46 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Feb. 12, 1885. 



at a point about ten rods north, going almost midway be- 

 tween the Captain and myself. 



Just opposite me was an opeu space, about ten feet wide, 

 wilh no underbrush. I brought my gun to my shoulder' 

 covering this opening, calculating as he passed to fire, and 

 very quick work it was, for before one could count ten, from 

 the moment he came in sight, 1 had a bead on him — right 

 behind the fore shoulder, as they had told me— and pulled 

 trigger. Seeing uo effect from my shot, except a slight 

 wheel northerly, I sent the other charge after him and had 

 the mortification of. seeing him keep his course for one 

 hundred feet or more, when whang-! whangl went the Cap- 

 tain's gun, and the deer, without showing signs of being 

 hurt, within the next fifty feet, passed over a little ridge out 

 of my sight. 1 now thought of what the Captain had said 

 about whipping off the dogs, so that we might make another 

 drive, but was "so vexed at not getting the deer that I felt 

 like winding my gun around the first convenient tree. To 

 be sure, ten rods was a fair distance, but I had hoped that 

 buckshot would cany that distance, and I had no apology 

 for letting the deer pass. While choking down my chagrin 

 and loading my gun, the Captain had busied himself in 

 whipping off the dogs, Modoc first, he being only one 

 bundled yards behind the deer, running with a sharp bark, 

 and the balance of the pack coming up within ten or twenty 

 seconds', 



I had noticed that the dogs when they came up to where 

 the deer first seemed to change his course, kept straight 

 a long. Li pon seeing which the Captain Immediately jumped 

 before them and stopped them, when he called out to me to 

 come up there. I walked along far enough to see over the 

 rise of ground, when there at the Captain's feet lay the deer. 

 In an instant, 1 was at his side, and a glance showed me that 

 my shot had taken effect at the point 1 aimed it, but fearful 

 that the Captain's shot, had had something to do with bring- 

 ing down the deer, 1 said: "Captain, who killed him, you or 

 1?" He said: 'T don't know. You have hit him on your 

 side, turn him over and see if I've left any marks." I im- 

 mediately turned him over, but found not even a scratch; 

 only three shots had hit him and these were from my gun. 

 After this discovery was made the Captain and myself in- 

 dulged in a hearty hand shake and I am sure he enjoyed my 

 success more than if he had killed a dozen bucks. 



About this moment Clarkson came plunging through the 

 wood on his gray mule, and his first question was: "Who 

 killed the deer?" Atter being told he hastily dismounted" 

 and asked for my knife, with which he proceeded to open a 

 vein in the buck's neck, and then congratulated me on my 

 success. We then followed back the trail by the blood and 

 found that the blood began to flow after about two jumps 

 from where the deer was when first shot. The Captain's 

 charge of buckshot was found snugly buried in a sapling, so 

 the question as to who had done the deed was settled 



Ilaynes now came riding in, in response to the horn 

 sounded by Clarkson, and we were all together again, 

 hounds, horses and men. A sapling was quickly bent, and 

 after his entrails had been removed the buck's head was 

 placed in a crotch and the carcass was elevated beyond the 

 danger of dogs, there to hang until our day's sport was over. 



But before this was completed the voices of Munch and 

 Modoc were heard to the east of us in the big wood, they 

 having slipped away while we were busy. The other two 

 dogs were tied. The Captain said to Mr. Clarkson that an- 

 other deer must have passed nere some time before, as the 

 dogs kept straight along alter this one had left the run- 

 way. The track was so fresh and the dogs so excited that 

 the effect of the horn was lost on them, and they were mak- 

 ing good time in an easterly direction. The word to mount 

 was given, and like the wind the Captain's horse was off, I 

 riding directly in the rear. And now the excited horses 

 went at a sharp, running gait through the wood, now a cow 

 path, now no path at all. "Anything to keep within hear- 

 ing, and, if possible, head off the dogs," were the words of 

 the Captain as he looked over his shoulder at the writer,who 

 was using his best efforts to clear the saplings and overhang- 

 ing branches as his horse, with the excitement of a race- 

 horse, dashed in the direction of the bounds. I have never 

 seen well-broken saddle-horses except in Kentucky. These 

 horses are governed almost by a motion from their riders, 

 the least movement of the bridle rein being sufficient to turn 

 the course right or left, as the rider desires. 



