FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 
Man is painfully slow to notice the useful 
missions of his silent neighbors; and 
naturalists will have won a victory when 
they influence public opinion to appreciate 
the good traits of the red fox, that animal 
which is associated with our fondest recol- 
lections of the woods and fields of the Old 
Homestead. 
William T. Cox. 

HE IS NO) “210G.”. 
There is a prominent lawyer in Dallas, 
Texas, named Jerome Kirby. He had once 
been nominated by one of the political 
parties for Governor of the state, and en- 
joys an extensive and lucrative practice. 
Traveling West on the T. & P. Railway 
with him the other day, the conversation 
turned to hunting, when Mr. Kirby said: 
“My father settled in Denton county in 
1856, on a ridge between 2 creeks, and 
many a time I have seen buffalo by the 
thousands, and droves of antelope 100 or 
150 strong, and prairie chickens sitting on 
the riders of our lot fence as thick as ever 
you saw chickens roost. Deer were so 
plentiful that I have passed an old buck 
many a time within 20 yards and he would 
stand and look at me, and never bat his eye. 
“ Wild turkeys on the creek were so thick 
you could almost walk over them, as they 
were looking for water. I always wore a 
6 shooter, and carried a rifle, yet I never 
shot a buffalo, an antelope, a deer or a 
turkey. 
“The only killing I ever did was to hold 
the gun for my little sister, 3 years younger 
than I, while she shot at a deer-—an 
old buck—about 30 yards from our front 
gate. And then we did not think enough of 
it, to go out about 600 yards, where he fell, 
to see whether he was dead. A neighbor 
passing that way a few days afterward told 
us there was the carcass of a deer out there, 
and then we knew we had killed him. I did 
kill enough prairie chickens one day for 
dinner, and that was the extent of my 
hunting.” 
Your correspondent said to him: ‘ Well, 
one of 2 things is certain; either you have 
none of the instincts of a sportsman, or you 
were a native born fool.” The Major 
laughed at my rough joke, for he knew I 
accounted for his strange career as a 
sportsman by the former supposition. 
From all I have read in RECREATION I 
should put the Major in the category of 
your ideal sportsman. At least no one 
could justly accuse Jerome Kirby of being 
a game hog.” 
mike 1 Planks” Port! Worth, Tex. 

THEIR LIMIT IS TOO HIGH. 
Jeong NeW ; 
Editor Recreation: I send you here- 
with a clipping from a journal published 

113 
ostensibly in the interests of game and fish 
protection and preservation: 
Mr. Irby Bennett, of the Winchester Repeating Arms 
Company, went to St. Louis last week, but remained here 
long enough for a good talk about the South and Southern 
game. He tells me the shooting at Wapanoca Club pre- 
serve, on the St. Francis, near Memphis, has been remark- 
ably good recently. J. Edrington, of Memphis, on 3 
consecutive days killed the limit of 50 ducks a day, and 
moreover, killed 5 turkeys and 2 wild geese. J. M. Neely 
killed r00 ducks in 2 days. W. H. Carroll on one day killed 
50 ducks and 8 wild turkeys. B. F. Price, the secretary of 
the club, killed 50 ducks one day, and Mr. Buckingham 
and Frank Poston, of Memphis, have each killed the limit 
on several different occasions this winter. ‘That is really a 
wonderful shooting preserve, and personally I always liked 
this club, because it sets a limit to the daily bag, which is 
something any shooting club ought to do in these days. 
As the clipping is from the weekly letter 
of one of its staff correspondents it possibly 
reflects to a certain extent the opinion of 
that journal on the subject of the daily 
bag limit. This correspondent then says, 
“TI have always liked this club, because it 
sets a limit on the daily bag.’”’ Great Scott! 
what a limit! Only 50 ducks a day, with 
turkeys and geese galore. I always feel 
ashamed when killing half that number of 
snipe in a day. The members of that club 
ought to feel elated and are no doubt sur- 
prised at their own moderation. The case 
reminds me of a story told of an old Ger- 
man who kept a beer saloon. The question 
as to whether or not lager would intoxicate 
was being discussed, and our German 
friend was asked for his opinion. “ Vell,” 
said he, “I trink only 50 or 60 glasses a tay 
and it dond vas make me trunk, but I dond 
know vat would happen if a man vas to 
make a hog of himself.” 
Seriously, Mr. Editor, how can we expect 
moderation in game killing by the average 
shooter, when accounts of slaughter, such 
as this clipping details, are printed in papers 
devoted (?) to the interests of sportsmen, 
and without a word of condemnation? 
Kenandrach. 
HUNTING WITH TENDERFEET,. 
In the fall of ’98 it was my misfortune to 
be caught in the woods with 2 boys. 
All summer we had planned for the trip, 
the boys being enthusiastic in their desire 
to taste of the charms of forest life. The 
weather was unfavorable until late in No- 
vember, but when it settled we made our 
‘arrangements as rapidly as possible, and fi- 
nally got off. 
We struck for Moose river, and after 
a somewhat tedious journey reached our 
camping grounds, built our camp and were 
ready for work. 
The next morning broke cold and clear, 
_and dispatching a hearty, hasty breakfast 
we struck out. Three miles out we found 
tracks, and here began my trouble. 
Giving Lew and Jack the privilege of 
“heading off,’ I took the trail. The boys 
did not keep far enough in advance, so, 




