Duc, 26, 1884.) 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
427 
Inad, many or all of whom are still living there, and who 
will probably recall the incident I am about to relate, should 
it come beneath their notice. There were six in all—'Old 
man’ Knott, who owned and ran the chin ferry over to 
what is now East Portland; his son Jack; Charley Greene, 
who ran an establishment for packing dry goods intended 
for transportation on pack animals fo the Idaho mines; 
Charley Curley, and another whose name I have forgotten, 
with the writer. The party rode out of town one glorious 
September morning, surrounded by an atmosphere and 
fcenery such as can be found only in the far Northwest. 
Tlie outfit consisted of six horses and a light wagon con- 
taining the blinkets and provisions for the trip, including 
What seemed to me to be an inordinate supply of what your 
genial correspondent ‘‘Al Fresco” terms “‘snake antidote,” 
which *‘Old Man Knott’? considered an indispensable ad- 
junct to all enterprises of this description. Four or five 
dogs, most of whom were of dubious lineage but invaluable 
in the chase of almost any kind of ‘‘varmint,” brought up 
the rear or ranged through the tall firs on either side, as 
eager to strike a fresh trail as the most enthusiastic biped of 
our party. Time was no particular object to any of us, and 
we slowly rode along the narrow trail that had been hewn 
through the dense forest of Clackamas county, and the pure 
air with its resinous perfume came duwn in a great ocean 
upon us from the mountains, until to me, who for many 
months had been toiling in the quartz mills of the Comstock 
Lode, it seemed the very elixir of life. 
Nothing of a very exciting nature occurred during the 
first day’s travel. Wewere still too near the settlements to 
find large game very abundant in the vicinity of the road; 
and we restrained every attempt of the dogs to range far 
into the forest Just as the sun went down we reached a 
small stream with steep banks, fifteen or twenty feet high, 
Whose brawling waters were nearly hidden by the thick 
willows that grew luxuriantly on either side. Here we dis- 
mounted for the night, and while a portion of the party 
made preparations for supper, the remainder attended to the 
horses, Ourley, who carried a shotgun, had secured a 
couple of blue grouse on the road, which, with bacon, 
bread and coffee, made a substantial meal. This being dis- 
posed of we gathered around the fire to smoke and get a few 
points from the experience of the elder Knott, who had spent 
his whole life upon the front. Jack, his son, had just re- 
_ turned from along expedition into the Spokane country, 
and his description of that wild, and in those days but 
- little-known, region, also added to the entertainment of the 
' evening, until it was nearly ten o’clock, and the moon was 
_ high in the heavens before we sought our couches of blank- 
ets and boughs. Conversation, which was continued a short 
time after we lay down, had gradually ceased, and the slill-: 
ness of the night and of the forest was closing in about us 
for the first time since our arrival, when a faint noise, as if 
some animal were splashing in the water a short distance 
below us, struck upon the ear of some one of the party; and 
his exclamation of “Hark” brought most of us to a sitting 
position. All listened for two or three minutes, when the 
Hoise was repeated, sounding exactly as though some animal 
had dashed into the water and instantly run out again, ‘It’s 
a coon,” said Jack, speaking below his breath; ‘‘he is catch- 
ing frogs.” 
Curley jumped up, and pulling on his boots (which were 
about the only part of his apparel he had removed) started 
for the edge of the bank with his shotgun, closely followed 
by the writer with a rifle, Looking cautiously over the 
bank near the spot from which the sound proceeded, we 
waited patiently for further developments, The stream was 
Tunning rapidly, making considerable noise, and the oppo- 
sile bank, where the animal was supposed to be, was shaded 
by the willows, but about half the width of the stream lay 
below us plainly visible in the moonlight, and in a moment 
more a dark object sprang into the water just within the 
shadow, ave three or four rapid jumps that threw the rip- 
ples fur out upon the moon-lighted waters, and returned 
Instantly to the bank, ‘There he is,’ whispered Curley, 
“it’s a ‘coon after frogs, sure.” Silently we cocked our guns, 
waiting for another demonstration, and hoping that his next 
dash would bring him owt into the moonlight. We waited 
some lime, and had begun to think that the ‘coon had wan- 
| dered off down stream, when there was another splash und 
more jumps, coming this time close to the edge of the 
shadow, but nat quite out of it. ‘‘Ldun’t want to stand here 
all nieht, and the next break he makes I’m going to shoot 
and take the chances,” said Curley. This time we only had 
f0 wail about half as long as before, when hie made the next 
dash, and instantly the roar of the shotgun awoke the mid- 
night echoes of that lonely forest. The dogs, which all this 
time had been quiefly snoozing near the fire, unconscious of 
all that fine sport that was going on, now sprang up, and 
dashing excitedly down the bank, began nosing around in 
the willows after the ‘coon, while we encouraged them from 
above. To our disgust, however, they soon began to stand 
stupidly around, as if wondering what they had got excited 
over; and failing signally in ourefforts to enthuse them, we 
went down ourselves and searched the willows as carefully 
as the situation and darkness would permit. All to no pur- 
pose; nothing could be found; and we returned to the fre 
to sheepishly endure the jeers of our comrades. Once more 
quiet settled over the camp, and we were dropping to sleep, 
When the same noise, apparently in the same place, smote 
once more upon our ears, Jack burst into a laugh, exclaim- 
ing. ‘‘l tell you what, boys, when a ’coon gets struck after 
frogs he ain’t going to be seared off by a few dogs and a shot 
or two.” Curley and [ both maintained a dignified silence, 
but mentally determined that if there was any more *coon 
bunting to be done that night somebody else would have to 
do it, and covering up our heads we were soon fast asleep. 