A ride of six miles brought us to a point where we were 

 ahead of the dogs, and the" Captain placed me at the edge of 

 an old clearing in a clump or a thicket of bushes, and he 

 himself put spurs to his horse and made for another stand, 

 some six miles below where the deer w r ouldpass if they went 

 by me. 



But my stand proved to be a poor one in this instance, 

 for when within one hundred rods of it, the dogs suddenly 

 wheeled and their music soon told me that they had gone far 

 to the west. Five minutes elapsed and I had lost sound of 

 them entirely and found myself alone amid perfect solitude. 

 After waiting some two hours I was gladdened by the ap- 

 pearance of Clarkson and Haynes, with the other two dogs, 

 coming from an easterly direction through the thick under- 

 growth. They soon joined me and Clarkson directed Haynes 

 to go and make a drive in the woods south and west of us 

 while we would ride around to Skagg's runway and try 

 another stand, if Haynes should succed in jumping another 

 deer. A fifty-minute gallop brought us to the point desired, 

 and hastily hitching one horse in a thicket, Clarkson placed 

 me behind an old oak, where, should a deer, approach 

 from behind the hill to the north of us, he must pass within 

 range of me, or of another point just west of me, where he 

 took a stand himself. 



We had not long to wait to hear from the dogs, as almost 

 immediately away in the distance, Old Baler's and Dayton's 

 voices were plainly heard, and we knew they had jumped 

 another deer. About this time the Captain rode up, having 

 failed to get a shot, although reaching two stands ahead of 

 Modoc and Munch, who were running a fine doe toward 

 Nolin Eiver. While sitting upon his horse listening to the 

 dogs, the Captain exclaimed: "There comes a turkey!" and 

 looking in the direction in which he pointed, 1 saw a large 

 turkey just lighting in the thicket, and immediately tired at 

 her, when she went limping through the brush toward Clark- 

 son's position. The next instant I heard a cap snap; Clark- 

 son's gun had missed fire, and the turkey had escaped us, 

 and his indignation can better be imagined than described. 



But this little turn in affairs had finished our deer drive 

 for that day, for the sound of our guns had changed the 

 course of -the deer, which was making its way to our run- 

 way, and the voices of the dogs were growing faint in an 

 opposite direction. 



As the day was far spent, we turned our horses heads 

 homeward. When we reached the place where our deer was 

 left, Mr. Clarkson took it on his horse, resting its head and 



horns over his knee, and packed it back to the hotel, which 

 we reached before sundown. 



Many stories of deer hunts in that locality were recounted 

 that evening around the huge log fire, and the writer was 

 made the hero of the occasion. B. B. Seaman. 



BATTERY-SHOOTING. 



Editor Forest and Stream; 



My experience has been confined to the Susquehanna Flats 

 about Havre de Grace, and has extended over a period of 

 nearly ten years, although I myself have only shot from a 

 battery for the last four years, since I have been driven to 

 that method of shootiug by the purchase by a gentleman for 

 his own use of a point some friends and I had previously 

 rented, I confess that I do not like battery as well as point 

 or bar-shooting. I cannot imagine any man preferring to be 

 all day in a cold, narrow box,"with the sun shining in his 

 eyes and blistering his nose one hour, and the water trick- 

 ling down his back the next, to sitting in a comfortable 

 blind, where he can stretch his legs and stamp his feet. JNor 

 can I see what pleasure there can be in having a snow squall 

 pelt you in the face, nor do I enjoy the excitement of sitting 

 upon the foot of the box and baling out the water, or of 

 throwing the iron decoys overboard to keep afloat while the 

 scow runs down before a squall to rescue you. 



