146 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 18, 1886. 



A DAY WITH THE CORDELIA CLUB. 



HELLO, Andy, want to go up to the marsh to-morrow 

 night?" I look up and see the jolly faces of Char- 



teenth street," says Charley. Accordingly, 8:40 P. M. next 

 day found me with gun and heavy valise on board the train, 

 bound for Teal Station. Charley swings himself aboard at 

 Sixteenth street, fresh, smiling, and as neat as though just 

 taken out of the drawer, and with no more apparent luggage 

 than would fill an ordinary vest pocket. How is it that some 

 people always contrive to travel without being encumbered 

 with any luggage, while 1 always perspire under the weight 

 of so many traps? Two and a half hours of swift riding'eu- 

 livened with pleasant chat, and evening shades beginning to 

 fall, we find ourselves in a marshy country, with ditches and 

 embankments, and an occasional feeble glimmer of light 

 from some little mud-colored house. Presently, "Here we 

 are," says Charley, and hastily grabbing packages, we jump 

 down from the scarcely stopping train and find ourselves at 

 Teal, represented by a diminutive redwood shanty, a concern 

 which any healthy fifteen -year-old boy could easily carry 

 away. But here comes Cap, and after hearty hand shakes, 

 luggage is again snatched, and we are escorted a few rods 

 along the track, down the embankment, and across a narrow 

 plank to the yacht Lolita, which now more nearly resembles 

 Noah's ark, the deck being housed over from stem to stern, 

 thus transforming the fast little craft into a perfect duck- 

 hunter's home. Down in the cabin we find a bountiful sup- 

 per awaiting us. Then reclining on the broad cushions, our 

 heads supported by the ample pillows, we rake up recollec- 

 tions of past hunting trips, for you must know that this little 

 yacht is hallowed to us by a thousand recollections. Many 

 an evening have we dragged ourselves home, wet, tired and 

 hungry, to its comfortable shelter, and — "Come, wake up 

 there, fellows and go to bed; you will get your deaths of 

 cold sleeping there. ' So we take Cap's advice and turn in, 

 and soon, lulled to sleep by the monotonous lapping of water 

 against the yacht's side, but a few inches from our heads, we 

 are hunting the ducks of dreamland— and what a splendid 

 flight there always is— till presently, we see one big fellow 

 coming straight for us, and with outstretched neck, great 

 staring eyes, and wide open mouth, shrieking bxirr-r-r-r-r. 



Great Heavens, who that ever went out to the "early 

 morning's shooting," will forget the diabolical racket raised 

 by that little alarm clock that hangs in the cabin of the 

 Lolita. 



"Turn out, boys, half past three o'clock," shouts Cap, 

 tumbling out of his bunk and climbing on deck to see how 

 the weather looks. Charley follows suit, and I make a sleepy 

 attempt to crawl into my clothes, generally getting on a gum 

 boot first and inwardly wishing that something would hap- 

 pen so I could get into my comfortable nest again, and an 

 instant later I thought I was to be so favored, when Cap 

 shouted from on deck, "Boys, it's raining," and so we found 

 it, a cold drizzle, just enough to be disagreeable, but not 

 enough to scare such a couple of old toughs as Cap and 

 Charley. In a few moments breakfast is ready, and after 

 disposing of a liberal allowance of chops, boiled eggs, toast 

 and strong coffee, we envelop ourselves in our oilclothesand 



I lake seventy. "Come, on Andy, you are always behind," 

 shouts Charley from the skiff. I take my seat and the bow 

 oar and Cap the other, while Charley with a stern counte- 

 nance, as much as to say, "you need not ask me to row your 

 old boat," takes the tiller and we are off for an hour's pull 

 to the Sring Ponds. Soon we come to a ditch and we drag 

 the skiff high and dry on the bank, and each selecting a 

 small duckboat from a number we find in the ditch, we 

 transfer our guns and traps to them, each also taking a large 

 sack of decoys and paddle out, Indian file, going through 

 many little ponds and scaring up clouds of mallards, teal 

 and sprigtails. But we don't stop for them, nor tbey for 

 us, for that matter they know they are not "our ducks." 

