144 
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FOREST AND STREAM. 
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[Supr, 18, 1824. 
the fact that he does the same here, where wormy cherries 
are unknown, And how about the strawberries and the cur- 
tants? Are they wormy, too? 
“In regard to the claim made for birds that they keep us 
from being ruined by the insect world, it may be correct 10 
the full extent insisted on; but the proof so far is insufficient. 
Trecently made a list of forty-four species of insects most 
common in gardens, which exist, multiply, and if nut met 
With active means of destruction, would ullerly prevent the 
cultivation of many kinds of cullivated plants, yet which the 
birds we can most closely watch, such as the robin, never 
(or scarcely ever) eatat all. And I want to call attention to 
the fact that the confessedly useful birds about which there 
18 nO dispute (fhe swallows, for instunce, but there are many 
others) do not depredate upon gardens and farmsat all. Like 
the toad, they are useful only These 1 believe in protect- 
ing, both by law and public opinion, The few species thit 
frequent our gardens we may spare or not according to indi- 
vidual taste and necessity. But will not the ph adeis for all 
birds, indiscriminately, bea little more careful anout the 
character of their statements and the correctness of their evi- 
dence? tis a poor cause that needs buttressing with incx- 
actitudes,” 
Newport, Vt.,, August, 1884, 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
“Wilnot’s” figures in Forest anp SrreAM of Sept. 4. are 
as interesting as ‘‘Picket’s,” in a former issue, though 
“Wilmot’s” sum in addition is wide of the mark. He credit» 
“Picket” with one hundred too many, whielv ruins his table; 
and then, too, he dovs not allow for what the birds would 
eventually destroy had they not been killed, ror for thos: 
kept off by ‘‘Picket’s” fusilade, To my mind the evidence 
points to a cheup saving of fruit. Here we do not consider 
catbirds or thrushes, other thau robins, fruit eaters to any 
extent. I may say that “Wilmot's” articles are all well 
worth reading, and that I agree with him in the main, still. 
T think sometimes a little powder and snot used with discre- 
lion may «ffect a saving in small fruits. I sincerely hope, 
however, that ‘‘Picket” will not have to destroy a thousand 
birds next year. Mareus. 
East WAREHAM, Mass. 
ANTIDOTE FOR SNAKE’S BITE. 
Editor Forest and Stream; 
Anent the discussion on snake bites, Why is it that 
our hounds escape death? Im this section of the mountains 
I have never heard of a hound dying from a snuke bite, 
yet there must be over a hundred bounds in a radius 
of five miles from here. I huve known of dogs being 
bitten, and the bitten part swelling up and sloughing out, 
often leaving a deep hole, but I never kuew the dog to 
die. I believe that the poison kills by - depressing the 
action of the heart; hence the counter-acting stimula- 
tion of the heart action by alcohol saves the patient, 
and further the well known fact that an “‘old soaker” is but 
slightly benefitted by administration of alcohol. Another 
instance supporting this theory: A man bitten in the neck 
by & copperhead (not as dangerous a bite as that of a rattle- 
snake, died in ten or fifteen minutes. ‘The poison entered 
the jugular vein and went directly to the heart. Now, is the 
heart action of our hounds s, strong that it resists the ile- 
pressing influence of the poison? S. F. M. 
PFaRMINGTON, Pa., Sept. 10. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Several years ago I was out after deer, when a friend shot 
- a fine buck, which ran into a deep rayine and was caught 
by the dogs. On arriving at the place where the deer lay, I 
discovered that Blue, our main dog, was missing. Looking 
for him, | soon found him standing in the water aud ap- 
parently very sick. Examining him, it became apparent 
that be had been bitten by a very large snake. J took him 
in my arms and galloped four miles to a store, where I got a 
bottle of what they callea “Schnapps,” which I poured into 
him. It made him very drunk, but cured him fully ina 
short while. PROPECTION. 
EL Paso, Texas, Sept. 9. 
