S48 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



TMay 27, 1886. 



Death of the "Spook" Grouse.— Toledo, 0., May 3 — 

 Editor Forest and Stream: With much regret I am com- 

 pelled to announce the death of the famous "spook grouse" 

 of Alliens, Greene county, New York. Mr. Brady, its 

 owner, kindly consented to loan me the bird, which he sent 

 by express on the 27th ult., and he arrived in Toledo the 

 evening of the day following. The bird appeared sleepy and 

 stupid'on arrival,' but the following morning was placed in 

 an outdoor coop, where he still appeared to feel dull and 

 sluggish. The next morning, Friday, on going out to the 

 coop I found him (I think it was a male) lying on his back 

 dead, having been in my hands alive barely twenty-four 

 hours. The body was returned to Mr. Brady with the 

 request that he would send to you for examination. While 

 I deeply regret that the bird died on my hands, he did not 

 seem in good health when received, and his head had a 

 wound on top not fully healed, indicating some previous con- 

 finement. He weighed at death but fifteen ounces, and was 

 so thin that the skin had worn off the point of the breast 

 bone, I am very anxious to ascertain, if possible, the cause 

 of the bird's death. I cannot think it possible he died 

 through anything occurring in the short time 1 had him. — 

 Jay Bebe. 



Central Lake, Mich. — House wrens appeared on the 

 15th of May.— Kelpie. 



§mt[t §xg m{A §n$t> 



THE TRAJECTORY TEST. 



npHE full report of the Forest and Stream's trajectory test of hunt- 

 iug rifles has been issued in pamphlet form, with the illustra- 

 tions and the tabular summary, making in all 96 pages. For sale at 

 this office, or sent post-paid. Price 50 cents. 



INVEIGLING A GOBBLER. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I wrote you a short time ago of my intended wild gobbler 

 hunt. Well, 1 went; and before me as I write lies a trophy 

 of which any hunter might be proud — a heavy nine-inch 

 beard and a tuft of feathers whose matchless sheen of bronze 

 and black and green and gold and blue and flame, would 

 make the proudest bronze gobbler in America ashamed of 

 himself. I have killed wild turkeys in different parts of the 

 South and West, but have never seen any whose plumage 

 would at all compare with that of several old gobblers it was 

 my good fortuue to kill in the valley of the Tennessee River 

 in north Alabama. Two in particular, killed near the same 

 place, but at intervals of several years, had plumage of inde- 

 scribable brilliancy and beauty. They perhaps belonged to 

 the same family. I will send you a specimen of the feathers 

 plucked from different parts of the body of my last victim, 

 that you may form some idea of the wonderful richness of 

 his plumage. Prom boyhood a wild gobbler hunt in the 

 early spring time has been to me the veiy highest type of 

 sporting pleasure. 



Often when a boy, more than thirty years ago, down on 

 the banks of the Tombigbee, have 1 rolled out of a comfort- 

 table bed an hour before daylight and hied me away in the 

 depths of the deep tangled forests, the favorite haunts of my 

 game, to there await the coming dawn. All nature is still, 

 but the air is perfumed with the odor of the bursting leaves 

 and flowers, and it is a pleasure to commune with nature in 

 such an hour. But I mean business, and with ears strained 

 to catch every sound, I watch the stars grow paler, indica- 

 tive of the opproaching daylight. Presently the redbird 

 whistles his matin note and I know the dawn has come. 

 How eagerjy I listen now, for I know full well that if an old 

 gobbler is within a mile of me it is time he were beginning 

 to make his morning salutations to the rising sun. I love 

 music, but I had rather hear the thrilling notes of an old 

 wild gobbler, as from the top of some giant oak, deep down 

 in the forest, he heralds the dawn of day with his exultant 

 gobble, than to listen to the best orchestra in America. Ah, 

 how they make the blood leap in the veins of a hunter. He 

 knows the nature of his game, and he also knows right well 

 that in order to bring him to bag, the best skill of which he 

 is possessed must be brought into play. 



