246 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



fAfftiL 22, 1886. 



ALMOST A MISS. 



HUNTING on the headwaters of the "Wolf River, Wis., 

 in the fall of '51, as my wont in those clays, I was one 

 day returning from an unsuccessful tramp; for being after 

 big game, the partridges and rabbits that abound were allowed 

 togo by unheeded. 



Having passed a large marsh, I was ascending a gentle rise 

 Of ground covered with tall grass, and marching along rather 

 Carelessly — as it was mid-day —when my attention was 

 aroused by the soft musical hum of a bullet overhead followed 

 by two rifle cracks in quick succession. 



The Cause of this fusillade was soon apparent, as a deer 

 bounded over the high grass and made for the marsh I bad 

 lef t) passing me diagonally at a distance of fully eighty yards. 

 1 only noticed that his flag was down, as throwing my gun 

 well ahead of him when he descended from his long bounds, 

 the heavy barrel rang out under the double charge of Du- 

 pont; but the bolt seemed to have sped in vain, for the only 

 apparent effect of the shot was an increased speed, and he 

 kept on for some two hundred yards, when he was lost to 

 view in a bunch of bushes and thick grass. 



Looking up my new allies I found that they had jumped 

 the deer from his* bed in the pleasant sunshine, at a distance 

 of about three rods, and had both fired at him as he stood 

 broadside aud perfectly still, with what result was unknown. 

 We proceeded to the place where he was last seen, and to 

 our surprise found him quite dead; a spike buck of fair size 

 and in good condition. Examination showed that one of 

 their bullets had passed through his ham, close to the edge; 

 the other had evideutly been in more dangerous proximity 

 to me than to the deer. Both were fair hunters and used to 

 the rifle, but had practically missed a deer at a distance of 

 fifty feet; my conical bullet of forty-five to the pound from 

 a Billinghurst had struck him near the shoulder and was 

 found to have passed out at the loin on the other side, nearly 

 his whole length. We divided the spoil equitably, as per 

 the hunter's code — they taking the skin and 1 the venison. 



C. J. T. 



THE TURKEY SHOOT. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I have read with a great and increasing interest Napolen 

 Merrill's article, "A Turkey and Chicken Shoot," in your 

 paper of April 8. To a person about to buy a rifle it would 

 seem that there was nothing in rifles worth having except 

 the M. L., judging, of course, from the tenor of the article 

 referred to above. I, myself, cling to extreme accuracy and 

 value any rifle according to its accuracy. 



"The crowning efforts" killing or wounding four turkeys, 

 any rest, thirty-two rods distance, by shooting twenty shots, 

 is by no means wonderful. Why! at a range in a small 

 country town a few miles from here, where nothing is used 

 but breechloaders, they shoot eighty rods at chickens, not 

 old hens, and kill them, too, and more than four out of 

 twenty shots. That club uses Sharps, Whitney and Reming- 

 ton rifles, without a gyratory motion to their bullets. Their 

 rifles are safe, accurate and symmetrical, fine polished and 

 fashionable. They are not men of fashion, but they use 

 fashionable guns. They reap and do not go empty-handed. 

 The world has moved for them. 



The owner of the Sharps rifle, in my presence, July 4, 

 1885, fired five consecutive shots in a 3-inch ring, 33 rods. 

 Is that to be condemned on account of fashion? This same 

 rifle has placed 7 out of 10 shots in an 8-inch ring, 80 rods. 

 If accuracy is the main thing, why do all M. L. men say, 

 "You cannot shoot as short a bullet as we do with any de- 

 gree of accuracy"? Neither can you, M. L., shoot as long a 

 bullet as we who use a B. L. and do as fine work. I use a 

 Maynard .35 40 for patched or lubricated bullets, and, while 

 it may not be quite as accurate as the finer M. L. guns of the 

 present day, I consider it quite accurate. It does not scatter 

 badly; not as badly as some M. L. guns I have owned and 

 seen. I have many targets in my possession made with it 

 and witnessed by others of 10 consecutive shots each in a 

 1^ inch ring, 10 rods. I have four targets made by lamp- 

 light at night, each of 10 consecutive shots, striking an inch 

 ring, distance 10 rods. I have one of 5 consecutive shots, 20 

 rods, all striking an inch ring. Mr. Merrill, is that poor 

 shooting viewed from your standpoint? If so, report your 

 targets to Fobest and Stream. If the M. L. can do much 

 better I want one, but it must not scatter. J. T. Clapp. 



