WAS THE BIRD WOUNDED? 



Here is a reproduction of a photo that 

 comes to me, and certain correspondence 

 regarding it, which will no doubt prove 

 interesting to many amateur photographers : 



Corry, Pa. 

 I am sending you by this mail a negative 

 of a ruffed grouse I caught alive and un- 

 wounded last season. He was lying under 

 a small log which was a few inches above 

 ground. My dog pointed him, but not 

 until we were both within a few feet of the 

 bird. The day was quiet and the bird 

 evidently did not see me, as he was look- 

 ing toward the dog on the opposite side of 

 the log from me. I made a sudden grab 

 for the grouse and caught him by the tail. 

 My friend, Mr. E. S. Wilson, was a witness 

 to the performance, and, having a pocket 

 camera with him, we took 2 snaps at the 

 only unwounded grouse we know of ever 

 being caught by hand. When we dressed 

 the bird at night we could find no sign of 

 a wound or sickness about him. Wilson 

 calls this a case of "a bird in the hand." 

 Yours truly, 



J. W. Campbell. 



On receipt of the letter and the negative 

 I wrote Mr. Campbell as follows : 



Dear Sir: 



The negative of the grouse was broken 

 when it reached my office, but fortunately 

 that part showing the bird is intact. 



I sent this to the Eastman Kodak Co. 

 and had an enlargement made from it, 8 x 

 10 inches, which shows the bird well up 

 toward life size. 



It now becomes necessary to say some- 

 thing that I dislike to have to say. The 

 picture shows that the bird's tail had been 

 pulled out, that one wing was broken, and 

 there is an indication of a shot wound in 

 its breast. I certainly have no desire to 

 question your statement that the bird had 

 not been wounded, but should like further 

 information from you before publishing the 

 picture. 



Kindly let me hear from you again, 

 greatly obliging, Yours truly, 



G. O. Shields. 



New Castle, Pa. 

 Dear Sir : The facts in above case were 

 as I gave them to you. I caught the bird 

 by the tail and the feathers pulled out in 

 the effort. Mr. Elmer Wilson, of Corry, 

 and his family had the bird for their din- 

 ner next day. They said they found no 

 wounds. I have no interest in lying about 

 it, as you seem to imply. If the wing was 

 broken I did not know it. 

 Yours truly, 



J. W. Campbell, 

 Pastor First Methodist Church. 



Comment is unnecessary. Here are a 

 few questions, however, which will no 

 doubt occur to every sportsman, and espe- 

 cially such as have undertaken to photo- 

 graph live wild birds or animals. 



Would a wild ruffed grouse, caught in 

 the woods, sit on a branch of a tree, as 

 this bird did, and let a man stand within a 

 few feet of him to take his picture, if able 

 to fly? 



Would he let one of his wings hang 

 down, as shown in this picture, if the wing 

 was not broken? 



If the wing was broken, could 2 men 

 handle the bird, set it up on a branch of a 

 tree, and photograph it without finding 

 the wound. 



Would one of these men take the bird 

 home, dress it, and eat it, without finding 

 out that it had been wounded? 



Could he, under the circumstances, con- 

 scientiously state to his reverend friend 

 that he found no wound on the bird? 



Would his reverend friend send the 

 picture to an editor and write "We took 2 

 snaps at the only unwounded grouse we 

 know of ever being caught by hand," if 

 that reverend gentleman were as careful 

 of the truth as he should be? — Editor. 



WINTER. 



IRA SWEET. 



The wind sings a dirge on the mountain, 



Lies frozen the river below, 

 While the leaves that fell in the autumn 



Are buried deep under the snow. 



The birds are long gone to the tropics, 

 The flowers are awaiting the spring, 



The grouse in the birches are budding, 

 While merrily reigns the ice king. 



The quails, our plump friends of October, 



Now fearlessly visit the barn, 

 And feed with the pigeons and sparrows, 



These true autocrats of the farm. 



The rods laid away in their cases, 

 The gun's lying snug in the rack ; 



While the range on the low lying meadow 

 Rings no more to the rifle's sharp crack. 



The sportsmen now read Recreation 

 And patiently wait for the day, 



When the game hog, that curse of the na- 

 tion, 

 In the dust will be mouldering away. 



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