2S2 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 6, 1886. 



habits in eating and drinking, of working and sleeping. 

 Very soon he findB that he is enjoying better health, that he 

 can despatch business with greater ease and yet find time for 

 an occasional run out to the range. Such time spent is not 

 time lost, and every year more and more of our citizens are 

 making this discovery for themselves and acting upon it, 

 hence the growth of the gun club and the rifle club, until 

 our columns, crowded with the brief returns from many 

 points, tell how many there are already in line for the season's 

 sport. 



With the prospect of having no great international rifle 

 match during this year to overshadow all the smaller efforts, 

 the present attention to the art of precision in firearms is 

 all the more noteworthy. It is not in the line of a sudden 

 fever or spasm, fanned up by the efforts of the newspapers, 

 rather it is, as we have pointed out, the due development of 

 the idea that it is good to have sport, and for men of sedent- 

 ary habits beyond the age for active athletic endeavor, the 

 use of the rifle or the gun completely fills the bill for a 

 rational outdoor pastime. Nor is it a mere relaxation for 

 the body. There is a wonderful interest readily excited in a 

 thinking mind in studying out the cause and effect, the 

 effort and result in all matters of marksmanship. A man 

 may grow in skill, and this growth and improvement may 

 safely be assured to him who will exercise care and thought 

 in all his efforts. Every one may not become a leader in a 

 certain line of sport. There is a natural aptitude or physical 

 formation which marks certain ones as champions. Not so in 

 shooting. With good weapons, proper practice, compelling 

 success to spring from failure, there is no reason why any 

 man should not rise into the front rank. If he does not it 

 is generally because he will not. 



.4 CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION. 



IT seems quite probable that this Nineteenth century may 

 be unpleasantly memorable in centuries to come as that 

 in which many species of animate and inanimate nature 

 became extinct. It has witnessed the extinction of the great 

 auk, so utterly swept off the face of the earth that the skin, 

 or even the egg, of one is a small fortune to the possessor, 

 and it is almost as certain as death that in the less than a 

 decade and a half that remain of it, the last wild bison will 

 have disappeared. Reduced from the hundreds of thousands 

 of twenty years ago to the single thousand or so of to-day, it 

 needs not a third of the time to compass their complete 

 annihilation. It is not improbable that the elk and the 

 antelope will be overtaken by almost as swift a fate, and 

 have passed away before A. D. 1900. The skin hunters, and, 

 impelled by quite as ignoble and a more savage impulse, the 

 game butchers miscalled sportsmen, are making almost as 

 speedy way with them as they have with the buffalo. 



In the untamable wilderness of the north, the moose and 

 caribou may endure for many years to come, but this hope 

 can hardly be entertained for the common deer, hedged as 

 they are within their narrowing ranges by civilization, and 

 mercilessly hunted by all methods in all seasons. They may 

 outlast the century, but they will have become woefully 

 scarce at the close of it, even in such regions as the Adiron- 

 dacks, that seem to have been set apart by nature especially 

 for the preservation of wild life, unless some better and more 

 unselfish feeling takes' hold of the people who should be fore- 

 most in protecting them. 



The wild turkey is passing away, and it is a question of 

 but few years when he shall have departed forever. In 

 some localities the next noblest of our game birds, the ruffed 

 grouse, has become almost a thing of the past, and in some 

 years is everywhere so scarce that there are sad forebodings 

 of his complete disappearance from the rugged hills of which 

 he seems as much a belonging as the liohened rocks, the 

 arbutus and the wind-swept evergreens. Out of all New 

 England but one little island, and out of all the Eastern 

 States, the besom of destruction has swept his kinsman, the 

 pinnated grouse. 



The woodcock is being cultivated and improved and 

 murdered out of existence with clearing and draining and 

 summer shooting, and unseasonable shooting is doing the 

 same for many kinds of waterfowl. In the Eastern States a 

 wild pigeon is a rare sight now, and has been for years ; the 

 netters and slaughterers have done their work too thoroughly. 



And now gentle woman is making an end of the song 

 birds that she may trick her headgear in barbaric and truly 

 savage fashion. The brighter plumaged small birds are be- 

 coming noticeably scarce even in those parts of the country 

 that the milliners' collector and the pot-naturalist have not yet 

 invaded, and such as the scarlet tanager, never anywhere 

 numerous, are like to be soon "collected" out of living exist- 

 ence. If they are to be saved, it is by no dallying, nor slow 

 awakening of popular feeling in their behalf. 



There will be pine trees, no doubt, for centuries to come, 

 but who that five twenty years hence will see one of their 

 grand monarchs of the woods towering above all other for- 

 est growth, or see any ancient tree, however historied or 

 precious for its age and beauty and majesty and mystery of 

 long past years, if it is worth the cutting for timber or fuel? 



