MABOB 23, IMS.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



14§ 



VETERAN BEAR HUNTERS. 



TWO old hunters, belonging to the numerous order of 

 i "has beens," were recently ^scbarbghtg truthful tales of 

 theii early lives in the I in ck woods, hoih. "unbeknownst" to 

 each other, modestly inclined to let the other know that he 

 was a trifle the smartest. 



Col. Crock opened by remarking "he had once killed three 

 b'ars ni one shol with an old army hor ic pistol." 



Capt, Ben thought "that was lucky. How did you do it?" 



Crock replied, "Easy enough. You see an old she b'ax and 

 two cubs came night after night and depredated, my corn 

 crib T built it higher still th^j came. I built it sixteen 

 feet high, corn disappeared all the same, so I just made up 

 my mind to stop it, I loaded up my old flint-lock hoss-pistol 

 with two balls, and lay for the old b'ar behind ttiesmoke 

 house close by the crib. Pretty soon the old b'ar and two 

 cubs came. It was too dark to see 'em. Bimeby, the old 

 b'ar clam on top of the sixteen-foot crib and begun to throw 

 down com to the cubs, and she, bein'up high, and it bein' 

 starlight. I saw her pretty plain, so I just pointed old 1812' 

 at her bead and tired, and down she come ker-whack. My 

 wife come whewing out with a lantern. I told her to g'o 

 back', the cubs might tear her to pieces. Wall, that woman 

 went back quick. I went and loaded up the old war -pistol 

 agin and took the lantern from her hands all atrernble, and 

 went up to the crib pretty cautious like. There she lay, dead 

 as a door nail." 



Here Crock paused. Capt. Ben, thinking his story done, 

 and believing he "had him," sarcastically inquired • "I 

 thought you said you killed three bears to one shot?" 



"So I did," quickly responded Crock; "lulled the old she 

 b'ar, and she fell onto them two cubs and killed 'em both ; 

 She weighed 500 pounds." 



"Wall, that was lucky, and it reminds me of a b'ar I once 

 killed with a hoe." said Capt. Ben, as if talking to himself. 



"Killed a b'ar with a hoe, did you say? How you talk. 

 How t did you do it?" 



"Wail, you sec I war on my last corn hoein'; corn was 

 spose the b'ars thought it was big enough 

 i I was hoein' along, I hoed right up to 

 le we was both a little skurt — the b'ar 

 Seein' he wa'nt going to tackle me, T 

 thought I would tackle him, so I took"arter him lick-it-a-split 

 tight as T could run. and before he got out of that cornfield 

 I killed him with my hoc. He weighed 600 pounds." 



"Wall, I don't dispute you killed the b'ar, but what worries 

 me is how you could outrun him and get near enough to kill 

 him with a hoe." 



'•R:isy enough," said Capt. Ben; "you see the snow was 

 about three feet deep, with a pretty stiff crust on; the bar 

 slumped in while I could run on the' crust; see? No trouble 

 to overtake him." 



•Yes. 1 see; with snow three foot deep, and a crust to 

 bear a man and slump a bear, you might do it; but I can't 

 exactly see how snow could be so deep~and crusted in hoein' 

 time." 



"Yes; wall, that would look a little strange," said Capt. 

 Ben, with head hung down a little, but the fact is, (brighten- 

 ing up) it's true, only I have made a little mistake and lold a 

 part of two stories." 



Crock was satisfied and gave up beaten. X. 



pretty stout, and I 

 to eat; at any 

 a b'ar. comin 

 most, for he run. 



IDLE HOURS IN THE BLIND. 



