138 



RECREATION. 



succeeded, but the standing deer twisted 

 his head viciously, and ripped my calf with 

 a spike, making a wound nearly an inch 

 deep and 6 inches long. Luckily no ar- 

 teries were ruptured, and while the wound 

 bled profusely, it gave me no alarm. I 

 thought of my hatchet, but that was in the 

 tent. I had a small saw, but that, too, was 

 at the camp. My next thought was to get 

 the saw, but by that time I realized that 

 both brutes were enraged. Their eyes 

 blazed with green fires, which boded me 

 no good could they but reach me. 



Finally I picked up my rifle, stepped c'ose 

 to the foes, and placing the muzzle within 

 a yard of the standing buck's antler I 

 aimed at a point 3 inches from his fore- 

 head and pressed the trigger. With the 

 release of tension caused by shattering the 

 horn the owner of it fell. A feeble shake 

 of his head released the other horn and 

 h : was free. 



I retreated a little and called my dogs 

 away. Staggering feebly to his feet the 

 one-horned beast made straight for me, 

 stumbling and falling as he came. I easily 

 eluded him, and climbing into a fallen tree- 

 top laughed at his futile rage. 



The other buck made many attempts to 

 rise, but was too weak. Thus I left them 

 till the next afternoon, when curiosity 

 took me to the scene again. The broken- 

 horned buck was gone ; his prostrate foe 

 lay in much the same position as before, 

 but gored to death. Forty yards from me 

 his murderer, a large, 5-pronged fellow, 

 darted from a patch of redbrush. I fired 

 3 times as he ran, and then heard his antlers 

 rattle on the rocks. His spikes were cov- 

 ered with freshly dried blood. I had 

 avenged the helpless one. 



AN ENTERTAINING HOSTESS. 

 My family and I spent July 5th at Uneva 

 lake, which is about 30 miles from Lead- 

 ville, Colo. My 2 sons, my nephew and I 

 decided to go to the top of the mountain. 

 We left the cabin at 9 a. m. and reached 

 the summit, at 2 p. m. After resting awhile 

 we started back. As we got some distance 

 below timber-line, and were going down a 

 steep part of the mountain, I nearly ran on- 

 to a mountain grouse before I could stop 

 myself. She did not attempt to fly, so I 

 sat down within reach of her. I then called 

 the boys and had them come where I was, 

 from the upper side, so as not to alarm the 

 bird. When they had taken their places 

 beside and above me, and we had admired 

 the lady a few minutes, I commenced mov- 

 ing my cane toward her. When the stick 

 got near enough she pecked at it 3 or 4 

 times, and when she found it did not harm 

 her she allowed me to place the end of it 

 on her back without alarm. This incited 

 me to further overtures, so I laid the stick 

 down and commenced putting my hand 



toward her. She did not take alarm. She 

 only picked my hand a few times and then 

 quit. I put my hand under her and then 

 raised her a little. Imagine our surprise 

 and pleasure at finding a brood of little 

 ones, the last one of which we saw kick 

 himself free from the shell. The empty 

 shells were still under her, and after I had 

 taken them out and thrown them aside I 

 took one of the little fellows in my hand 

 for the boys' inspection, replacing it directly 

 under its mother. By that time we seemed 

 to understand each other, as she made no- 

 objections to my actions. 



Feeling refreshed by our rest and expe- 

 rience, we were ready to proceed, but I 

 could not resist the temptation to experi- 

 ment further with the little mother. I 

 placed my hand under her again and gently 

 raised and pushed her off the nest. When 

 she attempted to stand on her feet she 

 slipped off the earthen shelf whereon the 

 nest was located, so she could just look 

 into the nest by stretching her neck. We 

 immediately got up, shyed off to one side, 

 and started down the mountain, at the same 

 time watching our mountain grouse climb 

 back on the nest, which she lost no time in 

 doing. A. N. Flinn, Harlem, N. Dak. 



FOUR WAYS TO KILL A MOLE. 

 Can you tell me any way to kill a pocket 

 gopher? One of these animals has lived 

 in my lawn the past 5 years and done 

 no end of damage. Have tried poison, but 

 without success. I get up in the morning 

 and find half a dozen heaps of dirt the size 

 of a peck measure scattered over the 

 grass. F. A. Olds, Minneapolis, Minn. 



I referred the foregoing letter to an ex- 

 pert trapper, who replied as follows : 



The "pocket gopher" mentioned in the 

 letter you referred to me, is undoubtedly a 

 mole. The heaps of earth are thrown up 

 in excavating chambers at the intersection 

 of several tunnels or galleries. 



The most successful method of taking 

 the mole- is by means of the mole-spear 

 trap, found at hardware stores. Where 

 the mole hills appear the animal can not 

 be taken by a trap, for the reason that at 

 those points the runway is too far beneath 

 the surface ; but usually within a few 

 yards of a hill the runway comes so near 

 the surface that the earth is upheaved in 

 a well defined track. There is the place 

 to set the spear. The mole, in passing 

 through his tunnel, lifts the trigger of the 

 trap and the tines of the poised spear 

 descend and impale the animal. 



Moles feed on grubs and angle worms al- 

 most entirely; vegetable matter not being 

 eaten. If the galleries, run so deep that 

 the earth is not cracked on the surface, the 

 trap can not be used. In that case I 

 advise that a few worms or grubs be 