An old man may be glad that his eyes are not to behold 

 the coming desolation, but he must be sad when he thinks of 

 the poor inheritance of his children. 



The Dog Show Season is drawing to a close. It has been 

 a very successful one. 



A NIGHT AMONG THE KEYS. 



IT WAS early, very early in the morning, when the for'ard 

 hands, acting as cook for the time, turned out, and, in 

 bare feet and with no unnecessary noise, proceeded to make 

 a fire in the sand-box on the lee quarter of the sharpie, and 

 brew a pot of strong coffee. For Captain Tarpon, after the 

 manner of those who have lived long in the tropics, winds 

 himself up for each day's run by a small cup of black coffee, 

 taken the first thing in the morning. Lacking (his, he is apt 

 to get in a snarl and run down before night; and the cook, 

 being aware of this, had a hand full of dry wood prepared 

 over night and went about the deck silently until the coffee 

 was ready, hot and black. Then he went below, where the 

 captain was sleeping soundly, and sang out "coffee-e." At 

 the word Captain T. opens bis eyes, stares around vaguely, 

 and finally, getting his bearings, reaches for the coffee and 

 the tobacco bag with brown sugar in it and a tin spoon stick- 

 ing out of it. Swallowing his coffee at a temperature that 

 would skin an ordinary mouth, he follows the cook on deck, 

 casts an eye to windward, to leeward and overhead, gets a 

 pull on the dandy sheet, and hoists mainsail and jib; "and, 

 by the time the cook has swallowed his coffee, is walk- 

 ing the sharpie up to her anchor. The tide is full, the 

 light breeze fair, and the upper rim of the rising sun is fast 

 beginning to gleam through the orange groves and turkey 

 oaks that adorn the little town of Duneden as the cook lays 

 coffeepot and cups aside to take up the role of for'ard hands 

 or crew. The anchor is peaked and the captain performs the 

 unsailorlike operation of shoving her nose off with a setting 

 pole that the jib might fill, while the crew takes the wheel 

 (represented by a crooked live oak stick), and the sharpie 

 begins to go as she looks, straight toward the tall tripod that 

 marks the entrance to Big Pass, five miles distant. 



There is no need to follow the tortuous channel with its 

 puzzling array of tripods, red boards and black crosses, 

 which often fog even old coasters, for there is a rise of four 

 feet on the shoals, and the sharpie only draws sixteen inches 

 with her centerboard up. We can give her two feet of 

 board safely, to hang on by. Very pleasant summer sailing 

 it is on these iuner waters, protected on one side by a line of 

 keys and on the other by the main land. Not adventurous. 

 No exciting thrashes to windward. There is danger — of get- 

 ting stuck on the mud flats — and a light, serviceable setting 

 pole becomes an indispensable nautical instrument when 

 sailing among the Florida keys. From the North Anclote 

 Key to Punta Rassa it is nearly all inside work, and the less 

 water a cruiser draws the better for the comfort of the crew. 

 Anything of the cutter type would be apt to spend half her 

 time beam-ended on t he flats. About the best cruiser I know 

 on this coast is a yacht owned at Manatee. She is 19 feet 

 long and has 10 feet beam, works well to windward and is 

 very fast. 



An hour of smooth sailing took the sharpie past the tri- 

 pod at the entrance of the Pass. Fifteen minutes more and 

 she swung to her anchor at the head of the Pass, with her 

 stern line fast to the last mangrove at the outer end of the 

 Pass, where there was a broad, free outlook over the crisp 

 salt waves of the Gulf and a clean white beach within step- 

 ping distance of her starboard gunwale. The tide was flow- 

 ing through from seaward, and large schools of mullet were 

 3warming in to feed on the flats, carrying a visible wave 

 ahead of them as they came, and constantly leaping out of 

 water to escape the redfish and tarpon that prey on them 

 night and day unceasingly. And these, too, have their turns 

 at sereal gymnastics when the sharks, that attend on every 

 school of mullet, make an indiscriminate dash at the whole 

 array. The leap that a tarpon will make with a shark after 

 him is almost marvelous; and I think he generally gets away, 

 leaving bis enemy to take it out of redfish and mullet. 



As the intention was to spend an entire day and night at 

 the Pass, stores were landed, and the captain volunteered to 

 get breakfast while the crew took a plunge in the bright, 

 clear water that was bubbling past the beach. "Don't go 

 out in deep water, and keep an eye to windward," said the 

 captain. "These passes are the hunting grounds of sharks." 