HORNETS AND YELLOW-JACKETS. 
Haditor Forest and Stream: 
A few years ago I was on a sporting excursion among the 
mountains of Mendocino county, this State, during the 
month of August. Hornets aud yellow-jackets were yery 
abundant, especially the latter, which were so fond of veni- 
son that we were obliged to encase in sacks the carcasses of 
the deer shot, as wellas to prevent their bring covered and 
fill. d with egys of flies. Not having a sack, the next best 
thing was to close the incision in the abdomen from which 
the veni-on had been drawn with wooden pegs or pins, and 
the sooner and moze complclely this was done the better. 
A fall on the rocks while fishing in one of the rugged 
mountain streams for trout put an end to my sport for some 
days, but gave me plenty of 1 me to watch the depredations 
of the hornets upon the yellow-jackeis. A bone or other 
refuse from the table would be literally covered with yellow- 
jackets, and the hornets, somtimes one only, would hover 
two or three feet above them, select a victim, fly down aud 
alight upon its back, clasp it with its legs and after a short 
struggle, lift it from its teet and ty away with it to its 
young, as 1 supposed, but being tu lame too walk far I was 
unable to settle this point, 
The yellow-jacket would sometimes get free from the 
hornet after being carried twenty or thirty yards, and re furn 
to its mexl apparently uninjured, and the liornet would alsu 
Teturn to secure another victim. This was enacted thou- 
sands of times in my prisence. Only the ycllow jackets 
which were attacked seemed to have the slightest interest in 
the movements of the hornets. 
Your correspondent “H. J. T.,” Ang. 28, is correct in say- 
ing hornets will not sting a person who ki eps perfectly quict. 
Tt is not necessury to lie down as he advises. L, BELpIne. 
Bie Trees, Calaveras County, Cal. 
CarnprmvaL Reprsrrp on Lone Isnanp.—Fiushing. L 1., 
Sept. 9 —On Sept. 7, 1884, 1 was fortunate enough to secure 
on a gentiemnn’s place in this village, a male cardinal red- 
bird (Cardinalis virginianus). He wasin very poor plumage, 
mouiting, but was evidently a wild birt. T have never met 
with one of this variety in this neighborhood before. I 
wonder if the warm weather of the last few days was the 
cause of his wandering sp far away from the sunny South, — 
Roper? B. LAWRENCE. 
ee has come in Southwestern Kansas. 
K 
on 2 country suillless of shade trees 
riding into the little forlorn-looking towos that are scattered 
along the A, F. & S, F., uniformed in the white hat, dirty 
shirt and leather legeins of their tribe. 
crecping westward on the road that hugs the railroad track 
wherever it goes, 
calvs and fawns in plenty, but no hunting or fishing at this 
season 
in summer except an occasional buck for home con-umption. 
So I read the Forest anp Stream and long for the shady 
brooks of the Hist. 
through the summer to read about how vur guild hunted last 
winter. 
entertainment, and what b:tter than an »ccount of how I 
lost W. P. Dixon on the prairie, and how 1 didn’t find him 
(for he found himself). 
last name [| Lave forgotten). 
them out hunting, and offered to pay the expenses of the 
trip. So I got Tracey with his old wagon, and, taking a two- 
seated open buggy, we started the next noon, forded the 
about thirty miles away. 
Game ag and Oar. 
HOW WE LOST W. P. 