Geddes, N. Y., April 16. 



W. C. F., mounted with Lyman sights. I have killed crows 

 with this rifle, off-hand, at 200 yards, and consider that it 

 takes a "putty tolluble" good muzzleloader to beat it. 



Ramrod. 



Trenton, Out., April 15. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



There are turkey shoots and turkey shoots. Reading 

 with much interest Mr. Merrill's account of turkey shoot- 

 ing, in Forest and Stream of April 8, I feel constrained 

 to give a short description of the only turkey shoot I ever 

 attended. This occurred some eight years ago and being 

 at that time a mere boy, I took no part in the shooting, but 

 remained a deeply interested looker on. 



Although young, I was familiar with muzzleloading 

 rifles and a tolerable shot at short range. The turkeys were 

 set up on a box, distant 275 yards from the shooters (here in 

 Ontario turkeys are never shot at distances less than 250 to 

 350 yards!, with a background of running water. 



The day was cold with a moderate wind blowing across 

 the range from the left. The rifles used were as follows : 

 Two muzzleloaders (mounted with globe and peep sights), 

 weighing respectively, 21 pounds and 10 pounds, the heavier 

 of the two being a costly gun, made by a reliable maker of 

 turkey rifles. The breechloaders comprised two .46-caliber 

 R. F. Kentucky Ballards, with coarse open sights, and two 

 or three Snider-En field rifles used by Canadian volunteers. 



I will speak now of results. After an half day's bombard- 

 ment the twenty-one-pounder secured three or four birds. It 

 scattered its pellets on all sides, and there was no talk- of 

 ruling it out. The light muzzleloader did very well, secur- 

 ing a very fair proportion of the birds killed. The winning 

 gun, however, was a 46 R F. Ballard, which secured about 

 a third of the birds killed. The other Ballard and the 

 Sniders compared very favorably with the light muzzle- 

 loader in the number of birds secured, although they were 

 heavily handicapped by using open sights against aperture 

 sights. About thirty-five birds were killed in the afternoon, 

 the turkey man getting a very moderate price for his fowls. 



Why does Mr. Merrill imagine that after killing four tur- 

 keys in twenty shots he was about to "wipe out" the man's 

 turkeys in such deadly style? He does not tell us whether 

 the other rifles were mounted with aperture or sporting 

 sights. 



Mr. Merrill unsparingly condemns all breechloading rifles; 

 that he is in error, see account of turkey shoot No. 2. 



I have used a number of muzzleloaders, but never saw one 

 which surpassed in accuracy my bU-pound Colt, .44 caliber 



Minnesota Game Notes.— Ruffed grouse wintered well 

 and are more numerous than I ever knew them td be at this 

 season of the year. The indications are favorable to extra 

 fine sport in that line this fall. This immediate locality has 

 never been considered promising pinnated grouse territory; 

 but there has been a wonderful multiplication of the numbers 

 of this game bird within two years. Hereafter they will 

 afford prime sport. Though the streams are nearly all open, 

 and the weather is so warm that seeding is in full blast, but 

 few ducks have arrived. Full battalions of them will prob- 

 ably be along soon. The last open season for deer was an 

 unusually poor one for hunters, owing to the want of snow, 

 and as a natural and desirable result a good stock of this 

 noble game is left over. Four deer, all apparently in excel- 

 lent condition, were discovered rubbing against a wood-pile 

 near this village yesterday. Fish are beginning to "run," 

 and already the murderous, barbarous, and altogether abom- 

 inable spear is thinning their ranks. Lovers of the rod and 

 gun who are casting about for a place to spend their vaca- 

 tion cannot, I believe, do better than come hitherward.— 

 J. F. L. (Pillsbury, Minn.). 



Seasonal Change in Rtjefkd Grouse. — Attention is 

 called by our correspondent "Jay Bebe" to the fact that 

 recently the naked superciliary strip in a ruffed grouse in his 

 possession has become vivid orange red. Two other birds, 

 known to be fei»ales, show no change of color. Our cor- 

 respondent suggest that the bird is probably a male, and that 

 the change is due to the approach of the breeding season. 