 The crew "shucked" himself and plunged under the counter 

 of the sharpie, came up, shook the water out of his eyes, and 

 struck out. Then he altered his mind suddenly— and struck 

 out for the beach at his best speed and with much splashing 

 withal. For he had seen the black, sickle shaped fin of a 

 man-eater coming his way swiftly, and he is a man who has 

 a high respect for his legs, depends a good deal on them, in 

 fact; so he landed rather hastdy, and as be turned to look, 

 there were the ugly jaws and cruel eyes of a shark within a 

 yard of the beach. The crew muttered "dammim" — 

 "But nothing else; the time for words was o'er." 

 Provision boxes, blankets, guns and canoes were snugly 

 berthed in the shade of leafy mangroves, and the captain 

 had the breakfast ready by 8 A. M. There was nothing 

 specially notable about the breakfast, unless it may be the 

 appetites with which it was eaten. Bacon, eggs, hardtack, 

 butter, potatoes and coffee. But in outing there should be 

 fish or game at each meal, a3 the crew ventured to remark. 

 He also mentioned the fact that he had good fishing tackle 

 along, and intended to launch the Bucktail after breakfast 

 for an hour's trolling up and down the channel. The cap- 

 tain volunteered some advice. "You can try it if you like, 

 but, if I were you, 1 wouldn't. You can hook a redfish, no 

 doubt, and he is as likely to weigh thirty to forty pounds as 

 less. Then what becomes of your tackle? And if you hook 

 a smaller one that you can handle, the sharks will mitten on 

 to him as soon as they see him in trouble, and way goes the 

 whole business. Wait till the tide goes out and you will see 

 the flats speckled with beach birds, snipe, plover, curlew 

 and others. Working the Rushton as you do with the one- 

 handed paddle and sitting flat on the keelson, 1 should think 

 you mi°b.t sly up to a flock of birds and rake enought at one 

 pop to supply the camp all day. Meantime we can take in 

 some surf bathing and pick up all the shells we want on the 

 outer beach." ^ ^ 



The proposition seemed so reasonable that it was assented 

 to at once; and dishes were quickly cleared, stowed away 

 and a dense smudge started to windward of the camp to 

 drive the key mosquitoes, which were getting bad, and the 

 party started for the head of the Pass. . 



On rounding the point where the channel begins a sight 

 met the eyes of the crew that made him clutch his gun ner- 

 vously and long for the power to make himself invisible. 

 For on a long, low sand spot that run off from the shore 

 diagonally, there was such an aggregation of shore birds as 

 one seldom sees. There was a fine and varied assortment. 

 Snipe, plover and curlew, brown and white sickle bills, 



sheerwater, willet, etc., all flanked by a solemn-looking line 

 of pelicans. But there was nothing whatever to blind the 

 approach of the gunner, and a man — even a small man — 

 looms up so ridiculously large on a background of white 

 sand. The crew dropped flat and spread himself thin as 

 three shilling molasses, but in vain. They took flight while 

 he was far out of shot and left the shore birdless. A couple 

 of hours were spent very pleasantly gathering shells and 

 splashing in the surf and tben back to camp. The tide was 

 already running out strongly, and wherever the flats were 

 bare the birds were gathering rapidly. They came from all 

 quarters and seemed quite tame, not having been fired at 

 probably, though one shot would be pretty certain to chevy 

 the whole gathering and clear the flats of birds for half a 

 mile in every direction, not to return until next tide. Under 

 such circumstances it seems a pity to shoot, unless the camp 

 be a trifle short on meat. 



There was an extensive flat on the opposite side of the 

 channel that seemed to be a favorite feeding ground for wil- 

 let and plover, and when the tide was low and the birds had 

 gathered in hundreds at least, the Rushton was launched and 

 the crew began to work her slowly and silently over the flats. 

 Sitting low and using only the small one-handed paddle ho 

 was able to get within thirty yards without scaring a bird. 

 Then the paddle was left overboard to tow by its bit of fish 

 line while the gun came slowly to its place, and then there 

 was a roar that sent every bird out of sight in about one 

 minute, all, save Ave unfortunates that got left on the sand. 

 These were fat and tender, and they were sufficient for pres- 

 ent use. The crew paddled over to camp, lamenting that 

 only willet and plover were to be had, while on a distant 

 flat there was a grand flock of roseate spoonbills, looking 

 like a company of soldiers in pink uniform. They are the 

 finest shore birds on the coast, but wary and difficult to ap- 

 proach. Thoy are called pink curlew on-the gulf coast. 