 Presently Cap shouts back, "Andy, you go inhere, this is 

 the Judd stand." 



I am tired enough to be glad to come to a stand of any 

 kind, so I hurry and put out my decoys, drag my little boat 

 ashore and cover it with the long grass, crawl into the little 

 wet blind, make myself as small as possible, and await the 

 ducks. My fingers are numb with cold, and there is always 

 a rascally decoy that wants to stand on its head. The ground 

 is well littered with empty paper shells, showing that the 

 place has been made good use of before. I haven't got into 

 concealment a moment too soon, for the birds are beginning 

 to come back. I raise my head a little, a pair of teal coming, 

 I miss one but drop the other. Then comes a spoonbill and 

 I lay him low, then a succession of misses, and there comes 

 a rush of wings, and a mighty splash, and peeping out I see, 

 not twenty feet away, half a dozen lordly canvasbacks 

 swimming about among the decoys. I blaze away but only 

 kill one, as they rise I knock down another. Good enough, 

 a pair of "cans." I am satisfied now, if I don't get another 

 duck. Now comes a lull in the flight, and rising to stretch 

 my legs, I discover a pair of mallards that have swam in 

 from another pond. I drop one dead as a mackerel, the 

 other one comes down too, but only winged, for he is making 

 for the shore for dear life. I push out the boat and go for 

 him, but he is too quick, and gets away. I hunt the low 

 bank over and over, but no use, so I paddle back, pick up 

 my five dead birds and get into cover again. Then come 

 more mighty rushes of wings, more splashes, a good many 

 misses, but a good many ducks drop too, and their white 

 bellies begin to make quite a show in the little pond, some 

 are drifting away out of sight, round a point, too, so I push 

 out and gather them in, and am surprised to see what a 

 breastwork of ducks 1 am getting in front of me. I am also 

 surprised, on taking stock, to see what a small number of 

 shells I have left, and begin to wish I had taken Cap's ad- 

 vice. 1 haven't heard a great deal of shoooting from him 

 and Charley, but an occasional pounding noise, as though 

 somebody was building a boat. That's the Cap pounding 

 Iris duckboat with an oar, to scare up some ducks that he 

 sees about alighting in another pond. Presently a flock of 

 geese, flying low, came over, and I drop two of them. 



It is getting along toward noon now, warm and pleasant, 

 and 1 begin to feel hungry; but it is curious how the birds 

 come as soon as I begin to eat my lunch. I finish, finally, 

 and resume business, firing carefully now and taking no long 

 shots, till I fire my last shell and with it get a duck. Then 

 I come out of my hole. There is no use for concealment 

 any longer; gather up my decoys, wash out my duck boat, 

 and ship my game and traps aboard. But how the ducks 



are coming iu now. It really seems as if they were trying 

 to knock my hat off. I paddle back again through the ditch 

 toward the skiff, but how terribly hard this duck boat drags 

 now, and at one abrupt turn in the ditch. Cape Horn, 1 am 

 nearly stuck. How the ducks jump up in front of me, too, 

 at every few yards' advance. They seem to know 1 am 

 pumped out. At last I get back to the skiff, empty my duck 

 boat and count my birds: 29 in all; 15 canvasbacks, 2 mal- 

 lards, 1 sprigtail, 2 teal, 4 blackjacks. 3 spoonbills, 2 white 

 geese. I pile them carefully in the bow of the skiff, not for- 

 getting to give the "cans" the prominence they deserve. 

 Then I wash the black mud from my oil-cloth coat, and 

 spread it over them to keep the sun off, and with it comes 

 a new idea. I start back to meet the boys and help them, for 

 I hear their voices approaching. I meet Cap first, who says 

 they have done pretty well. Charley, he says, has got as 

 many as a dozen ducks. "How many did vou get, Andy?" 

