
ee 4. TS 
FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 
a 45-60 rifle, for we intended to kill only 
what meat we needed. 
We left Dillon April 3, going up Black- 
tail Deer creek, and by 4 o’clock we were 
up to the forks, about 25 miles from Dillon. 
There we found a family of beavers, so we 
made camp. That night it rained and then 
snowed and at last cleared, cool and frosty 
before morning. 
The next day we moved camp about 7 
miles and left our traps set so one of us 
had to come back in the morning. We 
made camp at the mouth of the canyon, on 
the right fork of the creek. On each side 
were mountains towering several thousand 
feet above us. In the morning Jack said 
he would visit the traps and we could put 
in the day in the hills. Dunk and I started 
at sunrise for the top of a high, irregular 
mountain between the 2 creeks, about 7 
miles away. We rode 4 miles and then had 
to go afoot because of the snow. 
Just after we left the horses we saw 3 
antelope on a ridge, and crawled up close 
enough to see that one was a young buck. 
We had agreed to kill only males, animal 
or bird. This came within our lines. Dunk 
made a splendid shot and killed the buck. 
We dressed it and hung it up, to be picked 
up on our return. That was before the days 
of game laws or scarcity of game, so we 
could kill for our daily meet without fear 
of game wardens or of being roasted by 
RECREATION. 
.Crossing a deep canyon, over snow which 
frequently broke through, -we climbed a 
high mountain on whose side we found a 
bunch of mountain sheep, and from whose 
summit we had a magnificent view for many 
miles. 
While gazing on the scene we saw, in a 
deep valley 2,000 feet below us, a silver- 
tip mother and her cubs, sporting in the 
sun. It was too far to shoot and too dan- 
gerous climbing to go to her, so we left 
at in safety and ignorance with her chil- 
ren. 
Turning about, we sought camp, picking 
up our antelope on the way. 
camp tired and hungry, ready for Jack’s 
trout and a sleep. 
Jack had caught 3 beavers, and was skin- 
ning them when I went to sleep. 
The record of the next 90 days, if writ- 
ten, would read much like that of our first 
in camp, so I need not spin the whole yarn. 
We had dead loads of fun, plenty of trout, 
venison and hard work, and returned in the 
fall with faces like those of the native red 
man and with muscles like steel. 

THE GOBBLING SEASON. 
Have you ever been in a good turkey 
woods in April? Have you ever got up 
before daylight and started out, after get- 
We reached. 
291 
ting a hasty breakfast or cup of coffee, and 
listened for the first gobbler to commence ? 
Do you know how to imitate the whoop 
of an owl so as to start something for the 
gobbler to get mad at? If not, you have 
missed the grandest sport of all, and have 
a great deal to live for. Many people, some 
of whom have hunted turkeys, do not know 
that the best way to find them in the gob- 
bling season is to imitate the whoop of 
an owl just at daylight, or to listen first for 
the whoop of a real owl. 
Turkeys sometimes gobble a little earlier 
in the season, in this section, than April 
Ist. When the dogwood trees are in blos- 
som, and it is a clear, beautiful morning, 
you may be sure that if you are within a 
mile of a gobbler you will hear him. Then 
comes the most exciting time of turkey 
hunting. He may answer the call at once, 
and come within easy range; but you must 
not get excited and think he is in range be- 
fore he is, or you will miss the chance. 
Then again, especially if your call is the 
least defective, he may be one of the smart- 
est of all wild game, and come only just 
beyond range. There he may walk up and 
down and say, “Now you come to me,” 
which is practically an impossibility. The 
uncertainty is, of course, the interesting 
‘part; but I know one place where you can 
go and feel reasonably certain of getting 
a shot at a 22 pounder; a place where you 
can hear over 50 turkeys gobble in one 
morning; a place where deer are thicker 
than rabbits, with no scarcity of rabbits; 
but, of course, you must not shoot a deer 
or a hen turkey in April, even if I tell you 
where the place is. 
Pax, Memphis,Tenn. 

FROM BOSTON, TOO! 
Vincenzo Tasanarri, the well known North 
street merchant, lived up to his reputaticn with 
gun and rifle at Milford the other day by_ shoot- 
ing 35 squirrels in an hour. This record, it is said, 
has never been eclipsed among Milford’s sharp- 
shooters. All of Mr. Tassanarri’s friends are now 
complimenting him for his prowess with the 
gun. 
This clipping is from the Boston Post. 
The fellow mentioned lives on North street, 
Boston. He needs a little advice from you. 
Am sorry I haven’t a picture of him to put 
with the other hogs in your rack. 
Richard D. Jacob, Dorchester, Mass. 
In answer to a letter of inquiry, I re- 
ceived the following: 
I received your short letter inquiring for 
a true statement of what you have written 
and am very glad to say to you that every 
word of it is true as I am quite a mark at 
shooting or gunning as I should say, and 
also am very fond of it, too. 
I did not think it would not go outside 
