366 



RECREATION. 



boarded the train here with our rifles and 

 other paraphernalia, and at Casos Grandes, 

 the present terminus of the railroad, we 

 secured saddle ponies, 4 pack mules, a 

 guide and a Mexican servant. After 4 

 days' travel we camped on the Govi- 

 land, a headwater stream of the Yaqui 

 River, amid scenery rivalling anything on 

 the continent. There we found game 

 in abundance: deer, turkeys, pigeons, squir- 

 rels and parrots; while the deep black 

 pools swarmed with trout. We followed 

 down the stream, which runs, or rather 

 rushes and roars, over a rocky bed at the 

 bottom of a canyon 1,000 feet deep, and 

 finally made camp at a beautiful spot 

 where we hunted, fished, bathed and en- 

 joyed ourselves generally; a good 100 

 miles from any human habitation, we, per- 

 haps, being the first white men who ever 

 visited that section. 



Lion tracks were thick, and once, when 

 riding down the canyon, 4 big fellows 

 climbed up on a bluff and looked at us. 

 One of the boys got in a shot and wounded 

 a lion, but, as we had no dogs, he got away. 

 The next day I shot 4 turkeys out of a big 

 drove and laying down my rifle, I took the 

 birds to a creek to dress them. Suddenly 

 I looked up, and there stood a big lion 

 sniffing the blood, and between me and my 

 rifle. I instantly remembered that I had 

 left my 6-shooter in camp. For about half 

 a minute we eyed each other, while I 

 thought what a pose for a camera! Then 

 his lionine majesty showed signs of rest- 

 lessness. His magnificent tail undulated 

 from side to side, and I thought I should 

 have to try him with my knife ; but when I 

 shied a rock at him, he trotted leisurely 

 away and I saw him no more. I carried 

 my 6-shooter thereafter. 



We explored and photographed several 

 cliff house ruins, from which we secured 

 a number of relics. Finally we decided 

 that the game was too gentle to afford 

 much sport, and after spending 4 days in 

 that spot, we packed up and started on the 

 return journey. We only shot bucks, and 

 on the return trip we "passed them all up" 

 as well as several droves of turkeys that 

 we saw; but one of the boys could not re- 

 sist the temptation to amuse himself by 

 shying small pebbles at a bunch. Having 

 only rifles, we did not shoot any pigeons 

 or squirrels, but I shot a poll parrot with 

 my 6-shooter. 



Near one camp there was evidence 

 of recent Indian occupation and we 

 moved out, much to the disgust of 

 the guide, who, being an old Indian 

 fighter, declared we could whip 100. 

 A small band of renegade Apaches have 

 their rendezvous in an accessible can- 

 yon not far from where we were, and 

 about a year ago they raided a Mormon 

 settlement. No white man has ever been 



in the canyon, which is 25 miles long and 3 

 to 10 wide, with walls 3,000 feet high, ren- 

 dering it inaccessible to all except Indians 

 who know a secret trail. A young Tem- 

 ache Indian declares he knows the trail, 

 and says he will guide us into it, and it is 

 my intention to explore the place next 

 October, when I expect to find archeolog- 

 ical treasures galore, to say nothing of 

 plenty of game and, perhaps, a few Indians 

 for variety. All that section, for hun- 

 dreds of miles, is absolutely uninhabited, 

 and is extremely broken and picturesque. 

 The canyons are deep, and through 

 each flows a stream of pure water. The 

 mountains are flat topped and covered 

 with pine and a luxuriant crop of grass, 

 thus forming the finest country for camp- 

 ing to be found anywhere; a place where 

 man can commune with nature to his 

 heart's content, and forget that there is 

 such a thing as a city with its eternal rush 

 for money. I. J. Bush. M.D. 



HUNTING FRANCOLINS IN BURMA. 



Yenangyanng, Upper Burma, India. 

 Editor Recreation: 



It was a damp morning and the clouds 

 were banking in the East, whence the rain 

 at that time of the year came. As there 

 was no prospect of the day being fine 

 enough for outdoor work, I decided to 

 take my old 12 -bore and try to get a shot 

 at the francolins. 



The variety that abounds here, C. F., is 

 found only within the dry zone in Burma, 

 and never West of the Irrawaddy river, 

 except near its bank. The Southern limit 

 of the distribution of this bird is well de- 

 fined. It frequents dry, open forest and 

 scrub jungle, and seems to prefer hilly or 

 undulating ground to the plains. Their 

 cheery call of "whack, whack, whacker," 

 could be heard from every hillock, and it 

 was not long before I found birds call- 

 ing close to me. Hitherto, I had met 

 these birds in the forest reserves where I 

 was engaged in surveying, and had them 

 beaten out ; but this time I was unaccom- 

 panied by even a native attendant. 



Thinking I could get him to rise, I ran 

 up to the bush in which I heard him call, 

 but though I jumped on it, I could not 

 find him. Recalling the fact that I had 

 come up hill toward him, and thinking 

 that he had spied me, I determined to get 

 up behind the next bird and come down on 

 him. Whick, whack, whacker; there 

 was a call just on my right, and behind the 

 crest of the hillock. Carefully climbing 

 up to the top, I gained the summit and 

 whirr-r went a black and brown body curv- 

 ing away from me, falling head first at 30 

 yards to my right barrel. 



I picked him up, tied him to my belt 

 and went on. ■ 



