274 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



Then T could see them come walking through the oriel 

 that was flooded with moonlight, and was thinking nf the 

 aw fulness of that moment, when the wizard's grave had 

 ' i ilttndered and the soldier was full of terror, so graph- 

 ically described by Scott, when I heard the faint snapping 

 of twigs and slight rustling of leaves, peculiar to the tread 

 of an animal away off on the right hand side of the point 

 and some twenty rods in from the lake. Roused from my 

 reverie 1 listened intently for a eontiuuanco of the same, 

 but heard nothing. 



"It is the deer," I thought. "He is coming out on the 

 other side of the point, and Jenkins is wrong after all; but 

 why has he stopped, he surely is not frightened at us at 

 guch a distance." 



, nothing more, I concluded that a muskrat had 

 wandered in and was the cause, when I was surprised to 

 hear the twigs crack again, and instantly followed by three 

 or four low "snuffs." 



Thoroughly aroused and certain that Ned was listening 

 also, I silently lifted the rifle into the hollow of my right, 

 at m, for I shoot from the left shoulder, and strained my 

 eves to see what was in the brush. I was puzzled at the 

 caution of the deer, for I had heard no "whistle," and 

 know lie was not alarmed; but why was he so slow, and 

 What were those "snuffs':" 



When all of a person's faculties are thus aroused, seconds 

 become minutes, and 1 listened with "thumping" heart, 

 butxould hear or see nothing. Silently lowering the gun, 

 as my elbow 5 " touched the side of the canoe. 1 felt the light 

 signal tap of Ned's finger, ami slowly turned my head 

 ■■is" to see what' it meant. There he knelt. "grasp- 

 ing the handle of his paddle, body as rigid as the wood it- 

 eyea steadily fixed upon an object on the left 

 hand side of the point, Where I had not looked for half an 

 hour. Not a motion from him, but knowing he saw game, 

 > and slowly turned again and following the "direc- 

 tion of his look, saw, to my great surprise, that a deer had 

 come into the water, and probably drank, but at any rate 

 was now curiously regarding our boat. The light "shone 

 full upon his beautiful form and I could distinctly see the 

 antlers, yet in the velvet, that instantly convinced me that 

 he was fhe buck of the night before-. Knowing that he 

 would jump at any sudden movement, I gradually drew the 

 title to' my right shoulder, and when five seconds more 

 would have, let "me send the ball into the white star on his 

 breast, I felt the canoe suddenly sheer around, utterly dis- 

 eoneriling my aim, and instantly the shout of Jenkins 

 startling the air "shoot that wolf !" sent a chill all over 

 me, ami does yet when I think of that scene. As the canoe 

 '.he right I caught a glimpse of a large brownish 

 object on the extreme "edge of the shore, and, as I was 

 turned toward the deer, hardly ten feet from ni}' back. 

 Dropping the gun into my right hand, I pulled without 

 sighting, and with the report felt the canoe spring out 

 deep water, under the strong hand of Ned. 



I, as I Was, ami for a moment realizing nothing, 

 1 pushed in a cartridge, and looked to where I had shot, 

 -along "snarl" followed instantly by a rattling 

 of teeth, such as I had never heard before, and then a con- 

 fused rush and trampling of feet, and stillness, except the 

 distant, "whistling" of the deer, which soon was silent, also. 

 We stopped when about twenty rods from shore and 1 

 ; to Jenkins. 



■7 /" said he in a surpressedtone. "That was the 

 strangest thing I ever seen; 1 heard 'cm come up, but never 

 calkerlaled they'd come so clost to you; he may have only 

 been curious, but, 1 sweat, he looked wicked." 



"That was a wolf, Ned, wasn't it?" said I. "I thought 

 1 heard the brush stirred up before you tapped, but thought. 

 it was the deer on that side." 



"Wolf ! yes, and several of them," answered he. "Look 

 here?" pointing to the pines. "You see where we lay" 

 well, I heard the brush creak after we had la en si ill not 

 twenty minutes, and heard it on the right of the pine, too. 

