FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



455 



HOW WE GOT THE COONS. 



J. T. MARIS. 



A warm rain had softened the snow dur- 

 ing the night, making an ideal time for 

 coons to run. Daylight found me in the 

 woods and I soon located game in 2 old 

 oaks. I felt a little dubious as to my abil- 

 ity to capture a coon alone, as I had no 

 dog. I therefore, secured my brother's aid, 

 as I was sure there would be fun enough 

 lor 2. 



Eating an early dinner and equipping 

 ourselves with gun and ax, we were soon 

 .at one of the trees. The hole where the 

 coons had entered the tree was about 30 

 feet from the ground. By the aid of a pole, 

 I soon reached a position where I could 

 chop a hole through to their nest. I caught 

 one by his tail but he turned quickly, and 

 came near catching my hand with his teeth. 

 He then jumped and landed on the ground 

 near my brother, who fired right and left, 

 scoring a clean miss each time. The coon 

 was now making off at a lively gait. I had 

 all the extra shells in my pocket, and be- 

 fore I could throw any down to my brother 

 he had dropped the gun and given chase to 

 the fleeing coon. My brother always 

 prided himself on his speed, but by putting 

 forth his best efforts he could barely hold 

 his own. It was a " straight away " race, 

 with the odds in favor of the coon. The 

 animal finally climbed on a fence and ran 

 along the top rail. My brother saw his 

 .advantage, spurted ahead, got a club and 

 when the coon came up, landed a blow 

 which proved him more skillful with that 

 weapon than with a gun. 



He came back puffing like a wind broken 

 horse, and carrying the coon by the tail. 

 " I've — puff — got — puff— him," said he. 

 Just then he realized it wasn't a dead coon 

 he was carrying, and another resort to the 

 club was necessary. I killed the other coon 

 in the tree and threw it down. 



Taking our game we struck a bee line for 

 the other tree. It was an old hollow shell 

 and we decided to chop it down. When it 

 fell we had considerable difficulty in locat- 

 ing the coons. After chopping several 

 holes we were pleased to see 2 nice fellows 

 peeping out at us. While we were discuss- 

 ing how we could best dispatch them, one 

 jumped out and was gone like a flash. I 

 reached for him with my club but failed to 

 score. I gave chase and headed him off. 

 He ran back under the log by my brother, 

 who tried to hit him, but failed. The coon 

 turned again and went straight away 

 through brush and briars so thick as to be 

 almost impenetrable. I yelled to my 

 brother to bring the gun, and went after 

 the coon. The best I could do was to keep 

 him in sight. Thought I could make him 

 climb, but he probably knew those trees 

 were not high enough to put him out of 

 reach of a gun. Bang, went the gun and I 



knew my brother was having trouble with 

 coon No. 2. My chase suddenly came to 

 an end; the coon disappearing under a 

 rock. I could see him there but decided 

 not to tackle him until help arrived. 



In a few minutes my brother hove in 

 sight, carrying a large coon. He said he 

 grabbed the gun and started to follow me, 

 but remembered there was another coon in 

 the tree and looked back just in time to 

 see it leave. He quickly brought the gun 

 to his shoulder and fired, with a result that 

 proved his aim was true. Getting a stick 

 and twisting into his fur, we soon had my 

 coon where a club could reach him, and he 

 was laid beside his mate. Our 4 coons 

 made a goodly show, and as we turned 

 homeward we knew this had been a " red 

 letter day." 



PETE'S DAY WITH THE RABBITS. 



SEM. 



A party of 5 of us recently had good sport 

 and got a fair bag; but the feature of the 

 day was not the game or the shooting — it 

 was Pete. Pete is of Teutonic origin, and 

 this was his " off-day." 



He got lots of shots, but though he tried 

 hard, he did not seem to connect. He car- 

 ried his big 10 pound 10 bore, bravely, but 

 misfortune had marked him for its own. 

 We started to hunt a piece of swamp land, 

 nice deep muck, with bunches of grass here 

 and there to serve as a side walk, and there 

 Pete met with his first mishap. His legs 

 were too short or the bunches of grass 

 were too far apart, and, as he soon tired of 

 jumping, he determined to try a more nat- 

 ural means of locomotion; he walked. 

 Then the trouble began. He had left his 

 boots at home and wore shoes, and the soft 

 black mire enveloped his shapely legs to 

 his knees. He snorted and plunged, panted 

 and puffed; he tried to walk slow, then he 

 sank deeper; he tried to walk fast, then he 

 got winded. Each foot weighed 100 pounds 

 and when at last he did get out, he gasped 

 " Py Ghee, so soon I get von foot out, de 

 odder vos stuck shoost so fast." But Fort- 

 une was soon to dangle a prize before his 

 eyes. Up from under his very feet sprang 

 a cotton tail. With a convulsive jerk he 

 swung his gun into place. His finger 

 trembled on the trigger, but just then a big 

 tree got in the way and Pete had to wait. 

 Soon he caught sight of his prey again. 

 Once more he readjusted himself, but by 

 the time all was ready, another tree got in 

 the way. Poor Pete! he lowered his gun in 

 despair. He had come out to shoot rab- 

 bits, not to cut down trees. Again Fort- 

 une smiled. The rabbit squatted in plain 

 sight, no tree, no bush now. Up went the 

 deadly tubes, distance carefully measured, 

 effect of recoil upon the aim, all were con- 

 sidered; eye, breech, muzzle and rabbit 

 formed one straight line. 