Wild gobbler hunting is a science, and to be successfully 

 followed requires skill, patience and experience. They are 

 perhaps the wariest of all the American game birds, quick 

 of sight and hearing, forever suspicious of danger, and 

 always on the alert; it is an accident if you stumble on one, 

 and an inexperienced hunter is wasting time in attempting 

 his capture with the "arts deceptive," especially if he tries 

 his winning ways" on one that has once been fooled and shot 

 at. The very difficulty of his capture makes him the 

 worthier prize, and the wariness of the game stimulates the 

 ambition of the sportsman. There is one thing that adds 

 greatly to the enjoyment of gobbler hunting in the early 

 spring. They are comparatively local in their habits, and 

 their gobbling in the mornings, before leaving their roosts, 

 can be heard at long distances. Their whereabouts can thus 

 be readily ascertained, and the hunter is not left in doubt as 

 to t he presence of his game, and when once located it becomes 

 purely a question of skill as to whether he succeeds or not. 



Old gobblers are inclined to be solitary in their habits, 

 generally roosting alone, but in the neighborhood of the hens. 

 The main point of advantage is secured by getting near their 

 roosting tree before they leave the roost, which they rarely 

 do until after sunrise. It is a dangerous operation to attempt 

 to approach one on the roost after daylight. His quick eyes 

 and ears will almost invariably detect your approach, and 

 when he does he does not stand on the order of his going, 

 nor waste any time in arranging his toilette before he puts a 

 half mile of forest between you and himself. The skillful 

 hunter will select a place about two hundred yards distant, 

 and after his nerves are quiet, will give a gentle yelp or two 

 with his call just loud enough for his gobblership to hear. 

 He will let you know he hears you. for in a moment he will 

 answer with a lustier gobble, and if your ears are good you 

 will hear the roaring bur-r-r-rr of his wings as he struts upon 

 the limb. Look out now, for unless he has been hunted and 

 fooled before, you will hear him launch his ponderous body 

 from the limb and he will strike the ground very near your 

 hiding place. If you are too near his tree he will most prob- 

 ably fly past you, and unless you are a quick wing shot or 

 you are well concealed your chances are gone. I have lost 

 several splendid old fellows in this way. If he is roosting 

 with hens, or if he gets with hens before he answers your 

 call, your chances to entice him away are slim. The hens 

 seem jealous of his attentions, and nine times in ten will 

 lead hi in off in another direction. 



But the hardest customer to deal with is an old gobbler 



who has been fooled a time or two and shot at. To his dying 

 day he will bank largely on discretion. To him gallantry 

 henceforth becomes a secondary consideration. He wiil 

 answer your call, but will march off in an opposite direc- 

 tion, gobbling as he goes, as much as to say to the supposed 

 hen, if you would like to see me you can follow me. Or, 

 as sometimes happens, he will quit gobbling and will make 

 a circuit around you, and before you know it he has taken a 

 view of you from the rear, and his put, put, put as he rapidly 

 disappears notifies you that you have been outwitted. 