The next morning, while breakfast was being prepared, 
the subject of the mysterious ’coon was again broached, and 
I observed Jack quietly leave the fire and disappear down 
the bank near ibe scene of our exploit the night, before. 
Shortly afterward he reappeared on top, and beckoning to 
us, shouted, ‘Boys, I found your ’coon,” Curiosity over- 
came all other considerations, and, hastening to the bank, we 
‘descended to the water's edge, where the mystery was at 
once elucidated. A long, slender willow, having very few 
leaves upon it, except on the extreme end, where there was 
40 enormous bunch. hing over the water, bent down like a 
how by the weight of the foliage. The water in the stream 
was probably a little above its usual level, and the swaying 
top of the willow would occasionally be caught by one of its 
urges, which sucked it rapidly under and carried it down 
ream, the top, of course, descriding a segment of a circle 
3 if approached the shore below the point where it grew. 
’ 
athe 
tural position, not being quite strong enough to lift itself 
» ae 2 
y i if ‘- 
clear of the water, it went splashing up stream in the man- 
ner already described; and as its movements both in regard 
to time and motion were erratic, the completeness of our 
deception will be apparent. Forxep Darr. 
San Francisco, Cal., Dec. 7. 
SOME REMARKABLE SHOTS, 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
As accounts of remarkable shots seem of late to be in 
order, | will give you an item of this sort, The occurrence 
took place some four miles from this place late in November. 
Alf Gearv and Pat Sweeney were hunting on the eastern 
side of Centra] Lake, when Alf shot at a doe; but having a 
lighter vifle than he usually carries, he overshot the mark. 
The doe ran for some distance and took refuge in a dense 
cedar swamp. The hunters followed on the track, and 
When near the swamp, Pat went around to head off the 
game, while Alf proceeded through the thicket on his hands 
and knees. Seeing 4 patch of deer’s hair among the roots 
and brushwood some forty yards- ahead, he leveled his 
rifle and fired. The doe sprang from her couch, and in an 
instant disappeared from view. The hunter followed, and 
stumbled upon the carcass of a prickhorn, which lay dead a 
few yards beyond the couch of the doe, After breaking him 
up, they took up the track, and a short distance further on 
found the doe lying dead, Had the smaller deer been a 
suckling fawn, it would not have been as strange; but still, 
to killtwo deer with one bullet is, to say the least, uncom- 
mon. KELPra, 
CENTRAL LAKE, Mich., Dee, 11, 1884, 
Editor Horest and Stream: 
In the line of remarkable shots I wish to contribute my 
moiety, and although the incident I am about to relate oc- 
curred when asa boy of twelve or thirteen I wandered 
through the woods of my native State with a cur dog and a 
#3 zun, | remember nothing in all my later experience (which 
has been tolerably extensive with both rifle and shotgun), 
that struck me as being its equal in all its extraordinary fea 
(ures, 
There was a large shallow pond a few miles from the town 
where I was born which was full of pickerel in the summer, 
and was a favorite resort of wild ducks in the fall, 1 often 
visited it in my hunting excursions, accompanied by a black 
cur, whose strong suit was bringing out muskrats after I 
had shot them, and who would occasionally—when very 
good-natured—bring out a duck, It is fair to observe, how- 
eyer, that he was rarely in a good-natured streak at the times 
when [ needed his seryices most, snd upon such occasions 
I had to retrieve the ducks myself, An old disused cart 
path ran along through tall and very thick alders on one side 
of the pond, I usually availed myself of this road in going 
around the west side, where the ducks most frequently were 
found. One day as lentered this path, with the dog trot- 
ting a few yards in advance, I was startled by the whirr of 
aruffed grouse, which I then only knew as a partridge. 
