210 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Lieut. Doane made the entire trip r from Fort Ellis and 
return in tliirty-four days, and part of that time was unable 
to travel on account of a severe “whitlow.” He adds:— 
“The difficulties of the journey amount to but little after 
the various routes have been laid down correctly. From 
the 1st of June to the 1st of October the climate is very 
mild considering the location. Both the climate and vege¬ 
table growths of the Great Basin are strikingly different 
from those of the surrounding country. The summer, 
though short, is quite warm, notwithstanding the elevation 
of the district, Bains are frequent in the spring months, 
and the atmosphere is comparatively moist. All the grasses 
grow rank, and are not of the seeded varieties common to 
the country, being green and luxuriant when the lower val¬ 
leys are parched by the sun. Ferns, huckleberries, thim¬ 
ble-berries, and other products of a damp climate abound, 
all being of diminutive growth. It is a miniature Oregon 
in vegetable productions, the pines being about the height 
of those on the East Virginia shore, and other growths 
lessened in proportion. Mosquitoes and gnats are said to 
be numerous in the early summer, but we saw none at 
all. The snows of winter are very heavy, but the cold is 
not severe for such an altitude. Doubtless the intense heat 
and immense amount of hot vapor evolved exert a power¬ 
ful agency in moderating the rigor of the climate. The 
basin would not be a desirable place for winter residence. 
As a country for sight seers ‘and sportsmen,’ it is without 
parallel; as a field for scientific research it promises great 
results; in the branches of geology, mineralogy, botany, 
zoology, and ornithology, it is probably the greatest labo¬ 
ratory that Nature furnishes on the surface of the globe.” 
All of the above is corroborated by Hayden and others 
who have since visited the valleys and classfied its flora and 
fauna. What a magnificent field for the sportsman! Who 
is bound for the Great Yellowstone Valley this summer ? 
Monmouth. 
For Forest and Stream. 
HUNTING THE WILD TURKEY. 
T HE wild turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) is, without doubt, 
the finest game bird on this continent. Large, with 
burnished plumage, spurred and bearded, he is a magnifi¬ 
cent fowl. The flesh is tender and juicy, and as gamey in 
flavor as a partridge. His endless variety of food makes it 
always procurable, and in season he is never found thin in 
flesh. To hunt him successfully in regions where he is 
much sought after and shot at, requires the utmost skill 
and tact on the part of the hunter, and an intimate knowl¬ 
edge of all the habits of the bird. Exceedingly shy, with 
a keen eye, an acute sense of hearing, a quick flight and a 
fleet foot, he is extremely hard to get within range of. 
After many hours spent in calling or stalking him, just at 
the moment you think he is safe for a “bag” a slight move¬ 
ment or exposure of part of the body of the hunter, the 
breaking of a dry twig or the cocking of your gun, is suffi¬ 
cient to alarm him, and he is off instantly. 
In the spring, when they “pair off,” is perhaps the most 
favorable season for hunting them. The voice of the gob¬ 
bler is now heard in the land, and a few evenings since the 
7:30 train bore away to the “Pine Hills,” on the borders of 
a quiet stream fifteen miles east of this place, two mighty 
slayers of the gallepam. They were armed and equipped 
as the law directs—each with a mighty ten bore, cooked 
rations, and some that were not cooked, a tin coffee pot, 
etc. The next dawn found them in the woods, with listen 
in«- ears and cautious footsteps. Occasionally they gave a 
yeTp on their well tried callers, but no response. They 
hooted in imitation of the night owl; all was silent. They 
then separated, “Senior” taking a route along the foot hills, 
and “Junior” striking down a narrow beech ridge that ran 
parallel with the creek. After walking until the sun was 
rising, the weary “Senior” sat down to rest and refresh 
himself. He had gained the summit of a steep hill, and 
his seat was a step-like rock. Behind him, a little higher 
than his head, as he sat, was another rock that reached to 
the level summit of the hill, and hid him from view from 
that direction. In the valley below wandered the placid 
stream. The “sweet south wind” sighed softly through 
the tops of the lofty pines, and swayed the branches of the 
forest trees just budding into leaf. "'All nature was putting 
on her spring garments. The woods were vocal with the 
sono-s of the birds; the squirrels frisked about, looked in¬ 
quisitively at the hunter, and then ran off to practice gym¬ 
nastics on the swinging boughs. 
All this beauty and freshness and gladness was enjoyed 
by the mighty hunter. After resting awhile, he gave a few 
call notes in imitation of Madame Gallo. Instantly there 
came a gobble in response that made his heart bound, and 
sent the blood tingling through his veins. It almost made 
the old ten bore vibrate, it was so near and so sudden. This 
gobble was followed by one from a turkey a little farther 
off. The nature of the ground prevented either hunter or 
hunted from seeing each other. The nearest turkey was 
not more than thirty feet off; the other as many yards. 
