116 THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 
These sportsmen are sure that if any of the sportsmen of Oregon 
or any reader of The Sportsman are looking for a few days of real, 
honest-to-goodness exciting sport, the way to get it is to rent, beg, 
buy or borrow a few good dogs and hie themselves to the tall timber 
of the foothill country in the dead of winter— and chase bobcats. 
The farmers and stockgrowers residing along the North Santiam 
are pleased with the success which attended the hunt, for the reason 
that wild cats and coyotes are a source of great annoyance and much 
property loss to them in the way of small domestic animals and fowls, 
which they prey upon continually. 
GEO. TROSPER, “TRU BLU” SPORTSMAN 
Contributed by I. B. Hazettine, Deputy Game Warden for Baker and Grant Counties. 
A chapter from the life of George Trosper, one of the “Tru Blu” 
sportsmen of the Eastern Oregon country, tends to emphasize just 
what may be accomplished when an individual sets out with determina- 
tion to attain certain things and thereby makes “dreams come true.” 
Some forty years ago there was a little boy who loved the great 
out-of-doors and who was also by nature somewhat of a dreamer. 
What he longed to possess, above all things, was horses and a pack of 
hounds. He finally managed to own two mongrel dogs, much to the 
disgust of his mother, and so his pleadings for more dogs and a horse, 
with which to follow them in the chase, were without avail. His sister 
relates that it was a dejected little figure, indeed, who used to sit on 
the steps and cry, after being ridiculed by his mother, and then be- 
tween sobs would inform her that when he became a man he would 
have all the dogs and horses he wanted. 
When old enough to shift for himself he did not change his mind 
about the promised joys of the chase, which is emblematic of the man. 
As he must acquire money to make his dreams come true, he decided 
to engage in the stock business, still cherishing his boyhood dreams 
of “houns and hosses,” he purchased a small band of sheep. A hard 
winter caused the loss of all but a very few of his band and the man 
who loved a “houn,” a “hoss” and a gun had little left but the memory 
of the two mongrel friends of boyhood days. Here he again showed 
the mettle, which is so essential in achieving success, for upon being 
asked if he had not had enough of the sheep business, he replied that 
“the hole you dropped money in was a good place to look for it.” This 
proved to be true, for he prospered thenceforth, and is now one of the 
wealthiest stockmen in his section of Oregon. 
But I am losing track of the main part of the story, for when 
his business prospered he did not give up the dream of his boyhood. 
He built large kennels, bought hounds of all kinds and sizes until he 
had as many as 67 at one time. To provide feed for them he hauled 
corn for a long distance at no little expense. He raised and trained 
horses so that they might vault treacherous wire fences and follow 
the pack; he also bought all the latest model guns from the various 
manufacturers which happened to be placed on the market from time 
to time and when asked what “Cal.” is his favorite he smiles and 
remarks with his peculiar drawl] that, “there are lots of good guns, 
but when I want to get Mr. Coyote I always go after my old 30-30.” 
On a recent visit to the home ranch, my first in fact, I remarked 
that some of the dogs showed signs of age. Mr. Trosper said most of 
