rgo 



RECREA TION. 



Ben, in the tree-top, called with a turkey- 

 bone " yaup — yaup — yaup — yaup." " Gee- 

 oble-goble-oble," answered the gobbler. 

 More calls on .the bone, the turkey re- 

 plying several times, at short intervals. 

 After a few moments of silence, there came 

 a sudden rush of strong wings beating the 

 air, a swish, as the bird alights, under cover 

 of heavy cane 200 yards away. Brer' tur- 

 key was for a short time very quiet; but 

 presently we heard a booming sound as of 

 distant thunder. He was strutting. 



Ben again called several times. The gob- 

 bler answered, and slowly advanced, his 

 head looking like a blossoming snowball 

 as we caught glimpses of it through the 

 dark foliage. Very warily he managed that 

 advance, stopping to make observations, 

 then moving cautiously forward, he circled 

 the tree-top in which Ben was concealed. 

 A moment longer, and the crack of Ben's 

 rifle, followed by convulsive beating of 

 wings on the ground, announced that the 

 turkey was ours. He proved a fine, large 

 bird, weighing, when dressed, 21 y 2 pounds. 



Swinging our prize to a tree-branch, we 

 went in search of more game toward the 

 higher ridges, where the hens nest. Wad- 

 ing through water, in some places knee- 

 deep, we came at last to a ridge from which 

 we could hear the " yaup-yaup " of a turkey 

 hen, quickly followed by the gobble of a 

 cock. Halting to get the range and dis- 

 tance of the birds, we soon discovered 

 there were several hens and more than one 

 gobbler in the bunch. 



We crossed the ridge diagonally until 

 we came to a depression in the ground, 

 some 300 yards in length. Here the cane 

 was short and sparse, and intermingled 

 with hackberry trees. Abundance of fresh 



sign beneath the trees, showed that turkeys 

 were accustomed to feed there, and we 

 took positions near, well hidden by logs 

 and brush. 



It is difficult to decoy a cock turkey 

 from the company of hens, and requires 

 most artistic work, on the call. Ben rose 

 to the occasion. After a duet of turkey 

 music lasting half an hour, between the call 

 and the birds, a gobbler stepped out from 

 the cover, 200 yards away. With lowered 

 head and front, he came forward a few 

 paces, stopped, and straightening himself 

 to his full height of nearly 5 feet, surveyed 

 the surroundings. They did not seem to 

 suit him exactly, and he returned to the 

 cover. Ben continued his performance on 

 the call, varied with an occasional rake on 

 the ground, in imitation of a turkey's 

 scratching. 



In a short time the gobbler again 

 emerged from the thick cane, 50 yards 

 nearer than before. Erect, with eye and 

 ear alert, he came slowly across the flat. 

 The slightest sound or motion, from our 

 hiding place, would have sent him flying 

 to cover. When within 40 paces — so near 

 that I could see him draw the delicate 

 bluish-white membrane over his eye-balls 

 to clear their surface — I pressed the trigger 

 of my little 16 gauge Parker. A spasmodic 

 bound into the air, and the bird fell dead, 

 with 20 pellets of No. 7 shot in his head 

 and neck. 



Returning over our route, and shooting 

 a mess of squirrels, we were soon enjoying 

 a hearty meal at camp. An easy pull of 5 

 miles across the lake, and a ride of 3 hours 

 in the saddle, brought us to our homes; 

 well satisfied with ourselves, and our good 

 fortune. 



AN ELK HUNT. 



J. B. JENNETT (OLD SILVER TIP). 



We were in Wyoming, on the headwaters 

 of Big Sandy, up by the Lamereaux Mead- 

 ows. It is a nasty piece of country; full of 

 old dead falls, branches and.swamps. If the 

 weather is any way dry it is almost impos- 

 sible to " still " hunt in there. In the creek, 

 you could see trout, in schools, swim- 

 ming around and enjoying themselves; and 

 if you had hook and line it was easy to get 

 a good mess. During the summer a fisher- 

 man had hung up some trout, intending to 

 get them on his return down the creek. 

 When he came back he found Bruin had 

 saved him the trouble of taking them to 

 camp. He was eating them as the fisher- 

 man got there and would have done the 



same for the man, only for a nice handy 

 tree. Well, the bear kept the fisherman 

 there for a few hours and when he got to 

 camp he was in for a hunt. I was sent for, 

 to make one of the party. There were 5 in 

 the outfit, but none had lost a bear. The 

 fisherman poured down some spirits to 

 raise some other ones, and we laid him to 

 rest under the pines. All the others were 

 busy, so of course could not go. A few 

 days after this a party came in from the 

 railroad, something over 100 miles away. 

 One day as I was going toward the creek 

 I jumped 8 elk. Then I made my rounds 

 through the woods, and came back to 

 camp. I went over to the visitors and got 