IT often falls to the lot of those who frequent the blind to 

 sit for hours on calm, still days when no fowl are stir- 

 ring, and when, after a time, the sweetness of that tried 

 friend, the corncob pipe, grows insipid. At such times, if 

 alone, you grow drowsy, and struggle with the feeling, know- 

 ing that to succumb is' to lose perhaps the only shot of the 

 day, which, with unerring fatality, always presents itself 

 when you are least expecting it. Not every day does the 

 sportsman return laden with game (of his own" killing), and, 

 wherever found, his past records many blanks on the calen- 

 dar of his shooting experience — a day's tramp with nothing 

 to show for it, or a lazy snoozing in the blind under the warm 

 sunshine of a cloudless sky. He has cast longing glances 

 toward the rafts of fowl sitting quietly at rest on the glassy 

 surface far out of shot and drawing the few T stragglers who 

 may be on the wing, despite, the attractions of his decoys, a 

 tempting flock of which he has carefully placed. Oh ! for a 

 rifle to send a ball skipping into their midst and send them 

 sea iter! rig off, trusting to "drop a couple as they whirl wildly 

 this way and that. Give up wishing, my friend, and devote 

 your attention to the little circle in your own immediate 

 neighborhood, and, my word for it, you will be surprised to 

 find how active Nature is down there among the reeds; and 

 at the same time you may acquire such information as to the 

 manner of life in sucli locations, and hurl the hours slip 

 pleasantly by while so employed, all the time keeping an eye 

 open for any opportunity that presents to "cut loose" at ap- 

 proaching fowl. 



In Siuepuxent Bay, on the Maryland coast, near Beach 

 House Point, are numerous sedgy islands, separated from the 

 main marsh and from each other by shallow stretches of 

 water, which, when the tide is out, are bare mud flats, teem- 

 ing with small oxeyes and all sorts of waders, who find 

 abundant feeding ground there. Sitting alone in the tall, 

 dry sedge; you listen to the wind and ever-changing voices and 

 cries in the great brown marsh spreading on every side. The 

 sun has come around in front and, as he" blazes on the water, 

 sends the reflection of the burning rays full in your face, 

 nearly blinding you. Lie down; you need a change of posi- 



tion, and t 

 sunset, II 

 there amor 

 become eo 

 then "sern 

 on your ell 



lie fowl - 



ill not stir until the breeze springs up at 

 r d meadow-lark's song sounds out 



While listening- 



its repetition you 

 , scrunch." A pause; 

 n; and turning softly 

 Bj.you catch sight of *a 

 he reed stalk 



little creature busily gnawing a 



he turns his square, chubby face toward you, vou recognize 

 the marsh fat. What brilliant black beads he has for eyes. 

 Don't move! Watch him. His sleek coal testifies that 

 wholesome fopd is plenty where he lives. Now he sits upon 

 his hauuehes, like a miniature squirrel, and washes his face 

 with his little pink paws. Ha! he has spied you. What a 

 sudden change; what an expression of intense cnrin-diy 

 appear on that fuzzy little visage, Ije is afraid, certainly < 

 but yon plainly see that lie is curious. 1 lis nose works ener- 

 getically up and down as he endeavors to snuff you. while 

 sundry little squeaks plainly tell of his excitement at discov- 

 ei'ine; you. Move ever so little, and off he scuttles in the most 

 Laughable manner. 



\ few mc-inente after a huckchip dashes into the reeds with 

 a noisy flutter, and is soon in angry altercation with a little 

 brown wren, who, for some time past, has been poking 



around close by, with a most business-like air, darting here 

 and there like a mouse in the reeds, so quickare her motions. 

 After a noisy wrangle chip gives it up, and perches on a tall 

 reed, where he swings up and down, flirts his long tail, and, 

 by his manner, appears to be heaping abuse on his more 

 plucky little antagonist unconcernedly'gmbbing below. He 

 slk ni grows tired, however, and with that strong wdiirr of' 

 wings, so indicative of health and freedom, is off. 



The tide is down, and numbers of small snipe are scamper- 

 ing over the mud searching for food. Wait until they bunch. 

 There! enough for a iiot-pie anyway; and very toothsome 

 these little fellows lie. I assure you. 



Whew-\v-w-ew-ew, a flock of killdecr plover alight on the 

 mud far out of shot. How graceful they are; now running 

 zigzag across the flat, now bunching and squatting down To- 

 gether to compare notes, their white sides showing plainly 

 against the dark color of the mud. A weird feeling comes 

 over you at their cry, repeated in rapid succession, now high, 

 uow low, as the fancy seems to take them, and the uncom- 

 fortable effect is heightened by their wailing as it grows 

 momentarily darker, the sun having set, unfit in sheer des- 

 peration you rise and with a whoop force them to leave. 