"The Tear's Sport." — We are advised by Messrs. Worth- 

 ington & Co., the American publishers, that the price of 

 "The Year 8 Sport" is $6 and not $2.50, as stated in our 

 issue of the 15th inst. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ing Co. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS. 



CARP LAKE, MICHIGAN. — VIII. 



IT was still raining when we got out in the morning, and 

 it kept coming down steadily until near the middle of 

 the afternoon, when Jim and I concluded to cro3s the lake 

 and hunt up Al's trout stream (Maybert's Creek), and try for 

 a "mess o' them spotted minners," to quote Ben, as our trout 

 tooth had began to be a trifle bothersome after nearly a year's 

 disuse. But we misunderstood the directions somehow, and 

 wandered up the road and through the woods hunting for 

 the trail and the stream till too late to do but little fishing 

 had we found it, and we were glad enough to get back to 

 the boat and camp with the last glimmer of daylight. 

 We went to bed that night with the trout tooth unappeased. 

 More rain in the evening and during the night and all next 

 day, but we were accustomed to it, "fur the Joneses never 

 was used to the very best o' weather, nohow." In the after- 

 noon, however, Dan and I made a short run down the lake, 

 struck a couple of fish but lost them because the wind blew 

 such a gale. I could not hold the boat even for Thin to 

 handle a fish, and it took nearly an hour of hard work to get 

 back to camp, leaving behind us a blue streak of anathemas 

 on the weather, with which we were overcharged. 



But under all these trials and discomforts we had not lost 

 our spirits nor our appetites, and we enjoyed the supper 

 Prince Al spread for us that evening with a relish and a 

 "capacity" that would have an average tea-and flabby-cake- 

 for-supper boarding-house keeper feel discouraged. In look- 

 ing over an old memorandum book found in the tray of the 

 "camp trunk," I find, in Kit's handwriting, the following 

 "programme" for supper on that identical evening, which is 

 herewith presented: 



Fish, Fried. Poached Eggs. Pickles. 



Cold Ham. Potatoes (in jacket). Cheese. 

 Side Meat. Onions (raw). Bread. 



Coffee. Tea (for the girls). Apricots (in can). 

 Rolv P0I5" . Raspberries. 

 (Mosquitoes, 14,030,000.) ' 



The above may serve as a sample of several other "pro- 

 grammes" I find in the same old book, varied frequently 

 with some additions as trout, biscuits, cake, "corn pone," 

 etc., and ' lunch" at alarmingly frequent intervals. 1 am a 

 little inclined to think, however, that Kit put rather a high 

 estimate on the number of "skeeters" engaged for the chorus 

 that evening, as I have been thinking it over quite seriously 

 since looking over the old book, and can only recall about 

 eight and a half millions of the melodious pests as being 

 present on that particular night, and as the "old man" has 

 had considerably more expeiience in estimating skeeters than 

 Kit has. she is evidently in error by some millions. As to 

 "roly poly," I give it up; it's a new kind of dish on "the 

 skipper." 



After a late breakfast the following morning Ben and I 

 determined to find Maybert's Creek and some trout if it took 

 all day; and getting plain directions from the philosopher 

 we crossed the lake equipped with a short stiff rod each— a 

 limber fly -rod is of no earthly account in the "bresh" — a bait 

 box of worms, a few flies in case we found an open space 

 where we could make a cast, a pocket compass and rubber 

 coats, for we were having a little more rain with no symp- 

 toms of it letting up very soon. 



