BLUE GROUSE SHOOTING IN IDAHO. 



M. W. Miner. 



Blue Grouse ! Well, I should say 

 so. Never saw so many before 

 in my life, and had any one told 

 me of them 1 should have thought he 

 had been lost and had seen the same 

 flock several times. Sam and I were 

 camped on the Craig mountains, at 

 the head of China creek, in Idaho. That 

 is a tributary of the Salmon river and is 

 only a deep canyon, with a suspicion of 

 dampness, except in the spring, then it 

 is, as the Indian says, " plenty wet." 

 It was simply too warm to exist down in 

 the canyon, by the river where we were 

 mining, and all day the 4th, while pan- 

 ning out the clean-up, the gold and pan 

 would get so hot that the water would 

 evaporate and the gold anneal to the 

 iron. We had to wear gloves, so as not to 

 burn our hands, and we decided to call 

 the job completed, move up on top of 

 the moutain and camp, sending out mail 

 reports and samples by some herder ; 



wait there for a reply and at the same 

 time prospect for opals. Every day in our 

 tramps we would flush grouse after grouse 

 and often it would be necessary to chase 

 them with a stick or throw stones at 

 them, to make them take wing. We had 

 our ponies picketed on a sunny hill side, 

 or in little grassy parks, where the wild 

 strawberries grew in abundance, and we 

 would often find the grouse picking 

 around among the horses, quite uncon- 

 cerned and as much at home as fowls in 

 a barnyard. I would sometimes see a 

 grouse near camp and shoot it, in aid of 

 the commissary department ; and Sam 

 never felt quite happy nor able to rest at 

 night unless he had each day knocked 

 one over with a stone and thus supplied 

 his share of the meat. Not to monkey 

 with the truth at all, Sam was about as 

 deadly a shot with a chunk of basalt 

 rock as with either a rifle or a six- 

 shooter. 



