FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



453 



One gentleman with more money than 

 brains imported a few English sparrows, 

 and now we find them in every street. 

 Even as I write — thermometer 14 degrees 

 below zero — there are 50 under my win- 

 dow. 



Our G. P. Society is formulating some 

 new laws in re the caribou slaughter that 

 has gone on for years. 



Over 3,000 of those beautiful animals 

 were killed at White Bear bay, and other 

 places on the West Coast, last year, and 

 60 per cent, of those would have dropped 

 fawns in less than 3 months. Many more 

 were wounded, to perish in the woods. 

 The trouble is, market hunters have votes, 

 and you know what that means. 



In the month of October last, on one 

 day, the train from Gaff Topsails brought 

 out to Norris' Arm, in Notre Dame bay, 

 400 caribou, leaving 60 more alongside 

 the track, that train not being able to take 

 them all. So the slaughter goes on, and 

 it is only a matter of time when they will 

 go the way of the great auk. The beav- 

 ers are nearly all gone, and not till now 

 have we secured a closed time of 3 years 

 for them. This is too short. 



Your journal has done good here. I 

 find some old pot shots are ashamed of 

 what they have done. 



May Recreation long live to carry on 

 the good work. 



W. A. B. Sclater. 



. THE COUGAR SHOULD GO. 



While you are leading a crusade against 

 game hogs, bird killers, and other unrea- 

 sonable folk, why not go after the beast 

 of prey? In some parts of this Western 

 country the wolf, bear, lynx, and cougar 

 abound. The wolf, of course, is a great 

 deer killer; but the cougar is especially 

 destructive. Calves, horses, and dogs are 

 often taken. I have known a rancher on 

 Vancouver island to lose 2 sheep, while his 

 neighbor lost 5 sheep and 2 young hogs 

 the same night. I have known cougars 

 to come into a town in broad daylight. 

 They are also a menace to the safety of 

 little children. I know of 4 cases in West- 

 ern States, in the last year, in which these 

 beasts have killed children. 



The beasts live almost entirely on deer, 

 and no doubt if we could trace the number 

 killed in a lifetime by an old cougar, it 

 would astonish us. They are successful 

 hunters, quietly dropping from a tree on 

 the unwary deer, or leaping on it from 

 some hiding place. They can, with one 

 upward blow under the chin, break the 

 neck of a large elk. The cougar is a si- 

 lent hunter, and can follow a herd of deer 

 for days, unknown to any but his victims. 



I gather from Recreation that you do 

 not even yet know the full extent of the 



crimes of W r estern game hogs. I know of 

 5,000 deer skins shipped from one small 

 town not long ago. I know of a herd of 

 17 elk that were shot down and left to 

 waste. I know a man who, while in search 

 of a pair of horns, killed in 2 hours 10 

 large deer. None having horns to suit 

 him, he left them all to rot. 



So it is clear the cougar is no longer 

 needed; his work is being done by other 

 beasts, and sportsmen should camp on his 

 trail. It would be a good thing to en- 

 courage hunting, trapping, and poisoning 

 cougars for the sake of the deer; and 

 the States should be urged to pay a large 

 bounty for their scalps. 



C. Evans, Libby, Mont. 



Yes, I know too much of the work of 

 game hogs, East and West. Give me the 

 names of those who did the killing you re- 

 fer to and I will brand them. — Editor. 



SEQUEL OF A SQUIRREL HUNT. 



During the winter of '87 and '88, I was 

 hibernating in Citrus county, Florida. 

 Much of my time was spent in hunting 

 through the dense hummocks near the 

 Withlacoochee river, and fishing in beau- 

 tiful Tsala-Apopka lake. 



One morning in early spring I buckled 

 on my cartridge belt, containing 12 shells 

 loaded with No. 4 shot, threw a 12 gauge 

 W. Richards across my shoulder, and 

 started for the hummocks. I figured on 

 getting a few bushy tails and perhaps a 

 brace or 2 of ducks. Perhaps, also, I 

 might find a 'gator in my rambles, and 

 cure his hog-stealing propensities with an 

 ounce of shot at short range. 



There were several small bays or inlets 

 in the beach along which I walked. I 

 peered cautiously around each point I 

 came to, hoping to see either a heron keep- 

 ing his lonely vigil or an alligator basking 

 in the sunshine. At last, on turning a cor- 

 ner, what should I see but 5 wild turkeys 

 feeding leisurely along the shore toward 

 me. I crouched behind a clump of saw- 

 palmetto and eagerly awaited their com- 

 ing. Through openings between the fan- 

 like leaves, I could see without being seen. 



My greatest fear was that they would 

 scent me and take flight. On they came, 

 however, in single file. I thought of my 

 No. 4 shot and wondered if I could kill 

 one of the great birds with such small 

 pellets. I could hear my heart pounding 

 like a trip-hammer, and knew I was catch- 

 ing what old hunters call a "buck ague." 

 However, I took 2 or 3 deep inspirations 

 and the ague left me. With both hammers 

 at full cock, I watched, over the barrels of 

 my gun, the approach of the turkeys. 

 They came in single file to within 22 steps 

 of me. Then, fearing to wait longer, I 

 pulled the left trigger and stepped from 