The hammer was drawn back without a click, and as the 
turkey was right behind him “Senior” had to turn round 
to shoot. Cautiously he turned, but his foot touched a 
loose stone and sent it rolling down the declivity. This 
was enough for Gallo. Instantly, with a loud “cluck, 
cluck,” a rush, and flapping that stirred the dry leaves like 
a whirlwind, he took wing, but in vain. For an instant 
“Senior” followed him with his gun, covered him, and 
pressed the trigger; there was a cloud of smoke, a report 
that shook the'everlasting hills, and the immense bird fell 
with a thud, cut down line a bob white in mid air. At the 
report the other turkey took wing, and, well for him, got 
a tree between himself and the enemy. Thus he flew until 
almost beyond shot. The old ten sent a whistling shower 
of lead after him, but he was in a hurry to go, and only 
left his card. 
Mean while, “Junior” had not been idle. He had called 
up and killed a fine hen, and after waiting half an hour 
heard a gobble in answer to a call. This old fellow was so 
near that “Junior” had barely time to flatten himself on 
the ground before he came in sight. He was a splendid 
bird" with blue head, shining feathers, and sweeping beard. 
But he had heard the sound of battle from afar off, and 
was on the alert. He moved round on the left flank, cau¬ 
tiously scanning every object. It was impossible for “Ju¬ 
nior” to move without being instantly seen. He watched 
the turkey from the corners of his eyes, scarcely daring to 
breathe, nis gun lying cocked in his grasp. To lie still till 
the turkey comes within range, and then spring up and fire 
is his only chance. Hearer comes the turkey, almost in 
shot. Then suddenly, as if he had discovered the enemy, 
he gave two loud clucks, qui-va-la, and commenced moving 
off. A quick shot, and he falls, but is up again; another 
shot, and he cannot fly, but still keeps running. “Junior” 
lays down his gun and gives chase, but the swamp into 
which the turkey runs is too soft to support the weight of 
the hunter, aud the mighty gobbler passes out of sight. 
“You will have to roost lower for the balance of your days, 
old fellow,” is the soliloquy of “Junior,” as he sat down to 
get his breath. “If I could only have found a log to hide 
behind I would have bagged you.” 
After returning to the bivouac, making an immense hole 
in the commissariat, and killing their birds over again 
about three times each, and resting their weary limbs for a 
while, they again took the war path. “Junior,” while sit¬ 
ting on the summit of a steep hill, heard a low yelp. He 
laid flat on the ground, and answered the call. The tur¬ 
key—a young lien—came up within close shot, but was 
concealed below the hill. Fearing she would get around on 
the flank, he gave a call, and in doing so made a false note, 
at which she rose with a cluck and perched in a tree just 
overhead; but her feet had scarcely touched the limb when 
she fell backward, her head riddled with a charge of shot. 
“Senior” was in the bottom, and seeing fresh “sign” sat 
down by a fallen tree and commenced calling. Soon there 
came an answer right in front, and with cocked weapon he 
awaited the coming. After a little time the yelp was heard 
close behind him; the turkey had made a detour and had 
got in his rear. First a young gobbler came in view, then 
a hen, then another and another until eight were in view. 
The hunter was on “the wrong side of his works,” and in 
a perfectly open place. He could not move, and the birds 
were not quite within range. They came a little nearer 
and stood with heads up, looking intently around. At last 
they made out the enemy, and with many clucks made 
slowly off. ’Twas a long shot, but the only chance, so he 
let drive at the nearest one, a hen. She fell, fluttered an 
instant, and then took wing; but, partially stunned by the 
shot, she flew nearly towards the hunter, who dropped her 
neatly with his left. In an hour another hen was called 
up, and as she stuck her head from behind a tree to get a 
look at the foe, had it filled with shot, and fell with many 
a flirt and flutter. “The sweet south wind” had by this 
time risen almost to a gale, and, roaring through the trees, 
made it impossible to call any more, or the whole flock 
might have been bagged, as they were well scattered, and 
came readily to the call. 
Late in the afternoon, as the hunters were returning to 
the station, while sitting down to rest, they heard a “gob¬ 
ble,” but could not make out the point from which it came, 
and could not get an answer to a yelp. The turkeys came 
on however—an immense cock and a hen—but passed by 
out of range, and disappeared in an impenetrable cypress 
“brake.” 
The birds bagged—five in number—were all in fine flesh, 
the cock weighing twenty-two pounds, and your humble 
servant managed—as the old woman said about the rye, 
after they got it made into whiskey, “to worry down a 
little”—of one of them, although he was not stuffed with 
foi gras. “Guyon.” 
