96 THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 
\ 
He recognized the place and located the blind and his spirits 
rose. But I doused cold water over them by announcing that I was 
going back into the thicket for the ducks Houston had near his blind. 
Harry plead with me, pointing out that I’d get lost again, but 
assuring me that he would stick to the ship and get lost with me 
again if necessary. 
So into the thicket we plunged again, and by following a little 
creek we came to the ducks near the river bank. 
I hoo-hooed, and the man from Delmonico’s came and got the 
ducks; Hamblet and I went up to the houseboat. 
It was a lot of fun to hear his account of our misfortunes. 
But, taken altogether, Hamblet enjoyed the trip so much that he 
ended up by leasing the land adjoining our lease, and this year he 
did much better. He can tell a mud hen from a mallard just as easy! 
Houston and I have used LaFevre guns for twenty years and 
found them: altogether satisfactory. We use No. 6 shot the first. of 
the season and No. 5 shot later in the season. And that reminds me 
of one morning Houston and I were out without the dogs, and with 
No. 5 shot in our guns, and ran into a flight of jack snipe. We got 122 
before we stopped, and there’s no telling how many we never found. 
As I said before, it always amuses me when people ask whether 
there’s good shooting in Oregon. 
ages Se 
NOTABLE BIRDS OF McKENZIE BRIDGE 
By Fiorence Merriam BatLey. 

The long covered bridge that spans the green, foaming McKenzie, 
in the heart of the Cascades, is fifty-six miles by stage above Eugene, 
on the road to the snowcapped Three Sisters, numbered among the 
noblest peaks of Oregon. The immediate neighborhood of the bridge 
does not afford any great list of Oregon birds, for the narrow strip 
of original prairie, a few houses and the cottages about the log house 
where families of enthusiastic fishermen, some of them from distant 
states, gather to spend the summer, are surrounded by dark coniferous 
forest, in which few birds care to live. For much of the moisture from 
the Pacific, blowing in above what has been well described as the 
‘low-lying and tranquil Coast Mountains,” is precipitated by the lofty 
glacier-clad peaks and high rocky ridges of the Cascades, so that the 
flora and fauna with a slight variation of species is the counterpart of 
that of the actual Humid Coast strip. 
The rhododendron tree, found here, seems to have shot up like an 
overgrown boy from the familiar low growth of the east, and the 
rare yew tree, the English form of which, according to song and story, 
supplied Robin Hood with his good tough bows, is here a scraggly 
moss-bearded tree often forty feet high, suggesting the redwood 
with its flat dark green foliage and pointed needles. As in the Humid 
