FOREST AND STREAM 
130 
vorable wind, we would have stalked them willi success, 
As it was, we came almost upon them on an overhanging 
point, where they had stopped to overlook the valley where 
they had been alarmed. Again we followed them, but 
the snow was waist deep, and with the needle of my ane¬ 
roid barometer down to about twenty inches, it was too 
ratified air for much hard work, and our rests were very 
frequent. Our trail led us among their retreats, where they 
had laid under overhanging rocks in the warm sun, or out 
on rocky shelves that were narrow, and from which the 
down look was hundreds of feet of dizzy precipices. 
These look-out points were hard to reach, but richly re¬ 
paid the effort; for, spread far and wide, were the valleys 
aud mountain peaks of endless chains. Near us huge 
domes of rock stood out from the mountain points, a 
thousand or two feet high; far away over the foot hills the 
South Park laid like a frozen lake, treeless and white, 
with a surrounding of sharp peaks, some brilliant in sun¬ 
shine, others hidden by clouds and driving snow storms. 
The south slopes of these mountains were rock-ribbed, 
With bold cliffs and buttresses, all stern and grim, with 
hardly a shrub or tree. The north sides were black with a 
dense growth of spruce and balsam up to eleven or twelve 
thousand feet, where all vegetation ceases, and the moun¬ 
tain toos are bald and white with snow that is almost per¬ 
petual.’ 
To such scenes do the mountaineers’steps lead in this 
beautiful country, filling one with pleasure, giving new 
surprises and fresh delights, as the kaleidoscopic changes 
of season, and light, and shade, pass over these eternal 
hills, affording fresh beauties to familiar scenes, urging one 
to new paths and fresh discoveries. Wandering here fresh 
vigor comes to every limb, weariness is forgotten, while the 
mind, tilled with new and pure impressions, springs up 
from past depressions, and renews the power of keen en¬ 
joyment. Here on our own continent are rambling grounds 
worthy of an Alpine club, and scenes that one can never 
exhaust, all so open that a carriage can pass far and wide 
upon the plains and foot hills, and in the saddle almost any 
point may be safely attained. The game is certainly wary 
and not readily reached; but it is noble game, worthy of 
every exertion, and if the game bag often comes back to 
camp empty, the days are not wasted that are passed atnid 
such scenes, and disappointments are not serious that are 
accompanied with new health and every sense made keen, 
Forced to abandon the now alarmed sheep, we scanned 
the mountain sides from commanding points for bison, elk, 
or sheep, but saw no more, so we made our way carefully 
to our horses aud rode back to camp, where we arranged 
our tents, collected wood and laid down by the fire, listen¬ 
ing to the wild animal cries, waiting for Louis Link’s re¬ 
turn. He came in long after dark, picketed his mule, and 
gave his report. He had been many miles, often above 
limber line, where he had to break a road for his mule 
through the snow, and came at last upon three fine bison; 
one he killed, a second was hard hitandleft a bloody trail, 
which he had followed a mile, when night obliged him to 
return. 1'hiB was cheering news, and after arranging to go 
in next morning for the slain, and perhaps for the wound¬ 
ed bison, we curled up in our blankets. L. W. L. 
discharged it as the butt struck my shoulder, and of course 
killed my bird. I killed thirteen birds, oue after the other, 
in unbroken succession, four of them double shots; then I 
missed one bird, killing its mate with my second barrel, 
and five more in succession; then two misses and eight 
kills, each after each. At nightfall T had bagged twenty- 
seven birds out of twenty-nine shots, after missing some 
nineteen or twenty shots without a single kill in the morn¬ 
ing. I have never done much better since. That morning 
made me all that I claim to be at this moment—a deliber¬ 
ately prompt shot. But you had better believe, gentle 
reader, that from that day forth to this I have never 
cocked my gun till I have seen my game fairly on wing or 
afoot; and yet more, till I have let it go as far as I intend 
that it shall go at all. And I find that I can kill as many 
snap shots as most men. Let those who will, carry their 
guns cocked. I say let them, so that they don’t cariy their 
hammers down on the nipples, it is all one to me. If they 
do so, they don’t shoot in my company nohow; but for my 
own use, give me the. gun at half-cock and deliberate 
promptitude! 
[Ed. Fouest and Stream —The foregoing sketch, which 
I hope you wL. republish in your journal, was originally 
written for the Southern Military Gazelle, hut never pub¬ 
lished in that paper. It was, however, published in a 
book called “Dog and Gun,’’ which you have doubtless 
seen, although many of your readers may not.] 
D. H..E. 
For Forest and Stream. 
DUCKING ON THE CONNECTICUT 
COAST. 
vUR sound, protected by Long Island from the billows 
MY FIRST DAY’S PARTRIDGE SHOOT¬ 
ING, 
JIT I'HANK FORESTER. 