Corinth , Mississippi, May 25th, 1874. 
For Forest and Stream. 
FARMERS vs. SPORTSMEN. 
T HE question whether game is the property of the 
owner of the land on which it maj r have been bred, 
and the right of the sportsman to go there for the purpose 
of shooting it, is causing much discussion, and an issue is 
created which the sportsmen will have to meet before long. 
Already has the war-cry been sounded by the farmers in 
Ohio, and there the first battle is being fought, but with 
what result it is at present difficult to surmise; but per¬ 
haps it will be decided before this reaches you. No matter 
which party may succeed, that will not be the end of it, 
for if defeated the farmers will try it again, and if the 
sportsmen should be the beaten ones, most assuredly will 
they try next year to have the law repealed. And now 
that the ball has been started rolling, the farmers in other 
States will give it a kick and keep it rolling. 
As usual, there are two sides to this question, and at the 
risk of being decried by my brother sportsmen, I take the 
side of the farmer. I know it is usual to picture the far¬ 
mer as a gouty, unaccommodating individual, actuated 
by mercenary motives in not allowing shooting on his land. 
That this is the case in some instances I will not deny, as I 
have known instances where farmers prohibited shooting 
on tlieir land because they desired to trap the game for 
market. But these, I think, are the exception; and where 
is the rule without it? A whole body of men must not be 
judged by a few. My experience and sense of justice to 
all compels me to say that in the majority of instances I 
have found farmers clever and accommodating; but like 
every other class of persons they like to have their rights 
and property respected. And who is there that does not? 
No man likes to see his rights ignored, and therefore why 
should a farmer be expected to sit quietly down and hold 
his tongue because a party of men—strangers to him—de¬ 
sire for their gratification to tramp over hispioperty? And 
has not the farmer good cause for his objection? Is he not 
often absolutely damaged by these forays on his property? 
and not only that, but, besides, gets cursed and abused be¬ 
cause he objects to this injury, and dares to assert that his 
rights to his property are to be lespected. 
I know whereof 1 speak, for 1 have seen it. One instance 
of many similar will suffice to substantiate my statement. 
Not very long ago, when out shooting, I drove up to a far¬ 
mer’s to ask permission to shoot on las land, when I found 
quite an altercation going on between him and some four 
or five men. They were abusing him in a most disagree¬ 
able manner. Every low, vulgar epithet that could be 
thought of they applied to him, and one went so far as to 
threaten to blow Uie top of his head off. And all this, as I 
afterwards found out, was because lie ordered them off his 
place, for the reason that they had gone on without his per¬ 
mission, and had left the bars down and let his cattle out. 
I asked and obtained his permission to shoot; all he asked, 
he said, was to put the bars up and not break the fences 
down. He said no gentleman would go on his property 
without asking his permission, and he would not allow any 
but gentlemen to shoot on it. 
Now r , had that man not just cause for complaint, and 
was he not right in demanding that permission he asked of 
him to shoot on his land? 1 know of one instance where a 
farmer and his son on Long Island had to go over twenty 
miles to get their cattle back that had been let out by 
“shooters” leaving the bars down, and of another where a 
farmer’s wife, while sitting at dinner opposite the open 
door, received some pellets of shot in her neck from m 
guns of some men who, having come on a bevy 0 f • 
the orchard, regardless of their close proximity to the h ln 
blazed away. U0Use 
These were in neither instance country loafers w at 
Y ork “shooters.” It must be borne in mind that evervm 
that shoots is not a sportsman, and therefore this unsn • II 
manlike class must be legislated for, and consequently!?' 
innocent, as in all other cases, must suffer for the en'k 
Don’t be angry, gentlemen, but unfortunately we are as v i 
only novices as sportsmen in this country. l 
good shots, but being a good shot is not of necessity bein 
a sportsman. What constitutes a sportsman is more tl ® 
that, and certainly he should be a gentleman. There ar 
course many exceptions, and therefore let it be understood 
that I do not include all in this statement, but am drawi 
the line between a sportsman and a “shooter.” ‘ WIn £ 
In consequence of the great abundance of game lieret 
fore, and the wanton destruction of it, the effect has be* 
more to rear up pot hunters than sportsmen. It is to d 
that we are developing the sportsman. Qa ^ 
That game, because it lives on a man’s land is not h’ 
property—that is, not his to do with as he likes, shoot it in 
or out of season as he pleases, or snare it, I most fully b 
lieve. It is under the protection of the law, and therefore 
he is amenable to the law, and bound to observe its nrovi 
sions in regard to it. But no one can deny that the land is 
his, and that he has the right to say who shall or who shall 
not go on it to shoot. A man’s house is his castle and his 
land his domain, and is not the domain entitled as much to 
protection as the castle? 
