ms 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



THE WEST TWENTY YEARS AGO. 



To giTe the rising generation of sportsmen a glimpsa of what the chi- 

 valrous old sportsmen of twenty yeara ago, when "Frank Forester" 

 (Herbert) and other genial writers, contributed to tho sporting press, I 

 have compiled a sample sketch, showing Minnesota as a territory, and 

 the resort of buffalo and elk. The suggestions of. "Hal-a-Dacotah 1 ' are 

 sound, and worthy of consideration. Fred. 



Mendota, Minnesota Territory, Aug. 28, 185G. 

 My old Friend Porter:— 



I have it from undoubted authority that you are about to 

 sever your connection with the old ^Spirit," with a view to 

 the establishment of another sporting paper to meet the 

 peculiar wants and wishes of that fast animal, "Young 

 America." As one of your old friends and correspondents 

 I greet you heartily, and wish you a full measure of suc- 

 cess in the new enterprise; and although many long months 

 have passed since "Hal-a-Dacotah" last paid his respects 

 to your readers, he must now occasionally lay aside the 

 cares of business and dress up for Porter's Spirit some of 

 his experiences in the field. 



It is high time that our sporting friends, who in days of 

 yore were wont to commune together through the medium 

 of the Spirit of the Times, should do their part in restoring 

 field sports to their ancient popularity, and unite with their 

 brethren of the trigger throughout the country in putting 

 down the miserable pot hunting practices which, unless 

 soon repressed, will result in the extinction of the game of 

 America. True, the onward march of civilization, the 

 heavy and ceaseless tramp of the tens of thousands of 

 white men who are seeking a home in the far West, neces- 

 sarily results in forcing the larger animals, such as the buf- 

 falo and elk, farther and farther toward the Stony Moun- 

 tains, to be met and finally exterminated by the pale faces 

 from the Pacific. But so much more desirable is it, there- 

 fore, that the deer and smaller quadrupeds and the feath- 

 ered game should be protected from wanton slaughter by 

 stringent laws, enforced by an enlightened public opinion. 

 It is disgusting to every lover of fair play to witness the 

 ravages committed by the pot hunter, who coolly murders 

 the deer by torchlight from a dug out or canoe during the 

 Summer months, or who entraps the grouse and the quail 

 In his villainous nets for the sake of filthy lucre. Let the 

 game, in the proper season, be open to every one alike, to 

 be destroyed in a legitimate way, for I am in favor of the 

 largest liberty in that respect, and opposed to all enact- 

 ments in favor of any privileged class ; but no meAber of 

 the community should be permitted to slaughter wild ani- 

 mals the flesh of which, when in season, is designed for 

 the food of man, at a period of the year when it is unfit for 

 that purpose. I charge you, friend P., "and you love me," 

 to rebuke and denounce the whole tribe of pestiferous ani- 

 mals who sport in the lives of little birds merely to gratify 

 a propensity for useless shedding of blood, and who crawl 

 stealthily upon a covey of grouse or bevy of quail which 

 are huddling closely together on a fence rail on a cold De- 

 cember day, merely to boast of having massacred a host of 

 his shivering and unsuspecting prey at a single shot. If 

 chronicled at all, such a performance should be stigmatized 

 as a disregard of manly sport, and as displaying on the 

 part of the actor a total want of kindly and humanizing 

 instincts. 



