOTING 
Should you ask me how many birds we bagged I 
could not tell you. I kept tally till we got past 100, 
and then quit. We did not forget our friends, nor 
neglect ourselves, for we sent away a box each day, and 
kept a string hanging under the little porch of the 
hotel from which our table was supplied at each meal. 
Thus we passed the week, changing our route occa- 
sionally, always getting birds enough to make it en- 
joyable sport, never turning it into downright slaugh- 
ter, and leaving birds enough and to spare. And with 
it all we had a good time. 
At the approach of cold weather the birds gather 
together in large flocks and pack, as the. term is, re- 
maining in these packs all through the winter. At this 
time they are shy, will not lie for a dog, get up at a 
considerable distance and fly a long way. 
An interesting account of the birds at this time was 
written by Latrobe in his “Rambler in America.” La- 
trobe accompanied Washington Irving and one or two 
other friends on an expedition to what was then the 
Far West—beyond the Missouri River, and like most 
Englishmen did not let pass the opportunity to get 
some shooting. 
In 1832 he wrote of his efforts to shoot some 
prairie fowl. This was in Indian summer, at a time 
when the squirrels were at work among the dead leaves 
beneath the hickory and pecan trees near the Osage 
Agency, and when countless bands of water fowls and 
flights of pigeons, which had been constantly observed 