The old gobbler that I brought to bag a few days ago was 

 one whose education had not been neglected by local sports- 

 men, and 1 think I gave him a lesson myself once before 

 that he had not forgotten. Myself and a friend had started 

 out before daylight. The morning was calm and bright and 

 balmy and beautiful. Everything was propitious. Standing 

 in the deep, still forest when the first gray streaks of the 

 morning light were struggling in the east with reluctant shad- 

 ows of night, with ears intent, I caught the welcome sound 

 of a gobble near a mile away. Off we started as fast as the 

 circumstances would permit. But we were impeded by the 

 tangled brush and by branches and sloughs of water, and our 

 progress was slow. Every now and then I hear the notes of 

 the old bird in the distance, and on we press. Plainer and 

 plainer come the sounds, and directly we are near enough to 

 be cautious. The daylight is full upon us. My friend goes 

 to the right and I to the left. We are going to take double 

 chances on him. As 1 approach my place I hear him fly to 

 the ground, some hundred and fifty yards away. The woods 

 are very thick with vines and brush and logs, and one can 

 see but a short distance. In a few minutes 1 venture a yelp 

 or two on the call and the old fellow answers me with a 

 lusty gobble, and I distinctly hear the strut of his wings. In 

 a few minutes I yelp again. Another gobble answers, but 

 further away, and I know now I have a wary old bird to 

 deal with. I move up a little and bear further to the left, 

 as he seems to be moving that way. Again T sound the 

 delusive call of his mate. Ah! how he gobbles and struts in 

 response. An old gobbler is like a man, in that he has a high 

 regard for modesty and doesn't like an over-anxious sweet- 

 heart. So I deal cautiously and sparingly with my call. 

 The old fellow is independent, however, and struts and 

 gobbles as if to intimate that he had a whole harem 

 of hens with him, and if the little lone hen out there in the 

 bushes wanted any fun, she had better come up and join 

 the majority. The little lone hen knew it would not do to 

 attempt an approach, however, and discreetly kept in the 

 background. She was a very modest hen. The old fellow 

 got out of patience because she would not come to him, and 

 started off, gobbling as he went, as much as to say, you can 

 follow if you like. By a flank movement I managed to in- 

 tercept his course, and creeping up behind an old fallen tree, 

 whose upturned roots shielded me from his sight, I managed 

 to get within a hundred yards of him as he passed. He was 

 gobbling every few steps, so that the hen in the bushes might 

 have no earthly excuse for being left. He was walking very 

 deliberately, every few yards stopping to gobble and strut. 

 I could jusl get a glimpse of him through the thick under- 

 growth as he moved along. Taking my call and giving a 

 low yelp, and a few confidential clucks, indicating that the 

 hen in the bushes was about as independent as he was, the 

 old fellow became intensely excited. He got out of the notion 

 of leaving altogether, and gobbled as if he would choke him- 

 self. But still he would not come. He then made a circuit 

 around me, gobbling every few miuutes. I could plainly 

 hear the roar of his wings as he strutted, but the bushes were 

 so thick I could not seem him. Finally he stopped about 

 seventy -five yards from me, as near as I could judge, and 

 for ten or twenty minutes gobbled almost incessantly. That 

 was the most unaccountably independent little hen turkey 

 out there he had ever encountered. A careless little yelp, 

 and a confidential cluck or two was all he could get for all 

 his gobbling and strutting. Curiosity now began to get the 

 better of his discretion and he advanced a few steps, but 

 covered his position, like an old soldier, behind a large stump. 

 He was within sixty yards of me, but for ten minutes he 

 stood behind that stump and gobbled one-time after another. 

 He was very anxious now to see his sweetheart, but she was 

 provokingly indifferent. At last he could stand it no longer. 

 He would risk seeing her at all hazards, and with feathers 

 drawn close to his body, and with sly and cautious tread, 

 he advanced a few paces to the right of the stump and step- 

 ping up on a little mound began prying through the bushes 

 in quest of the little hen that had manifested such indiffer- 

 ence to his lordly attention. I was ready for him. My 

 finger was on the trigger of my Colt's hammerless, and in a 

 moment more the proud old bird fell backward from the 

 little mound too dead to flutter. It bad taken two hours of 

 the best work I could do to bring him to bay; but when I 

 stood over him and admired his grand proportions and the 

 matchless beauty of his plumage I felt proud of my triumph 

 and well repaid for my trouble. H. E. Jones. 



Nashville, Tenn. 



WILDFOWL OF WESTERN STATES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



My article in your issue of Oct. 1, 1885 on wildfowl in 

 domestication, having brought me inquiries from the East in 

 regard to the identity and local and technical names of some 

 of the species therein mentioned, 1 will submit to your 

 readers a short description, from the hunter's standpoint, of 

 each variety known to the West. In this I shall endeavor to 

 confine myself to my own experience or that of my friends 

 and those hunters wtiom I am personally acquainted with. 