 I replied that I have had the hardest kind of luck, couldn't 

 seem to hit the birds at all, "but I got a pair of cans and a 

 few other little ducks." "Why, Andy, is that all, I am so 

 sorry, what a pity you didn't come with us, but I thought 

 you might have got some birds in the Judd, it is the best 

 pond in this marsh, and we put lots of ducks out of there, 

 just now as we came through," and poor Cap goes on wast- 

 ing sympathy on me, when I am tearing to pieces inside, I 

 want to laugh bo. Then I take hold and help Charley, 

 whose duck boat seems to be crowding all the water out of 

 the ditch before it, till at last the end of the ditch and the 

 skiff are reached, and they take out their game for my in- 

 spection and astonishment, 30 birds iu all; 8 of them can- 

 vasbacks, 8 sprigtails, 3 swans (killed with right and left 

 barrel, by Charley), and the balance of small ducks. They 

 dn look nice, particularly the swans. We admired them a 

 while and I got an occasional w T ord of sympathy. Then 

 Charley says, "Cap, where will 1 store all these birds?" 

 "Ob, rigbt in the bow of the skiff," he answers. Charley 

 approaches, grabs my oil coat by the tail, shakes it off, and 

 stands an instant in silence. "Cap, come here." ! They both 

 take a glance, and make a rush for me, and for the next five 

 minutes I am shaken and pummeled and embraced, and we 

 finish up with a grand war dance on the spot, and a stranger 

 visiting the banks of Prankhorn Slough that afternoon, 

 would have thought that three lunatics had escaped from 

 the insane asylum. Then we find it getting late, and embark 

 for the yacht, amid much hilaiity and mauy assurances from 

 Cap, that he never will show the least sympathy for me 

 again, no matter what may happen to me. We arrive in 

 ample time for dinner, turn in early, with many promises of 

 an early start out again next morning, but our expectations 

 were not to be realized, anil our next day's sport was anything 

 but a repetition of my day's sport in the Judd. And v. 



GAME PROTECTORS' REPORTS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The several fish and game agents have filed their monthly 

 reports for February with State Fish Commissioner Sher- 

 man, of New Hartford. Brief abstracts of the reports are 

 given below : 



Geo. W. Whitaker, protector for the first district, reports 

 having brought suit against George Hutton and Richard 

 Drake, of Suffolk county, for having trapped partridges in 

 their possession. Hutton was acquitted, but Drake was 

 fined $5. The protector traveled 178 miles during the 

 month, and his expenses were $10 65. 



Joseph H. Godwin, Jr., protector for the second district, 

 in his report says that he has been co-operating with agents 

 of the New York City Sportsmen's Association. But few 

 violations of the game laws have been discovered recently. 

 Sufficient evidence was obtained to warrant the commence- 

 ment of two suits for violation of the fish laws. His ex- 

 penses were $22.50. 



Protector Seymour C. Armstrong, of district No. 5, re- 

 ports having begun action in the Supreme Court of Warren 

 county against John C. Alden and Michael Schrodts for 

 bounding deer. He traveled 405 miles during the momh, 

 and his expenses amounted to $17.93. 



John Liberty, protector for the sixth district, writes that 

 he visited Nichols Pond, near Westport, to obtain informa- 

 tion against parlies accused of hounding deer but found there 

 was no cause for the report. He obtained a judgment of $50 

 against Wallace McFarland for hounding deer. The de- 

 fendant paid the penalty. The protector traveled forty-four 

 miles and paid out $5.25. 



Peter R. Leonard, protector for the seventh district, 

 brought suit in the Supreme Court of St. Lawrence county 

 against W. R. Woodward for hounding deer at Topper's 

 Lake. The case was settled, defendant paying $75. Pro- 

 tector Leonard also recovered a penalty of $50, with $5 costs, 

 in a suit against Darwin Day and others, for killing deer out 

 of season. He traveled 209 miles and expended $13 20. 