 I knew it wasn't deers, because I heard no tread, and it 

 come nearer so slow. 1 supposed you were watching, and 

 could see better than me, as you was nearer, but was going 

 to speak or rap, to be sure, when I heard the buck sLep to 

 lhe nit, and wailed for him to get to drinking; he got in 

 the water mighty still, I will say, and 1 suppose you were 

 i n[ her way, was why vou never seen or heard 

 him."" 



"Yes, I never thought of the other side after I first 

 tie noise to the right," said I. "Why didn't you let 

 mi- know sooner?" 



"Because 1 was afraid of starting him, we were so in the 

 light," replied Ned, "I calkerlaled you'd look there before 

 he went oul, but 1 see him stop and' look, and then lapped 

 and you turned the wrong way. [ never dared take my 

 eves off him until I saw you shifting your gun, and while 

 you was a doing that 1 seen that wolf come oul and stop at 

 the water between us, so I couldn'tsee him plain. 1 turned 

 the boat so as you'd be further off if he jumped, and hol- 

 lered "shoot" to scare him, and tell you. You see he was 

 awful clost, and in three second, more he'd been in the 

 he was coming at all, and if he ouct got to us, the 

 I come after mighty quick." 

 "But was he coming, Ned?" asked I. "I might have 



i>- deer in live seeonds more." 



"1 wouldn't risk it," said he, shaking his head. "If 



he'd jumped he'd come in like a bird and upset the canoe, 



and we'd had no chance in the water: them wolves take 



hold like a trap, ana if he bad bit you onet, it would have 



mi you up, and mebbo cut your throat, for they grab 



there. I never saw them that bold in Summer before, but 



I guess they come after the buck and never ,= .e us until all 



sudden, by the way he acted; but bow he barked when 



vou shoi !" 



"Never miud his bark," answered I. "I don't want to 

 see where the ball went, but would rather get to our island. 

 1 wouldn't come on the mainland tonight for fifty dollars; 

 hang me if 1 'aim trembling all over." ' 



,id Ned, sweeping his paddle through the 



water, "I was skearl myself at flr.si, but 1 don't mind these 



things when I can see the trouble in front, but you w ere 



b it-ween me and the wolf, and you know I left my gun in 



I, Imi it's over now, so we'wont worry, but didn't the 



ii. "whistle'.' uhen he heard the gun ! if you like I'll tell 



■■-■hai .happened up here Ibis Spring with a man that 



i',v tne." 



suppose you wait until we reach camp," answered 



I 'Then you can scare me us much as you please, but 



thank you." 



What that story was, I cannot tell at present, for want of 



space, but T remember it well; for when we arrived at our 



agerly to 

 him about the scrape ihey were in with the wolves, and 



now, as I sit in my snug room, miles away from Shesheep 

 Lake, recalling that eventful night, I can close my eyes and 

 fancy that I am again off the point watching with Ned. 

 that I can see the deer and hear his warning shout as I he- 

 boat swings around, and although inclined to laugh at my 

 fear, I can hardly repress a thrill of recollection at what 1 

 believe now to have been a near proximity to a fearful 

 struggle, if not death itself Music. 



■»■♦■ 



For Foretl an d Stream . 

 IOWA. SHOOTING— 1874. 



THE writer thinks, perhaps, a few observations upon 

 the late shooting season in Iowa, and some inciden- 

 tal remarks, may not be unacceptable- to your general read- 

 ers. We bad a "most favorable Spring during the breeding 

 time of pinnated grouse, ruffed grouse, and "quail, and the 

 lovers of sport anticipated unwonted pleasure. The rains 

 did not, drown out their nests or interfere with their young. 