Having now vented my wrath, which has been bottled 

 up for a proper occasion, je reviens a mes moutons. In our 

 happy and beautiful Territory, where we have no bloody 

 Kansas scenes to deplore, there yet roam the buffalo and 

 elk, but they are gradually retiring before the avalanche of 

 white settles who are precipitating themselves upou us. "It 

 is probable that many of your readers have but a faint per- 

 ception of the process by which the mighty northwest is 

 transformed from a wilderness into a populous State in an 

 incredibly short space of time. Let them picture to them- 

 selves a magnificent prairie, studded with fine lakes and 

 interspersed with luxuriant groves of oak and other tim- 

 ber, with a camp composed of conical skin lodges in the 

 distance, and a troop of daring Dacotah horsemen, accom- 

 panied by a single white man (your friend Hal), urging the 

 chase of a herd of buffalo. Let them regard that as a true 

 scene of 1850, or even later, and then asit them to call up 

 the same landscape in 1856, and from the picture will have 

 vanished Indian men, women, and childen, buffalo, dogs, 

 and lodges, leaving the solitary white man to gaze with 

 amazement, not untinged with melancholy, upon thriving 

 villages, countless farms, teeming with laborers engaged 

 in securing the abundant harvest, and all the other evidences 

 of happiness and comfort which characterize the settle- 

 ments of juvenile America. Let them conceive the whole 

 vast area of 160,000 square miles, a very small part of 

 which they have looked upon, as containing six thousand 

 whites, all told, in 1850, and of that same area six years 

 later with a population of two hundred thousand of the 

 prime men, women, and children of the whole land, and 

 they will be able to realize to some extent how Minnesota 

 has been changed, as by the wand of a magician, and how 

 it is that the infant communities of the "Great West" 

 spring into full strength and manhood almost as instanta- 

 neously as armed Minerva from the head of Jove. 



To an old hunter like myself, accustomed to the solitude 

 of forest and prairie, these changes are, as I have before 

 hinted, not unattended with the lingering regret which we 

 feel when some fair but wild vision disappears suddenly 

 from our enraptured view. The Indians with whom 1 

 lived and hunted for so many years— where are they? The 

 powerful and haughty tribe of Dacotahs, who possessed 

 the fair land, and boasted that they were, and ever would 

 remain, its only masters — what is their fate? Turn to the 

 history of the Six Nations, and of the other bands, whose 

 graves are numberless on both sides of the Alleghanies, 

 and you will need but little aid from the imagination to 

 enable you to reply correctly to such interrogatories. Bro- 

 ken treaties and unperformed promises on the part of the 

 Government, and the presence of a power which the In- 

 dians feel their inability to resist, these are but a repetition 

 of the old story, and the humbled and degraded Dacotahs 

 can look for no redress of their grievances on this side of 

 the "spirit land." Their country has passed into the pos- 

 session of a race who can appreciate its beauties and de- 

 velop its riches, and my only regret is that the Government, 

 and its agents have failed to use the opportunities presented 

 to them, to place the poor Indians in a position to be treated 

 kindly and fairly, and to be protected in the possession of 

 the rights secured to them by solemn treaty. 



But I will no longer pursue a strain so lugubrious. Let 

 us leave the settlement of these questions in the hand ©f 

 the Great Father of all. 



Since the removal of the larger game from my old hunt- 

 ing grounds, I have been ©bilged, to content myself with 



less exciting sport. I am now paying due attention to the 

 grouse, which are full fledged and numerous. As they are 

 deprived of life secundum artem, I imagine the poor things 

 pass out of existence with a feeling of consolation that 

 they have been dealt with scientifically and artistically, and 

 not been subjected to the tender mercies of the mere pot 

 hunter. The season for deer and water fowl is fast ad- 

 vancing, and I hope I shall be about when the time comes. 

 Ducks of almost every variety are abundant in this region 

 in the Spring and Fall. I recollect that when I was in 

 your sanctum on one occasion several years [ago, some 

 wiseacre insisted, in my presence, that no veritable canvas 

 backs were ever to be found so far inland as the Upper 

 Mississippi. I intimated in my civil way that the gentle- 

 man was mistaken, and when I returned home I took some 

 pains to prove my assertion by knocking over a few indi- 

 vidual canvas backs and forwarding to our friend "Frank 

 Forester" a male and female, duly prepared, and it is quite 

 possible they are still to be found at "The Cedars." If you 

 hereafter have the question mooted in your hearing whether 

 we have or have not the simon pures, please refer the 

 doubters to "Frank," who will carefully exhibit the 

 proofs. 



But this rambling epistle has already been extended be- 

 yond proper limits, and I close by repeating my hearty 

 wishes for the full success of Porter's Spirit. Thine, as of 

 old, Hal-a-Dacotah. 