A. green, 
) flower-spangled ocean of prairie. The sun heating down 
Bronzed cowboys 
Emigrant wagons 
Cattle and antelope scattered every where, 
We have no game law, but we don’t kill «antelope 
Bless the old paper, it helps me sjong 
I feel that I too owe a contribution to this summer 
Georze Dixon was nicht telegraph operator in Cimarron 
duiing the winter of 1882-83, and his brother, W. P. Dixon, 
of Livermore, Pa,, came out to visit him, accompanied by a 
friend from the eastiro part of this State, named Bert (bis 
George wanted me to take 
river, and pulled out southwest for arain-water lake thst lay 
r We had a head wind and heavy 
road, so we did not make mure than about twelve miles, and 
camped in a little hollow amony the sand hills, put up the 
tent, gathered cow chips for the fire, cooked supper and scon 
went to b.d in the tent. It wasa pretty close fit, five of us and 
a big dog"in a tent 10 by 7, but we got settled down finally 
and put in a comfortable night, 
reached the lake and were disgusted to find a place that had 
At noon the next day we 
evidently been just deserted by a hunting party. Antelope 
heads were lying around, there were wagou tracks, the spot 
where a tent had been, and a dead fox that must have 
prowled around after the party went away and got a dose of 
poison which had been left in the antelope offal. 
We decided to camp and try our luck for a day anyhow, 
so afer burying the stuff that lay around (so that my dog 
Nig could not get it), we moved to the other side of the pond 
and camped, The next -day we hunted on foot, and tried 
hard to kill some of the few antelope that still watered at the 
lake, but they were very wild, and at noon I gave it up as a 
bad job, and came in with my mind made up to give thema 
run in the buggy and shoot them on the wing as they ran 
past Bert and Traccy still clung tv the foot hunting, but 
the Dixon boys came with me in the buggy, accompanied by 
Nig the ee 
We made a good run in uhead of two ante: 
lope, and W, P, and i missed them nicely about four shots 
apicce. 
We then drove off into the sandhills about five miles from 
camp, and saw a band of antelope as soon as we struck 
broken ground, Leaving the horses we crept upto within 
200 yards and both fired together. Both shots took effect 
but did not kill, and the band ran over a hill followed hy the 
two wounded ones. We made arun, and when we reached 
the top of the hill there stood our wounded game, and we 
settled them at once. W-. P. was delighted at our success 
and we soon got the team up and put our game in, and 
started after the band. Got around them, and as they ran 
past W. P. got ina lucky shot and broke a buck’s leg. I 
turned Nig loose, and he eaught him after about a mile run, 
We then went to camp and found that Tracey and Bert had 
also been successful and got one apiece. 
The next morning George Dixon concluded that he would 
stay in camp. Tracey and Bert went off together afoot and 
W. P. and IL struck for the sandhills ip the buggy. After 
traveling about seven miles we saw antvlope in a hollow 
and, unhitching and picketing the horses, crept toward 
them. We got to the brow of the hill unnoticed and had a 
good chance at 75 yards. I told W. P. tolet me crawl a 
few feet away from him, so that his smoke would not get in 
my eyes, and then take bis shot, and that 1 would give him 
the first chance; but just as 1 got into position, in that unac- 
countable way that things sometimes happe!, my gun went 
off in the air as scon as I cocked it. We both jumped up 
and shot, and one of us wounded a fine buck. Following 
the band half a mile we saw the main bunch standing on a 
knoll a mile away and the wounded one near us, but to the 
left. W P. wanted to go after the herd, 1 wanted the 
wound+d one, so we separated, though I knew I ought to go 
with him. Itold him: ‘if yeu get lost and can’t find the 
wagon, vet on the edge of the burnt ground and iollow it to 
the old freight road and take that to camp.” *“‘ALl right,” 
be said, and away be went. 
J followed my bucx around for seyeral miles but, he was 
wild and vot better so | could not put in a shot, and finall 
at about 2 o’cluck, be led me pasu the wagon. so I stopped. 
ate up half the grub and drank half the water, lay down and 
went to sleep anu woke up with a start at about sunset. It 
was Dec, 24 und very coll. W, P. was not in sivht, I stoud 
on the wagon seat and looked all around with my field glass. 