 Thv moon comes up cool and solitary over the sand dunes on 

 the beach, and the chill flies all over you at the sound of a 

 heron's cry who has stationed himself somewhere in your 

 vicinity, and now booms away until if seems as though' the 

 sound was all around, above, below, everywhere. Swash, 

 ah! you know what that is; a low quack, very guarded, as 

 though he suspected all was not exactly right, betrays the 

 presence, of a black-duck. Slowly he swims into sight, and 

 just as you draw a bead on him, wkir-r-r-r, away he goes, and 

 as the beat of his wings grows fainter, you hear the steady 

 chunk-a-lunk, ckunk-a-lunk of oars in the oarlocks as Tom 

 pulls across after you. You take up your rig, and as you 

 glide along the water in your little punt, you involuntarily 

 start as the ghost-like form of a mouse-hunting owl flits past. 

 Hearing your snug quarters on board the sloop, you see the 

 dew- glistening on deck like diamonds in the bright moon- 

 light, The blue smoke that curls slowly up from the stove- 

 pipe in the cabin roof shows that Brunt has the coffee on, and 

 stepping aboard, his cheery voice salutes you, "What luck, 

 old man?" and his hearty laugh greets your little string of 

 oxeyes. No game, to be sure, but you have enjoyed yourself 

 notwithstanding, and in after years, when you 'hear the plain- 

 tive cry of passing birds corning down through the still night, 

 that evening on the marsh will come back to youi mind with 

 a strange fascination. Dick. 



"BYRNE" AND THAT SHOTGUN AGAIN. 



WHEW! ! ! How "Byrne's" sentences flash and "kick!" 

 I really believe the fellow has shot some, and has some 

 money too. What a pity it is to be a poor preacher — some- 

 tunes; especially poor! Anybody can bet at him, challenge 

 him, and discredit what he says, 'and he lias to grin and bear 

 it (I don't know how much grinning I have done, but I am 

 getting along finely with the bearing part). 



Now "Byrne" doesn't believe what the "reverend gentle- 

 man" wrote, and wants to back his unbelief with money. 

 (Some things need backing). Shame on him! He ought to 

 go to some out. of the way place in Arkansas, as he is going 

 to do) I believe, and stay there. Wanting to bet with a 

 "reverend gentleman!" If my father ever" goes to the Ar- 

 kansas Legislature again, 1 am going to have him introduce a 

 bill making it a criminal offence to propose betting with a 

 preacher, or to challenge one to shoot. (This is designed as 

 a protection to preachers; for some goose among them might 

 take bets, and beat "Byrne" and get into the papers. Then 

 where would be the preacher's reputation?) 



"Byrne'' writes to keep me and other novices within the 

 bounds of reason. Now he couldn't have hit me in a harder 

 place. Didn't hiirt a bit, Pact. I don't propose to be bound 

 by reason. Why? Beason doesn't belong to the sportsman's 

 vocabulary. What is the use of being a sportsman if you 

 can't be unreasonable ? Why even "Byrne" himself admits 

 that he is sufficiently unreasonable to draw on his imagination 

 sometimes, and say things about his hunts which didn't hap- 

 pen. Now I don't do that exactly. I don't throw in any 

 fiction; but I do propose to be unreasonable. It is a very un- 

 reasonable thing to me, for "Byrne" to lug about a thirteen- 

 pound, single barrel shotgun, and shoot twice as big loads as I 

 do ; while I shoot a ten-pound three barrel gun, and kill deer 

 faster than he does; still I can believe as unreasonable things 

 as that, I protest strongly against being held in the bounds 

 of reason. It robs hunting of half its charm. It is so nice 

 to have fellows stand around, mouths open, while you tell 

 unreasonable yarns. Why "Byrne" is a thoroughbred inno- 

 vation, I am glad he is going to' the backwoods of Arkansas 

 Mr. Editor, stop him from writing for your paper before he 

 ruins our reputations. He may hunt with a tape line in his 

 pocket if he wishes; I won't. 



But he fears he has offended the "reverend gentleman." 