We were to follow the road that led around the base of 

 the hill, a matter of three-quarters of a mile, till we came to 

 an old blind trail leading off to the right a quarter of a mile 

 or more, to where a pine tree had been felled, tradition said, 

 many moons ago by the Indians, and out of the log they had 

 fashioned a famous canoe, doubtless a craft similar to our 

 "holler log." From the old stump, still standing, we were 

 to go due south ten rods, and we would find the stream. We 

 found the trail which the philosopher had made with his 

 jack-knife on a good-sized maple sapling near the road (Jim 

 and 1 had not known of this blaze), and with some difficulty 

 followed it to the old stump, where it ended in a dense 

 tangle. Here we took our course by the compass, for there 

 was no sun to steer by, and started, climbing over old fallen, 

 decaying trees, crawling under one occasionally, and work- 

 ing around tangles of brush and bushes where it was too 

 thick to get through, every bush we touched bringing a 



shower of water on us, till we thought we had certainly trav- 

 eled a mile instead of the ten rods laid out for us. 



We stopped a few minutes while Ben wasted a dozen 

 matches before he succeeded in firing the briar root, after 

 which we went ahead again for the stream, Ben remarking 

 as he straddled over a rain soaked log. "Hickory, ef anv- 

 body was to offer me ten dollars fur it, 1 don't b'lieve I could 

 fiud that ole stump agin in this durned— cuss a fishpole that's 

 always a ketchin' yer line on to somethiu' when ye don't 

 want it to," with a savage yank that stripped the leaves from 

 a green twig on which the line had caught as he dragged his 

 rod after him through the bushes. He was so mad that he 

 let the pipe go out, and while he stopped to relight it he for- 

 got all about the stump. 



Moving on, we came to a less dense place in the woods 

 that had rather a familiar look and directly we were in the 

 same old trail, and as we turned a slight bend in it, there 

 was the same old stump, the same old decaying chips, the 

 remains of the dead trunk and limbs off to the left, from 

 which we had taken our bearings three quarters of an hour 

 before. 



"Not so hard to find the old stump after all, eh, Ben?" 

 And Ben's answer as he took the pipe from his mouth to eive 

 due force to the brief sentence, "Well, I'll bedurned!" or 

 words to that effect. And then we stood there in the rain 

 and laughed, ashamed to look each other in the face for our 

 stupidity, and wondered— I speak for myself, at least— 

 what Jim and Dan and Muller and the girls would say, 

 could they peer through the bushes and see how sheepish we 

 looked. 



Two smart old woodsmen, we. We had gone chattering 

 heedlessly through the woods, avoiding a fallen tree here or 

 a dense group of bushes there, always bearing to the right, 

 as it proved, till we had made a complete circuit and came 

 back to exactly where we had started from. No wonder 

 that we were ashamed of oup / woodcraft and tried to laugh 

 it off, and charge it to the rain and cloudy weather, and half 

 a dozen other causes that might be accountable for our blun- 

 der. Tell it not to "Yo" nor yet to "Appekunny," lest they 

 smile a "voriferous snicker" "at us for a pair of tenderfeet. 

 I record this brilliant maneuver of ours only to show how 

 easy it is for even those who are usually clear-headed in the 

 woods, to get turned around and lost on a cloudy day if they 

 don't pay close attention to the course laid out and read 

 aright nature's handwriting on the trees. 



We started again, and Ben said: "Keep yer eye on the 

 south end o' the needle in that compass, an' ef ye come to a 

 tree don't go 'rouud it, jest climb it an' come down on t'other 

 side an' holler, an' I'll come around." 



