FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



293 



After describing the incident of the day's 

 shooting, he writes: 



At night we counted up our birds and found we had 26 in all, 

 5 ruffed grouse and 21 quail. We thought we could have 

 killed 50 birds, between us, if we had cared to hunt quail. 

 'I' wo other gentlemen were shooting at the same place, and 

 one, Mr. Davis, with his guide, killed, if my memory serves 

 me, nearly 50 quail that day, so that all in all we had a 

 grand lot of game. 



And of the succeeding day: 



Our bag that night was 5 grouse and only 16 quail, I 

 think. Mr. Davis and his guide had top bag, about 60 

 quail. The total was a very large one that night, and 

 showed plainly that we were in a remarkably good game 

 country. 



Soon after this the correspondent was 

 forced, reluctantly, to leave this " remark- 

 ably good game country "; but appends ex- 

 tracts from his companion's subsequent let- 

 ter, as showing what he missed. It gives 

 an interesting side light on what his shoot- 

 ing companion's nature really is, albeit a 

 mayor and a gentleman (?). This friend 

 (" Pirate Bill," in the language of the nar- 

 rative) writes: 



We put in our time just the same, making 4 days, and We 

 divided our birds fair and square last night, and had 62 quail 

 and 4 partridge each, that is, for each of the 4. The 

 rats or cats had gotten at one of the strings, in the barn, and 

 must have used up a dozen of them. Pretty nearly slaugh- 

 ter, wasn't it? But the birds were there just as thick when 

 we quit as in the beginning, and we can do it all over again 

 another year, and I hope you will be able to enjoy some of it. 



And again: 



We were shooting fast and furious ; I never had anything 

 like it. I have forgotten just how many the 3 of us trimmed 

 out, but think it was 71 birds that we had in our pockets that 

 night. At any rate, all told, the party had 96, and I am 

 quite certain I had my share of them. 



Further on this same writer naively re- 

 marks : 



Throw this little country open to all the guns, and half a 

 dozen birds to the gun would be above the average. The 

 shooting there is still good because the market hunting has 

 been stopped, but I do not think the locality can stand even 

 so heavy a drain as is above mentioned, for many seasons. 



Now I don't want to let loose all the epi- 

 thets, which come to my mind, in charac- 

 terization of such reports. They would not 

 look well in print; but I do want to say 

 that the admissions made above seem indic- 

 ative of a pretty low moral status, to be in 

 the ownership of any true sportsman! 



Furthermore, as a staff writer for a jour- 

 nal of sport, which has always had the flag 

 of game preservation nailed to the mast, the 

 above quotations seem rather inconsistent, 

 to say the least. How does it sound to oth- 

 ers? 



Here is a choice brace of quotations from 

 the same letter: 



Warden Loveday, when interviewed to-day, was pro- 

 nounced in his opinions in regard to the lethargy of sports- 

 men in practical protection. He thinks the sportsman prone 

 to lie supinely on his back and ask for the good things of 

 shooting and fishing, without getting up to help corral them. 



Now observe this second one, wherein 

 this same warden Loveday prominently fig- 

 ures, in company with a Governor! 



Gov. Tanner, Clerk Van Cleave, Warden Loveday and 2 

 local shooters, of Wayne county, 111., had 2 days' shooting 

 at quail this fall, with the extraordinary result of 360 quail 

 to the 5 guns. These birds are abundant in Wayne county, 

 this year, and numbers of prairie chickens were also seen. 

 Mark this down in your note-book for next year. 



Nothing supine in his position apparent- 

 ly! No need of any very active search for 

 helpers to corral these 360 quails, was there? 

 I should like to ask the correspondent, or 

 Warden Loveday, whether the hopeless 

 moral condition of a game warden, who 

 would be party to such slaughter, is not 

 enough to induce " lethargy " and " innoc- 

 uous desuetude," and " early senility " in 

 any true sportsman? 



God speed the L. A. S., well conceived 

 of Mr. Lydecker, well advanced by the ed- 

 itor of Recreation, and well received by 

 the earnest advocates of true sportsmanship 

 all over this country. Make it apparent, 

 through your magazine, as you have so 

 well done heretofore, what it is, what it is 

 for and how to achieve its end, and a uni- 

 versal sentiment to its furtherance will be 

 the initial step. This city is ripe for such 

 agitation. An association already formed 

 for the protection and propagation of our 

 fish is in active work, and a healthy spirit 

 is evident among the sportsmen. 



A STREAK OF LUCK. 



Akron, O. 



Editor Recreation: I rra\e discovered, 

 by years of observation, that it is danger- 

 ous for a man to try to handle a subject 

 with which he is not familiar. Of course 

 we must make allowance for hunting sto- 

 ries; but when a man tells me he shot a 

 deer through the heart and that it fell dead 

 in its tracks that spoils the story at once. 

 Of hundreds I have seen shot that way, I 

 never saw one that did not run at least a 

 few rods, and I think the same will prove 

 true in the case of nearly all wild animals. 



I have heard some good hunting stories, 

 years ago, which might be old enough to 

 be new to some of the younger readers of 

 Recreation. I have one in mind which I 

 will give you as Bill told it: 



" D' I ever tell ye 'bout what a streak o' 

 luck I run into one fall, up on the Beaver? 

 Wall, ye know I were camped up thare, 

 trappin', and one mornin', thi ks I, He jis' 

 slip up the crick un' see if I can't git a 

 pa'tri'ge, er suthin', fur brukfus. Wall, I 

 hadn't got fur, til' I see a par o' ducks lite 

 in the crick, a piece furder up. Thinks I, 

 b'gosh mebby I kin git one of 'em; so I 

 jis' slipt up easy like, 'hind a log, un' peeked 

 over; un' thar tha' wuz settin' in the crick. 

 So I iis' slipt the ole gun crost the log un' 

 wuz jis' pullin' down on one of 'em, un' 

 b'gosh a big buck jis' kum down on t'other 

 side o' the crick to drink. 



" Now thinks I, He jis' cacilate a little, 

 an' see if I can't git both of 'em. So I 

 pulled in on the duck's neck an cacilated 

 the ball 'ud hit the water an' sorter glance 

 up an' hit the buck. So I pulled away; an' 

 ye never see nothin' wuck slicker an' that 



