JtWE 10, 1886.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



389 



A WINTER HUNT. 



FOR thirty-six hours had the large flaked snow been 

 driven down by the January wind; and when on 

 Friday night A. It. and myself met, we planned a hunt for 

 the succeeding day. Rabbits were plenty and pinnated 

 and ruffed grouse were common. If the thermometer was 

 below 20° we were not to go, and so the first thing early in 

 the morning was to look at the slender tube of mercury so 

 as to see if we could fulfill our bright hopes for the day. 

 How gloomy I felt to see the mercury away down in the 

 morning, but bound to at least try it anyhow, I shouldered 

 game bag (filled witb grub) and gun and started to R.'s. He 

 met me at the door, and with "We'll go. anyhow" at sight 

 of me, he started back and soon reappeared all prepared. 

 Without a word we trudged along until the last house on the 

 limits of town was passed, and then we both exclaimed, 

 "Whe w, but don't the wind hum." 



Sweeping across the level prairie it gathered great drifts 

 of snow and hurled them against the snow fences near the 

 railroad track on which we were walking. Well bundled 

 up we easily kept warm by fast walking, but soon decided to 

 leave the track and cut across fields to the grounds, so mak- 

 ing a big jump into the drift at the edge of the railroad em- 

 bankment we tug, roll, stumble and crawl through the drift. 

 Going due north we had to face the wind, which we at first 

 slightly dislike, but soon feel fully repaid when a great flock 

 of chickens start up with that whiz and whir that tightens 

 every muscle and on which all thoughts are instantly entered. 

 Having a favorite single barrel, it brings down one an in- 

 stant slow in taking flight, while R., having a more 

 difficult show, emptied his two loads, in order to be sure of 

 the one he first chose. 



Not having wanted to take the dogs through the storm, 

 we take their place and dig our victims out of the drift into 

 which they dove. Having seen the rest settle in a neighbor- 

 ing cornfield, we followed then, and by keeping a large hill 

 between we were able to get near them. But as we came 

 near the top of the hill we were obliged to walk openly 

 toward them. As we saw them they took flight, and being 

 out of range we were obliged to retrace our steps. 



Seeing brush and timber half a mile in advance, we tried 

 a short cut that led across a valley or ravine. As we ap- 

 proached the cut, R. gave a big jump trying to cross it. It 

 was filled with snow and he sunk up to his arm pits, while 

 his feet paddled in a puddle under the snow. Slowly ap- 

 proaching him, by the aid of a scarf I succeeded in pulling 

 him out, and, taking another path, we went on. 



Going through a large field of hazel brush we saw no 

 rabbits whatever ; so we concluded that, on account of the 

 storm, they had all taken to the timber, as they generally do. 

 Facing toward the tall trees, we plunged through the im- 

 mense drifts. On reaching the edge of the woods we stopped 

 at an old straw stack to eat dinner, or rather our frozen 

 bread and meat. Digging in the straw, we soon were rested 

 and warmed, and then we started on our fun. 



Through the timber ran a small stream. We each took a 

 side and walked down, beating the brush; we came to bunny, 

 buried in some great heap of twigs and branches; he would 

 wait until we knocked at his door, by kicking it, then out he 

 would pop to run about thirty feet only to turn a somersault 

 into the soft snow. We would sight a little in front of their 

 ears and paying no attention to brush, we were very sure to 

 get our meat. Going for about a mile in this way I suddenly 

 came upon tracks in the snow. Calling R. we went on very 

 slowly lor about fify feet, when up with a "wheet, wheet, 

 whirr" went a ruffed grouse. I shot and then R., but he flew 

 on unharmed on account of the trees. Stooping and looking 

 along the surface we saw seven gathered near together, all 

 attention. Hastily reloading we couuted and shot, not 

 wishing to take them on the wing among the trees. Three 

 remained while the rest went on, two of which we afterward 

 got. Returning we got a few more rabbits, and as we 

 reached town after the worst walking 1 ever had, chilled and 

 very near played out, R. had 5 rabbits, 1 chicken, 2 pheas 

 ants, while I had 6 rabbits, 1 chicken, 3 pheasants; R. 8, 

 myself 10; so the single barrel held its own stoutly against 

 the double. Canvasback. 

 Osceola, la. 



