
The Colclesser Tomahawk 
In September RECREATION I notice that Mr. 
W. Brownridge, of South Orange, N. J., says, 
under the heading of ‘‘A Good Tomahawk,” 
that nothing in the way of a hunting ax equals 
a Colclesser 12-ounce tomahawk. Now, as 
good goods are sure to be found out, I wish to 
say that I, too, am a user of Colclesser hunting 
axes, only my favorite is a 16-ounce double 
blade, with a 14-inch handle, this handle being 
nearly round and quite large enough to fully 
fill my hand when closed. Also the top end is 
wound with cord to give a firm grip. 
This little ax has been in constant use for 
nearly eight years and has stood the hardest 
kind of usage, from cutting the wires to open a 
bale of hay and the general use around camp 
to digging traps out of the frozen mud and 
blazing out lines in ‘‘looking” timber lands. 
The thick edge I use for the rough work and 
the thin edge for clear timber, and I never in 
my twenty-five years’ experience in the woods 
saw any edged tool to compare with this little 
double-bladed ax for holding a sharp edge. 
Hunting hatchets have been somewhat of a 
hobby with me. In my time I have used nearly 
all kinds advertised, besides what I could induce 
blacksmiths to make for me, but I never as yet 
got hold of anything half as good for actual 
use as the Colclesser little axes. 
During the last few years I have induced a 
number of my sportsmen friends to purchase 
Colclesser tomahawks, and after testing them 
on outing trips they all had only words of 
praise for them. 
I also have an 8-ounce tomahawk, which I 
sometimes carry when I wish to go light on a 
trail after deer or bear. 4. Bo Marts: 
Metamora, Mich. 

Fly-fishing for Hornets 
Late in the afternoon while fly-fishing for 
bass on the lake it is no uncommon occurrence 
to have the night-hawks sweep down with a 
w-h-r-r-r-r! after the feather lures; indeed, upon 
more than one occasion I have jerked my fly 
away for fear of hooking one of these interesting 
and useful birds. But the night-hawk is not 
the only bird which will take the artificial fly; 
all of the fly-catchers, phoebe birds, king birds 
or any of their kin will take a fly as readily asa 
trout. At one dark, deep bass hole, where an 
“‘old settler” of generous proportions used to 
lurk, there was a black alder bush, which, 
because of the deep shade of the forest trees on 
the shore, had leaned its trunk far over the 
dark water in search of the life-giving sun- \ 
shine, and in the branches overhanging the 
bass hole two kinglets had built their nest, 
which I only discovered from the fact that 
every time I made a cast there one or both the 
little birds made a swoop for my fly. Although 
there was more than once a commotion in the 
pool, leaving a big swirl in the water, which 
told of the presence of a big and hungry fish, 
I never hooked it, because the king birds were 
quicker than the fish and I was compelled to 
prematurely jerk my line away to prevent 
capturing one of the little parents of the skinny, 
fuzzy-covered midgets in the pretty nest. 
Not only do various birds readily take the 
artificial fly, but the big, black, paper nest- 
building hornets will dart at the feather-deco- 
rated hook upon every occasion, and more than 
once I have had dragon flies try to devour my 
lures under the impression that they were real, 
live insects. 
Speaking of the ease with which birds are 
deceived and remembering the old, old story of 
the artist who painted fruit so realistic that the 
birds came and pecked it, it may interest the 
reader to know that when but a small boy I 
painted a lot of black beetles on a sheet of 
white paper and placed it near some catbirds 
with the result that the birds pecked the paper 
“full of holes” in their efforts to secure the 
imitation insects. 
At Whippoorwill Camp, near Wildlands, Pa., 
where I am now writing, I related the last 
incident, and it was met with incredulous 
smiles. In the oak tree shading the door of 
the camp is a goodly sized paper balloon of a 
nest occupied by black hornets who busy them- 
selves searching for house flies; piqued at the 
reception of my story, I proclaimed the fact 
that I could fool these hornets with a picture of 
a fly, and forthwith drew one with a soft lead 
pencil on a paper pad, while all the ‘‘Whip- 
poorwills” sat round ‘and watched. It was 
