FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



FOUR-FOOTED POT-HUNTERS. 



Warren's, Minn. 

 When the eager duck-hunter misjudges 

 distance, he fails to hit, not seldom; which 

 is one reason, perhaps, why the secret of 

 the passing of our game birds is but half- 

 guessed by many who hold the facts known 

 too close to their eyes. 



How many of us who love the pass- 

 shooting and the whirr of the grouse 

 realize that we have never learned to fight 

 the most widely diffused, and the most de- 

 structive enemies of both classes of our 

 American game birds? 



Two years ago, while summering at my 

 old Wisconsin home, I was delighted to 

 have a bird-loving younger brother say he 

 had found a ruffed grouse nest. This was 

 in July. With loving care, the camera 

 wherewith one shoots in summer days, was 

 set among the dead branches that skirted 

 the brush heap, wherein the nest had been 

 made, among the leaves. 



The next day, wishing to secure a better 

 study, the spot was neared again. There 

 was nothing left save a few smeared egg- 

 shells and scattered feathers to show what 

 a gallant fight the mother bird had made. 



The culprit? We found her, an hour 

 later, when, visiting a neighboring wood, 

 with photographic intent, we paused a mo- 

 ment, in the faint wood road; and, hearing 

 a slight thud, turned and saw the mouth of 

 a well-hidden burrow, among the scanty 

 grass — from which was thrust the nose of a 

 mother skunk. A family of little black 

 devils were hidden below. 



Now the poor grouse had probably been 

 robbed by the skunks of her first brood; 

 and at that late season it was most unlikely 

 she would make a second attempt at family- 

 raising. I believe the diminution in the 

 number of our ruffed grouse — which 

 amounts nearly to extermination — is due to 

 the depredations of the striped skunk, more 

 than to all other causes combined. 



Cannot the members of the L. A. S. in- 

 duce the leaders of ladies' fashions to wear 

 skunk-tails on their hats, and thus aid in 

 the destruction of the ruffed grouse's arch- 

 enemy? 



So much for the 4-footed pot hunter of 

 the wood. There is also one of the prairie. 

 A brother sportsman, at Pembina, N. D., 

 reports that his half-breed assistant met in 

 a coyote den a startling revelation. There 

 were young whelps, just growing into the 

 blood-thirsty age, and everywhere about 

 were shells of duck eggs, and coot eggs, 

 of grebe eggs, and, particularly, of grouse 

 eggs. The destruction must have been 

 frightful, judging by the report of this keen 



observer. How long, oh Coquina, will 

 the several states wherein the coyote is 

 found, allow him to go on killing calves of 

 deer, elk and moose, and working havoc 

 among our winged game in the one way 

 that is most damaging and most deadly? 



And what of the muskrat, the wholesale 

 destroyer of eggs, and ducklings, and sit- 

 ting mother-birds? Does his value, as a 

 fur-bearing animal, counterbalance his 

 cussedness as a game destroyer? 



Last June I visited the Geroux marsh, in 

 Pembina county, N. D. This is, in times of 

 low water, the only considerable breeding 

 place for ducks for miles. And the marsh 

 attracts, in any season, large numbers of 

 local birds. 



On a large muskrat house, of the previ- 

 ous winter, I noted mink droppings in 

 large quantities. On careful scrutiny, they 

 "analyzed" as follows: The older drop- 

 pings, made in April and May, contained, 

 mostly, the breast feathers of grebes and 

 the smaller ducks, teal, scaup and bufrle- 

 heads; but those of the current month con- 

 sisted almost wholly of the waxy remains 

 of egg-yolk, mingled with bits of shell. 

 There seemed to be many bits of the shells 

 of grebe eggs; and, possibly, of teal eggs. 

 But one thing was certain: in almost every 

 fragment of dung were bits of grouse-egg 

 shell. With this tell-tale mass of loath- 

 someness, the whole side of the rat-house 

 was covered. In hope of destroying a lit- 

 ter of young minks I demolished the 

 structure; but it proved only the summer 

 camp of an old male. 



I waded indignantly ashore and walked 

 landward until I reached a high level of 

 wild-meadow land, some 300 yards from 

 the lair of the mink. There I found a 

 looted nest of pinnated grouse that em- 

 phasized the tale I am telling. Brethren, 

 where's the remedy? P. B. Peabody. 



SOME SONG BIRD DESTROYERS. 



Nashville, Tenn. 

 Editor Recreation: Enclosed you will 

 find clippings from one of our daily papers : 



Mr. E. Morgan killed 105 robins Tuesday afternoon, in a 

 cedar thicket near his home. The birds were there in great 

 numbers feeding on the cedar berries. Mr. Morgan killed 

 as many as 7 birds at each of several single shots. 



Danville, Ala., January n. — The holiday season of this 

 neighborhood was enlivened by the visit of General W H. 

 Jackson, Dr. J. W. Maddin and Mr. A. J. Carlton, 3 ex- 

 pert bird hunters of Nashville. The party were royally en- 

 tertained during their visit by Mp» and Mrs. G. C. Har- 

 wick. The party spent 2 mornings in bird shooting and 

 killed 1,544. 



I should be pleased to hear an expression 

 from you on the subject of killing robins, 





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