Jumping Chickens in the Corn. 



I had a relative from the east visiting me in the fall, and 

 as he came from a country where there is no chicken shooting, 

 nothing would do but he must have a chicken shoot before go- 

 ing back. As it was well along in October, it was too late 

 for successful stubble or prairie shooting over a dog. The 

 summer here was very dry, destroying the cover to such an ex- 

 tent that the chickens would not lie to the dog if found on the 

 prairie or stubble, but would flush clear out of range and fly 

 to the nearest cornfield. I told M. that our only show for 

 chickens was to take a good retriever with us and go through 

 the fields and "jump them." He replied that he had never 

 shot any chickens on the wing, and did not expect he would kill 

 a bird in a week in this kind of shooting. 



We started out one afternoon about 2 p. m., with a good 

 team and driver, and drove out eight miles from town before 

 stopping. We pulled up on the east side of a promising look- 

 ing cornfield of about thirty or forty acres, bordered on the 

 south by a large slough. I took the south edge of the field ; 

 M. went in about twenty rods; we started to the west side 

 of the field. I had only walked a short distance when a fine 

 covey got up in front of me at long range, and I scored the 

 first miss. They dropped down in the ragweed on the west 

 side of the field. We followed t-hem up, and when they flushed 

 each got a bird. This time they flew a mile west to another 

 cornfield. Our driver had them well marked and we got in 

 and drove over. 



Arriving at the field we got out arid directed our man to 

 drive to the nearest knoll in order that he might mark down 

 for us. M. and I then started diagonally across the field. The 

 birds got up wild, and every shot was a long range snap shot. 

 We followed these coveys to three or four other fields, swell- 

 ing our bag to fourteen birds. It was now nearly sundown, and 

 we were twelve miles from home, tired, hungry and cold. Our 



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