I am not as hardy as "Smkbox," and have never attempted 

 to "wind" more than a coup^ of dozen decoys, for I have 

 always found that number quite enough to make my arm 

 and back ache, and my fingers as stiff and cold as icicles. I 

 must say that I like to have some one else put out and take 

 up the box and the two or three hundred decoys, and I like 

 to have a good supper and a hot cup of coffee, not to speak 

 of anything stronger, as soon as I get out of the box. I 

 suppose it is for that reason that I have found the amuse 

 ment quite as expensive as the rentiug of a first-class point. 



Sinkbox-shooting, as practiced at Havre de Grace, re- 

 quires a considerable outlay of capital in the first instance, 

 and a large expense lo keep it going. In the first place you 

 must have a sloop-rigged scow forty or fifty feet long, with 

 accommodations for a crew of at least three men besides the 

 shooters, a siukbox and from three to five hundred decoys. 

 Then you have wages and and running expenses; in fact, 

 you are running a small yacht and keeping her in commis- 

 sion for a long season. If you hire you are obliged to pay 

 exorbitant prices, and are often unable to hire a boat at any 

 price in the beginning of the season when the best shooting 

 is to be had. 



On the broad waters of the Chesapeake it is not safe to 

 trust yourself with anything less than a good sized and able 

 boat as a tender to your box. I have many a time thrown a 

 line to a bushwacker as he drifted by and hauled him aboard, 

 when he was unable to row to windward, and when board- 

 ing some friendly scow seemed to be his only salvation. Be- 

 sides all this expense I have mentioned you have to obtain a 

 license for each sinkbox, which costs twenty dollars. 



This large expense is a check to the increase of box boats 

 about Havre de Giacc, and there are now not more than 

 fourteen sinkboxes in the neighborhood of Havre de Grace. 

 Still there are too many, and I imagiue if some of them were 

 to strike upon snags and end their careers they would not 

 get much sympathy from the remainder. 



As far as my observation go°s the box-shooting, and what 

 to my mind is far worse, the bushwacking, have made very 

 little impression upon the numbers of the ducks. They come 

 to their feeding grounds in countless numbers, and when the 

 feed is good, linger about them for weeks. And it seems to 

 me that since big-gun shooting at night has been put a stop 

 to by the energetic action of the Baltimore clubs, the ducks 

 have increased in numbers. 



I believe, however, the number of ducks at Havre de 

 Grace depends upon the condition of the feed. When the 

 celery grows thick on the bottom of the bay, ducks are plen- 

 tiful and stick to their favorite feeding grounds in spite of 

 boxes and bushwackers. When the celery crop fails, the 

 ducks seek other fields and pastures new. This seems to me 

 to be the principal reason for the varying numbers of the 

 ducks from year to year, although doubtless favorable or 

 unfavorable nesting seasons affect their numbers. I am sure 

 that the amount of feed makes a great difference on the 

 marshes of the West, where the ducks are not much dis- 

 turbed, and I do not see why it should not have the same 

 effect at other places. 



I believe, however, that the gunners often think that ducks 

 are scarce, although there are plenty of them about, when 

 they are unable to kill many on account of the unfavorable 

 weather. 



I do not believe that box-shooting every other day on such 

 a broad expanse of feeding ground as the upper Chesapeake 

 drives the birds permanently away from their feeding- 

 grounds. 



There are always places in the deep water where they can 

 sit in safety unless it is very rough, and on calm days the 

 ducks sit all day on the" shallow spots where no boat can 

 follow them, often within half a mile of a box without giv- 

 ing a shot. Then they have the close days, which they seem 

 to°know perfectly well, when they spread all over the flats 

 and feed without molestation, and besides that, a sink box is 

 such a tender thing, so dependent upon the weather, that 

 nature adds many close days and parts of days taken from 

 the lawful shooting days. For to have any success with a 

 sinkbox you must have a moderate breeze, and yet if it blow 

 a little harder you have to take up your box. Then late in 

 the winter and spring, if the river is high and a strong cur- 

 rent is running, there are only a few places where you can 

 set out your box, for the current runs your head wings under 

 and your box is apt to take a dive toward the bottom. 