Now these birds were even then in that locality very scarce 
and wild, and to secure one was to get a prize of the first 
magnitude; so I was instantly upon the alert, and straining 
my eyes to catch a glimpse of him through the alders. The 
bird had been flushed by the dog or at least by the sight of 
the dog in the road, for] don’t think he was aware of its 
presence until it arose, when he stopped and stood looking 
in the direction whence the bird had flown. All at once the 
whirr suddenly ceased, as if the partridge had treed on one 
of the alders, about twenty yards in at right angles from the 
cart path. Stepping up to where the dog stood I peered 
cautiously through the leaves, which were still as thick as 
ever, in hopes of discovering his whereabouts, but all in 
vain, Iwas not eyen sure that he had stopped; the whirr 
had ceased suddenly, but then he might have ‘‘scaled” off, 
as they sometimes do. I did not dare to take one step 
out of the path into the alders, for I knew if I did so 
the bird would be off like a rocket. I thought I could locate 
by the sound the exact spot where he had stopped, but I 
could not see him, and | had not seen even a leaf move in 
his flight. Two or three times I raised my gun to fire at 
random, and each time drew it back. I could not afford to 
waste much powder and lead in those days, but then there 
was a chance, just a faint chance, of securing a prize that 
would make me the envy of all my companions. I must 
have been two or three minules weighing in my boyish 
mind the pro and con of the case, and then I took careful 
aim at the spot where the noise had ceased, and fired. As 
the report died away I listened, expecting to hear the bird 
go hurtling away; but all was still, and I heard not the 
slightest sound, 1 then made up my mind that I had been 
mistaken in supposing that the bird had stopped, and that it 
had scaled away out of danger. 1 waited a moment, uncer- 
tain whether to go in the aluers and investigate, or continue 
my journey; and then choosing the former, slowly working 
my way through the alders until 1 reached a point near 
where [ had fancied the bird had stopped, I began to look 
around, and there he lay dead. One of the large No, 4 shot 
lL used had struck him just at the base of the skull, on the 
back of the neck. 1 heard no death struggle, and don’t 
think he moved after I fired, except to fall the six or eight 
feet to the ground. I did not hear him strike, he dropped 
so silently; and finally, the first time my eyes rested upon 
him was when I saw him dead at my feet, 
FORKED DEER. 
SAWN Francisco, Dec, 7, 1884. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I ask an opportunity to contribute my mite to the list of 
remarkable shots. Allow me to premise by stating that I 
have been an actual hunter for five years or more, as may 
have been judged by my letters to Forest AnD Stream. [ 
am a poor shot on quail, an average one on geese, good on 
ducks and chickens, and first-rate on snipe. Last October a 
party of five of us were quartered at old man Foote’s, on 
the Platte River, about eight miles north of Kenesaw, on the 
B. & M. Railroad. Foote's house is on the bank of the 
tiyer, and our blinds stretched up and down the river three- 
quarters of a mile away, mine being the nearest and just 
back of the house. The flight of geese being always insig- 
nificant about noon, we went into the house for dinner when 
that hour arrived. usually timing our departure from the 
several blinds so as ‘to meet near the point where we left the 
river and passed into the prove back of the house. 
One day, about the time we met, some one called atten- 
tion to a goose that was sailing in the air beyond my blind, 
and acting in a way not common to a wild goose sound in 
mindand body, After circling round a few moments, ap- 
proaching nearer the earth all the time, it finally struck on a 
sandbar with a thud similar to a wounded fowl no longer 
able to control its motions. Game being scarce, I at once 
made up my mind that that goose was my meat, and laying 
off my heavy coat and taking an extra cartridge with me, 1 
started back for my fowl, distant nearly half a mile. I had 
had experience in often seeing this game rise and fly when 
approached, and when I got within range of this one I held 
my gun ready to knock it over if it should attempt the com- 
mon trick, It was standing up, apparently unhurt, with its 
back toward me and turning its head from side to side as I 
approached, as if trying to look at me. When within ten 
yards of it | saw that it was blind in both eyes from a recent 
wound, Then I was doubly sure it was my goose; but as I 
came nearer it grew more restless, and as I put out my hand 
to grasp it around the neck it rose and flew away. I stood 
there in my trecks and emptied both barrels of my gun at 
the departizg Towl, and as it rose over me, trying to breast a 
strong wind, I had time to put in the extra cartridge and get 
in the third shot at fair range. I knocked outa few feathers 
with this last discharge, but did not bring down the goose. 
On the contrary it whirled around, turned down the wind 
and sailed away beyond the opposite shore, and when over a 
cornfield began again its maneuvers to alight, when an im- 
mense eagle pounced upon its back and both went down in 
the corn together. And that’s the history of a blind 
goose. A want of prudence allowed me to relate it on my 
return to the house to my comrades seated around the 
table, and the chances are that I will never hear the last of it. 
Burr H. Porr. 