Foreclawof the Big Grizzly.- Editor Forest and Stream: 

 I send you an exact size sketch of the foreclaw of the big 

 grizzly which "P.," your most able correspondent and Rocky 

 Mountain hunter, killed, and a full account of which ap- 

 peared in your columns in the Christmas number. "P." 

 sent me this claw just before the time of your publication, 

 as a gift and curiosity. It is referred to in his article and I 

 think a published sketch of it will prove interesting and 



furnish an item of authentic history for the naturalist. The 

 boys and the beginners with the rifle and at hunting will 

 look upon it with a kind of cold shudder, and the city and 

 village "expert" will have to admit that there is no "tender- 

 foot" about this bear nor about "P." either. I often see, 

 Mr. Editor, your two young half-grown grizzlies in the 

 Central Park menagerie. In their new iron-grated cage 

 they always attract crowds to see them. There are other 

 species of bear mixed with them, but there are none whose 

 claws seem more striking than theirs. As they have access 

 to a hole in the rock for'sleeping, and the privileges of climb- 

 ing the rock by day, it is presumable they sometimes imag- 

 ine they are in their native mountains themselves, and thus 

 for the moment they appear to be as "happy as two young 

 cubs."— Maj. H. W. Merrill. 



Mr. Prtn-gle's Snipe Score. — A correspondent wishes 

 full details of Mr. Pringle's famous snipe score in Louisana 

 some years ago. Can any of our readers furnish the infor- 

 mation? 



The Standakt Shooting Club, of Denver, Col. , is an 

 organization of sportsmen, who have secured the exclusive 

 shooting privileges on certain lakes on the land of J. W. 

 Bowles, Esq , about one and one half miles west of Littleton, 

 Colorado. The club has erected a comfortable, commodious 

 club house, with bunks and bedding and necessary kitchen 

 utensils, and sufficient stable room; has planted wild rice 

 and erected blinds, and has decoys and other accessories. 

 The lease of its lakes runs for five years from 1884, with 

 privilege of extension for a like term. While the house and 

 grounds are neither large or elegant, they are comfortable 

 and sufficient, and while it is not believed the game will be 

 seriously depleted by our members, a great deal of genuine 

 sport is afforded. The club as an organization, and its in- 

 dividual members, have materially aided in securing proper 

 game laws, and insisted upon their strict enforcement. 



How Long do Foxes and Hounds Ron? — A New York 

 fox hunter has printed a statement that red foxes in his sec- 

 tion run before their best hounds from twelve to forty-eight 

 hours. Pray, how fast can any animal run after he has been 

 running forty eight hours? In Virginia all the fox hunters 

 who catch red foxes will tell you that if a pack of hounds 

 fail to run into reynard or to run him to earth within six 

 hours of constant running he goes scott free that day. Some- 

 times an old red will run straight away thirty or forty miles 

 and throw out all the huntsmen and all the dogs except a 

 few of the stoutest and fleetest; but you can never prove by 

 any one that that fox was caught. A long fox chase, that is 

 to say, a chase of twelve hours, means slow dogs, and they 

 can't catch a red fox unless a load of lead is thrown into 

 him; and any fox hunter who in this State would swindle a 

 fox out of his life by shooting him would be inexorably 

 tabooed by all the fraternity. But no fox and no hound ever 

 ran forty-eight hours on a stretch.— Red Eye (Virginia). 



Queries About Mountain Sheep and Goats.— Rocky 

 Mountains, Montana. — Editor Forest and Stream: Very little 

 is known about our bighorn (Oms montana) and our goat 

 (Aploeerus columbianus). Now cannot some of your many 

 readers tell us something about their habits? Following are 

 a few questions I would like answered: Are the summer 

 and winter ranges of each different? Which side of the 

 mountains do they stay on most in winter? Which in sum- 

 mer? When does the rutting season begin and how long 

 does it continue? About what time are the young born? 

 What is their principal food? Do they eat much grass? 

 What quadruped is their greatest enemy?— Greenhorn. 



Game Prospects in Texas.— Edna, Tex., May 21. — We 

 are having an exceptional dry season this spring, and the 

 prospect for chickens and quail is very fine. 1 came a dis- 

 tance of twenty-five miles this morning by rail, and saw two 

 broods of chickens in the road, they were about the size of 

 quail and could fly nicely, while the pairs of quail flying up 

 along the road bed were innumerable. Wish you could come 

 down here this fall, 1 could give you all the turkey shooting 

 you wished, and throw in deer for good measure. — Lex. 



The Best Reading for Camp. — Aroostook County, 

 Maine, May 30. — Editor Forest and Stream: I start to-mor- 

 row for a summer's outing in the wilderness — upper St. John 

 and its main tributaries. I shall divide the season into several 

 trips, coming down each trip for a recruit; and copies of the 

 paper will be so nice to take along for reading. I had no 

 reading on my trip up there last summer. I go where 1 will 

 meet none others, roughing it in its fulllest sense (just what 

 I like), my one poler the only companion. — Maine. 



