S06 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



AT 18, 



jfa# m\d 



GOSSIP FROM A '49-ER. 



THE paper of Mr. W. W. Colburn, in No. 11, contains 

 many things that sportsmen should heed, practice and im- 

 press upon others outside of the fraternity, One particu- 

 larly, the importance of game protection, observance of 

 game laws, through the absolute indorsement of "public 

 opinion." A very little persistent effort will mould public 

 opinion, which is certainly the only power which will en- 

 force legislation. Not to appear egotistical, for I think 

 others could give the same experience, but to induce, many 

 others to accomplish like results, I will illustrate, my own. 

 Fourteen years ago I returned and settled down in the hoine- 

 Btead or my fathers, being at that time the only owner of 

 bird dogs, and the only one who made pretence to shoot on 

 wing in this vicinity. The winter of 1806 and 1867 had ut- 

 destroyed the quail. My dogs were useless, except for 

 companionship and grouse shooting. 



Being anxiously desirous for the restoration of quail, Iniade 

 inquiry year after year of farmers, if they had observed the 

 return of quail. Without exception, they all lamented 'the 

 absence of cheerful Bob White. All became interested, yet 

 lev,' if any had ever shot a quail. In the village stores where 

 townsmen "most, do congregate," I talked of quail, game 

 protection, and game laws, to a class of gunners who shot in 

 any season, at anything wild, that had fur, feather or hair on; 

 and had never given a thought to statute of legislature or law 

 of nature; and unconcernedly shot song, insectivorous and 

 game birds at any opportunity. The digest of the game law 

 Found a place in the county papers. It was cut out or copies 

 posted in stores aud post-offices. They attracted attention. 



I am happy to say that in a few years, and by the time 

 the quail became rehabilitated, there was no shooting of 

 song and insectivorous birds, (the milliner's demands are not 

 known here) and game was shot only in season, except by 

 "KLSsmuk's" "pariah, whom everybody is down on," such as 

 ;dso shoots the farmer's stray fowls, and who is as difficult 

 to convict of one offense as of the other. These fellows per 

 consequence, compel farmers to post their lands and to be- 

 come game preservers, whose permission to shoot I have 

 never been refused, and no honorable man need be. 



The grouse mystery suggests a subject I cannot skip over, 

 and I must say to " Nessniuk " that 1 cannot agree with him 

 on some ideas. We do not have deer hunting, nor any game 

 upon which rifle shooting would afford ' sport, not the 

 dense woods even ; only occasional thick brush or patches of 

 old field pine; on the contrary, open woods, with a denser 

 growth along water ways and marsh, pretty thickly grown 

 with second growth upon stony hill tops or ridges, near to 

 wheat stubble, corn and buckwheat fields; allot which a 

 few years since were used by both grouse and quail — a com- 

 bination " devoutly to be wished for " again. Admitting that 

 a good shot does not drop ' ' three out of five grouse, " a good 

 observer, an ardent sportsman and a practiced dog, will fol- 

 low the straight line flight of the wounded or dead bird, and 

 And it just the same as quail are often found. 



I do not remember a single instance, when seeing "a little 

 patch of downy, mist color feathers floating in the air," that 

 1 failed to secxire a finally dead grouse. That was an old 

 wing-shot's advice to me years ago, and I recommend it to 

 all who, like me, will shoot grouse on the wing; for with all 

 due deference to "Nessniuk," whose knightly courtesy to 

 those visitors who "had come 300 miles" is not the least 

 admirable of his many direct and indirect instructions, I 

 must continue to shoot grouse on the wing if they ever be- 

 come plenty again. For without any of the causes enume- 

 rated by "Nessniuk," the grouse almost disappeared before 

 a breech-loader of any gauge "bombarded" in this vicinity. 

 So "10-bores" didn't destroy them by "murder most foul." 

