

WERE WE POACHING? 
W. V. 
On December 27, ’97, L. H. and wife and 
J. C. and I, started for a one day’s hunt on 
Cumberland mountains. 
Our destination was S—— in Van Buren 
Co., but we stopped the first night at Q——, 
in an adjoining county. - 
While in Q ‘we were informed that 
we would be arrested if we crossed into 
Van Buren county carrying guns, and that 
to kill turkey, quail, pheasant or deer, was 
punishable by law. 
We were told also that the people living in 
the county could kill anything and at any 
time they so desired, but that the law pro- 
hibited any person or persons, living outside 
the county from killing any game in said 
county. 
The fact that such an unjust law could 
be passed was a revelation to me. The ut- 
ter unfairness of it so angered me that I 
remarked to my host, as I was retiring for 
the night, that I was going to “ hunt to- 
morrow for turkeys, and I would like to see 
the color of the man’s eyes who would fol- 
low to see if I killed anything.” 
Early on the morrow we started, and, af- 
ter an hour’s walk, arrived at the rendevouz 
on ‘‘ Cane creek gulch,’ where we were to 
meet Dave and Geo. S——, brothers, and 
typical Tennessee mountaineers. 
They were there awaiting us, and after 
a hearty handshake we began to discuss the 
most probable place we would flush a bunch 
of turkeys. 
For answer, Dave and Geo. led the way 
down the precipitous side of the gulch to 
the first bench and told us to scatter and 
still-hunt abreast. We hunted up the gulch 
for a long distance without flushing any 
game, although we saw plenty of signs 
where the birds had been scratching for 
beech-mast. The leaders signalled us to 
stop, cross over and hunt down the creek. 
We did so but without success, until we met 
by common consent at the big poplar. No 
game save a few squirrels bagged by 2 of 
the boys who despaired of seeing anything 
larger; -. 
After a short rest and a good cool drink 
of delicious freestone water Geo. and Dave 
decided to go to the flats on top. Dave and 
L. were to keep about 100 yards to the right 
of our party which consisted of -Geo., J. 
C., the 2 boys and me. 
After a long hard climb, we passed out 
into the flats and into the sunshine. I di- 
verged slightly from the others and passed 
along the edge of the gulch. I had walked 
perhaps 50 yards, when bang! I heard Geo.’s 
single breech-loader roar out.. Wheeling, I 
saw 10 or 12 turkeys, some running, some 
flying, scattering and going to the breaks. 
I caught a bead over my .38-40 Winches- 
ter on a fine gobbler about 90 paces from 
me and running like the wind. 
He spread ont his wings and dropped 


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189 _- 
H. 
when I fired, and wheeling about I pumped 
another at one flying but missed him. I 
ran down to Geo. and asked what he had 
done. 
“Knocked him down, but he got up and 
run,” he replied. 
“ D’ye get yourn? ” 
“Yes,” said I, “let’s go and get him.” 
We trotted very expectantly up to where 
I saw him fall, but found nothing save a few 
feathers and some blood. We _ searched 
everywhere but he had vanished. The boys 
laughed and L killed one as they flew 
past him. 
We scattered and began calling. I ‘se- 
creted myself behind some ivy on the top 
of a 50 feet bluff at the edge of the gulch. 
Occasionally I could hear a faint k-e-o-u-k 
from the breaks below, but could not locate 
it. 
I had waited perhaps for 2 hours and had 
decided to give it up, when I saw a young 
gobbler step cautiously out from a clump 
of bushes about 200 yards below me. 
He sent out a querulous, cautious yelp, as 
though ashamed for not remaining with the 
hens. I covered him with the open sights. 
But wait, he’s too far. Slowly the rifle 
goes down. He putters and grumbles and 
walks cautiously along sending forth an oc- 
casional k-e-o-u-r-r-r-k. He moves out into 
an open space and up goes my rifle. I 
measured the distance carefully, exactly. 
Too far—wait a minute. I’m almost quiv- 
ering with excitement. It’s my only chance 
for the day. Now he is going into another 
open spot, and again my gun covers him. 
Now is the time—at the butts of the wings, 
and you must shoot for blood. Steady, 
“boom,” the .38 roars. He totters 2 or 3 
steps forward and drops. 
I stood up, swung my hat and shouted, 
“ Boys, that’s the finest shot I ever made.” 
But not a man was in hearing of me. I 
carefully made my way down to him and 
on examination found the ball had en- 
tered exactly at the butt of the right wing 
and had passed out 4 inches below the left 
butt. Distance 160 yards. I carried him 
75 miles through a snow storm to my dear 

‘old mother, and we had a feast on New 
Years, 98. Were we guilty of poaching? 
ANSWER. 
Yes, you were most emphatically poach- 
ing when hunting in the county where non- 
residents were forbidden by law to hunt. 
You were, and still are, liable to prosecution 
for such offense. That you believe the law 
to be unjust is no reason why you should 
violate it. The highest court in the lard has 
decided that a state or county may forbid 
non-residents to hunt within its limits; and 
it is not at all creditable to you to have will- 
fully and intentionally violated any game 
law.—EDIToR-. 
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1 
ats A 

