120 



RECREATION. 



I caught, or saw, was scarcely 12 inches 

 long. There are no ruffed grouse on Rail- 

 road creek, or any of its tributaries. 



I was disappointed in not having an op- 

 portunity to photograph game. 



If there is a neck o' woods where the 

 game and fish hog — especially the latter — ■ 

 should be roasted, it is here on Lake 

 Chelan. Fish are caught by the hundreds, 

 at the head of the lake, during their spawn- 

 ing season, and until the last of June or 

 middle of July. The game law of this State 

 does not forbid the taking of fish during 

 this season, so there is no way to punish 

 the unscrupulous parties who are so rapid- 

 ly depleting the supply of fish in the lake. 



We should have a fish and game warden 

 for this section; but no one seems willing 

 to do the rustling necessary to secure them. 

 E. L. Dexter, Lakeside, Wash. 



SOME REMARKABLE SHOTS. 



The remarkable shot made by J. F. War- 

 ner reminds me of one I made when I was 

 a boy. A young friend, Noah Foltz, and I 

 went squirrel hunting one morning, to the 

 Hanna woods. This woods is hilly and in 

 many places the hills are parallel. We 

 wanted to make a clean sweep, so Foltz 

 took one hill and I another. I had not 

 gone far when a gray squirrel ran up a tree 

 and stopped about 10 feet from the ground. 

 I carried a muzzle loading rifle, and in 

 those days a squirrel's head was not worth 

 much after I pulled the trigger. I levelled 

 that old rifle and took careful aim, for I 

 did not want my friend to kill more game 

 than I did that day. I pulled the trigger 

 and down came the game, without any 

 head. The sound of the gun had not died 

 away, when Foltz yelled at me, mad as a 

 wet hen. 



'You fool! What made you shoot so 

 far? I was just going to shoot that squirrel 

 myself! " 



I had shot a squirrel, on the other hill, 

 which was at least 150 yards away. Foltz 

 would not believe I had not killed his 

 game purposely until I showed him the 

 one I had killed on my hill. What makes 

 this shot more remarkable is that both 

 squirrels had their heads shot off, and as 

 my friend hunted with a shotgun, there 

 was no one to blame it on but me. 



G. R. Loudenback, Sidney, O. 



Reading about the remarkable shot of J. 

 Frank Warner, brings to my mind one 

 made by a companion of mine while hunt- 

 ing on snow-shoes, for our winter's meat, 

 in the Teton mountains just South of the 

 Yellowstone Park, in December, 1893. We 

 had spotted 4 elk, and my companion went 

 around a point of timber, to drive them out 

 toward me. When he came upon them, 

 one was standing with head away from him 

 and one directly in front of that, slightly 



sidewise. He took careful aim at the one 

 nearest and fired. Both elk fell at once. 

 He ran to the first, cut its throat, then 

 started for the other, but before he reached 

 it the elk got up and came in the open, 

 where I killed it. His shot had struck it 

 in the shoulder and lodged there. We 

 went back to the first elk and looked it over 

 carefully for a bullet hole, but could find 

 none. In quartering, and afterward in skin- 

 ning the quarters as needed, we looked for 

 a bullet hole, but there was none. We ex- 

 amined head and legs as carefully as any 

 other part of the body, but could find no 

 bullet hole anywhere. 



I have always thought the elk was para- 

 lyzed with fear, and that before it re- 

 covered, my companion had cut its throat. 

 What do you think? 



G. W. R., Montpelier, Vt. 



The wonderful shot made by Mr. Geo. 

 Richardson, of Tulare, Cal., when he killed 

 a jack snipe 190 yards away, reminds me 

 of a story I heard back in Pennsylvania 

 years ago. 



A local celebrity, known as Old Peter, 

 sauntered into the village store one even- 

 ing and remarked, " I was over to the lake 

 the other day, looking for ducks." " Did 

 you find any?" asked one of the boys. 

 " Found clouds of them," replied Peter. " I 

 fired both barrels at one big flock and how 

 many ducks do you suppose I killed with 

 those 2 shots? " We all knew Peter was a 

 high grade liar and we did our best to call 

 his hand. One said 8, another 10 and I 

 guessed 15. " No, Sir-ee," said Peter, " I 

 killed just 99 ducks." "Huh!" cried 

 someone; "why not add one more and 

 make it an even 100? " " Boys," inquired 

 Peter, drawing himself up with an offended 

 air, " do you think I would tell a lie for the 

 sake of one duck? 



A. B. Cameron, Barns, Ore. 



HOW TO LEARN. 



Catskill, N. Y. 

 Editor Recreation: I have been a 

 sportsman for 40 years of the 62 which have 

 passed over my head, and flatter myself I 

 know a gun from a hoe-handle. In that time 

 I have read many fool articles on " how to 

 become a good wing shot " and it is quite 

 refreshing to find good sound sense in the 

 letter by " Pull," in February Recreation. 

 My advice to those who wish to become 

 good shots in the field, is, to read " Pull's " 

 article and follow his advice in every detail. 

 Get a cylinder-bore gun, and go in the 

 country where game is abundant. Go with 

 some one who knows more than you do, 

 and be careful not to become wiser than he 

 the first day. Get out as often as you can 

 and shoot and keep on shooting. Practice 

 and not " book larnin' " makes a marks- 

 man. Trap shooting is good amusement 