 The 15th of August, eagerly expected by many, oom- 

 menced the attack" upon tile prairie chicken] [The writer 

 prefers calling it by this name, as most of our Western 

 sportsmen do,"instead of its long, proper name of pinnated 

 grouse.] Now while he enjoys" most delectably the sport 

 among them, he does not believe in the vanity of shooting 

 simply for count or boasting of slaughter. He therefore 

 declines the. labor of an immense bag, and the gratifica- 

 tion, if such it be, of beating any competitor for extermi- 

 nation. He believes in using, not wasting, every bird se- 

 cured by well directed shot, over a faithful, trained dog, 

 and no wanton slaughter for insensible pride of big num- 

 bers. If all our good and true sportsmen would unite in 

 condemning the practice of shooting, not for legitimate 

 sport, but for the empty glory of boast, birds would have 

 a belter chance, and hunters proper exercise and healthful 

 pleasure. But this is probably digression. We have had 

 fair grouse shooting, even though the time for the fun flew 

 quickly a w ay. 



The -writer has been shooting some in different parts of 

 the State, finding the best locality towards its northern 

 line. On the 15th of August himself and Charley, taking 

 the Davenport and St. Paul Railroad, started for the termi- 

 nus of the road, 124 miles distant, to Fayette, in Fayette 

 county. Reaching this point near sundown, there was no 

 time except for a little amusement with the rod and fly 

 among the bass of the Little Volga. Securing thirteen 

 bass, we returned to our hotel, and, retiring early to rest, 

 were soon lulled to sleep by the music Of a neighboring 

 mill dam and the plaintive notes of the whippoorwill. We 

 bad a right royal breakfast upon our bass before Ihe peep 

 o' day, when with horses and machine we started for Wil- 

 son's Grove, some leu miles due west. For four or five 

 miles our way was timbered along the Volga, when we 

 reached the. open prairie and trotted westward. AVe had 

 with us two yearling setters, of good stock, pretty well 

 house-broken* but strangers to game. Our primary pur- 

 pose was hunting, not birds, but lands that belonged to the 

 subscriber; but having flushed eight flocks of chickens 

 along the road, we killed seventeen, and returned in time 

 to renew a different sport on the Volga. Before the sun 

 reached the horizon we were casting flies on the stream in 

 the presence of quite a number of spectators from the vil- 

 lage, who looked down from the bridge in laughing mood 

 and remarked upon our attempt to hook bass with such bait . 

 But when a tnree pounder struck, leaping wildly from the 

 water, and the shout went up, "there, he's got one;" they 

 were silent and respectful. You know success, right or 

 wrong, scientific or otherwise, always commands respect. 

 A few more were taken, and we adjourned, for the sh-.des 

 of twilight were creeping slowly over the western horizon. 

 Early in the morning we returned southward to the next 

 station — Brush Creek — where, from all accounts and re- 

 ports, we expected glorious sport among the pinnated 

 grouse. But we were disappointed sadly, as the sequel 

 will show. With a good team, and fair two seated hunt- 

 ing wagon, we struck westward some seven miles on the 

 prairie. At this distance from the station town we had 

 passed most of the cultivated farms, and reached the open, 

 skirling prairie, where an isolated twenty to one hundred 

 acre wheat stubble looked the very home of the bird we 

 sought. The clay being oppressively hot, we waited pa- 

 tiently the evening shooling.stopping at George llazcii's.who 

 is a fair shot and lover of the sport. George is the owner 

 of 180 acres of rich prairie land, a tine farm, with handsome 

 improvements, and the grouse in every field and stubble. 



Towards four o'clock in the afternoon George called his 

 dog, as pure and pretty a young pointer as can be seen, and 

 took a seat in our wagon wiiit his muzzle loader. We 

 crossed the meadow and reached the stubble, when the 

 dogs began winding, and then tracking birds. Charley, in 

 his eighteenth year]' more eager for the sport than his se- 

 niors,""ieaped from the. wagon and got two beautiful shots, 

 bringing down his birds in elegant style. A large flock 

 arose and settled several hundred yards distant in the rank 

 prairie irrass. We followed with" our team, and soon the 

 dogs reached a decided point; then your humble servant 

 and George, started from the wagon to participate in the 

 sport; but better by far that George had remained comfort- 

 ably seated. The "dogs were on a dead stand, when up 

 lose a bird, flying directly for George. Both had their 

 gnus on the bird; Charley pulled first, the bird fell, and 

 George dropped his gun and struck for the wagon, saying 

 "I'mshot; I'm killed." Running up to him quickly, and 

 seeing blood on his face, the writer asked if his eyes were 

 injured, and upon receiving a reply in the negative, assured 

 him that he was not wounded seriously, and began reprov- 

 ing the boy for carelessness. Immediately George, taking 

 his' part, said it. was an accident; that he was looking only 

 at the bird, and did not see him: But not another shot 

 was fired, though numbers of birds were stood, flushed, 

 and some started from the grass- by our relurnii' 

