S4 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
a 
: . —_ 
fAue. 28, 1884, 
the result of somewhat mistaking the mere technicalities of 
science for the facts which they represent—the mould for the 
metal, the ear for the corn—an exaltation of the mere form 
above the spirit and essence of knowledge. ‘Our Birds in 
their Haunts” is not designed to take the place of the incom 
parable analytic pages of the ‘‘Key,” by Dr, Coues, or the 
voluminous pages of Baird, Brewer and Ridgway. It is 
designed to occupy a new field, in which the general reader 
and the scientist may find some community of thought, may 
enjoy together the freshness and fragrance of knowledge 
directly from nature. 
_. The manner in which the critic refers to the second-hand 
Hlustrations in the work, and more particularly to the ‘‘ap- 
palling” portrait of the cedar bird—no picture of that bird 
being in the book, however—will not do much, we fear, to 
bring about the ‘‘solden age,’ when our American readers 
will sufficiently patronize a greater expense in publishing 
scientific works, By the way, was not the sentence about 
the “glimpses of cloth” designed to be a Jittle stinging—not 
to speak of the rather slangy character of its phraseology? 
Perhaps, however, the sting and poison-bag are somewhat 
squeezed out by the after thonght contained in the last clause 
of the sentence: *‘These, however, are not very obtrusive.” 
Weare quite ata loss to know what the critic means by 
“rough descriptions of the nests and egos,” since these de- 
scriptions, while they avoid being wordy, contain all the 
essentials and details, unless it be the exact dimensions of the 
several nests; an item which, to say the least, is very vari- 
able and of little use in our case for identification. As to the 
adequateness of the descriptions of the birds themselves and 
their life-history. we appeal to the book itself, and ask the 
candid reader if the former are not quite as full and exact as 
those given in our smaller ornithological works gener- 
ally? And whether the latter do not’ compare favorably 
in extent and substance with those which are given in even 
our most extended works. A description which is too minute, 
is at once confusing to the beginner and useless to the adept. 
In an ordinary work only the salient points of differentiation 
should be noted, and they should be stated Jucidly and brietly, 
As to the history of habit, species of the same family or genus, 
are often so similar that full accounts of all would be simply 
repetitions, not at all to be expected in a professedly brief 
and popular work. We will ask no greater vindication of 
this paper as against the points taken im the review than that 
the reader shall examine the book thoroughly, using the 
slender paragraphs of our critic as a book-mark. We may 
say further that we have in our possession letters from sey- 
eral of the leading ornithological critics on the continent, 
which are in tle most striking contrast with the Fornst AND 
STREAM’S review of the 14th inst., as to the scientific value 
of the book in question. J. H, LANGIULE. 
Burrauo, Aug, 25, 1884. 
Game Bag and Gun. 
THE OPENING DAY ON WOODCOCK, 
HE woodcock season opens in Vermont on the 15th of 
August, nominally, Practically, it opens at any and 
every time when the illegal shooter chooses to hayeit. This 
year woodcock have heen shot in this vicinity ever since the 
last week in July, and the fusillade has gone on increasing 
until, about a week before the 15th of August, it reached 
iis culmination and then ceased, for the sole reason that the 
eteater part of the birds had been destroyed. A few law- 
abiding sportsmen held off until the 15th, and then sallied 
out to see if they could pick up a stray bird or two which 
had escaped the onslaught of the early shooters. Such is a 
faithful picture of the game laws of Vermont. 
On the morning of the 15th I rose to find the world 
bathed in that smoky, copper-colored mist which hbetokens 
intense and scorching heat, The prospect was anything but 
an assuring one, but as Lhad been counting for so long on 
the pleasure of going woodcock shooting the moment the 
law was off, I dared the smoking wrath of Old Sol and 
made my preparations for starting with a light heart. An 
early breakfast, and my companion and I bundled our traps 
into the buggy, called the dog to jump in after us and were 
off. ; 
We drove for about two miles, and then stopped at a right 
pretty hole for the brown beauties—a winding swale near 
an old deserted railway; the swamp of alders screening a rich 
bed of black loam, throngh which a small stream oozed, 
while the warm banks on either side, wooded with pine; 
hemlock and birch, afforded a choice place for the birds to 
lie during the day. Our dog, a smal) field spaniel, was 
quickly sent into the covert, while we walked slowly along 
the edge, waiting for the appearance of the evasive cocls, 
Searcely had we prepared ourselves to shoot, when—twitter, 
twitter on our right, and a little behind us rese a woodcock. 
We wheeled in our tracks and saw a brown gleam winding 
swiftly through the pines overhead, now dodging a_ thick 
limb, now mounting higher to overpass the dark tip of a 
hemlock, Bang! bang! We had both fired before we knew 
it almost, and the flickering hall of brown feathers was just 
disappearing over the top of the opposite coyert. Out 
leaped the spaniel from the swale, his eyes shining with the 
light of excitement, his stern vibrating like mad, and his 
tongue dripping blood where he had scratched it in the briers 
and blackberry thorns, Away he went at the waye of hand 
into the opposite covert. Now, be ready! Don’t miss again. 