Speaking of the recent action of the Assembly relative to 

 the repeal of the anti-deer hounding law, Protector Leonard 

 says; "If the law is repealed it will make it very hard for 

 the State game agents to protect deer successfully.*" 



Thomas Bradley, protector for the eighth district, reports 

 having begun suits against W. Dirtser, David Moshier and 

 Edward Spencer, in Fulton county, for disturbing trout on 

 their spawning beds, in the case of the last two named, 

 bills were found. He has two suits pending against Mathew 

 Musgrave for having venison in possession in January. Pro- 

 tector Bradley traveled 300 miles and paid out $24. 



N. C. Phelps, of the tenth district, traveled 119 miles and 

 paid out $22 88. He found no violations of the law. 



Protector Wm. N. Steele, of the twelfth district, traveled 

 fifty miles and paid out $2. He found no evidence on which 

 to base a suit. 



John Sheridan, of Penn Yan, protector for the fourteenth 

 district, destroyed a set line valued at $5 in Keuka Lake. 

 He traveled 539 miles and expended $20.83. 



Geo. M. Schwartz, of the fifteenth district, brought suit 

 against Wm. Carson, Henry Andrews, F. Ridge way, Chas. 

 Howard, Daniel Tompkins, Daniel Clump and Robert Scott, 

 in the Wayne county Court of Oyer and Terminer, for il- 

 legal fishing in November. During the month he destroyed 

 four fyke nets, valued at $45, at Long Pond and Irondequoit 

 Bay. The action against the Rochester Paper Mill Company 

 has been settled, the corporation paying $25 and promising 

 to throw no more refuse in Genesee River. The protector 

 traveled 170 miles during the month and his expenses 

 amounted 10 $53. 



Protector S. A. Roberts, of the sixteenth district, reports 

 having destroved a seine valued at $40, found in Niagara 

 River. Henry and Christopher Miller were fined $25 each 

 for illeeal fishing, and in default thereof were sent to the 

 workhouse for twenty-five days. The protector traveled 5d98 

 miles and expended $13.80, 



SADDLE SLING FOR THE PLAINS. 



HUNTING a great deal in the saddle I was naturallv very 

 much interested in "W. E. B.'s" destription of "a gun 

 sling, in Forest and Stream of Oct. 1, and can fully ap- 

 preciate the difficulties one has in managing a horse and 

 carrying rifle or shotgun in their hands. I send with this a 

 pattern of sling which I use on the plains. It is fitted for a 

 Sharps' .45 70, and a regular "cow-puncher's" saddle. 



Its extreme length is 15 inches; width, 6 inches; openings 

 at A and B, 2+ inches; width from D toD, 2f inches; length 

 from center to E, 7 inches. The square hole marked C is 

 where the rear sight comes when the rifle and sling are fast 

 to the saddle. I do not cut out the openings A and B but 

 leave tongues, the lower one giving a bearing for the rifle 

 against the horn of the saddle and furnishing a smooth sur- 

 face for rifle to be pressed against when iu haste to unfasten 

 it from sling, or, in other words, to "draw it." I do not have 

 to pull the rifle out lengthwise but can simply grasp it near the 

 lever, give it a pu&h forward, and the upper half of the 

 sling releases itself. Can draw a ritki as quickly as the 

 typical bad man from Bitter Creek can draw a pistol. 



Have ridden hundreds of miles and never had my rifle 

 offer to jump the sling, and when properly fitted rides 

 smoothly and does not necessitate ones holding on to it even 

 when the horse is running at full speed. Miixard. 



Bear Creek, Wyoming. 



A TRAMP FOR MOOSE. 



HAVING heard that a well-known sportsman of the 

 neighborhood had returned from a week's tramp with 

 one moose, I suggested to my friend S. that we should try 

 our hand after them. Accordingly on Saturday, Jan. 16, 

 we made preparations for an early start on Monday, the 18th. 

 We laid in a supply of biscuits and baked a large pot of 

 beans, and with some fat pork, etc. , got together enough 

 supplies for a week in case we met with no luck. We then 

 drove to the Indian village and secured two hunters at one 

 dollar a day each, who were to meet us on Monday at the 

 house of a farmer named Clark, whose house is the" last on 

 the road before taking to the woods. 