A T last I was eighteen years old. I had been in the 
sixtli form at Eton more than six months, had been 
promoted from round jackets to long tailed blue coats, the 
height and front of the Etonian’s ambition, from n pony 
to a fifteen-hand thoroughbred hack, which I believed to be 
the best biinter in the island, and from my seat at my sis¬ 
ter’s governess’ table to a knife and fork in the dining¬ 
room, aud now I was to be promoted from shooting rab¬ 
bits, snipe, wild fowl, larks, and such animals of the half- 
game order, to the dignity of a game certificate and a li¬ 
cense to kill game in my own right throughout England. 
I was already more than a fair shot, for it had been agreed 
bet ween myself and the governor that I should be entitled 
to claim a game certificate so soon as I could kill nine out 
of the first twelve skylarks that should get up before me— 
the skylark, when he does not rise to sing, flying low-, very 
swiftly, close to the ground,-by no moans unlike a snipe, 
and quite as difficult to kill. 
This feat I had accomplished some three weeks before 
the first; my certificate was bought; my first shootjng jack- 
i t built; my gun cleaned for the tenth time within the 
last two days; my shot-pouch and powder-horn filled, 
and I, filled full from head to foot with anticipation of dis¬ 
tinguishing myself before the eyes of the governor, went 
to bed—hut not to sleep, on the night of the 31st of August. 
I was awake and on foot at daybreak, aud it seemed hours 
—many years to me—before my father made his appear¬ 
ance, rigged for the field, at about eight o'clock. 
Well, to the field we went in the home farm, and within 
five hundred yards of the house; in a fine turnip patch, 
knee-deep among the broad green leaves, the dogs came to 
a point. I had made some trivial wager with the gover¬ 
nor that I would hag my first bird—a dog whip or whistle, 
or some such trifle—but my heart was as much set to win 
as if a million had been at stake. Three young birds rose, 
two crossed the governor to the right, and both fell to his 
two-barrels, killed clean. My bird fell likewise, hut he was 
-wing-lipped only, ran, and was not retrieved. I had lost, 
ray wuger, and my heart was heavy; the governor chaffed 
me and laughed at me. I grew nervous, got out of sorts, 
blazed right and left at everything. I carried both barrels 
at l ull-cock then—everybody did so in those days—missing 
it before it got five yards away; was quizzed and laughed 
at more and more, and came tvithin an ace of being de¬ 
stroyed aud rendered worthless asa shotlorever. Suddenly, 
in a desperate situation I took a desperate Te- 
soivc. I would never again, while I lived, cock 
a gun till the bird was on the wing at which I was 
about to fire. No sooner said than done. I let my gun 
down to the half-cock and proceeded. The next ten birds 
that rose I pul up my gun to my shoulder without cocking 
it, pulled, no fire came, and I got quizzed more and more, 
mid at last actually scolded, ns if 1 were holding back my 
fire purposely, because I could not get what I considered 
u true aim. Then 1 was lectured on the beauties of a find 
oiijht, and on the inutility of picking after my birds, and of 
the danger of becoming a puttering shot, all of which I 
knew, every iota, as well as my monitor. But not a word 
deigned I in reply, either in defence or in explanation. At 
Just! got the hang of it, I cocked my gun as I raised it, 
,_...— T j,---„— , . 
and fierce breakers of the Atlantic, with its many 
quiet bays and inlets, its gently sloping, sandy shores and 
shallow waters, abounding in mollusoa and small shell fish, 
is the favorite resort of countless numbers of water-fowl, 
from tlieir first arrival from the northern breeding grounds, 
about the middle of September, until their departure again 
in April aud May. The first species which arrives here in 
the early autnmn are the surf ducks—a beautiful bird, 
glossy black, with a white patch on the top of the head 
and another on tire nape of the neck, from which coloring 
it has received the name of “skunk head” from our gun¬ 
ners. Its mate, dressed in a sober suit of brown and gray, 
is called the gray coot, and is very generally considered an 
entirely different species. The ducks of this species which 
first arrive keep far out on the sound, and are daily joined 
by large flocks of their companions from the north. In a 
few days these flocks become of immense Bize, consisting 
of thousands, which are now joined by a few scooters. 
The duck shooters begin to prepare for the sport, and the 
boats are got out and left in the water for a few days that 
they may swell sufficiently to be perfectly water-light. By 
the way, the hoat we use here for duck-shooting is flat- 
bottomed, twelve to thirteen feet long and about thirty 
inches wide, decked over, and with a combiug around the 
cockpit which is just large enough to accommodate one 
person The white-winged coots and loons soon commence 
to arrive and mingle with the others, which have now 
moved nearer to the shore. Every morning these large 
flocks scatter, and in small numbers, from two or three to 
a dozen individuals, fly up the sound toward the west. 