On other days the ice runs so that you have to be contin- 

 ually shoving it off with a boat hook, and it makes your box 

 so conspicuous that the trained duck of the Chesapeake keeps 

 at a safe distance. 



Almost any day you can see "ricks" of ducks sitting in 

 black masses on the flats, occasionally rising with a noise 

 like thunder or bobbing up and down as they dive for the 

 succulent celery. But you will find that for the most part 

 you get but little shooting except in the early morning, and 

 then the greater part of your bag will consist of blackheads 

 (the local name for broad bills), While the lordly canvasbacks 

 and even the foolish redheads sail high over your box and 

 crook their necks to look down at you, or carefully skirt 

 your decOys just out of gunshot. 



For my' part, I believe that bushwhacking does far more 

 harm than shooting from sinkboxes. In the first place, 

 there are live bushwhackers to one box, and then, unless 

 ducks are flying in large numbers and very low, it is more 

 deadly. As I believe it is a local method of duck shooting, 

 I will describe it, although I trust I may not be the means of 



introducing it to other waters. The shooters row out in a 

 small boat to the feeding grounds, and after putting out 

 about fifty decoys, anchor their boat a quarter of a mile to 

 windward of them. When the canvasbacks come flying by 

 they are very apt, attracted by the decoys and the 

 call of the gunner, to circle about and light 

 among the decoys. Then the excitement is at its 

 height, the man in the stern grasps his scull ' 

 oar and works away for dear life, taking care to 

 keep the boat steady and not to let her wobble. The man in 

 the bow has a white cap on and peers through two holes in 

 the canvas curtain on the bow of the boat, which hides him 

 from the ducks. The boat comes nearer and nearer the de- 

 coys, and at last he can distinguish the live ducks swimming 

 around or among the wooden decoys. When they are about 

 to fly he gives them one barrel in the water and he and his 

 mate, if the latter has breath enough left, each give them 

 one as they get up. In this way the natives get from ten to 

 twenty canvasbacks a day to a boat, and as this is about the 

 only thing they can or will do in winter, and as canvasback 

 ducks are often worth from two to three dollars a pair, the 

 flats swarm with bushwackers. The bushwackers are a per- 

 fect nuisance to the box-gunners, are always in the way and 

 are forever banging away just as some ducks are darting 

 to your stool and you are counting on a brace more to the 

 good. 



The market gunners, who are out in their bushwhack 

 boats every gunning day, and are able to shoot where no 

 box can live, and go to places where no box can "set," kill 

 ten times as many ducks and make forty times as much 

 noise as all the batteries that ever floated on the waters of 

 the Chesapeake, from the time they were first invented to 

 this present writing. 



I find on looking at my game book that the last nine days 

 I shot at Havre de Grace, most of the time in a double 

 battery, we killed to two guns 3i7 ducks, of which about 

 two-thirds were blackheads and one-third redheads and can- 

 vasbacks; that the last nine days 1 shot on Lake Erie, from 

 a point belonging to a club of which I am fortunate enough 

 to be a member, I killed to my own gun .247 ducks, more 

 than half of them large ducks — canvasbacks, redheads, mal- 

 lards, etc. 



