ENG LOW ow UR eonny EU INT. 
IVANHOE 
My parents came to the territory of 
Iowa in the spring of 1840, and took a 
homestead near the South Skunk river, in 
Keokuk co. 
Wild animals and game were abundant. 
I have heard mother tell of standing in 
the door of the old log-cabin and shooting 
one of 3 deer which passed within 100 
yards of the house. Gray wolves were nu- 
merous and troublesome, playing havoc 
among the few sheep father had brought. 
As the settlers thronged in and lands 
were taken up, game rapidly disappeared. 
Deer were soon but a memory. Wild 
turkeys were among the last of the game 
to pass away. 
In the early fall, before the young had 
fully matured, they roosted in low trees 
and bushes, but as cold weather ap- 
proached, and the youngsters grew strong 
of wing, they selected the spreading 
branches of the tallest trees in the neigh- 
borhood for their slumbers. 
I distinctly remember surprising a flock 
one morning in October, and my conse- 
quent chagrin and disappointment. My 
brother and I had commenced the fall cam- 
paign against the muskrats, minks, ete. 
On Sunday mornings we were (reluctantly) 
suffered to visit our line of traps, but on no 
account must we desecrate the holy day by 
carrying our guns. 
One bright, frosty morning we started 
on horseback for the river, about a mile 
from home. We were hurrying along, less 
than 200 yards from the barn, when, at a 
turn of the road, we ran plump into an 
immense flock of turkeys roosting on a low 
rail fence. Such a fluttering and flopping 
as there was for a minute! and how they 
scooted and scattered in the hazel brush 
all about! We hurried back to the house, 
and begged to be allowed to take the gun 
for “just a few minutes,’ but mother was 
obdurate. 
Up to 25 years ago it was not difficult to 
find a flock of turkeys in the woods about 
my old home. I am informed there is even 
yet a flock in that region, but so shy and 
wary as to elude all efforts put forth for 
its capture. 
Our family was beginning to scatter. 
Three of the boys were married and had 
small families and homes at a distance, 
but the holiday season generally found 
them at the old home. 
One crisp morning in January, 26 years 
ago, Joe, Ben and I made preparations for 
a turkey hunt. Ben and I had double 
13 
WHITTED. 
shotguns of the muzzle-loading pattern, 
10 bore; Joe had formerly been the fortu- 
nate possessor of an exceptionally fine gun, 
but on this occasion had brought home a 
long barreled rifle of small caliber, evident- 
ly an old-timer. 
“Joe,” said Ben, after examining’ the 
ancient weapon, “where did you get this?” 
We tradedmoty tt 
“But you surely did not trade your shot- 
gun, did you?” 
OW ER? 
Ben gave a low whistle. 
money to boot, I hope.” 
“Yes, of course. That is why I traded. 
“Well,” continued Ben, “you don’t ex- 
pect to kill any turkeys with it, do you? 
Better borrow Jim’s shotgun.” 
“Tll get my share if we find any.” 
“Well, Joe,’ said I, “we all: know you 
to be a crack shot with the shotgun, but 
let me tell you you'll find shooting turkeys 
with a rifle another thing.”’ 
“Tll show you,” confidently replied Joe, 
and the subject was dropped. Joe had for 
a long time been the best man of the fam- 
ily with a shotgun, and had an idea that he 
could do equally well with the rifle. 
We soon discovered turkey tracks. They 
appeared to have been made late the pre- 
vious evening. 
“Now.” said Joe, “well find the. fel- 
lows that made these not very far away. 
We will follow the tracks to the roosting 
place, and at this early hour, we’re almost 
sure to find them.” 
There were 7 in the flock. The trail led 
into the woods, toward the river. Cau- 
tiously we followed the tracks, perhaps a 
half mile, and found where the turkeys had 
spent the night—in a tall tree on the bank 
of the river. 
Cautious though our approach had been, 
we heard nothing of them, nor could we 
find where they had descended in search of 
breakfast. Over and over we tramped in 
widening circles about the tree, but not a 
track could we discover. Puzzled, we 
stood on the bank beneath the roost, look- 
ing across the river. The opposite bank 
was low and flat, and covered with a rank 
growth of slough grass, and an occasional 
clump of diamond willow. Back a few hun- 
dred feet the flat terminated in a rather 
steep bluff, with the open prairie beyond. 
“Boys,” said I, “do you suppose they 
crossed the river?” 
“Why, no,” replied Joe, “there are no 
tracks, and besides there’s no inducement 
“Got some 