They continue to fly in the same direction until about leu 
or eleven o’clock; all then settle, and scarcely any birds 
are flying until two o’clock iu the afternoon, when all com¬ 
mence flying back again, the flocks being larger than in the 
morning flight. „ , , „ '. 
Imagine a party of sportsmen just formed for the first 
shoot of the season. The boats are all collected on the 
shore near some favorite shooting ground ready to start 
out the next morning at the very first streak of daylight. 
The party retire to some neighboring barn and beguile the 
lSmr hours of the night with stories and joyous thoughts 
of the water. Yery frequently when a passing duck. la 
shot at, the shot are plainly heard to hit it, hut the birfl 
keeps on as though nothing was the matter. Very sooO, 
however, it moves its wings more stilfly, and inclines to* 
ward the water. This is a sure sign of a hard hit, and if 
it alights all right it can be easily’knocked over with the 
other barrel. If Hie duck, on Teaching the water, does 
not seem at all particular whether it alights right side up or 
not it will he found dead, though having flown perhaps for 
a quarter of a mile after being hit, 
As the season advances, old squaws and slielldrnkes 
rive. The former are often allowed to pass thvouch tin 
line without being shot, at, on account of their small size 
swift flight, and extreme tenacity of life, making it so bar 
to get them after they are shot. As a general thing, lio^j 
ever, everything is “game” which passes over the line, 
from a goose to a crow. 
By the 1st of December all the varieties of ducks tha 
we have are here, hut most of the coots have gone soijffl 
to spend a few weeks of the severest weather, and lim 
shooting is given up, as all the other ducks except oil 
squaws are usually too shy to pass over the line withii 
gunshot, and the gunners resort to decoys aud oilier de 
vices for taking tlibse wary ones. On the wced-coverej 
rocks, bared at low tide, the black dnclts particularly liki 
to feed. Hero the sportsman hides himself, with two fl 
three dark-colored tame ducks, or wooden decoys ancliotec 
near him, and with a friend in a boat at. some distance (, 
pick up the ducks when shot. Bufflehesds, broad bilfi 
and redheads can be decoyed easily, even if tlie eunne 
takes no particular pains at concealment, and they an 
usually shot from a hoat, with decoys anchored a few rod 
off. The whistlers here can never be decoyed, and wi' 
very seldom notice the decoys at all; sometimes, however 
one will fly back and forth over the decoys, hut always fa 
out of gunshot. This seems rather strange, as in m* 
places they are one of the easiest birds to decoy. I can * 
no way gccount for their singular conduct. Tovvu 
spring the cools return, and stay with us until the midd) 
of April. The broadbills tarry very late, both specie 
being found here until late in May. Besides being dt 
coyed. the broadbills are frequently “l.oled in,” in the sain 
manner as the canvas-hacks on 'Chesapeake Bay, by 
trained dog lunning back and forth on the shore in fror 
of the hunter’s hiding place. To satisfy their curiosity 
to what the dog is acting so for, they swim toward till 
spot with necks stretched tip aDd eyes so intently fixedi'g 
the dog that the hunter can deliberately step out and giv 
them both barrels before they spring apart. After lj) 
broadbills are gone, the "pensioners,” or wounded duoki 
which are not able to fly north, and a few barren ducks, a| 
all that remain. These are found here in considerate 
numbers, however, all through tlio summer, hut are ru 
molested except by the naturalist, who finds here a 
portunity to procure them in their summer plumage. ■ 
N. nAVENi 
HINTS TO FLORIDA SETTLERS. 
lbng hours of the night ..•. ----- j -- - -- . y , 
of to-morrow’s sport; or, at home, roll uneasily in bed. 
longing lor the next morning. No bell is needed to call 
them at the first signs of day. Many eyes have been 
eagerly watching for it. The boats now start out, so that 
all may be ready before it is light and the birds have begun 
to fly.’Upon veaching the desired location, one man throws 
out his anchor, another rows about twenty rods beyoud 
him and anchors also, and in this way the boats are all dis¬ 
posed of, reaching far out into the sound in a straight Hue. 