 Of course he has. Yv hat did he write about me in any such 

 way for? Any man who knows as much as he does, ought 

 to know my residence, just as well as I know who "Byrne" 

 is. Of course none of us ever get "under cover," when We' 

 write up our scores, etc. O no! We just stand out and let 

 the world know who and where we are. Of course I am 

 offended; and I have half a mind to refer the matter of set- 

 tlement between us to Dr. Q. A. Foote, President of the 

 State Sportsman's Association, and J. W. Throckmorton, 

 ex-Gov. and ex-M. C, both of this place. They know 

 me well, have hunted with me, and they know that when I 

 am offended, I am— offended. They have stepped "Choc- 

 taw yards" with me, and can settle our difficulties. 



I am overwhelmed with regret that I made the impression 

 on "Byrne's" very impressible mind that I shot only seven 

 times at deer, while on my hunt. He failed to impress me 

 with the idea that he shot only twice on his hunt; but then I 

 am not so impressible as he. More stupid perhaps. I must 

 set things right, or he might be grieved. I did shoot more 

 than seven rimes— just twice seven, Of these fourteen shots, 

 seven hung up meal, of the other seven three got blood, and 

 one enabled the buzzards to have a fine feast of venison once 

 that I kuow of. Om of these seven was a rifle shot, and not 

 one of them was at deer nearer than fifty yards. Very un- 

 reasonable I know, but that is just the kuid of facts I like to 

 relate. 



In conclusion, as we preachers say, let me add: I won't 



sflOOt Oil ■■ le ' I ; : ■ I i, : ee e,' lietwitll Mui. ( I WOI 1 Id 



take $-2,000 for my mm though) but if he will join me on a 

 deer hunt next fall, using bis thirteen-pound gun and I using 

 sound three barrel Baker. 1 will beat him killing 

 deer so badly that he will go to Arkansas and hide under a 

 thicker cover than '-Byrne. " If he ever comes my way, I 

 want to get him into my congregation once and preach him a 

 sermon on "Charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, 



is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly, is not 

 easily provoked, thiukcth no evil; rejoiceth in truth, and 

 hrtit-rdh all (Mugs." 



Wonder if he did "flare up" because I killed more deer 

 than he did. Gt;o. W. Batstes, Jr. 



McKinxey, Texas. 



MORE QUAIL EXPERIMENTS. 



I NOTICE the two letters in vour issue of the 9th inst. 

 from J. E. W. and If. B. S.. and am very sorry to hear 

 they have been so unfortunate with their Southern quail. It 

 may interest them and others of your readers to know that 

 although I received fifteen dozen birds from the same parties 

 as they did, between the 13th and 27th of January last, I am 

 happy to say that I had better fortune, as I have now turned 

 off seventy-eight birds and have yet thirty-one left in the 

 cages ready to be loosed the first sunny day. Now, this is 

 not bad, as it leaves 109 birds out of' ISO, and is nineteen 

 more than I ever expected to save. Nearly all the birds lost, 

 with the exception of nine that arrived "dead, died within 

 ten days of arrival. After that, I had no trouble at all. 



Now. of course I watched these birds very closely, to try 

 and find out the reasons for any loss, and can only attribute 

 the trouble to two causes, first that the birds 'arrived in 

 almost a state of starvation, and, therefore, were not in a 

 condition to eat largely; but those of the first cases I fed too 

 plentifully, and in consequence of this, as I believe, I lost 

 more than in the last lot, as I brought them to their feed by 

 degrees, and don't believe that more than half a dozen out of 

 sixty-two died. The second reason is that, the boxes I had 

 them in were oblong, and. therefore, had corners in which 

 they used to crowd, and a bird at all weakly getting into any 

 corner, with the rest crowding over it. would never get up 

 again. As I saw this frequently happen I know that these 

 weaker birds were simply crushed to death by their stronger 

 mates. 



The. boxes I kept them in were three feet long, sixteen 

 inches broad, and seven inches high, covered with calico, 

 which is better than sacking, as it does not pay off and en- 

 tangle their feet ; a trough, in part for feed and water, one 

 inch deep, and an opening over it, another inch; also an 

 opening all along behind of about one-half an inch ; but I 

 should another time try a round box, as it would do away 

 with the corners. I" fed chop feed (oats and corn), also 

 wheat, all of which the birds seemed to appreciate, and those 

 I have left are as fat and healthy as can be. As to the birds 

 I turned out, I gave them two weeks' rest, and then w T orked 

 a brace of setters over a small part of the ground, Hading two 

 bunches, and hearing reports of several having been seen. 