 Certainly the "bellow of 10-bores" cannot compare to the 

 whistle of the locomotives, nor "two men and a dog" be 

 equal to the "racket" of the trains on the Pennsylvania 

 Central Bailroad. Yet up to their sudden decrease in 1877 

 I think no finer grouse shooting should have been wished for 

 than could be had within fifty to 500 yards of that road, as 

 Mi'. David Brooks can vouch for; and old Bizmark would 

 testify if there had been no modern Othello. I have no 

 solution of the mystery. I did accept the tick, as during the 

 season of decrease I found as many dead birds as living ones; 

 and neither ground, tree, or wing" shots killed or wounded 

 i. Not grouse, but deer, wounded deer, "hid away to 

 iii • a miserable death." This is, and has been my torment. 

 Daring the month of November, 1856, on the bottoms of the 

 Elk 11 orn, Nebraska, I sadly regret that I had the oppor- 

 tunity to plant buckshot, loose and Ely's cartridges into more 

 deer than I care to confess at distances of five to sixty yards 

 standing, walking, running, and from horseback. Yet all save 

 one disappeared in the tail grass, and I wish that the unac- 

 countable straying of two buckshot, breaking the near shoulder 

 and off knee, had not brought it down, for all the other shot, 

 lodged in the opposite skin, just behind the forcshoulder, 

 did '"not seem to affect its vitality. Its beseeching, reproach- 

 ful gaze, as it lay helpless, is vivid yet. I cut its throat, 

 through humanity, and through sentiment never shot a deer 

 afterwards. Although, 1 presume, the prairie and gray 

 wolf did not allow my wounded deer a lingering misery; 

 neither do hawks, wild cats, foxes, etc., allow grouse to 

 linger. Beside our humanity, it will not do to draw our 

 sentiment too fine, or we would not destroy the beautiful 

 creatures, or eat the meat, i. c, pot it, of ttomestic fowls and 

 animals, which are "slaughtered" indeed, without a chance 

 of "three in five." and that after we have inspired them with 

 entire trust in our care and kindness, do we not invite our 

 friends to partake of turkey on Thanksgiving and Christmas 

 days'.' We relish the rare'-roast of beef, the innocent lamb- 

 chops, et cetera. Do not the sportsmen's wives enjoy the 

 relish with which their friends partake of broiled woodcock, 

 quail, or fricasseed young grouse; and so we are pot-hunters 

 after all. 



If (he retention of migratory quail'planted along the East- 

 er': coast is a failure, "might not success attend planting 

 them in the Southern States? Let their first migration be 

 northward. Or put them in the Northwest in the spring, 

 where the quail aud locust would meet in mutual usefulness, 

 and the birds not. pass out. to sea in their southward pilgrim- 



' "En Garde" asks, "What is the direct cause of the blowing 

 off of the muzzles or bulging of choke-bore guns?" In addi- 

 tion to the causes you mention, Mr. James, of Baltimore, 

 told rue that large-sized chilled shot would produce such re- 

 read advised me to use soft shot, which I did on the 

 Broadwater last fall, and thereby discovered what produced 

 lis, in my sun, at least, which I was unable to remove 



by the most persistent cleaning, until upon my return home, 

 I used the wire scratch brush, Vhich removed a great deal of 

 lead in addition to amount "previously removed. So restored 

 the. gun has remained smooth, as bright inside as when it. 

 came to me new. The outside, lock, stock and barrels, be- 

 fore going out were well covered with a mixture of tallow, 

 neatsfoot oil and paraffine, whieh preserved it from rust. 

 It was boot grease, and is just the article "Boots" in same 

 column asks for. I guessed at proportions. Juniata. 



SKETCHES FROM THE AIR. 



"\7~EARS ago when my attention w r as first directed to the 

 JL unerring certainty with which old "Charlie H." could 

 tell whether the fowl were "hit hard" or rather "hit bad" as 

 he expressed it (almost before lowering his gun) it seemed to 

 me little short of the marvelous. Close attention to the sub- 

 ject will improvo one in this respect, and though few I have 

 met could compare with "Charlie," there are many who can 

 tell with moderate certainty, by the action of the bird at the 

 moment the charge cuts 'it, whether it is a killing shot, or 

 one which requires a second barrel to secure. Some fowl, 

 when shot, will start in a sudden, convulsive manner, others 

 appear to shudder as it were, others again seem to shrink up 

 (this is almost a certain sign of death, sharp and sudden). 

 The variety of these signs, however, is endless, and although 

 a certain sameness pervades them all, a comparison of a few 

 individual cases will be found interesting. Let us see. 