Lecould net see anything. Pulled the harness off one of the 
horses and pode about two miles, rifle in hand. to the highest 
point in the direction [saw W. P. last, abd fired my gun, 
perhaps twenty times, two shots at a time, listening between 
shots; no response; went back to the buggy; it was getting 
dark; I knew that | could hitch up and gt to camp butit I 
left the spet and W. P. was out wandeting around he might 
come that way aud find me if I stayed there, and besides nis 
brother George would feel as if I had deserted bim, su I 
gathercd all tive wild sage I could and got a small louse 
board from the bugwy and as coon as it was dark made a fire 
on a knoll and kept it up till wood, splinters and sage brush 
gave out. No W. P., so 1 went down inio the hollow and 
wrapprd myself up in the ligut blanket we had on the seat 
and prepared to play freez out. 
W. P. had on light pant-, shoes, vest, and no coat when 
we parted, the thermometer was about 5 above zelo, and 
windy. I knew be was soffering if ont, [was all right, 
but he was lo-t, and all sorts of grizzly thoughts van like up- 
invited glosts through my head in spite of my efforts to 
drive them away. No water, big buffalo, wolves. I knew 
that men went crazy soon when lost, that the sun does not 
seem to vise in the East for them. | knew he bad money on 
his person, and his brother wight think [had murdered him 
Weil, the fautastic things that came iuto my head that night 
were too nun erveus to mention, I made up a plan of action 
if we did not find him the next day—to go to the river snd 
‘ of Carquinez, 
start every team from three towns out into that county at 
$5 a day apiece for four days, with $50 for the man that 
found him. But ali dreary things bave an end at last, and 
when daylight came | hitched up and drove for camp, hating 
to show myself and yet hopiog that W. P. had got lack 
there. At last I saw Bert coming afar off, nearer with a 
erin on his lace. He surely wouldo‘t grin if he saw me alone 
and did not know where W. P. was. Did he come in? Yes, 
he got in at 11 last night, but he was awful hungry. 
The load was off my heart. The camp was packed ready 
to start for home when I reachd it. I ate and drank as 
goon ns I could, and we pulled out for Cimarron. Bert told 
me the events of the nicht as we rode along, When we 
didwt come in at dark the boys got anxious snd soon after 
dark fired a few shuts. Then George went out and got lost 
within half a mile of the tent. Shot away all his cartridges, 
the boys thinking he was firing for us and paying no atten- 
tion to him. When he saw the fire thought it was another 
cump-fire. and when the beys went out for him ran away 
from them, They saw my fire at last. and about that time 
W. P. cuméin on the freight road hungry and footsore, 
He had been lost, but remembering my directions at last hit 
the road and came in all right, Then Bert wanted to go 
after me. but Trac y said he is all right, and they all went 
to bed and slept well while I suffered. We got home that 
night after a hard drive, and I vowed that if Lever take a 
tenderfoot out on the prairie again I will never leave him 
out of sight of camp alone. | W. J. D. 
Cimarron, June, 1&84. 
THE TEXAN ANTELOPE HUNTERS. 
Hditor Forest and Stream: 
I have just read your editorial on ‘*The Need of the West, 
and 1 feel so strongly its force and truth that I wish to ex- 
press my earnest commendation of all you wrote. I cannot 
refer to all the points covered by your article, but Ido wish 
to refer to the item on meat and skin hunting. 
Recently, in company with two friends, 1 took a trip on 
the ‘Llano Estacode,” in the western part of this State, and 
while out had occasion to note the following facts: There 
ure now preparing for the fall and winter bunt, not less than 
fifty hunters, who do absolutely nuthing during the epring 
and summer. These men are well armed, fine shots an 
murderous bunters. Under their constant warfare, the 
antelopes are rapidly disappearing, and the buffaloes will be 
about extinct after this winter, Just+o soon as the weather 
grows coul enough to enable these men to successfully jerk 
meat, their murderous work begins. Antelopes are killed in 
vast numbers, and yield a profit of about $1.50 per head. 
Buffaloes yield a*more handsome profit. Thise men so 
cover the country, camping at the few watering places, that 
sportsmen can get ouly very poor shooting when they go out 
for amusement. 