By the exercise of a little common woods sense, and with- 

 out the aid of the compass we soon found the stream, not 

 more than seven or eight rods from the old stump. It 

 proved to be a small brook not more than four or five yards 

 wide at any place we found, and oftener barely two yards, 

 and shallow except for frequent deep holes from a foot to 

 three and four feet in depth. The tangle through which it 

 flows is not quite so dense as that along Cedur River, Cold 

 Brook, or Shanty Creek (from this "Nurman" can form an 

 idea as to the comfort of fishing it) but the general grmind 

 plan is much the same: a net work of fallen trees and limbs 

 covering it except at infrequent intervals, the low banks 

 overhung with trees and "bresh," just the thing to compel 

 the angler every few minutes to untangle his line from an 

 exasperating limb overhead; a convenient fallen tree every 

 few rods under which you may crawl and scrape the cuticle 

 from your "dorsal." or maybe three or four lying close to- 

 gether bristling with dead spikes through which to flounder 

 and fall and bark your shin; and after you are well over you 

 find your line caught on the further side on a stubborn, in- 

 tensely crooked cedar limb that never lets go. The line is 

 always sure to take from nine to thirty-five turns around a 

 limb of that kind in as many different directions, aud the 

 safest way out of the "category" is to lay your rod down 

 gently, rub your barked shin once or twice before starting, 

 crawl bactt through the spikes, and free the line without 

 saying anything, bark the other shin in getting back, then 

 pick up your rod. This was about the experience Ben and 

 I worried through that day, and Maybert's Creek is one of 

 the easiest of Michigan trout streams to fish, but then "the 

 Joneses never was used to the very best o' trout streams 

 nohow." 



Finding we could do nothing with our flies on account of 

 the overhang, and the logs and limbs infesting the stream, 

 we fell back" on our reserves, the time-tried, regulation trout 

 persuader — plain "fish worm." 



"Speakin' o' fly fishin'," said Ben, as he impaled a squirm- 

 ing worm on his hook and "spit on it for luck" (so tena- 

 ciously do the teachings and superstitions of boyhood cling 

 to us), "some feller hes wrote that fly-fishin' is the poetty ov 

 angliu'; but, as I don't go much on poetry, a chapter er two 

 o' plain prose is good enough fur Ben, an' that I kin git out 

 o' wurms an' clams an' bacon an' squir'l meat, an' sech, 

 to say nothin' o' hitchin' on a cricket er a grasshopper once 

 'n a while for a chanee." Here be stood his rod up against 

 a bush and proceeded leisurely to fill and light the briar-root, 

 talking the while, as he wasted three or four matches search- 

 ing for the right kind of a dry spot on which to scrape them. 

 "I'd like to see ye git any poetry out ov a limber fly-rod an' 

 a whole hatful o' artificial flies along a branch like this er 

 the Cedar [the memory of Bun's first trip up the Cedar River 

 and the swarms of black flies that made life a burden to us 

 that day seemed yet fresh in his mind], where the bresh is so 

 thick that a groun' squir'l would git lost and forget the way 

 back to his hole." The briar-root finally under headway, he 

 took up his rod, and, tiptoeing stealthily to within a few feet 

 of the bank, dropped the baited hook into the water with, 

 "It's a heap o' sport to handle a fly-rod where ye hev room 

 to cast yer fly without gittin' hitched on to a limb or— some- 

 thin' like that cussed' thing up yander." This explosive 

 finish to the sentence was caused hv a bite and a jerk that 

 wrapped the line around a twig on a bush hanging over the 

 water a few feet above him. Stepping cautiously back, he 

 pulled the bush down slowly and carefully, freed the hook, 

 and let it back in the same manner, so as not to alarm the 

 fish. "Hum a fish hook, anyhow! Ef there's a limb in a 

 half a mile ov ye it's boun' to ketch on it. I was too fresh, 

 though, that time, seein' as it was the first bite, an' I j< rked 

 with a little too much vigor." (I may say that during this 

 time I was a couple of rods below Ben, making good, with 

 a short piece of a sharpened twig, the loss of a suspender 

 button that had taken its departure under the strain of crawl- 

 ing under the last fallen tree.) Adjusting the worm on his 

 hook he dropped it in above a half -sunken log, and the next 

 moment the rod was given a smart twitch with, "Fooled ye 

 that time, ye spotted sardeen!" and as the rod came up I 

 could see a pretty little trout dangling and twisting in the air 

 and Ben reaching for it. 



