ANGLING FOR WILD TURKEYS. 



E. E. HICKOCK. 



Looking over my fly book a few days 

 ago I came across the remains of what had 

 been a. gaudy Royal Coachman. I say had 

 been because it is now but a conglomerate 

 mass of tinsel, gimp, silk and feather, and 

 its bright colors which formerly flashed in 

 the sunlight are now faded and gone. 

 Whenever I see this old relic my mind goes 

 back many years to my boyhood days — to 

 the many outings I then enjoyed, when all 

 the world was new to me. 



I grew up on the banks of Salt river in 

 North Missouri, just where its 3 branches 

 join, the head waters of North Fork being 

 150 miles to the North, in Iowa; those of 

 the South Fork 75 miles South, near the 

 Missouri river, and those of Middle Fork 

 100 miles to the West. For several miles 

 on each side of these streams the country is 

 broken. Heavy timber and dense under- 

 growth gave cover to all kinds of game, 

 while the prairies abounded with quail and 

 grouse. In winter wild geese fed in the 

 fields in day time, and went to the river at 

 night. All these features combined made 

 this section a sportsman's paradise. 



Once when loitering down the North 



Fork a mile below Hickman's mill, think- 

 ing I might kill a duck, I had with me a 

 little black and tan terrier whom I had 

 taught to retrieve any game that might fall 

 in the water. 



Coming to a big pile of drift, at a sharp 

 bend in the river, I peered over the bank 

 to see if any ducks were in sight, while 

 " Pres " nosed around in the drift. Shortly 

 I heard a " plunk " in the water, under the 

 drift, and in a minute a head popped up 

 some 20 feet out in the stream. I didn't 

 know what it was, but on general principles 

 sent a load of shot at it and was rewarded 

 by seeing a long smooth body float to the 

 surface. My first impression was that it 

 was a muskrat; but it couldn't be that, for 

 it was as large as a dozen rats. 



The current set directly across the river 

 there, and my game floated to the opposite 

 bank 200 feet away. Then it sailed 

 smoothly down stream, I following on my 

 side and wondering how I could get it. 

 After going about 100 yards I had the sat- 

 isfaction of seeing it lodge against a root 

 about 15 feet out from shore, where the 

 bank was some 10 feet high. 



*J 



i. 



Frnf. 



HE TOWED THE BEAST ASHORE. 

 165 