No use firing again!! he is filled full, I saw him shrink 

 all up as the charge struck him. Sec him scale off, with his 

 wings set. There ! ! ! down he goes, how the wator flies as he 

 strikes, two hundred yards at least, before he gave it up. 



Good boy!!! as neatly clone as though you had been at it 

 all your life. Nearly lost him, didn't you? twisted like a 

 flash and came right in over. You almost tipped backwards 

 before you covered him, "He came rotten" though, as old 

 Billy us"ed to say ; lies as quiet as a mouse about two rods 

 back of us on the meadow. 



This old canvas-back is coining up tamo as a chicken, 

 take your time, and you can drop him right among the 

 stools. That's it ! ! doubled all up ! ! Did you hear the charge 

 slap into him? sounded as though it had struck a wet rag. 

 How he humped his back when lie felt it. Head back, wings 

 thrown forward, and feet down, told as plainly as words, 

 that he had enough of it, 



Bang!! Ha!! ha!! ha!! see him luck, ye3, stung him cer- 

 tainly, but it is no use wasting powder and lead at such 

 distances. He was a, leetle too "near off ! ! and beside, you 

 might strain your gun shooting so far. An old chap I used 

 to gun with, told me that he hated to shoot a duck high up, 

 'cause if he didn't strain the gun, the bird would be "spiled" 

 falling so far. 



bird was forty yards and you must have pulled a long way 

 a he-ad of him, as he was going like a streak before the breeze. 

 Cannot do it, in that fashion, every time. 



Do these sketches take you back, to the bright autumn 

 days? 



Do you remember how you stopped this fellow, as he 

 flashed by with the breeze behind him, or the one who 

 doubled and came right over you, that you broke all up, 

 without fairly sighting? Do you not hear his dull thud on 

 the meadow as he strikes? If the above short descriptions, 

 bring memories of "good times gone" but to return, I sin- 

 cerely trust for all of us, they will have carried out the in- 

 t entions of jj ick , 



AN AERIAL CHASE. 



use!! Close!! Right over us, he will be back again, 

 aigh a trifle suspicious; here he comes!! take him beforo 



Close 

 although a trifle suspicious, 



the wind, he wont stop this time, unless you make him. 

 Beautiful!!! turned Mm over, and over, and over. They al- 

 ways twirl in that way, when killed outright, corning before 

 the wind. Here, let me see him, that gun of yours throws 

 close and hard; look at him, peppered 1! wing and legs 

 broken. Choke boring is a big thing. I should judge that 



s "a hundred dogs bayed deep and stromr." This, how- 

 ever, is all on the ground, among the coverts of mountains, 

 crags, hills, dales, and glens; but you shall be told presently 

 of a veritable aerial chase witnessed by the writer the other 

 day. The hundred baying dogs were winged, glossy- 

 feathered black fiends, and their quarry an "antlered mon- 

 arch" of the air. 



On the morning of the last Saturday in April the sun came 

 out clear from behind clouds which had all the provious 

 night poured down the spring rains, rinsing the sky's blue 

 curtains of all the foggy stains of earlier April. 



Such days make us look upward; and as I thither cast my 

 eye, the high summit and green pastures of tho grand olil 

 mountain, at whose foot the little hamlet of my home nestles, 

 gave me another hint of the standing invitation, so plainly 

 hung on its high walls could be seen trie freshly touched 

 landscape pictures, the fringed sugar orchards, high up from 

 among which sprang the infant floods already conscious of 

 their might, as they tumbled over the crags unhurt, and 

 hurried on to become resistless giants. 



A horseback climb up the winding path soon found me 

 there, stretched on the sward with the light, unerrino- 

 "Manton" by my side. 



Since I have run off into this reverie it would bo a little 

 ridiculous to tell you the practical object of the hunt. You 

 must go through the sub-process of guessing what kind of 

 gamy, edible little animals this time of year inhabit sugar 

 orchards. But still the picture would remain uninjured had 

 you been there and seen them scamper among the delicate 

 lace on these lithe trees, had you seen them dart every time, 

 the shadow of the old raven, who was ill-naturedly training 

 her youth to fly, would flit over them. They couldn't be 

 blamed either, for these black demons would startle "tho old 

 scratch." 



