A SQUIRREL HUNT. 



D. L. INGALLS. 



My companions on my last hunting trip 

 were George and old Rover. The latter is 

 a wonderful dog. He is a full-blooded fox- 

 hound, 14 years old. He is deaf, and is 

 minus an eye, lost in a battle with some 

 canine foe; but his nose is apparently as 

 good as ever. 



My birthplace is not many miles from 

 this spot, and in my boyhood days I was 

 familiar with every squirrel tree for miles 

 around. I have always enjoyed hunting 

 squirrels, and each season finds me a trav- 

 eler back to my old home for a few days 

 of my favorite sport among my native hills, 

 Squirrels were once plentiful in this re- 

 gion, but there is not one now where there 

 used to be 10, which assures us of the fact 

 that the game is fast passing away. What 

 are left are educated up to the times. I 

 once saw 9 in a hickory nut tree, which 

 stood in a clearing. I got a shot at one of 

 them with an old muzzle loader, but before 

 I could reload the rest had vanished. 



On October 25th we arrived at Salem at 

 10 a. m., and were met by George M. Shel- 

 don, my hunting companion of many sea- 

 sons. We were soon driving to his home, 

 pleasantly situated among the hills 5 miles 

 away. After greetings were said to old 

 friends and we had partaken of a hearty 

 dinner, guns were unpacked, shells tumbled 

 out and we were soon on our way to the 

 woods. It was not lonj before old Rover's 

 mellow voice was heard, and we knew he 

 had scented game, for he never fools us. 

 It proved to be a gray squirrel in a tall 

 oak, but he soon fell before the little 

 Forehand gun that I received for getting 

 up a club for Recreation. Our next was a 

 cotton-tail. He was under a brush pile, 

 but we soon had him out. As he sped away 

 for his life a charge of No. 6's from George's 

 Stevens laid him low. The next gray 

 was knocked out of a tree at the first shot. 

 George courteously waited for me to 



shoot a second time, but the squirrel ran 

 up another tree on the opposite side, es- 

 caped into a hole and was lost, so we hunt- 

 ed on till niehtfall and bagged 4 more grays 

 and one grouse. 



The next morning we were in the woods 

 bright and early, and that day covered a 

 great deal of ground, though with poor suc- 

 cess. Rover treed a number of squirrels, 

 but they all got away into holes. Only one 

 did we get, and one rabbit. On our way 

 home toward evening, while passing 

 through a piece of woods we came to a 

 large hollow tree. On closer inspection 

 George discovered certain signs which led 

 him to believe there were coons in 

 it. We soon had an axe and commenced 

 operations. After some hard work the tree 

 fell with a crash. We stood with ready 

 guns, but no coon made his abearance. The 

 old dog ran to the hole, and after snuf- 

 fing a moment commenced to bark. This 

 at once satisfied us that the tree had an oc- 

 cupant. By that time it was quite dark. 

 George started for a neighboring farm- 

 house to get a light, and soon returned, 

 accompanied by a son of the Emerald Isle, 

 who, on viewing the situation, exclaimed : 

 "Boys, we'll build a fire and smother him." 

 We cut another hole in the tree farther up. 

 The coon was loath to leave his hiding 

 place, but a few vigorous pokes with a stick 

 convinced him he would better be moving. 

 Once out his fate was soon settled. He 

 was large and fat, and ere this his remains 

 have been served on the lunch counter of a 

 famous cafe in the capital city. His skin 

 will be made into .a rug to adorn the floor 

 of my den. 



The most satisfactory day of the trip I 

 spent in still hunting when I bagged 5 grays 

 and one grouse. To be in the woods in 

 autumn and enjoy the beauties of nature, 

 gave me greater pleasure than if I had 

 killed more grouse. 



We walk by the dimpled ocean, 



Upon the shining strand, 

 And tell of our deep devotion. 



While holding some one's hand. 

 We go to the brook a-fishing — 



Through the air we make them whiz ; 

 And not one of us is wishing 



To get back again to biz. 



—Puck. 

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