 As sportsman, hunter and amateur naturalist I have paid 

 particular attention to the waterfowl of this section for many 

 years, and while my field has been limited to the Illinois 

 River and adjacent lakes and tributaries, yet those are as 

 good huuting grounds as can be found in the West, and it is 

 safe to say that any species of duck not met with there is not 

 likely to be found within the Mississippi valley. 



The impression seems to prevail among some sportsmen, and 

 especially those in the Eastern States, that most varieties of 

 ducks common along the seaboard are not found in the West, 

 or at most but rarely. While this is true of the scoters, etc., 

 it does not by any means apply to the majority of the more 

 edible species; hence the division by some writers into the 

 two classes, inland and seacoast, or fresh and salt water 

 birds, is manifestly incorrect, as the two classes are found 

 here in about equal abundance at the proper seasons. From 

 a hunter's standpoint, I like Long's classification into deep 

 and shoal water ducks better. The deep-water birds dive 

 for food, while the shoal-water class feed on the surface, or 

 where they can reach the bottom with their necks, which 

 are consequently, as a rule, longer than those of the deep- 

 water tribe. * ' 



Then the market shooters and game dealers have another 



system of division by which canvasbacks, redheads, mal- 

 lards and black mallards are known as "large ducks," but 

 each quoted by its proper name; teal constitute a class by 

 themselves, and all other kinds pass as "small ducks" 

 although larger than, and many species nearly as palatable as 

 teal), and bring the lowest price of any. There is a toler- 

 ably regular way of fixing prices in Chicago market, which 

 runs about as follows: Canvasbacks are the highest priced 

 (usually $4.50 to $6 per dozen), redheads next at one-half 

 this price, plus twenty-five cents; mallards just half, then 

 teal about fifty to seventy-five cents less than mallards, with 

 "small ducks" ranging from one dollar to one dollar and 

 seventy-five cents, but sometimes as low as sixty cents per 

 dozen! It makes no difference what species the "small 

 ducks" consist of, they may be fishy spoonbills or delicious 

 widgeons, or heavy gray ducks, or a mixture of all kinds, 

 yet their names are never given, nor would the average pur- 

 chaser know any more about them if they were. 



For the recognized common names, as well as the scien- 

 tific nomenclature in the following list, I am indebted to the 

 "Bulletin of the U. S. National Museum," published under 

 direction of the Smithsonian Institution (No. 21, 1881). I 

 presume no one will hesitate to acknowledge Mr. Ridgway 

 and Prof. Baird as good authorities. After the technical 

 names I give the various local and popular appellations, so 

 far as known to me. For synonyms, description of plumage, 

 etc. , except what seems absolutely necessary, I must refer 

 your readers to the standard works on ornithology. Within 

 the limits of an article like this only the slightest notice of 

 each species is practicable. 



Whooping Crane (Orus ameri-cana). — This beautiful, 

 large, snowy white bird with black wing-tips I think no 

 longer visits sections this side the Mississippi River. Indeed 

 it is not and never was very plenty anywhere. It has been 

 a number of years since I heard of one being killed in this 

 State. In common with the next species it is a grain-eating 

 bird and not to be confounded with the white herons, which 

 are here universally known as "white cranes." Its flesh is 

 consequently excellent eating, but the species is virtually ex- 

 tinct so far as this section is concerned, and to kill one 

 would be considered phenomenal. Specimens have been 

 taken weighing as much as thirty pounds. 



Sandhill Crane (Grits canadensis), occasionally called 

 brown crane. Like the preceding, this bird has evidently 

 taken a more western path in its migrations, although it has 

 not altogether deserted the Illinois River route. Nearly every 

 spring a few pass over this part of the country, but they 

 rarely stop, even in the bottoms, and it is but seldom one is 

 killed of late years. They always were much more plenty 

 than the whoopers, and I have heard old pioneers say that 

 when they first came to the State, the prairies would some- 

 times be alive with them at the proper seasons. In the fall 

 they sometimes did great damage to fields of corn which had 

 been left standing for winter gathering. Now they do not 

 seem to come in the fall at all, or if they do I fail to see or 

 hear them, and 1 have heard their peculiar cry in the spring 

 when the birds themselves were so high up as to be almost 

 invisible. The sandhill weighs perhaps fifteen pounds or 

 thereabouts and its flesh is preferred by some to that of the 

 wild goose. Both the cranes roost about the wafer but do 

 not feed there, preferring the fields. 