Supposingany gentleman should purchase a tract of land 
and go to the expense of stocking it with game, will any 
one say that he has not the right to prohibit persons from 
going on it and shooting? Would it not be a trespass and 
ought not the law to afford him redress? Such an idea is 
absurd, and would entirely subvert all personal mbt in 
property. Then, is not the farmer entitled to the same pro¬ 
tection? ^ 
Increase the penalties for violating the game laws and 
bring the farmer under restraint from snaring the game and 
at the same time pass a good trespass law, protecting’ the 
owner of the land and his proper.y from ruffian shooters 
Do this, and I am satisfied that the real sportsmen will bn 
better off for it. 
I am sure if owners of property were asked permission 
to shoot on their land, instead of trespassing without it 
in nine cases out of every ten there would be no objection’ 
for the very act of asking would show that the owner’s 
rights were respected, and his authority over his property 
acknowledged. J 
In fact, if sportsmen are not more careful of the farmer’s 
interests, game shooting on residential property and leased 
lands will have to be hired by the sportsman, and eventu¬ 
ally become a matter of purchase. 
The question need not be one of war between farmers 
and sportsmen if wise counsels and conciliatory measures 
prevail on both sides, but can be settled satisfactorily to 
both parties. And this is another of the many things to be 
settled by the Natioual convention. Mohawk. 
New York , May llth, 1874. 
For Forest and Stream. 
' FOX HUN TING IN ENGLAND. 
THE COUNTRY OF SHAKSPEARE—NOTES OF TRAVEL. 
I AM making a short sojourn at this inland watering 
place, which will be well known to ail American tour¬ 
ists who have paid a visit to the country of Shakspeare. 
It takes its name from the river Learn, which flows lazily 
through the town, two miles further on to join the Avon, 
when, gliding under the walls of Warwich Castle, by world 
famed Stratford, and battle plain of Tewkesbury, it min¬ 
gles its waters with the Severn and so to the sea. On one 
side of the river the ground rises gently, and on the other 
it is level, and the open country stretches before the eye 
for miles—a country of pleasant mansions standing in 
wooded parks, of trim farm houses, of fertile fields, of 
shady lanes and well kept roads. 
Leamington owes its very existence to its mineral waters, 
the virtues of which became known about seventy years 
since; their celebrity has caused it to rise from a village 
consisting of a few miserable mud huts to one of the most 
populous, well built, and thriving spas in England. These 
waters—both saline and sulphur—are still held in the veiy 
highest repute, and are used as a cure for many diseases, 
and as a general tonic. But it is not solely as a watering 
place that Leamington is famous; it is situated in the heart 
of the finest fox hunting district in England, and is yearly 
the resort of crowds of aristocratic British sportsmen, who 
make it their headquarters during the hunting season. 
Every morning the streets are thronged with red coated 
riders on their way to the “meet.” One of the neighbor¬ 
ing packs of hounds daily meets within a few miles of 
Leamington during the season, often within easy walking 
distance. A meet is one of those sights peculiarly Eng¬ 
lish. At tollbar, village inn, cover side, ruined castle, or 
country hall, it is alike picturesque. If at the latter, there 
is always a hunting breakfast given to the sportsmen, when 
game pie is washed down by copious draughts of cham¬ 
pagne or “badminton.” These English hunters s.ill main¬ 
tain the reputation of their Saxon forefathers, renowned in 
history and song as mighty feeders and revellers. At the 
meet all classes are to be seen; the high toned swell in well 
fitting scarlet coat, buckskin breeches, and shining boots. 
The whiteness of his breeches and the polish of his boots 
are his principal anxiety in life. It is considered a calamity 
to have a speck upon either previous to the “throw oft, 
although in five minutes afterwards they may be covered 
with mud. Many swells drive to the meet with aprons 
covering their legs, so that they shall not be soiled by the 
falling out of the cigar. Then we have the lady riders, in 
closely fitting habits and coquettish hats, looking most 
charming, and dangerous to the peace of mind. Fanners 
muster strongly, and vary considerably in their dress ana 
appointments, many of the younger imitating the finery o 
the swells. A few sporting tradesmen, a veterinary sur¬ 
geon or two, a horse dealer, and some boys on ponies max 
up the mounted throng. Carriages of all sorts are P reseD ^ 
mostly filled with fair ladies, who have not the courage t 
follow the hunt on horseback. Around these carriages in 
sportsmen linger until the hounds arrive, and headed oj 
the master and the huntsman trot to the neighboring ?o e 
and proceed to draw it. Then every one presses to the iro » 
anxious to have a good start, but fearful that the fox m ; 
go away from the side of the cover opposite to that wn 
