90 COPEIA 



lizards — nearly every one of them captured by means 

 of a beanshooter. The recollection evokes a gleeful 

 chuckle. It seems worth telling. 



Freely admitting considerable experience with 

 this boy's weapon in days gone by, credit for its res- 

 urrection and practical adoption must be given to my 

 friend, Mr. William T. Davis, the naturalist of Stat- 

 en Island. At one of the entomological meetings he 

 exhibited his beanshooter together with charges of 

 fine shot. He then told of how he had laid low the 

 dazzling dragon-fly as it sailed over the pond and had 

 brought abruptly to an end the noisome song of the 

 Cicada in branches high. It was a thrilling account 

 — full of the element of sport. 



On a trip to southern Utah this summer my 

 equipment included a beanshooter, also a supply of 

 No. 4 and 8 shot. The beanshooter was made the 

 same as I used as a boy: a stout, forked handle cut 

 from a privet hedge, two rubber bands 5" long x ¥&" 

 wide, a soft, square piece of leather, folded, trimmed 

 and sewed at the bottom so that it formed a shallow, 

 rounded pocket, and the whole tied together with 

 shoestring. In execution this weapon proved so ef- 

 fective that I employed it to the exclusion of all other 

 methods whenever the chances of capturing a speci- 

 men by hand seemed in doubt. My procedure would 

 be as follows: loading the flipper with 30 to 40 of 

 No. 8 shot or with 20 to 30 of No.' 4, according to size 

 of the lizard in sight, I approached with caution, 

 avoiding dry sticks and loose stones, and, when with- 

 in 10 to 15 feet, I would shoot, always aiming at the 

 head. The shot produced temporary stunning, some- 

 times accompanied by a slight flow of blood, but 

 rarely by mutilation. No time could be lost in pick- 

 ing up specimens for they often revived before they 

 could be placed in a bag. At 10 feet I felt almost 

 sure of my game; at 15 feet I could count on bagging 

 4 out of 5. 