Our State laws offer no protection whatever, as they cover 
only partial districts, and are so very faulty that we might 
as well have uo game laws at all. ‘his murderous work 
will not be stopped until the game on the plains is extermi- 
nated. 
In passing, I call attention to the fact that, as “‘all is not 
gold that glitters,” so all the meat sold in the markets as 
buffalo beet or ‘‘jerky” is not exactly what it is sold for. 
Every now and then a mustang falls to rifle shot, and his 
flesh goes in with tne other and is sold just the same, Don’t 
be sure every time that your buffalo meat is not horse flesh. 
Our mountain vountry is well stocked with the mule deer 
—commonly, but improperly, called blacktail—but this win- 
ter’s hunt will leave us but little hope for the future. Many 
market hunters are now establishing their camps, and soon 
the markets will be filled with venison, O, caunot this mur- 
derous work be stopped? My heart is sick and my soul is 
faint as 1 think of the way our game is being slaughtered. 
Pusb your work. Pushit. You cannot work too fast; 
you cannot hit too hard. Yours in eurnest, 
PROTECTION. 
Ex Paso, Texas, Sept. 9. 
DUCK SHOOTING IN CALIFORNIA. 
()* ALL the sports of field or flood, the art—for truly it is 
an art—of duck shooting is the most exhilarating and 
exciting. To be able to stop the old drake canvas-back as he 
comes sweeping alony in the teeth of a “‘southeaster” is no 
easy task, but calls for both experience and expertness. 
What a thrill of delight is felt by both novice and skilled 
sportsman as the old bird, stopping short in ifs flight and 
doubling up over the sigh!s, comes down with a crash at the 
report of the double barre] hammerless, or the liltle green- 
wing teal just skimming the surface of the pond, and which, 
as you ris¢ in your lind, doubles and *‘ilirts’” from right to 
lefé, as he “‘climb-” to escape your laden hail. 
The shouting, of which | xm to sprak more directly, is 
that confined to within the limit of one hundred miles of 
| San Francisco city, including the large marshes bordering 
the bay, and at the jurction of the two large rivers of the 
State, the Sacramento and the San Jvuaquin, with Sursim 
Buy, an affluent of San Francisco Buy, aud more directly 
speaking, of the tract known as the Suisun marsh, which is 
abou. twenty miles long by ten wile, buving the shape of a 
balf moon its concave side being Suisun Bay, and its con- 
vex side the foothills ot the coast 1ange. This tract em- 
braces, us 2 whole, probably the finest shooting grounds of 
| the State for snipe and all waterfowl. It is traversed by the 
Central Pacific Railrond, and is in time only two hours and a 
| half from the bustle and hurry of the city hy the Golden 
Gute. The marsh was long ago tuken up, and is new leased 
by three shooting clubs who bold all the Jand, and LT being 
the happy possessor of a membership in one of them, have 
my tull sbare of the sport. 
The shooting is of two kinds—pond shooting from a blind, 
over decoys, and sculling the sloughs which thread the marsh 
in every direction. Let me describe one of our parties. 
The 3:30 Oveiland train of a blustering November after- 
noon finds four of our members aboard, our *‘Mr. Presi- 
dent,” B., our crack sbot; T., our funny man, and the 
writer, The ride along the bay on the Oakland shore is 
delightful. The green bills on our right and the broad ex- 
panse of the bay stretching to our Jefl, do ted with sailing 
craft, with the dark outline of fortified Alcatraz rising from 
the bay, standing like a sentinel guarding the Golden Gate, 
beyoud which old Sol is sinking tu rest, having the appear- 
ance of a ball of molten gold, which, with the dark clouds 
above, makes a sunst indesrribably beautiful. But we are 
soon whirled along out of sightof the city and its surround- 
lings, and after cro-sinu a neck of land emerge upon an arm 
ot San Francisco Bay, called San Pablo Bay, which is con- 
nected with Suisun Bay, heretofore spok.n of, by the Straits 
Our first. stopping place is Vallejo Junction 