Golden streaks are fast springing up from the eastern 
horizon, lighting up the water, which is moving in long- 
gentle swells, and the beautiflil bluish haze, so character¬ 
istic of the cool autumn morning, with enchanting reflec¬ 
tions. The ducks are now beginning to fly, and the noise 
of their wings, brought clearly over the water, sends a 
thrill through every gunner’s nerves. 1 he shooting will 
soon begin. There comes a pair of white-wmged ducks, 
heading directly for the line. They must pass between 
some two boats, and every eye anxiously watches to see 
who shall have the first shot of the season. Bearer and 
nearer they come; they are almost up to the line, and now 
they notice the boats and partly stop, hut it is loo late for 
them to turn out. With swiflly moviug wings, and with 
wonderful speed, one following about a foot belnud the 
other, they attempt to pass between two of the boats. A 
man splines to his kuees, the muzzle of a gun follows 
their swift course for an instant, a flash, a report, and a 
few feathers float in the ftir as tile hindmost duck throws 
out its feet, drops its head, and with wings partly closed, 
turnina slowly over in its swift descent, heavily strikes the 
water with a loud splash. The gunner now throws over¬ 
board the buoy to which his anchor line is attached, rows 
to tlio spot where the duck is lying dead on its back, lifts 
it np by one of its red feet, places it on the deck, and rows 
back. This is the first duck. Aud now the ducks are flying 
swiftly through different parts of the line, and the report 
of the heavy guns is heard almost every instant,, it the 
ducks are flying well. Now and then some lucky fellow 
drops two at a shot. Many which are hit come down ap¬ 
parently dead, dive immediately on striking the water, aud 
continue diving so vigorously that they often escape, the 
(runner not deeming it worth while to pursue them. Others 
a :— - ironn onrnin TliAUft ftTR hal'd lilt. Illld 
as a general thine cliDg to the weeds and rocks at the bot¬ 
tom with their hills aud remain there till dead, if the 
bottom offers nothing to cling to they swim off with the 
body completely submerged, leaving nothing but the bill 
above the water. (Sometimes after the warmth has all lelt 
the body of those which cling to the bottom, the muscles 
relax their hold sufficiently to lot the bird float to the top 
Pensacola, Fla., January 19lli, 1870,, 
Editor Forest and Stream:— ■ 
I have received so many letters this week malfffl 
inquiries as to the healthfulness of different locations 1 
Florida, that I am led to believe it a subject of goner: 
interest, and will give my opinion and experience for H) 
benefit of your readers. 
To begin with, I will say that, like everywhere else l 
tliiB world, one cannot find all the good things collocp 
together in one favored locality, eveu in Florida. If tl! 
land is a strong, rich hammock, the water is almost alwr 
poor, and fever and chills prevalent. If, on the contra)* 
you locate upon pine lands, which will not produce OW 
one-fourth as much to the acre as the hammock, the wat 
is invariably good, and fever and chills, as well as oil 
climatic diseases, almost unknown. There are localil 
scattered all over the State where oue may live Upon pti 
lands and cultivate a hammock within a convenient« 
tanec, but these locations are usually off the line of Iran 
portaliou. Upon the coast, whether on the east or wi, 
side, chilis aDd fever are very uncommon. The shell hai 
mocks which ave found here are not unhealthy; yet) 
mosquitoes and ants are apt to be bad on this kind of 
I would uol build there, if it could be avoided. * 
There are many who visit this State each winter who a 
afflicted with lung diseases. To them I would say, avo 
the coast, more especially the east side, for there they hit 
cold, northeast storms, while upon Lhe gulf side, unh 
you go as far south as Charlotte’s Harbor, the air is-1 
bracing. Spend you time iu the pine woods, and as nut 
of it as possible out of doors. Above all, don’t rein 
north in the spring too soon. I know it, is difficult to 
alize while here, iu the midst ol flowers and ball 
breezes, that the same kind of weather docs not prev 
over the whole country. But I have known severe 
speDd a winter here with great benefit, until thinking 111 
are well, become impatient and go north in April, just 
‘time to meet one of those cold, piercing storms of |lj 
and rain, and as their systems were entirely unprepared 
such weather, they contract fatal colds. Remain Ut 
.Tune, at least, and if a permanent curds hoped for. renv 
through the year. The balsamic odor which is exlut 
from the pines is more healing in summer, when the * 
is flowing off the tree, than at- any other season. I ass 
you that you will find the beat much less oppressive t 
at the North . The thermometer will not rise as high a# 
New York, and a sea breeze can be depended upon ev< 
day Indeed, I think a Florida summer much pleasat 
than a Florida winter, for we do have some cold dll 
When the thermometer drops to 4.0*, we suffer more.11 
a person does at the North with it below zero. Ours 
terns ave not prepared for it, neither are the houses bull 
resist cold. There are always plenty of cracks for vet 
ation, ns outside the cities it is very unusual to find lion 
lathed and plastered. I would also avoid the hauka of 
sluggish rivers, for although the location may lie very 
turesqiie, fevers are apt to be prevalent. During lim 
tumnof 18S4 I was stationed at Magnolia, on the 
Johns. My camp was immediately on tlm bank of 
river, on the bluff, two or three hundred yards soul! 
the steamboat lauding, under a beautiful grove of 
oaks, draped with Spanish moss. The situation seer 
perfectly delightful, yet. out of the forty-eight men 11 
there within less than a month thirty-four were do« 
one time with chills and fever, nnd before I was or- 
away to Bt. Augustine two died of river fever. 11 
since been told to bewara of settling where the epa>* 
