fuUdaar j§mmtioti and 



Game Protection, Fish Cditdre, Natural History, Preservation of Forests, Rifle Practice, Yachting, Boating, 



th*i Kennel, and Sportb of all Kinds. 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1877. 



A "NEW LEGEND OF THE FORGET-ME- 

 NOT." 



WHEN Pscyhe lost her Lord, the Lord of Loye, 

 Weeping alone she wandered, 

 Listless t>y every well-known field and grove. 

 And on her lost Love pondered. 



Lastly by Lethe's stream her footsteps strayed; 



And "Ohl" she said, In sighing, 

 " i'hat I might dip, and my past life be made 



Like dreams with daylight dying!" 



The big tears from her bine eyes raining down 



Fell on earth'o pitying bosom; 

 Sudden there sprang amid the sedges brown 



Bine as her eyes a blossom . 



And o'er head, soft rustling sweet and low. 



As though some bird's wing buttered, 

 In those loved tones whose loss was all her woe, 



"Forgtl-me nni!" was uttered. 



No more: no sight, no touch: those words alum-: 



And "Ah 1' Vuc cried, "forget theef 

 Nay, but half Love in our ulad life was known; 



Half Love to regret ihec. 



"Forget theef Nay, these flowers my tears begot 



Shall be to me aloken 

 111 Love. They shall be called Forget-me-not, 



The name to cheer me spoken." 



So well, sweet river-flowers, we welcome you, 



Earth with faint sadness scenting— 

 Born of the tears from Psyche's eyes of blue, 

 For her lost Love lamenting. 

 — Spectator. 



■ ^i» 



For Forest and Stream, 



3 §nh of gwo 0nts. 



TO-DAY brings us a northeast rain storm. I re- 

 member my promise to commit some piece of folly 

 Ibe drat raiuy day. And now for a subject. What shall 

 it be? A tale of angling in tbe pleasant summer time? 

 Nay, outlook and surroundings invite not memory in tbat 

 direction. I bave it; tbe weather without is wild and 

 stormy. The howling wind, tbe driving rain, tbe lead- 

 gray storm clouds, the curling waves, all conspire to indi- 

 cate my theme. Such weather must the fowler oftimes 

 brave in pursuit of bis favorite game. Such weather was 

 I myself wont to select in days of yore for ibort trips to 

 the "Cape" and elsewhere in pursuit of wildfowl. "Fowl- 

 ing" shall be the subject. While I listen in vain for dis- 

 senting voices, tbe nearest shade-tree, bowed by tbe east 

 wind, nods its approval of tbe choice. 



It is not proposed to tell a twice-told tale, nor to weaiy 

 the reader with any multiplied detail of rules for fowl- 

 ing operations; that ground has been fully occupied ; but 

 rather to reproduce for his instruction one or two scenes of 

 actual occurrence illustrative of the value of coolness and 

 strategy at critical points of time. Tbe successful fowler 

 must be fertile in resources and prompt in emergency. 

 The right thing must be hit upon and esecuted at the 

 right time, as great opportunities seldom offer. But to 

 our tale, which I will entitle ''A Tale of Two Flats." 



FLAT FIRST. 



At the elbow of Cape Cod and inside the sheltering 

 range of sand cliffs which forms the lower extremity of 

 Nanset Beach is»a wide expanse of shoals known lo the 

 hardy fishermen and mariners of tbe vicinity as "The 

 Common Fiats." These shoals when bared by the falling 

 tide disclose miles upon miles of mud flats covered with the 

 marine mud commonly known as eel-grass, the favorite 

 food of several varieties of wildfowl, but more especially 

 of the brant. Landward from these mud flats, and also 

 protected from the encroachments of Old Ocean by Nanset 

 Beach, stretches an extensive series of tand flats, one of 

 which, the scene of tbe incident to be narrated, is yclept 

 "Tbe Drain." This part of tbe "Cape" was in olden time 

 a favorite bunting resort of a number of New England- 

 era, among whom must be counted the writer. In the 

 pleasant summer and early autumn days different varie- 

 ties of bay snipe afforded sport to its votaries. Later in 

 the season black duck, toots and killdrake became objects 

 of pursuit, while in the early spring the brant never failed 

 to put in their appeaiance as harbingers of tbe balmy 

 breezes whose advent they were wont to await at this 

 point with all the serenity ascribed by tbe poet to "Patience 

 on a monument smiling at grief." The brant, too, at times, 

 smiled upon the fowler, and at times steadily refused to 

 be lured within shot by tbe blandishments of their brethren 

 enticingly exhibited to their gaze on the point of a small 



sand island, apparently its sole occupants. But woe to the 

 flock which, yielding to tbe temptation, descends upon the 

 shallow water, and in fancied security, first swimming, 

 then wading, buddies upou the narrow point. Soon will 

 belch forth from iron mouths bright tongues of flame and 

 leaden rain will scatter death and destruction among the 

 stricken ranks. 