 What I saw were strong and able to hold their own. They 

 were let out in cardboard boxes, eight to twelve in a box, 

 with a slit in one end, and placed in small woods near feed 

 and water. When the slit was torn off and I had moved 

 away about a hundred yards, out they came in less than five 

 minutes, pluming themselves, and feeding just as though 

 their confinement had been a dream, and they had only had 

 a bad nightmare after two field trials in succession at Mem- 

 phis. Sportsman. 



Lancaster. Pa. 



LAST SHOTS AT THE GROUSE. 



I HAVE received here the last three numbers of ' the For- 

 est and Stream, and see that each number contains 

 letters from different correspondents regarding "ruffed 

 grouse" shooting. I would say to that class of timid sports- 

 men who foresee the total destruction of this game-bird by 

 those who hunt them with dogs, that their fears are ground- 

 les P Mr. Flower is quite correct when he says that in the 

 older sections of the country but a small percentage of these 

 birds tree when flushed by dogs, and only a portion of those 

 that "tree" remain until the sportsman arrives within range.- 

 If the ruffed grouse had no other foes but those who shoot 

 them after they have "treed," they would in settled districts 

 rapidly increase in numbers. 



To those other correspondents I wpidd say that, so far as I 

 am concerned, your "thrusts" are quite harmless. So, should 

 you feel disposed, continue to tire away so long as the editor 

 will give you space. 



My former article, giving rules for finding "ruffed grouse" 

 after they have been flushed, was not written for the benefit 

 of young gentlemen of leisure, wdio are able to spend the 

 greater portion of their time in cracking away at glass balls 

 and pigeon-shooting, thus becoming at an early age expert 

 wing-shots, but was given for the benefit of young sportsmen 

 who only occasionally get a day out in the woods. With 

 them expert wing-shooting is a growth of time, and were they 

 at first only allowed wing-shots at ruffed grouse, they would 

 soon become discouraged and leave this game for the market 

 shooter, who is often a dead wing-shot, but not a sportsman. 



For years past 1 have, when out with my shotgun after 

 ruffed grouse, practiced wing-shooting; but I love to occasion- 

 ally go out with a rifle and a cheery, gay little spaniel after 

 this game, and, after it has been flushed, to " stalk" them, 

 and shoot only at their head or neck. This is fascinating 

 sport. In settfed districts, where these birds are wary and 

 shy, it. very often taxes the sportsman's greatest skill to get 

 within range — and this style of sport ranks to still-hunting 

 deer as fly-fishing for trout ranks with salmon fishing — lighter 

 and easier sport, but equally attractive. My experience has 

 taught me this lesson, that in the majority of cases the class 

 of sportsmen who talk "the loudest about the most scientific 

 methods of killing their game, are, ^ 

 stream, the poorest performers, and in 

 How often do we hear gentlemen b 

 about their exploits in killing (he 

 brought in, when we knew that their 

 caught those fish; and what full bat 



thev would bring in, and unhlushinaiy affirm that thev were 

 all caught with the fly; then what tale's the. cook Wqul I ofti 

 tell about seeing the bilious, long-visaged total abstainer of 

 the party sneak into camp when he thought that be was not 

 Observed, and take a long pull at the -'medicine bottle," and 

 then put water into the bottle to hide his theft. 



O, no, gentlemen; when you are out in the woods alone, 

 during one of your "off" days, and have missed a dozen wing- 

 shots at ruffed' "-rouse and saw one on a tree, you wouldn't 

 shoot it — O, no! nevertheless ubiety -nine out of one hundred 

 sportsmen would do so. 



I have always found genuine sportsmen to be a class of 

 genial, whole-souled gentlemen, who in a rational and tem- 

 perate maimer appreciate and delight in tin- pursuit and cap- 

 ture of fish and game — never -hoes" oar "misers," who only 

 kill for the sake of destroying, and making "big bags." or 

 wholly for the sake of gain— neither are they extremists oi 

 Pharisees, who set themselves up a- better than their breth- 

 ren who may differ from them in their method of pursuing 



icn out in forest or 

 1 the most watching. 

 sting loud and long 

 y that ihcy had 

 ■ cast the fly that 

 of "jigged" trout 



a I mo 