Bee! there go two of them over the railroad—hbang! bang! 
bang! That last one dropped in the young birches. But 
what is the matter with the dog? Is he shot? 
The poor little spaniel started back as if somebody had 
struck lim in the face, staggered, and fell struggling on the 
ground, For a moment I fhought that one of us must have 
hit him; but the foam flying from his mouth, and the con- 
vulsive nature of his struggles soon convinced me that it was 
a fit, brought on by intense excitement, over-exertion, and 
the terrible heat. He was not in conditioi—nor were we— 
for hard work on the opening day. 
“Tt never rains but if pours.” As we were trying to get 
our dog into a shady place, an individual approached with a 
directness which bodes something more positive than curi-. 
osity. Our suspicions were nof groundless. “Excuse me, 
gentlemen,” said the intruder, “but Mr. ©. has hired the 
shooting on these grounds, and you will have to come oft,” 
“Why aren’t these grounds posted then?” we asked, 
“yh, he said he was going to post them, and he meant to 
do it before this, but he didn’t get around to it,” 
We yielded—it is the best way. Always be gentlemanly, 
brother sportsmen, although you may feel that injustice is 
being done you, and in the end, my word for it, you will 
have more friends and more birds than the man who plays 
land, but the privilege of the ame. 
Bang! 
the bully. Still, T must confess that as we sadly took our 
departure from that familiar little covert, which I have 
watched and shot over unmolested since boyhood, I could 
not resist something like a feeling of resentment against the 
rich city sportsmen who come up and buy the right to mon- 
opolize our native game, How can we help feeling a prior 
Tight in it, who have always lived on the ground, and taken 
our legal share of the people’s game in a friendly, unselfish 
way, like gentlemen, no man ousting his brother out. True, 
the land is the property of private individuals, but the game 
is the State’s and the people’s, and when a man buys the 
right of trespass on a certain piece of land because if isa 
game covert, he robs the people of thei right and prohibits 
them from their legal privileges. 
trespass, but the right of shooting; 
He buys, not the right of 
not the privilege of the 
In this sense, the act is 
The object of purchase is 
, 
morally, if not actually, ilegai. 
the game, which is not purchasable under the law. So far 
as the act is legal, it is legal by a subterfuge, 
But where am I? not arguing a casein court, let it be 
hoped, on the 15th day of August, when woodcock are free 
to the people in general, and certain individuals in particu- 
lar. ; 
ert because a Mr, C, has bought the right to shoot there, and 
may choose to do so at some future time. 
No; I have just been ordered off a choice piece of coy- 
T sracetully sub- 
mit. Jam off, 
A. liberal dose of cold water, administered both externally 
and internally, has brought the little spaniel out of his agony. 
Poor fellow! he is weak and dazed enough. 
more work to-day. 
drive on to another covert, known to your humble servant— 
2 covert five miles away from the first, for we are bound to 
get outside the jurisdiction of Mr, C. if it takes a week. 
Dinner is eaten under 2 cool clump of trees on the edge of the 
woods, 
grass, while we are enjoying our Junch. 
the covert, the little spaniel at our heels. 
push ahead, but is bound to go with us when there are birds 
in the wind. 
He must do no. 
We take him with us into the buggy, 
The horse has his bag of oats and his nibble at the 
Then we push into 
He is too weak to 
Scarcely have we struggled through the thick brush on 
the edge of the swamp when from among the tall weeds— 
behind us again, for we have passed him a few feet on the 
left—tises a woodcock, the whistle of his wings making 
delightinl music in the breathless stillness of the swamp. 
A miss. Bang again. There he falls twenty rods 
away. See him flutter down; he is badly hit, but not killed. 
Mark the spot as wellas you can; the spanicl isso dazed 
and stupid he does not seem to mind the shot at all, We 
drop in more shells, and muke our way as nearly as possible 
to the place where the cock seemed to fall. Back and forth 
we work, treading the weeds aside, and looking carefully 
for the wounded bird. If the spaniel was only lively enough 
to take the scent; but he only pokes around a little, and 
comes panting to heel, The bird has evidently run off and 
given us the slip, probably with a broken wing. Weare 
forced to give up the search. On we struggle through the 
weeds and tangled vines, now tripping over a fallen tree, 
now plunging into an unseen hole, It is hard work. How 
welong foradog! There—who would haye thought that 
bird was right under our feet?’ He got away nicely, but it 
didn’t Jook as though he went far, Be ready now this time. 
We walked right over the spot where the cock seemed to 
pitch down, but no bird could we find. The heat was in- 
tolerable. 