 • living George a good drink of generous stimulant, to re- 

 lieve him from a nervous shuck, and upon washing him 

 and examining his condition, we concluded to return to 

 town for surgical advice. Arriving in town we found, as 

 auticipal ed and asserted, that at fifty yards' distance no shot 

 gun, with No. 8 shot, could well do mortal injury to man 

 This was in accordance with repeated assurance on the 

 way; it required, however, several good drinks to inspire 

 any confidence in the assurance. Leaving him in the care 

 of a physician, with the promise of return in a week with 

 a bottle of the best, we started homewards. Our hunt 

 was a failure by reason of the accident, or, if you please, 

 carelessness of an enthusiastic young sportsman who 

 couldn't see a man beyond a bird. 



A week subsequent, the writer and Charley returning, 

 found George convalescent, but with near one hundred pel- 



lets of No. 8 shot in his person. It was beyond question a 

 double shot, bird and man; the pellets were penetrating, 

 for they were discharged from a Parker breech loader, 

 loaded" with four drachms powder mid one ounce shot, 

 though the gun was not much for finish, metal, or style of 

 workmanship. 



But "all's well that ends well." George, barring his 

 carrying weight, was recovering, and again we called upon 

 him with the joyful, and had. a pleasant, successful hunt, 

 killing thirty-four chickens in au evening's tramp. Charley 

 killed fourteen, failing to lower his bird but twice. George 

 and myself Were mostly lookers on from the waggon We 

 admired, took a d rink, and felt safe from youthful indis- 

 cretion. Returning to Davenport we had a fair hag, and 

 I have now in my kennel the pretty pointer recently be- 

 longing to George. 



If not out of place, let me give you a shooting excur- 

 sion in Iowa of other days. Some years ago, late in Sep- 

 tember, the writer and his brother were hunting fourteen 

 miles south of Iowa City, on the river. Willi a true and 

 splendid prairie dog— a" pointer and retriever— we had 

 hunted late in the afternoon until evening without success; 

 but just as the sun was sinking beneath the western hori- 

 zon we put up a large pack of" from one lo two hundred 

 chickens, which rose aud settled more than a mile distant 

 in the tall, rank prairie grass. We could in the distance 

 faintly discern their lighting place. 



Said the writer, "Let's follow them." 



"Agreed," was the reply, and away we started, quick step. 



Before we reached half the tramp, up rose the yellow 

 moon— full, round, and as beautiful as ever moon rose on 

 prairie land or ocean. The twilight here tinners lonsr and 

 lovely— later, by far, than where the uiouiii.ains rise to 

 cloud the departing sun. "We drew on the birds, and our 

 dog Grouse came to a stand His figure was rigid and 

 splendid in the moonlight. Now, as wo approached, was 

 said in low tones, "Shoot right aud left, anil empty both 

 barrels." In a moment more many of the birds" were 

 flushed, and four barrels were emptied. With Grouse we 

 retrieved four dead birds, when one of the party was con- 

 fident that he had killed two with his second barrel. We 

 soon discovered and secured the fifth bird, and starting an- 

 other, killed it, Grouse giving tongue at the same moment. 

 "Oh, John, you've shot my dog," exclaimed my compan- 

 ion. The reply was, "Wefl, I killed my bird." 



Examining his dog with his hand, aud finding blood on 

 his haunches, he observed that my gun shot with tenable 

 force— it. was one of Win. Greener's best. After we had 

 petted the dog, and satisfied him, apparently, that it, was 

 all a mistake in the dark — for he was almost invisible be- 

 low the line of horizon — he again swept out, and were soon 

 on a stand. 