' Appleton, Wis., May 31. — There are a number of ruffed 

 grouse left over here; I saw six different ones in a few hours 

 stroll a few weeks since; one of them was drumming. They 

 were not at all wild. I think deer had a pretty hard winter 

 on account of deep snow. A large herd wintered within 

 five miles of town, but few people here knew of it, and none 

 were killed illegally I believe. — Fur. 



"The Enchanted Summer -Land" is the apt title given 

 by the Chicago and Northwestern Railway to the favored 

 country reached via their line and its connection. A hand- 

 somely printed pamphlet bearing this title and descriptive 

 of the summer resorts, angling and shooting points, is sent 

 out by R. S. Hair, General Passenger Agent, Chicago, 111. 



Sullivan County, N. Y. — Monticello, June 7. — Young 

 partridge and woodcock are very plenty and good shooting 

 can be had in this vicinity next fall. Deer are also quite 

 plenty five miles south of this place on the barrens. Good 

 bass fishing can be had here any time during the summer; 

 all the lakes are well stocked. — C. F. Kent. 



Club Rules. — We have frequent calls for copies of club 

 rules, by-laws and constitutions. Secretaries of gun clubs^ 

 angling clubs and game protective associations wiil oblige us 

 by sending spare copies of their printed rules, that these may 

 be in turn sent to organizers of new clubs. 



Tennessee. — Nashville, May 21. — Bob White can be 

 heard in all directions. With a favorable summer sport will 

 be good here next fall. — Rex. 



PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED. 



Through the Yellowstone Park, on Horseback is the title of a 

 pleasing little book by Gen. George W. Wingate, just published by the 

 O. Judd Company. It is an account of a trip made last summer by 

 the author, in company with his wife and daughter. Instead of fol- 

 lowing tbe ordinary route of tourist travel, the party went to Boze- 

 man, there procured guides, wagons and animals, and made the trip 

 to the Park on horseback, a method which gave tbem great satisfac- 

 tion. The party visited the Mammoth Hot Springs, the Geyser 

 Basins and the Canyon, returning to Bozaman by way of tbe Madison 

 Basin, Tyhee (here curiously spelt Targees) Pass and Henry's Lake. 

 They had a delightful trip, a number of adventures, such as losing 

 their horses and meeting "bad men," and good fishing. After pass- 

 ing out of the Park General Wingate killed a few elk. The book is 

 pleasantly written and the story is told in a simple, attractive 

 fashion. The principal merit of the narrative is that it gives in great 

 detail just what the party took with them, what they found u*eful 

 and what superfluous. It will, therefore, prove a useful book of ref- 

 erence to those who propose for themselves a similar trip through 

 this region. The chapters on'game and on the flora of the Park are 

 by far the least satisfactory in the book, and contain many erroneous 

 statements. That on the rifle, on the other hand, is very useful, 

 tnough we can by no means agree with all the author's conclusions. 



Thirty Cents a Week, at age 25, buys a Life Policy for $1,000 in 

 The Travelers, of Hartford, Conn. Cheapest First-Class Goods in 

 the Market I Apply to any Agent, or the^iome Office at Hartford.— 

 Adv. 



m mi Hivtr fishing. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ng Co. 



THAT OLD BOAT. 



FELLOW angler, if you have the patience to read this, 

 then tell me, does it not agree with a number of similar 

 experiences that you can easily recall as your mind quickly 

 turns back over the pages of memory? Some one has raised 

 great hopes in your mind by telling you of some mysterious 

 lake or pond that very few people ever fish. He describes 

 it, and the wonderful luck he had there, or ought to have 

 had but for some unforeseen accident. After he concludes 

 his glowing account you mentally put this spot down as a 

 place to be visited on the first opportunity. 



After a time fortune favors you and you prepare for the 

 trip. How carefully you plan and what keen anticipation 

 swells your heart. At last, after the journey, you arrive. 

 Perhaps you have come on the cars, perchance been driven, 

 or again possibly it is your own muscles that have carried 

 you with your goods upon you back. No matter, you arrive 

 at the stopping place near by and then descend to the lake. 

 Finally, loaded down with duffle of various sorts, you burst 

 through tbe bushes or struggle through the marsh and stand 

 upon the shore. Tbe lake lies with its shining levels before 

 you. How beautiful it appears to you. Your eye sweeps 

 the shore line, scans the points, explores the various bays and 

 nooks, and you mentally decide on a number of promising 

 spots which you feel quite certain are full of monsters, all 

 eagerly awaiting your bait or fly. And it is almost equally 

 certain that these spots are likely to be some of the very 

 worst in the lake. It is foot till an angler knows his ground 

 that he can feel at all positive on this point. But this is the 

 first time that you have seen this water, and you decide that 

 you will have fine sport. You mentally run over all the points 

 you have heard in its favor, and a bright glow tints the com- 

 ing hour. This is the way an angler always feels when he 

 sees a new lake. His hope always tips the balance of uncer- 

 tainty on the favorable side. 