N. B. — Since the foregoing was committed to paper, I 

 have received the first number of Porter's Spirit, and have 

 perused it clear and well printed pages with great satisfac- 

 tion. Really, it "out Herods Herod," and I almost shrink 

 from thrusting myself forward into so brilliant a galaxy of 

 correspondents, with "Frank Forester" at the head. How- 

 ever, my modesty goes to the wall for the nonce, and I 

 must try to do better by and by. 



CANOE 



For Forest and Stream. 

 CRUISING. 



^VERY pleasant episode, indeed, in the life of one 

 who spends six of every seven days in the city is a 

 seventy mile canoe cruise in the first week of November. 

 Yes, November is the month; then all game is in season, 

 the nights are cool and frosty, and one may sleep even in 

 New Jersey bogs without fear of chills. Dead leaves are 

 at hand to start a fire or make a bed, and mosquitoes are 

 not, to make such a bed uncomfortable. Reader, if you 

 have never enjoyed a canoe, cruise begin to make pre- 

 parations ;or next season. It is now too late to be afloat. 

 Choose some river that you are a little acquainted 

 with. Take a good map and compass, and above all a 

 good companion. Take a canoe of not over one hundred 

 pounds weight, and start prepared to overcome all obsta- 

 cles. You will never regret it. The Passaic River is not 

 noted for ils scenery. Running as it does most of its length 

 through a low, level country, it is not particularly attract- 

 i re to the sportsman. Living within three miles of this 

 river, my friend Fred H. and 1 concluded to take a trip 

 from Newark to Chatham. In February, 1874, we com- 

 menced to build our canoe; the last week in March saw it 

 completed. It was thirteen feet long by twenty-eight 

 inches wide, built of half inch pine, and would weigh 

 about eighty pounds. In April, 1874, we cruised up the 

 river to Chatham, a distance of about seventy miles, in 

 four days. Three of these days were rainy, consequently 

 little shooting was done, though we did bag a few snipe. 

 On the 3d of November last we started on our return down 

 the Passaic. About four o'clock in the afternoon we 

 rounded a bend in the river and sighted our old camping 

 place. The boat was run alongside the steep bank, the 

 blankets and provisions hoisted out, and eamp speedily 

 prepared. Everything looked natural, and a fire was soon 

 blazing in the old spot. We gathered dead leaves and cov- 

 ered a spot five by seven feet to the depth of a foot or 

 more; over these we spread a large rubber blanket, putting 

 logs along the sides to keep it in place. This was our bed, 

 and a good one it was. A few strokes of the axe provided 

 wood enough to last all night, as the weather had been dry 

 and there was plenty of dead wood at hand. By this time 

 darkness, which at this season of the year quickly follows 

 the setting of the sun, had drawn a curtain round us, and 

 the only things discernible outside of the circle of light 

 were the branches and trunks of the great trees clearly de- 

 fined against the blue sky. Then came supper — seasoned 

 with fatigue and hunger— corned beef, bread and butter, 

 chocolate and toast; not sliced bread, dried over a slow 

 fire, but a chunk broken from the loaf and quickly roasted 

 between two bright blazes. Toast made in this way, bro- 

 ken up and eaten with good butter, in the woods, is most 

 delicious. Supper over, the provision chest is repacked, 

 and all made snug for the night. The dogs are fed and 

 told to lie down at the foot of the bed. The blankets are 

 spread out near the fire to warm, and stories are told till 

 sundry motions of the under jaw admonish us that it is 

 time to turn in. The guns, in their waterproof covers, are 

 laid alongside of the bed. The blaakets are spread out, 

 and we carefully get beneath them and tuck ourselves in. 