‘‘Let’s go back to the edge,” I suggested, “‘we can’t stand 
this; it’s too much of a good thing without a dog.” We 
turned, and suddenly, right from between my two feet, as 
if Thad kicked him into the air, rose the cunningly hiding 
cock, The barrels glimmered in the heat as I brought them 
to my face, The eock’s flight was obliquely across the line 
of vision. I covered him as well as my demoralized nerves 
would permit and pulled. Down—silent, instantly, as if 
beaten direct to earth by some unseen force—he fell. No 
flutter, no death throe, no sounding thump as with the 
srouse, but noiselessly he disappeared in the thick greenery. 
If thesmoke had been between me and him I should scarcely 
have known whether he was mine or not. I parted the 
leaves and saw him lying’ on the brown earth beneath—a 
fine, plump fellow, beautiful in death. The light charge of 
No 9. had scarcely ruffled his feathers. He was the first bird 
of the season, and Isat down on a log and smoothed his 
plumage and admired the gamy look of this typical game 
bird for several minutes. But the bloodthirsty mosquitoes 
and stifling heat soon admonished me that the edge of the 
swamp was the only suitable place fora human being on 
such a day, and so, leaving the rest of the covey for some 
cooler day, when better prepared to do myself and them 
also justice, I returned to the team with my companion, and 
was soon bowling homeward over the hard road. One bird! 
a big bag for two guns, was it not? But what of that. It 
was well earned and all {he more precious, We had smelled 
powder, the opening day was inaugurated and there were 
feathers in the bag, PavL PAstNor. 
BuRLINGTON, Vt. 
THE RUFFED GROUSE. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
“G. W. A.’s” article in Forest AND Stream of Aug, 14, 
bringing up the grouse question again, leads me to contribute 
my mite, In the central part of New York State, where I 
resided until the spring of 1880, we attributed the decrease 
of grouse to the most natural cause (as we thought), the 
shotgun. ‘There were so few in that section that when we 
did find them in bunches, we held the idea that we got there 
before some one élse had scattered the covey. My first sea- 
son’s shooting in Michigan was in the fall of-1880, and 
ruffed grouse were quite plentiful at that time. The winter 
of 780 and ’81 was very severe, and the next season there 
were no grouse to be found in their usual haunts. Were 
‘they killed by the cold or did they go to thicker cover, where 
they could get better shelter and more food? Some might 
haye been starved and frozen, but I think the larger number 
went into the tamarack swamps and dense thickets; atleast 
these were the only places they could be found, All the 
erouse I found in the fall of ‘81 were either at the edge of 
some tamarack swamp or in thickets that a dog could hardly 
penetrate; and those at the edge of swamps or thickets would 
invariably, on being flushed, fly into the thickest places, 
where they were sate from gun or dog. Does it not seem 
reasonable that they were driven to such places during the 
cold weather of the winter preceding? 
If this is a fact, ave there not other causes which would 
lead to this same thing? For instance, a continual “banging” 
at them might have the same effect. Luse the word “bang- 
ing” in this Connection advisedly, for in eyery community, 
besides the ever-increasing number of sportsmen (who 
for, 
should wait until October before taking many tramps), 
there are countless numbers who cateh the hunting fever 
about the ist of September, and think that because 
the law-is up it is time to go hunting; they borrow 
a gun and start for the first woods, and for a week or 
so there isa perfect fusillade on every side; not much 
game killed but a great deal of damage done. 
this, not that 1 would deny any one their sport, but that it 
I mention 
may have something to do with the grouse question; for this 
much I do know, while during the summer months grouse 
may be heard drumming in the woods, and occasionally one 
is fiushed in our tambles, that after this early September 
fusillade we can only find thém in the swamps and thickets, 
where the first of September hunters never go. 
do not suffer much by this class, for they ‘take to the 
woods” forall kinds of game. 
dents which have strengthened my belief that grouse will 
not stay where they are continually hampered; but I think 
sportsmen generally will agree with me that their disappear- 
ance is greatly due to their moving to better shelter, to better 
feeding srounds, and-‘‘far from tne madding erowd.” 
Quail 
1 could relate many inci- 
Tn recapitulation, game is scarce, spertsmen do not bring 
in enough birds to show up, and noyices are not filled with 
enthusiasm by the sight of a good bag; there will not be 
much shooting done this year, Next year game will be more 
plenty, but it will not be generally known. 
son comes, everything has been favorable, birds ave plentiful; 
the first good bag is paraded up and down the streets. 
The third sea- 
‘Hurrah, boys, let’s go hunting.” The next few days the 
‘“voods are full of ’em.” How is it with the grouse? If there 
is a jungle within five miles, can you wonder that they 
silently steal away to its seclusion, where man or boy eannot 
enter? 
RAVELSTONE. 
LANSING, Mich. 