It was about tbe middle of April, 1858 or "9, that kind 

 Fortune vouchsafed me one of those chances which only 

 occur once or twice in a lifetime. In company with Alonzo 

 Nye, a hardy native of the town of Chatham, I was oc- 

 cupying a sunken box in an artificial sand bar raised with 

 much toil and labor on "Drain Flat" before mentioned. 

 The previous week had afforded remarkably fine shooting, 

 more particularly to Mr. Hapgood, of Boston, who had 

 the good fortune to occupy the best post during the best 

 day's shooting ever known at Monomoy. From my coign 

 of observation behind the crest of a towering sand-hill 

 near our shanty I watcbed all proceedings through a pow- 

 erful opera glass, and for some four or five hours on that 

 day did the brant continue to fly as I never have seen them 

 before or since. No sooner was a shot made, and the 

 dozen or score of victims retrieved and all snug again, 

 then another and another flock would come up, and, 

 sighting the decoys, at once pilch lo join their fellows. 

 And so tbe slaughter continued. I bave forgotten the 

 exact score for that day, but to the best of my recollec- 

 tion it mounted to somewhere about one hundred and 

 fifty, all brant. 



Sunday had passed and we were back again at the shanty 

 in pursuit of the wary brant. Tbe novice will please beat- 

 in mind that in this description of shooting it is compara- 

 tively a rare thing to get more than three or four shots in a 

 tide, the common practice being never to shoot at single birds 

 and seldom at small bunches within easy range, but rather to 

 allow them to remain on familiar terms with the decoys, 

 and thus help to entice larger numbers of their companions 

 within reach of the gunner. Monday and Tuesday afford- 

 ed quite a number of productive shots, realizing an excel- 

 lent score, but failing to equal tbe previous week's achiev- 

 ments. Wednesday came, and at half flood tide Mr. Nye 

 and myself proceeded to occupy our accustomed box. 

 The weather was of the finest, too warm and pleasant to 

 offer much chance of sport. But fortune decreed other- 

 wise. With but little to show for our patient watching 

 and waiting tbe ebb tide was fast leaving our bar, and in 

 another half hour all chance would be over. Yet game 

 was in sight, and plenty of it. Less than 200 yards distant, 

 at tbe edge of the water, were assembled thousands of 

 brant, they having been steadily gathering at that point, 

 and their numbers continually augmenting by fresh arri- 

 vals. Vainly had we hoped that a passing sail or the 

 report of a distant gun would siart them out of their safe 

 quarters. There they remained in such immense numbers 

 tbat it was evident each fresh arriving flock would be at. 