 1 had just fallen asleep when a slight shake and a low spo- 

 ken "hist" awoke me. I turned to Fred for an explana- 

 tion. He said, listen. I did so, and plainly heard some 

 animal raking over the dead leaves in the vicinity of our 

 provision chest. I looked at the foot of the bed — both 

 dogs were there and asleep. Now, when in the woods, 

 snug in bed, you do hate to get up, for you know that it 

 will take at least fifteen minutes to get settled again, and 

 ten to one if you can arrange the blankets then to your 

 liking. . Well, though we hated to, we got up. Fred took 

 a large firebrand from the fire and I drew my revolver. As 

 we made in the direction of the retreating animal, Fred 

 said "call the dogs." I replied, "No, maybe it's a skunk, 

 don't go too near." As I said this Fred was on the point 

 of making a dart at the unknown with his firebrand. My 

 words stopped him, but not the brand, which he hurled at 

 the luckless skunk. The flaming stick tore through a small 

 bush and landed in a pile of dead leaves, scattering them 

 in all directions and setting them on fire. It was now a 

 fire hunt, and we had some trouble extinguishing those 

 dozen fires; but at last it was done, and the cause of the 

 trouble consigned to the camp fire. As we came up the 

 dogs looked at us as if to ask what we had been about. 

 More fuel was added to the fire, and we turned in for the 

 for the second time. I for my part was soon asleep. I 

 must have slept nearly two hours when I was awakened by 

 a tremendous dig in the ribs. As I started up, Fred cried 

 out, 4 'Where's your revolver ; quick. ° That useful weapon 

 was at once produced. I raised myself ©a my el&ows and 



looked around. The fire was low and I saw I must have 

 slept some time. "Fred," said I, "what's the matter." 

 "Matter, why that confounded skunk has been here and 

 woke me up by sticking his cold nose in my face. Hark! 

 there he is now." I could plainly hear some animal mak- 

 ing through the woods less than thirty yards off. On he 

 came. I cocked my revolver, and determined to fire as 

 soon as I got a chance. Out from the shadow of the great 

 tree trunk he came. I saw him scarce twenty feet off. 

 The hammer of my revolver came down and I was out on 

 the ground in an instant. "Fred, you galloot, it's the 

 hound; come here, Phil; lie down, sir. Why didn't you 

 look for the dogs before you woke me?" "Well," said 

 Fred, dryly, "let him try it on you and see what you 11 

 look for. Put some more wood on the fire and come to 

 bed." In I went again, and as we lay dozing something 

 between a scream and a shriek came sharply through 

 the woods. I had never heard anything like it before. It 

 seemed to come from all sides at once. It lasted perhaps 

 twenty seconds, and when it ceased it seemed as if aU life 

 went with it— nothing breathed, nothing moved, when sud- 

 denly the familiar who-who-who-o-o of an owl came loudly 

 down from a lofty tree top. I knew then what it was, but 

 never before had I heard the shriek the great barred owl 

 gives over its freshly captured prey. For some time we 

 lay awake discussing the singing powers of the barred 

 owl, but finally dropped off, and slept undisturbed till 

 morning. An hour before daylight we were astir. Coffee 

 was made and w T e breakfasted. The first glimmer of day- 

 light found us afloat. It was Fred's turn at the paddle, 

 and mine at the gun. The east was growing rosy, and the 

 heavy mist over the river beginning to lift. As I strained 

 my eyes to see as far as possible, two ducks came out of 

 the shadows of the left bank and swam quickly down 

 stream about fifty yards in advance of us. 1 gave a slight 

 hitch to the canoe, the signal for caution. The paddle is 

 handled with skill— put well under the water before the 

 force is put on, and withdrawn from the water so as to 

 make no splash. All was quiet. Presently, about thirty 

 yards ahead, appeared a solitary duck, swimming down 

 stream. I tapped the starboard gunwale. A silent sweep 

 of the paddle checked the canoe and pointed her bow to 

 the right. Bang! The duck dove like a Hash. The canoe 

 started again. Here he is. Fred gave him a shot, but the 

 nimble bird was under water before the shot reached him. 

