370 



RECREATION. 



grouse and other game, and our streams 

 were full of trout. We had but few game 

 hogs and no market hunters. 



Let us take a trip to the game range, 

 and the reason for this disappearance will 

 soon appear. 



We have reached the mountains, where 

 the deer used to feed and the grouse to 

 nest, and the air was filled with the mel- 

 ody of thousands of birds. Everywhere we 

 see bare earth. Not a blade of grass, not a 

 flower nor living plant, where a few years 

 ago all was life and beauty. Instead of 

 the fragrance of flowers, the air is filled 

 with the pungent odor of sheep corrals. 



It is noon; we will go to a beautiful 

 glen to rest and eat our luncheon. Alas, 

 the same desolation! The banks of that 

 once beautiful stream are dusty and bare, 

 made so by the thousands of sheep that 

 have been watered there. 



But the water is surely the same. Rip- 

 pling over the pebbly bottom, singing as 

 merrily as ever, surely we can quench our 

 thirst there. We kneel and taste and 

 start back in surprise. What can be the 

 matter? , 4 



Once so cool and sweet, it has now a 

 brackish taste and is unfit to drink. 



What can be the cause? We go up the 

 stream to find out if possible and at last 

 come to an old corral. The mystery is 

 solved. 



As far as the eye can see the same deso- 

 lation. It is no wonder the game has 

 gone. It could not stay. 



When I think of the destruction and 

 desolation spread through the game re- 

 gions of Washington my blood boils. Is 

 it any wonder our game is gone? 



Our beautiful lakes and streams are pol- 

 luted by the drainage of hundreds of cor- 

 rals along the banks. Government timber 

 reserves, like other lands, are pastured by 

 the Sheep Kings, and every year the game 

 is being driven farther and farther away, 

 as the herds move farther into the moun- 

 tains for grass. Not only this, but the 

 herders deliberately set fire to the forests, 

 under orders from their employers, that 

 more grass land may be provided for next 

 year. 



What can we do to save our game? 

 L. A. S., Brikelton, Wash. 



ANSWER. 



Do as the Montana and Wyoming peo- 

 ple are doing. Serve notice on the sheep- 

 men to quit. If they refuse — well, you 

 have the remedy in your own hands. 

 Meantime see that your Legislature enacts 

 a law requiring sheep owners to keep their 

 sheep at home under fence, just as you 

 would be required to keep a sheep-killing 

 dog locked up. It is a poor rule that does 

 not work both ways. — Editor. 



BOSTON DUCK SHOOTERS. 



We have, right here within the limits 

 of Boston, the worst game hogs in the 

 United States. From the moment the 

 season opened until the ice stopped their 

 operations these fellows were busy at 

 their task of exterminating the ducks in 

 Braintree, Quincy and Weymouth bays. 

 They killed for the sake of killing; and 

 their thirst for blood will not be quenched 

 until the last bird within range of their 

 guns has been riddled with shot. 



Their dirty work is made not only pos- 

 sible but safe by their possession of 

 money. With money they buy or lease 

 every bit of water front where it is at all 

 likely a bird will pass. With money they 

 erect blinds on the most promising spots 

 and hire men to mow down, with 8- 

 gauge guns, every bird that comes within 

 range. With money they bar sportsmen 

 from their domains, and, presumably with 

 money, influence legislation. 



Through their efforts a law was made 

 preventing any person from shooting 

 from a boat or floating device of any 

 kind, in the above mentioned bays. Thus 

 their victory is complete. They claimed 

 the birds fell an easy prey to boat shoot- 

 ers and were being exterminated by them. 

 The fact is that in a singe volley from 

 one blind of the game hogs, more birds 

 have been killed than any boat shooter 

 of my acquaintance has bagged in an en- 

 tire season, and I know most of them. 



Considering the scarcity of game in 

 this vincinity, the scores some of the 

 stands have made, and of which their 

 proprietors boast, are alarming. The 

 birds are given no show for their lives. 

 Bunched within easy range, they are 

 mowed down by the score. One of the 

 hog's delights is to cover the side of his 

 barn with birds, which hang for weeks 

 until cut down to make room for new 

 victims. 



Here is a chance for the L. A. S. to get 

 in some good solid work. If something 

 is not done at once there will soon be 

 no use for the League in this part of the 

 State. 



Wessagussett, Boston, Mass. 



DODGING MR. DODGE. 

 In August Recreation Harrison H. 

 Dodge needlessly defends his whilom host 

 against an accusation which he assumes was 

 implied in my remark about hearing the 

 baying of hounds. That remark was in- 

 tended solely to emphasize the unfrequent- 

 edness of the Saranac woods. It was also, 

 however, a statement of fact which can be 

 fortified with affidavits. Several times dur- 

 ing my stay at Saranac in '99 hounds were 

 heard trailing deer, and the sound was in 

 the direction of the Blagden camp. That, 



