AN AFTERNOON IN THE WOODS. 



J. L, OSTRANDER. 



One Saturday afternoon in October, 

 1897, I was attacked by that feeling which 

 periodically seizes me and gets steadily 

 worse until I take several doses of 

 smokeless powder and chilled shot. To 

 effect a cure I took down my little 

 Remington, 12 bore, 7M pounds hammer 

 shot gun, and after putting a few number 8 

 shells in my pocket, I started out. My 

 objective point was a little ravine, where I 

 had seen a ruffed grouse a few days be- 

 fore. Ten minutes' walk took me to the 

 woods, with our own incomparable Hud- 

 son river on one side, the Catskill moun- 

 tains on the other, and the Berkshires 

 away off to the East. 



I struck into the woods and soon reached 

 the little ravine, J /\ of a mile distant. 

 As I rounded a clump of hemlock, 

 out dashed my friend of a few days pre- 

 vious, on the opposite side. I had only a 

 glimpse of him, but as he went hustling 

 along I sent a charge of number 8 at him 

 through the trees, and scored a miss. 

 Dropping on the ground and looking un- 

 der the boughs I saw him about 100 yards 

 off, going straight ahead. I thought he 

 would go right on until he reached a 

 brush lot at the other end of the ravine. 

 Just as I arrived at the place where I had 

 last seen him, there was a roar and a 

 whirlwind of leaves not 10 yards to my 

 left. A second more and the grouse was 

 above the brakes and ferns and 20 yards 

 away. Then I pulled the trigger on him. 

 I had never used a shot spreader on game 

 before, but from a target previously made 

 I knew if I had missed it was the fault of 

 the man behind the gun. When I shot I 

 had a full view of the grouse, but he was 

 just going into a little bunch of hemlocks 

 and I didn't see him after the report. When 

 I reached the spot where he had disap- 

 peared, I found him lying on the ground, 

 almost at my feet, and I rejoiced in a 

 clean kill. He was my first bird of the 

 season, and as I looked him over, with 

 scarcely a feather ruffled, thanks to the 

 shot spreader, I thought I had never seen 

 a finer specimen of our king of game birds. 

 How much more satisfaction there is in 

 getting one such bird than in killing a 

 whole brood of half-grown, scrawny little 

 things. 



I then hunted through the brush lot 

 thoroughly but found no more grouse, so 

 I started for another piece of woods about 

 Vz mile away. As soon as I entered 



the brush, I flushed a bird, but being 

 tangled up in wild grape vines and briers I 

 had to let him go without a salute. My 

 only satisfaction was in following him. I 

 had not gone far when another big fellow 

 rose off to my left, about 20 yards away. 

 Bang! Still going. Bang! again. Going 

 still, at an increased speed. But I was de- 

 termined to have either that fellow or 

 something akin to him, so up the hill I 

 climbed, and after taking a rest I started 

 once more. Pushing through a jungle 

 which was first cousin to any Africa ever 

 produced, I came out on an ideal spot. 

 G—md old hemlocks towered on all sides. 

 It was hard ground to hunt over. Hills 

 and hollows seemed to grow without the 

 shadow of an excuse. I traveled along one 

 of these ridges until I reached a particu- 

 larly promising spot, and then descended 

 into a little hollow, when that pleasant 

 prelude that grows to a roar sounded just 

 below me. In an instant the source of it 

 was 40 or 50 yards away from me and 

 traveling like a cross between greased 

 ligjitninn - and thought. The little gun 

 spoke to him, however, and in obedi- 

 ence to its command, he stopped. The 

 powder and the shot were all right that 

 time, and I was as pleased as a lamb with 

 2 mothers. 



After getting a drink from a neighboring 

 spring. I started out again; but although 

 I flushed another bird I failed to get a shot 

 as I had only a glimpse of him a long 

 way off. Forty yards farther I scored an- 

 other miss. 



It was then time to go home, so I took 

 in the little swamp which adjoined the 

 brush lot, as it was in a direct line be- 

 tween me and supper; but although I 

 hunted it faithfully I did not see a sign 

 of hair or feathers until I was about to 

 give up, when 3 birds rose almost at the 

 same time. Bang! went the first barrel, 

 but the old fellow had business elsewhere 

 and did not stop. Behind him was his 

 brother and at the second reoort he decid- 

 ed to stay with me. I then had 3 grouse, 

 which I considered enough. Even though 

 T had not taken home a bird I should have 

 enjoyed the trip. 



A man who can find no pleasure in hunt- 

 ing, other than that derived from the 

 number of birds he gets, should be pro- 

 hibited by law from carrying a gun. 



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