 He is headed down stream, and means to take his longest 

 dive and then take wing. Down stream we go. There he 

 is, and on the wing. "Op went my breech loader, and at 

 the report he fell into the water a dead duck. A long shot 

 for No. 8— full forty yards. We picked him up, and he 

 proved to be a pintail. After changing places, I taking 

 the paddle, we proceeded down the stream. Just below 

 the next bend we came upon the two ducks we had seen 

 before, and Fred killed them both with one barrel. They 

 proved to be wood duck, one a drake in full plumage. A 

 little farther down stream we were each obliged to take a 

 paddle, as there was a rapid to be run. Once over that we 

 proceeded on down the river, getting no more shots at ducks 

 until noon, when we landed, and after luch went on a short 

 shoot. We separated and started up a hillside. Soon 

 "mark-mark" from Fred and a yelp from Phil, then bang, 

 and I heard Fred's voice saying, "I've got that guffer." A 

 little farther on, in a thick hazel copse, Flash put up some 

 quail, but no shots were fired, as the thick cover reached 

 three feet above our heads. In the next field I whistled 

 up Flash and sent him into a suspicious looking clump of 

 bushes. Ha! I thought so. Out pops a rabbit, and jump- 

 ing a stone wall, takes across the open field, while the dog 

 stands with his fore paws on the wall looking after him. 

 Bang, bang! and at the second report Mr. Bun turns a 

 double somersault and strikes the ground dead. I discov- 

 ered the bulk of my first load of shot lodged in a fence rail, 

 which satisfactorily accounted for my miss. We returned 

 to the boat and proceeded on down the river. At four 

 o'clock we selected a place, and, drawing the boat upon 

 shore, took our guns and looked up a good spot for our 

 camp. We had scarcely gone twenty yards when Flash 

 put up a black duck near Fred, who dropped him in good 

 style with my gun, which he happened to bave in his hand 

 at the time. As the weather was threatening, we decided 

 to sleep in our canoe. It was accordingly filled with 

 leaves, over which a blanket was spread, while over the 

 whole, boat and all, the rubber blankets were arranged 

 by the help of two crotches and a sapling, so as to form a 

 pretty good roof, A supply of firewood was cut, then, 

 taking our guns, we went prospecting. We got a good sup- 

 ply of birch bark for torches, but no game. We ate a 

 hearty supper and turned in. The night passed without 

 incident. At daylight the next morning we had a warm 

 breakfast, after which we launched the canoe and proceed-. 

 ed on our voyage. We reached Pine Brook at eleven 

 o'clock without seeing a duck. We went to the little store 

 and post office combined, 'mailed our letters, and obtained 

 a fresh supply of bread. At one o'clock we went ashore. 

 After lunch we tried shooting. Though we .were more 

 than an hour we saw not even a meadow lark. Down the 

 river again. As we rounded a bend Fred drew in his pad- 

 dle and seized his gun. A mallard duck was coming up 

 the river on the wing. Fred gave him a shot, but old mal- 

 lard had seen us in time and got away with a whole skin. 

 I fired a shot into a passing flock of blackbirds and killed 

 three, which we ate for supper. At the lowlands opposite 

 Horse Neck I went ashore with Flash. He put up two 

 black ducks from a swale. I marked them down in a sim- 

 ilar place about five hundied yards away. Fred and 1 

 started to stalk them, but a farmer was before us, so we 

 took positions behind stumps aud awaited further develop- 

 ments. The farmer crept cautiously along, but the ducKJ 

 were wild, and thougli he fired where they got up he did 

 no harm. As they passed me, at about eighty yards, l 

 sent them my compliments in the shape of an Ely gun car- 

 tridge, which produced no effect. We reached our olu 

 camping place (where we spent a night on the way up) at 

 half past four o'clock, and worked hard to get camp ready 

 before dark. We slept in the boat, rigged as before, ana 

 passed a very comfortable night, though Fre^tomplamea 

 in the morning that Flash had laid on his foot all night ana 

 twisted his big toe. It was half past six next morning be- 

 fore we were fairly off. We went down to Two Bridges, 

 where we were obliged to run a rapid, the worst we naa 

 yet passed. About a mile below Two Bridges I wen* 

 ashore with Flash. I sent him into the bushes along a 

 fence, when out flushed a woodcock, which, at myshOi 

 fell into the river and was picked up by Fred. Fred came 

 ashore, and we proceeded to beat out the cover thoroughly* 

 We put up two more woodcock, one of which Fred kiheo- 

 I Ired a double shot at the other and missed. On aowfr 



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