“HUNTING” AND 
Liditor Forest and Stream: 
Among the articles which have of Jale attracted my atten- 
tion in the columns of the Forrst anp STREAM, was one in 
the issue of Noy. 20, signed ‘‘Aligins.” The author seems 
to be a sort of cross between ‘‘Frank Forester” and the Ven- 
erable Bede, and lam glad that he has given you the text 
for an authoritative editorial, giving good and sufficient rea- 
sons why American sportsmen need not feel bound in every 
case to adhere strictly to the usages or nomenclature of 
Britain, or of any other country. Iam reminded by this 
writer of Mr. Herbert, because of the intensely dogmatic and 
self-assured tone of his communication. Frank Forester 
was, in his way, a very good fellow; but he had the pecu- 
liarity, not perhaps to be wondered at, considering his 
nationality, of imagining that the concentrated wisdom of 
the British islands rested beneath his skull cap. When I was 
a boy I thought him a most wonderful man, and knew many 
of his works by heart; but I think that they are seldom ~ 
quoted now. If he rendered any real service to the cause of 
natural science or of American sportsmanship, it was, I im- 
agine, in calling attention to the urgent need for sound and 
effective measures looking to the preservation of American 
rame. 
: ‘‘Aligius” “wants your readers to know” certain things, 
and proceeds to expound accordingly. The dear old fossil, 
We do know a whole lot of things; among the rest, that 
what are called “quail,” “‘partridges” and “pheasants” in 
America are not like the English birds bearing those names; 
but we do not feel certain what bird was referred to by your 
correspondent, when he spoke of a detachment of armed 
men going forth in belt and mail (or whatever the supposi- 
tious outfit may have been), and slaying “‘robins.” Did he 
speak of English sport? or is there @ true, ‘“‘robin” in 
America? 
As to ‘Hunting vs. Shooting,” let us see if you or he are 
right. When of yore I found myself, as was often the case, 
stealthily moving, rifle in hand, through a mountain pass, 
uncertain whether the next shot would be at a grouse, a deer, 
bear, moose or caribou, was I shooting? I certainly thought 
I was hunting, and the lapse of time has served to confirm 
mein this opinion, But when we—three good shots with 
three stanch pointers, made the Grand Prairie ring with the 
quick repeated shots of our muzzleloaders (as I once before 
remarked in your columns, we loaded quickly in those days), 
and knocked dowa—I shouldn’t dare to say just how many 
grouse, before the dogs broke point, or we attempted to bring 
one bird to bag—then, indeed, I rather thought I was 
shooting. 
I, in my turn, want “‘Aligius”’ and his brethren to know 
that the game is pursued in this country under very different 
conditions, for the most part, from those which obtain in 
the Old World; and there is probably no man in England, 
who has neyer shot elsewhere, who could kill one in five of 
our game birds when flushed in our densest coyerts, There 
are those among us who feel able to do better than this, yet 
who sometimes, not less from motives of humanity than 
from a desire to fill the bag, prefer to shoot grouse sitting 
in such covers, and not to risk the maiming of the bird by a 
snap shot after the object of the aim has passed out of sight 
among the cedar boughs, 
As to squirrels—are they or are they not to be classed as 
game? What are the requisites which should entitle a bird 
or animal to be placed within this category? First of all, I 
am of the opinion that a ‘‘game’’ creature should be one 
which requires the exercise of more than ordinary skill for 
its successful pursuit. It should, in addition, possess a cer- 
tain value to the sportsman, either as food or to supply some 
need of humanity, be it what it may, else it is not game, 
There are no fox squirrels in Hngland, and but few ele- 
phants; yet British sportsmen have repeatedly been seen 
pursuing these creatures in their native wilds, and the skill 
required to make a good bag of fox squirrels is not inferior 
to that usually displayed in the capture of an elephant. Both 
are useful, both are eaten, 
Lam not writing all this for the exclusive benefit of ‘‘Al- 
igius,”’ for I realize that there may be many who would in- 
dorse his views, but to relieve my mind of a few thoughts 
which have chanced to come uppermost this evening. 
The fact is that Americans are not averse to learning from 
those whom they regard as qualified to teach. sas are 
glad to sit under the teachings of that class of Englishmen 
who are recognized by their own countrymen as competent 
instructors. They like to know all that is known of foreign 
customs, ancient or modern; and our sportsmen rejoice to 
know the way in which Edward the Fourth, Pedro the Cruel, 
or Juliana Berners have hallooed to their hounds, however 
antique the phraseology. 
Nevertheless, if one of us happens to be sitting in a Min- 
nesota cornfield in October, he does not ordinarily say to his 
helper: ‘‘Is that a gang of brent or a gaggle of geese?” Be- 
cause, among other objections, one result of the question 
would be an indistinct muttering from the helper aforesaid, 
which, when rendered into the Hoosier vernacular, would 
read somewhat like this: “What's that doggoned no-’count 
foo] a-talkin’ on?” 
Just here I will venture to express an opinion whichis foun- 
“SHOOTING.” 