GOOSE SHOOTING ON THE PLATTE. 
V .] HILE sauntering along O street, down in the business 
part of Lincoln, on the 31st of last March, 1 was 
accosted by U. 8. District Attorney Lambertson: 
“Wello, Polk! You are the very man I haye been looking) 
Get your traps ready and go with us upto Central 
City after geese. ‘“Scip’ was up there last week and reports 
them there by the million. He will be up from Falls City 
on the first train and wants us to meet him at the depot.” 
Looking at ny wateh I found I had barely an hour and a 
half in which to run up to the house, load a few extra shells, 
pack my outfit, tell the folks good-bye, and get down to the 
depot in time for the northward-bound train, So 1 expressed 
some doubts about being able to accomplish all this in time, 
“Oh, pshaw, you can doit. I have heard you were always 
ready. [vill sce to your pass. We can’t do without you, 
as it is important that we have your big flock of decoys, so 
hurry up and get ready.” ; 
Ordinarily 1am ready on call. But here was a call for a 
“richt smart” trip for spring shooting of geese at a point 
where it was reported they were congregated by millions, 
and I knew I would be short on shells unless I loaded a few. 
Then I had my traps to pack. Still, on hasty reflection, I 
thought I could do it, and told my friend I would meet him 
at the depot on time. And I did it; I was ahead of time. 
*Scip,’ whom [ have already mentioned, is properly 
named BE. 8. Dundy, Jr., the son of Hon. E. 8, Dundy, Sr., 
Judge of the U. 8. Court for Nebraska, Scip bemg deputy 
clerk of said court, Both are enthusiastic sportsmen, gen- 
erally spending their summer vacation among the deer and 
antelope further West. 1 haye several times listened with 
much interest to the Judge’s humorous and entertaining 
recitals of his experiences of his party while on these exhil- 
arating hunts. But I doubt if he loves the sport more than 
his boy, if he even loves it nearly so well. 
Well, when the train pulied in from the South, there was 
Scip and his dog Joe. Helping him make the transter, the 
two were snugly ensconced in one of the comfortable cars 
of the B. &M., and steaming away for the scene of the 
coming slaughter. About that time it had been raining 
some in Nebraska. As the phrases goes, the country was a 
‘sea of mud.” I think the new moon came in with her point 
down, or lying flaton her back, I don't just precisely re- 
member which, but all the weather wise predicted wet 
weather. It was surely a wet moon and it was certain to 
bring much rain. My memory does not allow me to state 
positively if these predictions were subsequently verified by 
the facts for the entire moon, but it distinctly occurs to me at 
this moment that our train had not passed out of sight of 
Lincoln before the flood gates above were thrown wide open 
and poured down torrents on people already soaked with 
water, which operation was continued all the afternoon 
without an intermission or change of propramme. Scip 
drew out a ‘‘deck” and he and I whiled away the time by a 
contest of skill in sundry games of ‘‘old sledge.” It may be 
some consolation to my friends, especially in view of what 
followed at the hunting grounds, to lcarn that I generally 
‘flaxed” the young man. We could see none of the country 
as we -sped through it, the rain being so furious that the 
Jandseape was entirely shut out, So ‘‘old sledge” prevented 
the surroundings from growing monotonous. 
During the trip Lambertson and I put many questions to 
Scip, touching his former visit to Central City, the state of 
the weather, the stage of water in the Platte, whether one 
could get out on the bars with “waders, *how far from the 
hotel were the best grounds, if the geese were wild, how 
many he killed, and sundry other questions naturally arising 
as the witness submitted fo the exmination and made his re- 
plies. The best grounds are about amile from the hotel; 
he did nut know about the depth of the river as he had not 
tried it, he did not think the gecse were wild; he and a 
friend laid behind ahay stack and got a shot now and then 
as they flew over when going out to feed or return to the 
river; they killed six or seven during his stay there, and s0 
on. I told him if we found geese anything like as abundant 
as he reported them, I would, for avery slight compensa- 
tion, guarantee better results than had followed his first trip, 
especially if we could get out into the river. — , 
When the train pulled on to the long bridge over the 
Platte the rain had ceased, and the lights of the town shone 
dimly through the mist and the night. Of course we could 
not see the thousands of geese we knew to be huddled up on 
the little flat bars on either side of us, but we could almost 
imagine we heard them jabbering and sputtcring away as 
they usually do when together in large congregations, Ar- 
rived at the depot we were jammed into a “‘free bus’ which 
was filled to overflowing, and hauled off through mud and 
quagmires to the hotel, where they gave us a first-rate sup- 
per, the waiter not being able to repress her look of aston- 
ishment as Scip cleaned up things within his reach. The 
young man had left home early in the morning and not hay- 
ing had time to lunch at Lincoln, was clearly not * ‘off his — 
’ 
a in ——— 
