FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



IN FLORIDA GLADES. 



G. ' E. K. 



I have read, with much interest, the hunt- 

 ing and fishing adventures told in Recrea- 

 tion and presume something from the 

 wilds of Florida might be appreciated by- 

 its readers. I spent 4 enjoyable years in the 

 land of flowers, and believe it unexcelled 

 in furnishing enjoyment to the sportsman. 



Two years ago, I took a party of my Ohio 

 friends for a 10-days' hunt, in the Lake 

 region of Polk county. There were 6 of 

 us beside the guide and a cook; 2 of the 

 party being ladies. With 3 light wagons we 

 had a delightful trip through the piney 

 woods, and among the many lakes, reach- 

 ing a suitable camping ground on Lake 

 Pierce, 20 miles from our starting point, 

 about sundown. It took some lively work 

 to get the tents up, and enough moss and 

 palmetto leaves for our beds, before dark. 

 There is little twilight in Florida; night 

 falls quickly after the sun sets. 



Every one was astir at an early hour, for 

 the guide was anxious to go across the lake 

 after game. We tramped the woods till 

 noon, and although several deer were 

 jumped, they were too far away for a suc- 

 cessful shot. The hunters returned to din^ 

 ner, weary and hungry; but full of hope 

 and courage for the next day. 



The guide went out for a little hunt of 

 his own, in the afternoon, saying, as he 

 left camp; " Didn't come out heah to eat 

 salt meat; got to have some fresh meat in 

 camp to-night." No one offered to ac- 

 company him, for every one was too tired 

 for another long tramp that day. 



To pass the time pleasantly, the vicinity 

 of the camp was explored. On either side 

 was a dense hummock of undergrowth — 

 palmettos, cabbage-palms, and flowering 

 jessamine. Not 100 yards from camp, there 

 were fresh bear signs, showing where bruin 

 had climbed a cabbage-palm, after the fruit. 

 The ladies exacted a promise from us that 

 at no time should they be left in camp with- 

 out a protector. - -■ 



The beauty of some of these wild spots 

 is almost indescribable. Here the ax has 

 made no inroads into the grandeur of the 

 luxuriant vegetation; wild flowers abound 

 among the graceful palms and bay trees; 

 while here and there beautiful air plants and 

 orchids may be seen gracing some giant 

 cypress. The Spanish moss lends a wierd- 

 ness to the scene, making it more beautiful 

 and impressive. 



Just at dusk the guide approached with 

 something on his shoulders. To our sur- 

 prise and delight he threw down 2 big gob- 

 blers. They weighed over 20 pounds each. 

 The bronze plumage was beautiful, in the 



light of the camp fire, and the birds were 

 much admired. 



At daybreak 3 of us took the boat and 

 rowed across the corner of the lake, to 

 what proved a hilly section, of barren brush 

 and scrub palmetto, with occasionally, a 

 cactus. Here we met the guide who had 

 ridden around. Soon the hounds struck a 

 trail, and away we went through the brush 

 and palmettos, only to have one of the 

 hounds forge ahead and jump the deer fully 

 a quarter of a mile off. All the consolation 

 we had was the sight of its white flag dis- 

 appearing among the trees. 



About 10 o'clock a buck was started with- 

 in shooting distance. We amateurs wasted 

 some good powder and shot trying to stop 

 him; while the guide sat on his pony, on 

 an adjoining ridge, laughing. 



The hounds were called back and put out 

 again. Within 100 yards of where the first 

 deer broke, another buck was jumped. 

 This time we " pulled down on him," and 

 he soon lay among the palmettoes, kicking 

 his last. One man failed to see him fall, 

 and kept on shooting. The guide almost 

 rolled off his pony with laughter, yelling: 

 " Don't shoot no moah, don't shoot no 

 moah; you done kill him." 



After the smoke cleared away, we found 

 our friend had put a 38 Winchester bullet 

 through the deer's heart; while several 

 buckshot, from my Winchester shotgun, 

 were scattered about in various parts of his 

 anatomy. The shot made by the rifleman 

 was a pretty one, and the verdict was in 

 favor of the deer being his meat. I had to 

 content myself with the consolation of hav- 

 ing the only shot gun in the party that was 

 fired, in the melee, and with knowing I had 

 hit the deer. 



The guide prepared our game for the trip 

 to camp. It was a tired though happy 

 party that gathered around the board that 

 day. 



We shot 5 more turkeys and one spike 

 buck, during the 10-days' sojourn. Then 

 we went back to civilization, with renewed 

 health and vigor, but glad to sleep on a 

 " sure-enough " bed, and ready to resume 

 our vocations. 



SHOOTING ON THE WING 

 J. A. MACKENZIE. 



How to become a good wing shot is 

 even more puzzling than what gun to se- 

 lect. I am not a good shot, and frequently 

 miss; but then we poor shots, when we da 

 hit, get more pleasure from it than the gun- 

 ner who chooses his bird and kills it with 

 certainty. 



