364 



RECREA TIOJV. 



TOUGH SPORT. 



In August, 1893, my father, Uncle Dick 

 Mitchel, Mr. Christopher and I started 

 from our homes in Polk county for a camp 

 hunt, 35 or 40 miles from where we lived. 

 On the way down, I killed a turkey. Fa- 

 ther wanted a deer, so the next day we 

 made a drive with the dogs, but had no 

 luck. The following morning we made an- 

 other drive. Father was to make the drive 

 and the others were to take stands. Away 

 we went to our places. It was not long 

 before I heard old Prince open on a deer 

 trail. Soon I heard Uncle Dick's gun, and 

 while I was wondering if he had killed 

 anything, I saw a large deer coming. My 

 hair commenced pushing my hat up, but 

 when he came near I put a ball through his 

 ribs and another within 3 inches of the first. 

 As he went away I fired 4 more shots but 

 didn't touch him. I followed and found 

 him lying down. I put my gun down and 

 took my knife out to stick him, but my 

 knife being dull, I did not make a good 

 job of it. He bellowed and scared me with- 

 in an inch of my life, but I grabbed his 

 horns and held on. Then I tried to cut 

 his neck vein, and he bellowed again. I 

 clinched his horns once more. I thought it 

 would be too good a joke to let the rest of 

 the party come and see me holding the deer, 

 so I decided to risk my life. I turned him 

 loose, sprang for my gun, shot him through 

 the head and then gave the call. The party 

 came in and decided we had enough meat, 

 so we set out for home. On the way back, 

 I killed another turkey. 



A. B. Williams, Eufaula, I. T. 



MY FIRST BLACK SWAN. 



• 



Some years ago I was in Australia. I had 

 but recently arrived and was what they call 

 there a " new chum." Fond of a gun then 

 as now, I walked out from Melbourne, with 

 my muzzle-loading shotgun, to see the 

 " bush " and to shoot any game that might 

 appear. I went about 40 miles from the 

 city and there camped for a few days. On 

 the third day while walking about, a flock 

 of black cockatoos came past me. I shot 

 one and crippled it. The rest flew round 

 me until I fired and got 5 of them. They 

 are larger than crows, with sulphur colored 

 crests on their heads and with yellow tail 

 feathers. I might have shot more, but in 

 the distance I saw a flock of black swans 

 rise up and light again. I put an Ely's wire 

 cartridge of B.B. in one barrel and went in 

 their direction. Creeping through a marshy 

 place, I came to open water. There, within 

 40 yards, were wild ducks swimming 

 around, heedless of danger, and 60 or 70 

 yards off was a large flock of black swans. 

 They rose from the water as I fired. Three 

 fell, and I waded in after them. I secured 

 2. The third, being only wounded, escaped 

 into deeper water. On my way to camp I 

 saw 10 kangaroos about 150 or 200 yards 



away, but could not get within shotgun 

 range of them. 



A. Andrews, Fournier, Ont. 



CAMPING IN WISCONSIN. 



The Marengo Gun Club spent the last 

 half of October in the forests of Northern 

 Wisconsin, hunting deer. Our camp is lo- 

 cated on the banks of Marengo river, about 

 7 miles Southeast of Pratt. 



At 4 p.m. we arrived in Pratt, where our 

 good friend, Billy Bon, had a team ready 

 to take our baggage. We were in hunting 

 togs, and struck off afoot for the camp. 

 We got lost several times, but managed to 

 reach our ground at last. Mr. Bon was 

 there before us and had the stove up, bed 

 made and wood cut, and in a short time 

 we were eating supper. 



Breakfast was ready at daylight. We re- 

 sponded to the first call, and in less than 

 10 minutes were off for the woods. 



One grouse and one doe were the score of 

 the first day's hunt; but we located some 

 good runways on which we intended to 

 watch next morning. 



On the third day we got a buck and a doe. 



We killed only 6 deer in the 2 weeks we 

 remained in camp, but as there were no pot 

 hunters or game hogs in our party, we were 

 satisfied. 



We enjoyed our outing thoro.ughly and 

 realized to the fullest extent that " there is 

 a pleasure in the pathless woods." 



D. T. H., Marengo, 111. 



A POT HUNTER SPEAKETH. 



I have been waiting for those would-be 

 sportsmen to ring off and let the poor pot 

 hunter and farmer boy alone. 



I am proud to say I was a farmer boy, 

 and am a pot hunter. I expect to be one 

 as long as I can squint over a gun barrel. 

 I never was guilty of making a hog of my- 

 self. I don't shoot as if I feared some game 

 might be left for my neighbors. From 2 

 to 10 of anything in the game line is enough 

 for anyone but a game hog, or a sportsman. 

 I often go out and only shoot 3 or 4 times, 

 yet feel well paid for my trouble. 



A sportsman would kill everything in 

 sight, but I know when I get enough. I am 

 not ambitious to make a big bag, and write 

 to the paper. A sportsman would take from 

 200 to 500 shells along, and because there 

 was some game left, shed bitter tears of re- 

 gret that he had not taken 1,000. Where has 

 our game gone? Ask the sportsmen and 

 game hogs; they can solve the riddle for 

 you. I am only guilty of the unpar- 

 donable sin of eating what I kill. Awful, 

 ain't it? Give us a rest and throw your hot 

 shot into the sportsmen and game hogs. 

 Hot pot them all. 

 A Pot Hunting Jay Hawker, Helper, Kan. 



You are sadly mistaken. The animal you 

 mention who would kill everything in sight ; 



