POUNDING THE WRONG COON. 



29 



seem that the Jacana is vain, and par- 

 donably so, of his beautiful black-tipped 

 greenish yellow wing feathers. The head 

 and neck are black with a green gloss, 

 the body and wing coverts a deep chestnut. 

 A set of 4 eggs of this species are described 

 as being of "a rounded oval shape, having 

 a ground color of bright drab and marbled 

 over the entire surface with an interesting 

 network of black lines. The markings 

 curve and wind in various ways, always 

 in rounded, never in angular, turns, and 

 the eggs present a peculiar, unmistakable 

 and characteristic appearance." 



Unlike the typical short-tailed Ameri- 

 can bird, the pretty Chinese Jacana (Hy- 



dro phasianus) , or water pheasant, is a 

 peculiar looking bird, having long, grace- 

 ful tail feathers, carried like those of a 

 pheasant. During the rainy season this 

 Jacana builds a crude, flat nest in flooded 

 districts where the lotus abounds, weav- 

 ing grass and weeds in with some grow- 

 ing aquatic plant to retain it buoyant on 

 the surface. The eggs are olive brown 

 and the number 6 or y. The notes of this 

 bird are heard day and night, and so close- 

 ly resembles the mewing of a kitten as to 

 earn the title of Meewa from the natives. 

 The flesh of this Jacana is excellent, and 

 consequently it is in demand among 

 sportsmen. 



POUNDING THE WRONG COON. 



W. H. NELSON. 



One evening in the 50's I spent a night 

 with a school chum, and to get as much 

 out of the evening as possible we decided 

 on a coon hunt. My chum, John Mc- 

 Gonigle, had a hound, Bounce, possessing 

 a voice which made him famous in that 

 region. It could be heard in South 

 America. 



A walk of half a mile across fields and 

 woods took us to a wide cornfield, newly 

 gathered. Across this flowed several small 

 streams, whose banks were lined with 

 briers and small trees. 



Up one of these trees, a young ash, 

 Bounce treed a coon, a whopper, as it 

 proved. John generously delegated to me 

 the honor (?) of shaking the game out, 

 which I proceeded with much reluctance 

 to do. 



It took a good many swings to loosen the 

 coon's grip on the top limb. I was almost 

 directly beneath him, and fully expected 

 him to drop on me, a fear which came peri- 

 lously near being realized, for when he let 

 go above, his claws scraped my back as he 

 dropped. In my fright I almost followed 

 him. 



Once on the ground Bounce sprang 

 nobly to work, and for a time there was 

 such a tangle of snarls, squeals, yelps, and 

 howls, such a bedlam of dog and coon, 

 that I dared not come down lest I bhould 

 alight on preempted territory. 



The coon was too many for Bounce and 

 after several rounds, we concluded to go 

 to the aid of our ally. 



But we had no gun, no ax, no club. 

 Cutting, with much effort, a tough boi gh 

 from the ash, keeping all the while my 

 weather ear open for sounds of a renewal 

 of the conflict, I came, at last, into the 

 arena with a heavy, green club, hard to han- 

 dle, but meant to carry death to the coon, 

 if I could hit him. 



It was a hazy, starlit night, and objects 

 on the ground were mighty dim. Peep- 

 ing carefully, and poking with my long 

 club, I found the coon and proceeded to 

 wallup him unmercifully, while Bounce, 

 panting and resting, looked on. 



Pounding away till I was sure I had 

 broken every bone in the coon's body, 

 and my own wind completely, [ stepped 

 aside to take breath. Just at that moment 

 Bounce sprang on the coon in a different 

 direction from the point of my battle, and 

 a fresh and furious fight took place. 



This time I watched and the moment 

 Bounce retired, which he soon did, I 

 struck, and fortunately hit the enemy on 

 the head. The blow would have felled an 

 ox, and Zip went down. For some time I 

 continued to rain blow after blow on my 

 unconscious victim and only quit when he 

 was pulp. The object I had beaten so 

 furiously before proved to be a tussock of 

 sod. 



Next morning we skinned our game. He 

 weighed 19 pounds, and John Martin im- 

 mediately told of one of his coons which 

 weighed 25 pounds. We would have been 

 glad to lead the record, but not by lying. 



