A SWING AROUND VERMONT 



What the Green Mountain State Offers Sportsmen — Entertained 



by the Game Protectors 



BY EDWARD GAVE 



ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 









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HE spirit of Ethan 

 Allen and those who 

 stood with him tar- 

 ried not overlong 

 in the Green Moun- 

 tains, yet it left its 

 mark, and the sons 

 of the West return- 

 ing find a great 

 monument reared 

 to its memory in the old village of Benning- 

 ton — and a population of hardscrabble 

 Timid Ones, sitting on their heels waiting 

 for something to turn up> But Vermont is 

 now freckled with these returned descend- 

 ants of the trail-makers, and the chance 

 wayfarer who is on pleasure bent finds the 

 old Green Mountain State altogether an 

 attractive field. 



One may have good sport in Vermont, 

 in the forest or on the stream, in good com- 

 pany, and for small money. True, one can- 

 not shoot moose or caribou, but by the same 

 token Vermont does not exact the time nor 

 the fatigue of the long trail. One can "go. 

 in" comfortably in a spring wagon, and in 

 anywhere from an hour to half a day's time. 

 Deer are comparatively plenty, bears can 

 be hunted successfully without the aid of 

 dogs, and with dogs one can get excellent 

 sport at ruffed grouse, varying hares and 

 foxes, the latter affording the surest and 

 best hunting in the State. Our brave little 

 friend, the native brook trout, greets the 

 angler from the head of the class of game 

 fishes. He is in evidence all over the State, 

 and in goodly numbers. Mascalonge, pike, 

 bass, pickerel, landlocked salmon, lake 

 trout and perch are^taken with varying suc- 

 cess, according to waters and skill of the 

 angler. There are something over 260 lakes 



and ponds in Vermont, with a total acreage 

 of over 116,210 acres, most of them afford- 

 ing good fishing. As for the air and the 

 scenery — "they must be tried to be appre- 

 ciated." 



Looking at a map of the State, one gains 

 a wrong impression of the extent of the 

 mountains. Rightly, the map should repre- 

 sent the Green Mountains, with the State of 

 Vermont draped on and about them — there 

 wouldn't be any too much drapery. Mount 

 Mansfield, one is told, is the highest in the 

 State, but though it looks the part, with its 

 bald eastern battlement rearing abruptly 

 above the blue-green of the conifers to a 

 height of 4,070 feet, Killington, some sixty 

 odd miles to the southwest, has an altitude 

 greater by nearly two hundred feet. There 

 is a wealth of "mounts" of lower degree 

 throughout the State, any of them amply 

 abrupt to test the bellows of the visitor from 

 the low places and wild enough to harbor 

 of the free folk of hoof and claw a plenty to 

 furnish thrills for the seekers after such for 

 many a day to come. 



I went to Vermont in February last, not 

 seeking thrills, but, like Diogenes of old, 

 a-hunting an honest man. That I found 

 him, and, furthermore, that I found him not 

 alone, shall furnish material for an article 

 in the October number of this magazine— 

 an article through which I hope to stir the 

 Timid Ones of Vermont, and of every other 

 State or Territory where the shoe may fit, 

 to a more active realization of the fact that 

 fish and game, to any commonwealth where 

 agriculture does not flourish triumphant, 

 can be made a powerful asset, instead of a 

 luxury. Meanwhile, we will discuss,' firstly, 

 a fox hunt. 



On a Monday morning I went with Harry 