The dinner was a success; and then came the question of 

 how best to fill the time until evening. It may be well to 

 explain that the key, at the south end of which the sharpie 

 was anchored, is about fifteen miles long, and bears the 

 euphonious name of Hog Island. The island is nowhere 

 more than a mile in width, and at the middle narrows to a 

 few yards, with an easy carry across from the bay to the 

 open coast. It is a favorite resort for sailing parties from 

 Anclote and Tarpon Springs, who usually land at the carry, 

 and spend the day picnicking and gathering shells on the 

 outer coast. Like most of the Florida keys it is largely 

 covered with mangrove thickets, but near the south end the 

 land is higher, and here there is a strong growth of live oak 

 and pine, grapevines and cabbage palmetto. This is the 

 pleasantest part of the island, but the distance being rather 

 too great for a day's outing, parties usually land at the carry, 

 six miles above the Pass. To the northward of Hog Island 

 there is open water for five miles, and a strong westerly 

 wind sweeping in from the gulf makes it rough on the bay 

 for small boats or canoes. North of this open space lie the 

 Anclote Keys, the largest of which is six miles in length, 

 with a high, pine-crowned rise and a well of good water. 

 The surf bathing here is excellent, but every party that goes 

 out to the keys for an outing seems to have "shells" on the 

 brain, and the beach at Anclote Keys is not a good place for 

 gathering shells. 



Both at Hog Island and Anclote may be seen the charred 

 remains of a very small settlement. A quarter of an acre of 

 rough clearing, blackened stumps, half-burned logs, etc., 

 denote that somebody has had the temerity to brave the key 

 mosquito in an attempt to live on the keys. You wonder at 

 this, until you are told significantly that there may be worse 

 things than black mosquitoes, tbat the Southern Confederacy 

 in its last years enforced the conscription without mercy or 

 conscience, and that these keys made the very best of hiding 

 places. Here the refugee could smoke the pipe of safety 

 as he calmly watched the searching party row out from the 

 mainland. When they came too near for fun he had only to 

 walk off to a hiding place where a score of men could not 

 find him in a month. But they could and did find his camp, 

 and burned it, usually. Sometimes, not often, they caught 

 him, and it was a hanging matter when they did. If the 

 Confederate service was worse than a life on the keys of the 

 gulf coast it must have been bad enough, that is, in mosquito 

 time. 



July and August are the mosquito months, they will tell 

 you. But the black mosquito is omnipresent and ubiquitous. 

 He will come buzzing around your head in a warm camp on 

 nights when the thermometer stands at 28°, and you need 

 not take the trouble to put up mosquito bars. He will go 

 through the cloth like a flea, and he always gets to business 

 on the instant of his arrival. He is poisonous, virulent, per- 

 sistent, and oh, so numerous. He renders the Florida keys 

 uninhabitable, which, but for him, would be most debghtf ul 

 summer resorts. In short, the black, or key mosquito, is the 

 demon of the mosquito kingdom. 



The cook did not know this, though he thouaht he knew 

 all about mosquitoes. He had fought them in Michigan, in 

 Jersey, and even in the Amazon Valley, and had always 

 pulled through in pretty good shape with the aid of punkie 

 dope and nets. Was it likely he was going to be beaten on 

 a shallow, skiffy coast like this? And so, setting aside wiser 

 and wider knowledge, he insisted that the sharpie should 

 anchor in the channel, some 300 yards from the nearest key, 

 where one could see the sun set goldenly, gloriously, oyer 

 the tumbling breakers of the outer reef, and watch the im- 

 mense schools of fish that come in through the pass with 

 each incoming tide. 



"We will anchor just where you say," said the skipper. 

 "But 1 think you will pine for wider water." 



The sharpie dropped quietly down the channel, and was 

 anchored just as the cook desired. And the sunset was a 

 glorious one; and the fish came on in ponderous, dense 

 schools, so heavy that speed seemed impossible, and escape 

 from their numerous foes a helpless attempt. 



Also, as darkness came down on the face of the waters, it 

 brought such clouds of black, active little mosquitoes as that 

 misguided cook had never before seen. He tried a smudge, 

 but the vessel was short of the proper material for smudging, 

 and the insects did not mind it in the least. Then he got 

 out an open sack of mosquito netting rigged with a shir 

 string to close around the crown of the hat, while the lower 

 end was to be tucked snugly under the coat collar. And in 

 five minutes the little demons were plentier inside the net- 

 ting than out. Then he tried the fly medicine, composed of 

 tar castor oil and pennyroyal. This he considered unfailing, 

 and he gave himself a most liberal coating on every inch of 

 exposed skin. The mixture was sticky, and in a few min- 

 utes his face and hands were black with the countless thou- 

 sands that got mired therein; and still they came, thicker 

 and faster. They rilled ears, eyes and nostrils; they got in 

 their irritating work in spite of any fly medicine, and they 