But, while admiring the lake, you have also been looking 

 for the boat. At last you find it. It looks anything but 

 encouraging. In the first place it has been built with an 

 utter disregard of all principles of natural science. Here 

 are no "wave line" theories exemplified, it is all rule of thumb 

 and a very bad rule and thumb it must have been. Then it is 

 made of huge planks an inch thick and though it may weigh 

 only 300 pounds now, it will weigh four tons at least after 

 you have pulled it a couple of hours in tbe teeth of the wind, 

 with those short stumpy oars, one of which weighs a pound 

 more than the other and is a foot longer, and on a seat which 

 is sure to be too high or too low. In one case you will 

 either bark your knuckles on your knees, or in the other 

 nearly crack your back at every stroke. Then you can 

 easily see that as it has no skag and witb those unequal oars, 

 it will steer sixteen ways of a Saturday, and your chief en- 

 deavor will be to keep it straight. This, however, is no easy 

 task, for the old thing being so heavy, when it begins to 

 turn it is bound to keep on doing so. At first it turns so 

 slowly that you think you can easily check it, but it keeps 

 on in spite of every effort, swinging faster and faster till it 

 suddenly whirls with a velocity that takes your breath away 

 and makes your head swim. 



But 1 have become so interested in describing its vagaries 

 afloat, that I have forgotten to tell how it got there. 



When you find it on the shore with its remnauts of gray 

 or red paint on the worn planks, it is half full of water. 

 The bottom has various relics on it, such as bleached 

 worms, some dead fish, an old tin bait can, some rusty tackle 

 and other things which evince a former occupancy. Per- 

 haps there is even a minnow or two swimming around in it, 

 who survived the ordeals of the last excursion. 



When you see the water your heart sinks. The boat will 

 leak! But no! you recall the heavy shower of the day be- 

 fore. That is it! there is where the water came in! The 

 boat has been so well soaked that you decide it cannot leak. 

 Vain hope! wait till you have been afloat an hour or two. 



But you must get the water out. You take the tin can 

 and commence bailing. After ten minutes steady work, 

 which has produced no apparent effect, you decide that you 

 will turn the boat up and dump it out. The rest come to 

 help, and finally, after a struggle which makes every muscle 

 in your back, arms and legs crack, she is on her side and the 

 water running out. After letting her down, you notice the 

 seats are all wet and you will have a chilly feeling when you 

 sit down. Finally the duffle is aboard and you are off. 

 Then you notice those little eccentricities that I mentioned 

 above. 



After you row a while or have been at anchor a short 

 time, you notice a thin thread of water creeping along the 

 side or bottom. She leaks! never mind, we can keep it un- 

 der with the bailer. About this time you get a fish. This 

 raises your hopes to fever heat. He is small, but the big 

 fellows will be along in a minute. He is quickly taken from 

 the hook and thrown into the bottom of the boat. He re- 

 wards this attention by getting into that wet spot and flap- 

 ping his tail in a way that sends a shower bath over you. 

 Compelled by this annoyance to stop fishing, you hastily 

 kick him up under the forward thwarts and hope he will die 

 there peacefully. For a time all seems well, but soon he is 

 back there again and the process is repeated. This time you 

 kill him and decide that henceforth you will be humane and 

 kill your fish. 



You do for a time and all goes well save that the water in 

 the' bottom is steadily gaining ground and your feet and 

 everything else are getting very wet . You grin heroically 

 and resolve to not mind it. Perhaps the sport has been 

 growing brisk and in a moment of forgetfulness you throw 

 another fish down without first killing him. This time the 

 effect is tremendous. There is now so much water in the 

 bottom that as soon as he strikes it a regular rain commences 

 over every one. "In catching him you get wet all over. And 

 thus the time goes on and mayhap you will have good luck 

 and just as possibly not, but whether you do or not you will 

 be sure to execrate that old boat. 



In concluding I cannot help relating an incident that hap- 

 pened last summer, and which illustrates the above. A 

 party of us were out bass fishing. We had precisely such a 

 boat as 1 have described above. It was divided into three 

 compartments by vertical boards. The middle compartment 

 leaked very badly, and there were about five inches of water 

 in it, in spite of our efforts. I sat at one end, Van, who had 

 been rowing, sat in the middle, over the water, with his feet 

 on the dividing board. Between us, on the second thwart, 



