FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



117 



we traveled, and it was necessary to send 

 ahead men with saws and axes to cut a 

 way through. 



The forest and undergrowth were dense, 

 almost obscuring the sun. Black bear and 

 grouse were numerous and the river was 

 full of delicious trout. On reaching the 

 summit of the divide between Quilicene 

 and Dungeness rivers, at an altitude of 

 6,000 feet, the country grew more open, 

 with good feed for the horses, and snow 

 on the peaks and sheltered spots. Deer 

 were abundant. In an hour's stroll our 

 first morning in camp I counted 10, the 

 hills being fairly cut up by game trails. 

 Bear and cougar sign were numerous, but 

 these animals are too nocturnal in their 

 habits to make hunting them a pleasure, 

 though we saw several and shot a few. 

 Near the salt licks the carcasses of fawns 

 with torn throats gave evidence of the 

 cougar's work. 



The hot days brought into life myriads 

 of exceedingly fierce flies and mosquitoes, 

 making it necessary to wear mosquito hats 

 when in camp, but the chilly nights gaye 

 respite from them and ensured good rest 

 on luxurious beds of balsam fir boughs. 

 We made our camp near a huge snow bank 

 in which we refrigerated our meat and 

 perishable supplies. Wild berries and 

 flowers grew in profusion. Delicious soft, 

 cold water was in abundance, forming 

 lovely cascades and rills in every little 

 canyon. 



Our permanent camp was on a shoulder 

 of Mount Constance, midway between the 

 summit and the East fork of Dungeness 

 river, amid particularly grand scenery. A 

 little climb morning or evening to the 

 ridges would be amply repaid by sunrise 

 or sunset effects on the clouds and snow- 

 clad peaks simply indescribable. Mounts 

 Olympus and Constance are the highest 

 points in this range ; farther off could be 

 seen the blue sound and straits, with Mount 

 Baker and the Cascade range for a back- 

 ground. 



In little secluded valleys, reached on 

 foot, were bands of elk, often 50 or more, 

 but we let them alone as it is almost im* 

 possible to pack out a head or a quarter 

 of meat from such a country. It is no trick 

 at all to bag deer, some of the bucks being 

 large, with grand heads; but the job of 

 getting them to camp often makes the 

 hunter wish he had missed his shot. 



An interesting animal thereabouts is the 

 whistling marmot, a sort of huge prairie 

 dog weighing 10 to 25 pounds. They are 

 numerous and tame, and make hay like a 

 farmer, cutting, drying and storing it. The 

 Indians and some prospectors claim they 

 are good eating, but most people seem 

 prejudiced against them. 



These mountains are full of gold, silver, 



copper and iron, but the formation is so 

 broken and travel so difficult that but few 

 seek the prizes that are undoubtedly there. 



All the rivers, Docewallips, Quilicene, 

 Dungeness, Elwah and Solduc, and Qui- 

 nault and Crescent lakes are full of trout, 

 from the tiny brook species to the giant 

 Beardsley, including the rainbow, cutthroat 

 and Dolly Varden. The bays along the 

 sound afford 'the finest salmon trolling on 

 the coast. Grouse and Chinese pheasants 

 are numerous and are found in the open 

 stubble fields. Some way should be devised 

 to make their presence remunerative to the 

 farmer. His grain suffers from the birds 

 and his stock is frequently riddled by irre- 

 sponsible shooters. Hence it is not strange 

 that he prefers to see the birds destroyed 

 rather than protected. 



Herbert Earlscliffe, Santa Barbara, Cal. 



HUNTING DEER IN MICHIGAN. 



Time : November 8th to 20th, 1899. Place : 

 Schoolcraft county, Michigan. Party: Fish- 

 er, Hyde, Gleason, Mason, Selous, Hillman, 

 I and Bishop, the cook, whom we nick- 

 named Rosie. 



We left the train at a point where the 

 railroad passes close to a bend of Indian 

 river. Willing hands were soon at work 

 dragging boxes and tents to the bank, using 

 a toboggan and 4 man team. Rosie, Fisher 

 and I were detailed to put up the tent, 

 while the team returned for another load. 

 We sat our guns near and were busy at 

 work, when suddenly we heard the bark 

 of a dog, followed by cracking of brush. 

 Then out jumped a buck, which ran up the 

 steep bank on the opposite side of the river. 

 We each had but one load in our guns. 

 Rosie fired first and missed; then Fisher, 

 another miss. By that time the buck had 

 reached the top of the hill, only 15 rods 

 from our tent, and instead of disappearing, 

 as we had expected, he stopped, turned his 

 heavily antlered head and calmly looked 

 down on us, much more calmly than we 

 looked at him. You are wondering what I 

 was doing all that time? So were Rosie 

 and Fisher. 



I use as my favorite deer gun my 12 

 gauge Remington hammerless, with a 45.90 

 rifle barrel inserted in one barrel. Previ- 

 ous to that time I had used the rifle in the 

 left barrel and buckshot in the right, which 

 was cylinder bore ; but owing to my adop- 

 tion of a new plan of loading buckshot for 

 choke bore guns, I had changed the rifle 

 to the right barrel. As the deer stopped, I 

 took deliberate aim and pulled. No report. 

 I broke open the gun, turned the shell and 

 tried again. Still no report, for, of course, 

 I had been pulling the wrong trigger, snap- 

 ping the empty barrel which formerly held 

 the rifle. After waiting a moment the 



