262 THE OREGON? SPORTSMAN 
rather, let us candidly consider those same problems, and the conclusions 
they may lead us to, 
During the past few years tales of severe Winters have excused 
the fact that birds were slightly harder to find than usual. The Win- 
ters were hard; but the damage done by six weeks of wet snow in the 
Willamette Valley and similar regions, is negligent alongside the results 
of an hour’s cold shower in Summer, such as were prevalent last season. 
So far as the very young pheasants are concerned, a German barrage 
could be hardly more fatal. 
That is not the case this season. Whatever else may be said of 
the long dry period, it is assuredly highly beneficial to the pheasant 
crop. Broods of three ages may be seen by almost any roadside in the 
Valley. This happy condition spells the very best of good shooting for 
the coming Fall. But it will probably be found, as in recent years, that 
the birds have congregated in various favored localities. Apparently 
this is due to the presence of goodly fields of clover, cut once or twice, 
or corn, or other pheasant palate pleaser. So as the density of popula- 
tion—and, necessarily, cultivation—inereases, and the planting of more 
ensilage and rich food crops results, we may expect to find the pheasant 
families spread more evenly over the country. While resulting some in 
smaller individual bags, this will better the average shooter’s luck, 
probably; it will entice more hunters, because the hunting areas will be 
more available and handy, and it will place a heavier drain upon the 
numbers of the gamey Asiatic. 
The future—fifteen, twenty, thirty years from now—will see mighty 
changes in the face of Oregon’s farm land. Many choice localities will 
be thickly settled; all regions will be well populated, and there will still 
be steady, healthy increase as at present. Development will proceed 
apace here in the West when capital, after the excitement of war ven- 
tures, returns to the projects of peace. No man may forecast the num- 
bers twenty years hence; but it is safe to assume that the population 
then will be even larger than is pictured by the most imaginative real 
estaters of today. The pursuits, as now, doubtless will be mainly agri- 
cultural, only much more intensified than at present. 
This condition spells vast armies of outdoor men and women who 
will hunger for a taste of autumnal sport. Paved roads, handy jitneys 
and railroad branches will make every pheasant covert extremely avail- 
able. 
There will be many birds this year. There were enough last year. 
So it will go for some years. The gamey, feathered Celestial is doing 
his best. His fitness isn’t questioned—indeed, it is proven the best in 
the world. But even his supreme vitality cannot work the miracle of 
furnishing full game bags when there are a dozen shooters for every 
acre of pheasant range. 
Lay your plans for good sport when the law is off in the Fall of 
1917—powder enough will be left for the Spring drive in France. But 
pause here a moment to consider, ere you enjoy this year’s pilgrimage, 
the shooting of the generation that is to follow your steps to the dusty 
stubble—or even of your own shooting but a few years hence. 
Restriction helps, but it doesn’t fully answer. Restriction has so 
far sufficed—but it nears the end of the rope. It cannot restrict more 
without incurring the very calamity it strives to offstand—no shooting. 
So, if we do not wish to be set down, as have been some of the 
generation before us, with the white-hot brand of game-hog upon our 
brows, we must see to it that the birds entrusted to us, for our enjoy- 