To make a long story short, we returned between eight 

 aud nine o'clock to the house where we put up, wjth four- 

 teen birds, all killed by moonlight, in thirteen snot's. This 

 story looks a little extravagant, but it is nevertheless as 

 true as gospel. The bird makes a distinct, black mark on 

 the high background, whether moonlight or twilight, and 

 if flushed near, as is most likely in every instance, becomes 

 pretty sure to the gun that covers it. 



In the early part" of the season, Bay August, the bird has 

 white meat; "later it assumes the dark color of its parent. 

 Some are inclined to think the flesh changes color by 

 change of iood; but the writer is satisfied lhal the change 

 is after moulting and attaining full growth. 



In a recent number of your paper, under date of 12th 

 of October, 1874, a correspondent writes that the season 

 for grouse shootiugis about closing, as the birds ate getting 

 wilder, aud beginning to pack. jMy observation and ex- 

 perience have satisfied me that they pack much earlier, 

 soon after they become full grown "a net feathered. Tins 

 period is dependent upon lime of batching and locality. 

 During the late season the writer found them in packs as 

 early a's the close of August, and, driving them from the 

 slubbleto high prairie grass, had fine sport in Ihinning 

 their ranks. South they hatch some earlier, and North 

 later, which most, probably makes a difference in their 

 packing time. The lime for finding them in flocks is very 

 brief, and in hot, oppressive weather, when man aud dog 

 soon tire, aud the bird when killed spoils quickly. By the 

 middle of September, at the farthest, they are generally 

 well packed. 



Thus far I have run my pen on chickens. Permit me, 

 towards conclusion, to pay my respects to ruffed grouse. 

 The shooting of this bird West will not pay, unless it be 

 in the heavily timbered districts of Indiana. In fhe wooded 

 bluffs which usually Bkirt our streams they are found, hut 

 not in such abundance as tin: writer has found them among 

 the Alleghanies of Pennsylvania. There he remembers 

 killing eight in a few hours near Lock Haven. Here lie 

 has not bagged more than two brace in u day. This bird 

 loves the deep, dark wilderness, with tangled thickets and 

 gloomy ravines, wiih decaying logs. Our country is not 

 much suited to its tastes, but we have a few specimens lo 

 till the bill. 



Quail shooting has not, been remarkable, notwithstand- 

 ing propitious breeding and favorable circumstances; 

 Years ago quail were superabundant along the western 

 shore of the Mississippi. When Jack Frost made his ap- 

 pearance in October, it was generally thought quail com- 

 menced running, and gathered along the water courses. 

 In olden times ihey did gathei by thousands on the banks 

 of our river, and' often many attempting flight across 

 struck the water before reaching shore, and perhaps be- 

 came a tasty bite for .Mississippi cat fish of one hundred 

 pounds. The running has ceased, and we no longer find 

 them in packs of countless numbers. My theory is that 

 they came into the timber along the water from the open 

 prairie for protection from our fearful Winters, and that 

 they have now changed the programme because the prai- 

 ries are now cultivated, and clustered with groves. They 

 have food aud protection from the darting hawk instead of 

 the bleak, cheerless sea of prairie land, T lie writer has 

 killed thirty to forty quail a day repeatedly iu Pennsyl- 

 vania; but his largest bag has not exceeded twenty-five in 

 Iowa, and then the quail of the West is not the bird of 

 the Last. Touching quail West, I can almost say quantum 

 tiijfkil. But there is one relief— the rabbit, or colton tail, 

 as my friend Brooks, of Philadelphia, calls him— jumps 

 more "frequently, an occasional tloek of wild geese pass 

 over the corn fields, pinnated, or ruffed grouse, is now and 

 then started, and the scene is thus enlivened. 



When I commenced shooting quail West I was struck 

 with their diminutive size and light weight. It. is the opin- 

 ion of some that there are two species— the larger, whose 

 habitat is the Eastern ailtl Middle Slates, aud the smaller 

 the Southern aud Western bird. Possibly the climate may 