At 7 A. M. orr Monday, we were all equipped, and pack- 

 ing our provisions, arms, tabogan, etc., in the pung, we 

 started. The day before had been very wet, and the roads 

 were somewhat broken; but we arrived at Clark's, which is 

 nine miles from Bear River Village, at 11 A. M. The In- 

 dians had not yet arrived, so we waited an hour for them. 

 When they came they told us that there would be too much 

 water on the lakes and that we had better wait till next day, 

 but we thought it better to make the attempt, and so started. 

 Our first lake was Lake Jolly, about a mile and a half long. 

 The ice was not very strong, but we managed to get across 

 without mishap, and as it was freezing hard we anticipated 

 no further trouble. 



We next passed in succession ninth, eighth, seventh and 

 sixth lakes, and at the foot of the latter we came to our first 

 camp, and were glad enough of the rest. The camp was a 

 poor one, but the night was bright and cold, so that with 

 plenty of fire we managed to survive till morning. On Tues- 

 day we made an early start and crossed the Stillwater River 

 and then the "Turnpike," so called. This is a naturally 

 graded sort of sand bank which runs from the Bay of Fundy 

 right through to the ocean on the other side. It has no trees on 

 it, and looks as if it had been laid out for a railway track. 

 Then we went on through Cranberry Swamp, Cranberry 

 Lake and over to Whitesand Lake, at the head of which we 

 passed an Indian camp, and then we came to Moosehead 

 Lake, at the foot of which we intended to camp. This last 

 lake is two and a half miles long. We arrived at camp 

 rather tired at 2 P. M., and at once started to get dinner 

 ready and our supply of wood cut and everything ready for 

 our hunt on the morrow. We had walked the whole way so far 

 in moccasins, not having had occasion for snowshoes. We 

 had thus far seen no tracks. 



Wednesday morning we were all up bright and early, and 

 as a good strong breeze was blowing, our Indians said it 

 would be an excellent day for moose and probably caribou. 

 We thought it wise to divide our forces, so S. took Jerry 

 Bartlett (Iudian) with him and I started with Molti Pictou, 

 the other Indian, our plan being to make a circuit and meet 

 somewhere about the boundary rock. Molti and I crossed 

 the lake and started over the swamp in the direction of Cow- 

 fang Lake. After walking about two miles we struck 

 moose signs, but we thought them about a week old, so we 

 went on another mile, where my Indian discovered the 

 tracks of two quite fresh. He immediately set about fol- 

 lowing them out, and within a quarter of a mile we discov- 

 ered them browsing in a small belt of maples. We crept up 

 to within about 70 yards, when I thought it best to fire. 

 We heard the thud of the bullet, and she at once turned to 

 run out of the maples. I loaded and fired again, but 

 the bullet struck a small maple and glanced off. As 1 

 got ready to fire a third shot I saw her fall over and 

 begin to kick. The other one started to run out, and as in 

 the course of the battue my snowshoe came off, I handed my 

 rifle to the Indian to fire and he had two shots at her, but 

 fired high both times. 1 had by this time got my snowshoes 

 off and taking the rifle, jumped on a rock to see where she 

 was. Curiosity had overcome her prudence and she stopped 

 for a minute 'full facing me, looking I suppose for the 

 other, when a bullet in the breast dropped her where she 

 stood. The two were four-vear old cows, in good condition, 

 and weighed between 1,800 and 1,900 pounds together. 

 Not bad sport this for two hours' hunting we thought We 

 then dressed them and had just finished when S. and Indian 

 came hurrying up, having tracked these same two about five 

 miles. We then all returned to camp. Next day we all 

 went and finished skinning and cutting up the meat. Of 

 course we could not bring all of it out, so we gave the rest 

 to the Indians. On our return to camp we came on the tracks 

 of four more moose which had crossed the track about half 

 an hour. We had as much meat as we could manage. 



On Friday morning we started on the return trip, and as 

 it rained hard all day, we determined to come through with- 

 out a halt and arrived at Clark's at 7 P. M. very tired and 

 wet, slept there and arrived home on Saturday at noon. So 

 ended one of the best hunts it has been my good lack to 