After a due amount of sport the keen crack of a squirrel 

 rifle near by decided me on going to hunt up its owner, who 

 was soon discovered. You ought to have seen that little fel- 

 low ! A mountain lad of perhaps frjurteon, clad in brown 

 homespun, shirt sleeves, one suspender. 

 "What's up, bud?" said I. 



"Up! look yander on that lim— I thot it was an owl; but 

 cussed if I don't believe it's^a witch. I've shot and shot at 

 it, with a rest and off-hand, and it never done anything but 

 wink its eyes. Look at. the holes in its feathors the bullets 

 made!" said he, excitedly. 



And be was excited. A bunch of yellow hair had crept 

 through the hole in the top of his hat and stood stiff and 

 straight as bristles; and his eyes! The boy had met up with a 

 stupid young owl of the great horned species, which sat on 

 a limb near the hollow in the tree where it was reared. Sure 

 enough the bullets had ploughed furrows through its profu- 

 sion of ill-placed, dry feathers. 



It is actually astonishing that such a poor and slight frame 

 as these youug birds have can carry such a huge, dress of 

 feathers. At this time and age they arc but. little heavier 

 than a whippoorwill, and the boy had a target like the duel- 

 ist whose antagonist wears aloose gown— it is hard to tell 

 where to put the bullet. 



"Mister, I saw you just now break that gun in the middle; 

 what sort of a one is it?" said the boy. 

 "Shotgun," I responded. 



"Hoopee! well, splatter that devil with it," said he with a 

 vim. 



Just at that time a young squirrel scampered with a dart 

 on a neighboring tree and I "lifted him." and the unusual 

 explosion seemed to have aroused the owl's slumbers and off 

 it, Sapped. Before many movements it had a wing tip from 

 my other barrel. This seemed for the first time to have 

 broken the spell on the boy, and ho dashed for his prey like 

 a streak. The owl, on its back, received him with upturned 

 talons and such snapping of his beak and eye blinking. I 

 had, in the battle, to choke the owl loose from tho boy. 



At the discharge of my gun two other owls flew from the 

 hollow tree, each taking opposite directions for thick woods 

 far over the fields and ridges. As if by magic at least 

 twenty-five crows arose and began a sharp attack on the fu- 

 gitives. Around, over, under and above their victims did 

 these black hounds squawk their fiendish ha! has! The owla 

 becamo demoralized. They tumbled about against the blue 

 sky ; and buffeted the wind awkwardly with their great 

 wings; rolling themselves up like bundles of wool or feath- 

 ers. Now one of his fleet pursuers would glide away above 

 an owl, and with a taunting, insulting lua-r-a-k swoop down 

 upon the object of his hate like an arrow, and beat him with 

 his wings. One at a time would strike. Around in circle* 

 and through, back and across would they go. The owl lit 

 far away, frightened and exhausted. Still on Ins perch did 

 these relentless hounds bay him. The onset became so fierce 

 that he started again on the perilous flight for the citadel of 

 his birth. Poor, awkward, slow thing! Then his pursuers 

 close in and all roll up a solid black ball. Hear the deafen- 

 ing ha h,w-a-k! On they come close up— and the crows, 

 otherwise such wary birds, seem heedless of human pres- 

 ence. Shall I shoot? Too far. No. 8's too light artillery 

 to play in this battle. Bight up to the owl's home they fly; 

 and in he goes and ensconces himself, and as quickly thrusts 

 out his great head. Ah! the wicked bang of the Manton. 

 Out comes the owl with eyes blinded by little shot at long 

 range. As he. promiscuously flaps up, up, aimless, his re- 

 lentless pack of pursuers seem endowed with a knowledge of 

 their advantage. " They close in and hound the terrified bird, 

 till it actually falls bfelessahalf mile away on the green 

 turf. The other victim almost met its brood mate at the old 

 homestead, and fell amid its pursuers, killed bv the remain- 

 ing cartridge, accompanied by a wing-tipped crow; aud by 

 the same magic art' that marshaled them— these bloody 

 beaked fiends vanished front sight. Gsaemb, 



South Wkst Vibulkia, 1S&!, 