 traeted solely to them rather than to our tiny display of 

 two or three birds. Here was a dilemma; myriads of 

 brant at hand and not a bird w.ithiu shot. A hurried consul- 

 tation was held, and a method of heroic treatment agreed 

 upon and instantly executed. With a bound Mr. Nye 

 sprang out of our hiding plac«, swung his bat in full view 

 of the birds, and in less time than I am consuming in the 

 narration was again concealed from view. The result was 

 better than we expected. Instead of going off oceanward 

 in a body and giving us a further chance of getting down 

 some laggard flock, the entire mass scattered in all direc 

 tions. On either side of, before, behind us the air is filled 

 with the startled masses of birds, while we, crouched 

 down and still as mice iu tbe bottom of our lair, quietly 

 await the resnlt of our little strategem. Presently a com- 

 pany circling nearer and nearer sweeps over our box, fanning 

 us with their wings, and by tbe pash we know they have 

 alighted. At this juncture I venture to take a hurried 

 peep, using the utmost caution in so doing. A sight such 

 as I never before saw and shall never see again was re- 

 vealed to my astonished vision. From all parts of the 

 horizon flock upon flock of brant were heading in count- 

 less numbers direct for our reinforced decoys. Instantly 

 I resumed my position in the deepest depths, and it was 

 full fifteen minutes before a cessation in tbe roar of wings 

 announced tbat a second look could be ventured. Bring- 

 ing our pieces to full cock iu the way of preparation for 

 all emergencies we cautiously raised our beads and delib- 

 erately surveyed the scene. Within easy shot, and all 

 about us stood, waded, swam and played more than -five 

 thousand brant. It would have been impossible to shoot 



in any direction over the surface of the water without 

 killing twenty or thirty, and Mr. Nyo favored Ibis course, 

 but our main chance lay upon the point of the bar, which 

 was solidly covered iu with braut. There, too, were our 

 decoys buried in the mass of wild birds and totally indis- 

 tinguishable in the ruck. Requesting Mr. Nye to use all 

 possible effort lo extricate our own birds 1 brought my 

 heavy (16 pounds) piece to my shoulder and held it steadily 

 in position. Some five minutes were consumed iu accom- 

 plishing the desired result, my companion all Ihe time 

 assuring me tbat "it could not be done," to which I 

 steadily replied, "keep on trying; the birds shall not get 

 away if they skip." Finally, by dint of reiterated jerks 

 and pulls our decoy birds were forced out of the ranks of 

 their visitors and as soon as fairly clear lowered their snake- 

 like heads, and, as if endowed with a prescience of com- 

 ing events, ran some two or three yards sidewise out of 

 the line of fire. Instantly Mr. Nye raised his gun and we 

 fired simultaneously, geiting our seconds well as the birds 

 rose. Oh for resetve pieces to discbarge into the ranks of 

 the flying battalions, but none was at hand. The shooting 

 over I jumped out of the box and ran as quickly as pos- 

 sible in the direction of the deep wafer for Ihe purpose of 

 heading shorewards any winged birds tbat would other- 

 wise be likely to effect Iheir escape. This was always an 

 invariable custom with us. Not so did Mr. Nye. Getting 

 beyond the furthest cripples, and knowing thorn sale 1 

 turned and looking back beheld the water and the bar 

 sprinkled with dead and wounded birds, while the hitherto 

 always stolid and impertubable Alonzo, totally overcome 

 by the agony of the situation, was performing a sort of 

 Indian war dance on one leg, brandishing aloft his hat, 

 ('twas the hat did the business), dashing it viciously 

 upon Ihe sand and excitedly inviting me to come and take 

 it. Candor compels me to add that the hat was an old yd- 

 law tarpaulin not worth tbe taking. As all things earthly 

 have an end so did friend Alonzo finally sober down and 

 sit down, leaving to me the task of chasing and running 

 down the cripples. This accomplished we proceeded to 

 count and tie up the slain. Our final shot yielded fqrly- 

 four birds, and had Mr. Nye been shooting a suitable piece 

 instead of tbe seven-pound popgun be was actually using 

 we should certainly have bagged at that one shot sixty or 

 seventy brant. I have always considered that lull three- 

 fourths of the birds fell to my gun. On the one side were 

 six ounces of No. 2 shot driven by sixteen drachms of 

 powder — on the other two ounces of shot driven by five 

 drachms— tbe reader can form his own opinion. Mr. Nye 

 and myself continued to shoot together the rest of tbe 

 week; and our next four shots, made, I believe on tbe fol- 

 lowing day, yielded seventy-seven birds, thus giving a 

 grand total of one hundred and twenty one in five consecu- 

 tive shots. This week, as a whole, afforded the best brant 

 shooting I have ever enjoyed; but no one day equalled in 

 results the degree of success attained by Messrs. Hapgood 

 and Bearse on Friday of the previous week. I may add 

 that the Linnall brothers, of the town of Orleans, neigh- 

 bors in the nearest shooting box, surpassed our forty-lour 

 strike, and came over to our bar to lend a helping baud in 

 tetling away our strings of game. It seems almost super- 

 fluous to mention that our good coup passed upon record 

 facile princeps, the best up lo that time, and if it has been 

 excelled, or even rivalled, the report has not reached my 

 ears. Will some member of the Massachusetts Brant Club 

 enlighten us? 

 So ends the story of "Drain Flat." 



FLAT SECOND. 



Between the headwaters ot Currituck Sound, otherwise 

 known as Ihe Back Bay, and the outside ocean beach is a 

 desolate sand Hat, known to residents and to sportsmen as 

 "The Sand." This almost defcert extends norlh and south 

 a dozen or more miles in length, ranging in width from 

 half a mile to two or three, and along its inner edge in 

 ante bettam times presmted excellent points for the de- 

 struction of tbat most wary of all fowl, Ihe Canada wild 

 goose. Iu those days, whatever may now be their hubir, 

 the market gunners of the neighborhood beslowed their 

 entire attention on the Canada red-head and wigeon ducks 

 Which, feeding almost exclusively iu the shoal waters ad- 

 joining the different islands in the bay, were sought for as 

 giving the best results pecuniarily, and as affoiding a more 

 certain and much easier kind of shooting than the pursuit 

 of geese ou "The Sand." For the form era dugoui ami a 

 set of wooden decoys is sufficient. For ihe lai ter a number 

 of live geese and a water-tight sunken ambush were in- 

 Thus it happened that "The Sand" remained 