The best clay in the box was 100 birds — 104 blackheads 

 and 45 redheads; while the best day on a point was 55 red- 

 heads to my own gun. In the box 1 shot with a friend who 

 is one of the best amateur shots in a box that I have ever 

 seen ; and the clay we got 150 we would probably have had 

 200 had not at least 75 of our shells missed fire. Still, this 

 does not seem to me to indicate that a battery is such a very 

 deadly machine, for all the time I was shooting at Havre de 

 Grace there were plenty of ducks about the bay. The fact | 

 is that a battery is only effective during the first week of the 

 season. After that the ducks, although they are not driven 

 away, become trained to it, and the great majority recognize 

 it as' soon as they see it, and keep at a safe distance. 



I will venture' to say that if the record of other boats at 

 Havre de Grace were examined, few, if any, would be found 

 to have killed many more ducks than we did, audit seems to 

 me that the killing of three of four thousand ducks in a sea- J 

 son can have very little effect upon their numbers, and thei 

 thousands and thousands of ducks that feed upon the Sus- \ 

 quehanna flats and that can be seen there any day, show 

 that the sneakboxes do not drive them away from their 

 feeding grounds when the shooting is limited to three days 

 in the week. Unless shooting from sinkboxes or bushwack 

 boats were allowed there would be practically no shooting at 

 Havre de Grace. There are not more than a dozen points 

 about that part of the bay, and if there was nothing to stir 

 up the ducks gunners would seldom have any shooting from 

 those points except when it blew a gale. It is notorious that 

 the shooting in Brush Eiver and Gunpowder is better on the 

 clays when there is shooting upon the flats to move the birds. 

 If there were no shooting on the flats the ducks would feed 

 there all the season out of reach of everybody and only a few 

 stragglers would be killed along the shore, so that it seems to 

 me that it is to everybody's interest to have sinkbox-shooting 

 prosper on the broad waters of the Chesapeake. 



• Tex-Bore. 



SOME REMARKABLE SHOTS. 



Editor Forest and Stream; 



Three weeks ago, Don S., the night operator at this place, 

 accompanied by his two friends Hal and Nate, shouldered 

 Flobert rifles and went down to the slaughter house to shoot 

 rats. They had killed several of the varmints and were 

 ready to start home, when Don thought he saw one looking 

 out from under a hog pen. He motioned the others to keep 

 silent and he crept up, took deliberate aim and fired. At the 

 crack of the rifle a pig that had been lying on the other 

 side of the pen jumped up with a snort, went squealing 

 around, twisting his tail as though his life depended on it. 

 The boys looked surprised and Don faintly asked "What ails 

 that hog?" Hal said it was shot. On examination they 

 saw it was true, and would have to be killed. Don called a 

 butcher to dress it, and says he will give the boys anything 

 if they will stop grunting every time they meet him. 



Pakk. 



Athens, Pa. 



Editor Forest and Stream; 



The most remarkable shot I ever saw was made by a 

 young fellow who was hunting geese. He crawled a 

 hundred yards or more through the grass and fired both 

 barrels of his gun into a bunch of decoys, thinking they 

 were live geese. When he fired, the boys who were lying 

 in the grass watching him gave a shout, and you could have 

 knocked him down with a straw. It made him so nervous 

 that he couldn't hit another goose that day, although he had 

 at least a dozen good shots. A. W. S. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Among the remarkable shots which should have a place 

 in the columns of your paper is a certain little episode inter- 

 woven with the account of a field day in England, as related 

 in "Pickwick, "%i here, after describing Mr. Winkle's inter- 

 esting maneuvers with the gun, the author says: "Mr. 

 Tupman's mode of proceeding evinced far more of prudence 

 and deliberation than Mr. Winkle's. His process, like many 

 of our most sublime discoveries, was extremely simple. 

 With the quickness and penetration of a man of genius he 

 had at once observed that the two great points to be attained 

 were— first, to discharge his piece without injury to him-| 

 self, and, secondly, to do so without danger to the bystand- 

 ers; obviously the best thing to do, after surmounting the I 

 difficulty of firing at all, was to shut his eyes firmly and fire j 

 into the air. On one occasion, after performing this feat, I 

 Mr. Tupman, on opening his eyes, beheld a plump partridge I 