Trumpeter Swan {Olor buccinator). — This king of water- 

 fowl, though by no means common, yet occasionally visits 

 the ponds, lakes and overflowed prairies along the Illinois, 

 especially in the spring, and some seasons is really plenty 

 considering the bird. ^A friend of mine of much practical 

 experience as a market shooter of wildfowl, told me that 

 only last spring there were more swans on the Sangamon 

 bottom (a tributary of the Illinois) than he had seen for years, 

 so they are not decreasing in numbers. Very few are killed, 

 however, as they are hard to get a shot at and the hunters 

 prefer to give their attention to the more certain and profit- 

 able business of duck shooting. This same huuter, while 

 down South on a shooting trip a few winters ago, found a 

 place in the "sunk lands of Arkansas" or New Madrid 

 Swamps where swans were plenty (for them) and the oppor- 

 tunities for shots good, and his party killed quite a number 

 without special effort. And none of your whistling swans 

 (Olor americanus) such as you have on the Atlantic coast, 

 not much bigger than an overgrown goose, but magnificent 

 trumpeters, some of which he thinks would weigh near fifty 

 pounds. It is a matter of record by some one (Audubon?) of 

 a trumpeter that weighed thirty-eight pounds. 



Blue-Winged Goose (Chen cmrulescens). —Also known as 

 the white-headed or blue goose, and by Western huuters 

 called the bald brant. Some seasons these birds are remark- 

 ablv plenty with us, sometimes alighting on the overflowed 

 prairies and cornfields where the stalks are well broken 

 down, again passing over without stopping. Yet compara- 

 tively few are killed, as duck shooting offers so much better 

 prospects of success, and geese of all kinds are so low in 

 price that the market-hunters seldom bother them unless 

 they come in the way, and they are too wary for the novices 

 to do much with. The species can be readily recognized by 

 those who are unacquainted with it by its white head and 

 upper part of neck, the amount of which varies, however, and 

 does not seem dependent on either age or sex. The rest of 

 the plumage is somewhat the color of a blue heron on the 

 sides, deepening into a darker bluish brown on the back and 

 breast. The scapulars and tertials are deep brown (nearly 

 black) along the center, shading off into cream color at the 

 edges, giving that part of the body a beautif ul striped ap- 

 pearance. The young until of more than a year of age (just 

 how old not known, as these birds do not breed in domesti- 

 cation) do not have the white neck and head, and the body 

 is rather a paler blue in color, thus giving rise to the im- 

 pression among the hunters that they are a different variety. 



Snow Goose (Chen Jiyperboreus).— Pure white, with black 

 wing tips and known to our hunters as the white brant. This 

 goose belongs to the same genus as the last described, and 

 very much resembles it in form, habits, etc., and in all save 

 color a description of one applies to the other. In fact, for 

 a long time the blue goose was considered, even by natural- 

 ists, as only the immature young cf the snow goose. Both 

 kinds are more noisy than other species of geese, and gener- 

 ally travel in larger flocks and not so regular order, and mix 

 indiscriminately in the same flock, whether feeding or travel- 

 ing One peculiarity they have in common is worthy of 

 mention, viz., the formation of the bill. The mandibles 

 appear as if they were separated along the edges (which are 

 black in color), thus exposing the "teeth," and making it 

 appear as though the bird was grinning. The young of the 

 snow goose until of proper age is a sort of grizzly gray or 

 grayish white in . color, hence many hunters think this is 

 still another species. 



Amkrican White-Fronted Goose (Anser attifrom gam- 

 beli).—1hia is the standard and universally known brant of 



