FROM THE GAME FIELDS. 



309 



deer that day, but all at a distance. The 

 ground was bare and the leaves dry and 

 crisp with frost, so my progress was una- 

 voidably noisy. Comparing notes with the 

 rest of the party that evening, I found they 

 had had about the same experience. 



A few days later I wounded a deer near 

 the river, and it escaped by swimming. One 

 of the boys, the youngest of us all, shot a 

 bear just at sundown and followed its trail 

 by the blood as .long as he could see. Then 

 he quit, intending to take it up again in 

 the morning; but it rained hard that night, 

 and the next day, though we all tried, we 

 could make nothing out of the trail. 



The day following 2 of us ran across 2 

 cubs in nearly the same locality. We 

 killed one of them, a big, fat black fellow 

 weighing 26 pounds. The other hid in the 

 tangle of ground hemlock and could not be 

 found. 



In a day or 2 more it began to snow. 

 While it was still snowing, I borrowed an 

 old white linen duster from my landlord, 

 put it on over my hunting suit, and went 

 out. After wandering • about a while I 

 struck a fresh sign and followed it into a 

 clearing. All about the edge of the clear- 

 ing the brush grew thickly. As I drew 

 near one side I saw the bushes move and 

 out jumped a fat doe. As she did so I 

 snapped the shot barrel of my gun at her. 

 but it missed fire. The doe ran along the 

 side of the open, stopped and looked back. 

 That was my chance. I cut loose with the 

 rifle barrel, shooting her through the 

 lungs. She ran nearly a half mile, and I 

 found her "dead on the snow. 



We hunted until the close of the season, 

 getting 6 deer, besides the little bear. The 

 most experienced hunter in the party did 

 not get a shot ; the greenhorns killed all 

 the game. 



Few deer were killed in Northern Michi- 

 gan last fall, there being but little tracking 

 snow. There should be good hunting next 

 year. The State permits deer shooting "only 

 during November, and the law is strictly 

 enforced. 



F. W. Sebring, Detroit, Mich. 



EAGLE LAKE. 



It was a crisp October afternoon when 



we rolled out of M . Our horse was 



in fine fettle, and we had a delightful drive 

 through wooded hills and grass-grown 

 dales, with the added charm of a probable 

 acquaintance with the feathered tribe on 

 the morrow. 



We reached our hotel at dusk, and after 

 supper discussed prospects with the pro- 

 prietor and another member of our craft 

 who had but recently arrived. 



Long before light the next morning we 

 were swallowing red hot coffee in our over- 

 eagerness to reach the chosen ooints in the 

 marsh. Our new acquaintance joined us, 



and all embarked in the same boat. By 

 sunrise we were well advanced on our 

 water journey. Just before our landing 

 was reached a pair of black ducks rose 

 with an awful tumult. Quick work 

 brought both down, and filled us with an- 

 ticipation' of a successful day. 



For an hour the ducks were here, there, 

 everywhere, but we succeeded in stopping 1 

 only 4 birds. We had no decoys, no guide ; 

 simply taking chance shots from the 

 marshy points reaching into the lake. 



But why dwell on the size of the bag? 

 That is but an incident to the true sports- 

 man. We had enough shooting. The 

 waters of the lake lay placidly at our feet 

 and stretched far past the marsh lands 

 until flanked by towering hardwood for- 

 ests. It was the wilderness as made by 

 God and untouched by man. The blue sky 

 overhead was untainted by the smoke of 

 cities. We drank the pure ozone, and 

 buried the past in the supreme delight of 

 the present. 



We saw wild birds and heard the roar 

 of hundreds of wings. We caused our 

 guns to boom and smelled the burning 

 powder until the very air about us was 

 laden with its incense. What cared we if 

 the feathered denizens of this wilderness 

 escaped our aim? Not a whit, but rather 

 were we glad when, in after hours, it was 

 thought over. All real sportsmen know 

 that killing is not all of hunting. Suc- 

 cessful shots give us food for thousands of 

 reveries in years to come ; the unsuccess- 

 ful ones comfort us with the thought that 

 our brothers will reap benefit from our 

 failures. 



After the flight was over we roamed the 

 forest in quest of woodcock or grouse, but 

 no sharp whistle or boom of wings caused 

 pressure of the trigger. In the deep silence 

 we were so near the heart of nature as to 

 be affected by her mood, and swayed by 

 her influence. The desire to kill became 

 less than a memory, and the true joyous- 

 ness of relief from the city's strife pos- 

 sessed US. 



It was with deep regret that we began 

 our return journey, gazing back over the 

 lake and recalling every incident of the 

 morning. The homeward drive was one 

 long delight. When the lights of the citv 

 appeared in the distance and life's turmoil 

 was again thrust upon us, how unreal and 

 unsatisfying it seemed after our experience 

 of the morning ! 



E. H. Goodnough, New York City. 



A TURKEY HUNT IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 

 After riding some distance, perhaps half 

 a mile, we emerged from a pine forest 

 into a rice field and had only proceeded a 

 few yards when my companion suddenly 

 drew in his horse and directed my atten- 

 tion to a flock of wild turkeys running 



