Dec. 14, 1895.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



511 



beyond doubt migrants, which it is hoped will go this 

 time beyond the danger line. 



And now I may be pardoned f&r changing Mr. Kibbe's 

 "spare the bluebirds for a few years 1 ' into "forever," and 

 for asking if it is necessary that every man and boy who 

 fancies for a few months he has a taste for science to 

 murder such birds as bluebirds, robins and many other as 

 well-known species? 



If it is, then every house in the land may become the 

 workshop of the amateur taxidermist, and knowledge 

 gained at such cost by Audubon, Wilson and other self- 

 sacrificing scientests might as well have died with them. 



iwjju §<ig nnd %mu 



OHIO QUAIL AND HOSPITALITY. 



Massillon, O., Dec. 3.— Editor , Forest and Stream: 

 Anticipation is a wonderful thing; realization is glorious. 

 But how often do we experience both in relation to the 

 same event? In the event which I am writing about I 

 can truthfully say almost always. My friend Bill and I 

 have for several years taken our annual quail hunt 

 among the hills of Coshocton county, and from the time 

 the cool breezes of fall begin to appear until the date of 

 our departure anticipation gets in its work. You know 

 how it is. We talk over the prospects, get our traps in 

 order, take our dogs out for regular exercise in order to 

 harden them for the four or five days of hard work which 

 is before them — and it is hard work, as Coshocton county 

 is one of the hilliest in the State. Oh, anticipation is a 

 wonderful thing. When we are finally landed at our 

 destination realization comes to the front "with both 

 feet;" of course we do not always realize quite what we 

 anticipate — who does? But we always have a glorious 

 time and have never yet failed to bring home at least a 

 fair bag. 



In the neighborhood of our shooting grounds the 

 farmers are nearly all Germans, good old-stock Germans, 

 who are chock full of genuine hospitality, who treat you 

 with the utmost kindness during your stay — the kind that 

 will drop farm work in order to accompany you and point, 

 out the best grounds, and who seem to consider it an act 

 of condescension on your part for honoring |,them with a 

 visit. Bill has been huDtiug in this locality for eight or 

 ten years, and is so popular with our German friends that 

 his yearly visit is looked forward to with pleasure, and 

 nothing is too rich for him in their estimation. The first 

 time he invited me to accompany him on this trip we 

 arrived at Chili station on the C. C. & S. R. R. about 

 noon, and started to hunt across country about three 

 miles to the farm of Valdine Huprich, away up among 

 the hills, one of Bill's old standbys. 



When we arrived it was about 2:30 and Huprich and his 

 sons were in the field husking corn, but good old Mrs. 

 Huprich welcomed us with genuine German hospitality, 

 and going into the yard let out a peculiar yell which 

 echoed from hill to hill. It was immediately answered 

 by another which had a deep, masculine tone and seemed 

 to come out of the clouds. This was the signal from wife 

 to husband that he was wanted at the house, and in a few 

 moments I beheld a very tall form stalking down the hill 

 through the fields, and was soon introduced to the pro- 

 prietor of the farm. "Veil, poys, haf you bad your din- 

 ner?" said he. "Come, mutter, hurry up dot dinner for 

 Pill und his frient." We were soon doing full justice to a 

 square country meal, after which Pap, as Bill called him, 

 said, "Veil, poys, got dem goons retty und I go mit you. 

 Hay, Jake!" he yelled to his eldest son, a strapping young 

 fellow of 25, "Pill's here. Youst led dot husking go und 

 go oud mit him after dem guails." 



As soon as Jake arrived we started up the hill back of 

 the barn, Jake and 1 in front, Pap and Bill behind. As 

 we were about to enter a stubble deld on top of the hill 

 the old man remarked, "Say, dot's p9tter you led Pill got 

 in front." 



I "caught on" at once, for Bill had told me previously 

 that the old man imagined that there was only one man 

 on earth that could slay quail, and his name was Bill, so 

 I stepped aside with Jake and allowed Bill and Pap to set 

 the pace. We soon became separated after entering the 

 field, and while Bill and his backer were at one end of 

 it, Jake and I took the center, and before I knew it I 

 stumbled into a small covey of birds. I luckily knocked 

 two down — one with each barrel. Jake opened his eyes 

 in astonishment, but said nothing. Calling Bill, he came 

 up to us and I told him where I had marked them down 

 on a hillside in the woods. We started after them, and 

 to my intense delight Bill missed his first three clear, 

 while I added two more to my string. All this in plain 

 sight of Pap. About this time Pap remembered that he 

 had something to do at the house, and left us. 



That night when we came in we had nine birds, and as 

 we took them from our pockets preparatory to hanging 

 them in the spring house, Pap came down and asked Jake, 

 "How many pirds vas you got?" Jake replied : "Nine." 

 "Who kilt dem?" "Pill kilt two und dis feller kilt sefen." 

 Pap looked at me, and in a voice which plainly showed 

 that he was disappointed that his idol was ruthlessly shat- 

 tered, but still betokened admiration for the victor, said: 

 "Say, by Chimminy ! you can shoot a liddle, can'd you?" 



This is where I wiped Bill's eye, and while I felt that I 

 had ingratiated myself into the heart of the honest old 

 German, I knew that Bill was the pre eminent individual 

 . who held the admiration of Pap Huprich, and fully real- 

 ized that he had strong hopes of his favorite redeeming 

 himself on the morrow; nor was he disappointed, for 

 while my chum did not have a ma jority of 7 to 2, he had 

 a slight one which was sufficient to please the old man. 

 But I have been just conceited enough to imagine that 

 Pap has since divided his stock of admiration about equally 

 between Bill and L 



This year we have been listening to the reports of 

 brother sportsmen who have hunted in other directions 

 with many misgivings. They have all reported bad luck, 

 few birds and hard hunting, but as Bill said, "It's a 

 mighty cold winter that will freeze them all out among 

 the hills and rocks of old Coshocton county," and we 

 have found it so. The birds suffered last winter without 

 doubt. Farmers tell of birdB frozen on the ground ; but 

 there was seed left, and we found enough to give us 

 three days of fair shooting; and if this winter 

 is not too severe we will have enough birds next sea- 

 son to give us plenty of fun, for we are not game hogs, 

 and are satisfied with, a moderate number of birds fin 



our last trip, which is just ended, we killed forty-six 

 quail, two pheasants and twelve rabbits. Not a big bag, 

 it is true, but enough to satisfy us. For my part I never 

 could see the sense in killing forty or fifty birds a day for 

 several days when they are not needed particularly. As 

 for rabbits, if we had taken a rabbit dog or two we could 

 have killed a cartload, as they are very numerous in that 

 section this year. Pheasants are unusually scarce, only 

 four being seen on the entire trip, although we hunted 

 some excellent grounds, where in former years Bill has 

 bagged large numbers. But the real pleasure of a trip of 

 this kind to a man who is "chained to business" and can 

 only get away once a year lies in the anticipation, the 

 genuine hospitality of his farmer friends, the entire 

 absence of the cares of business and the realization of his 

 hopes of a moderate bag of brown beauties, and last, but 

 not least, the gratification he feels when he is able to 

 present a few of his trophies to his non-hunting friends. 



Almas. 



AN AROOSTOOK MOOSE. 



I had been encamped on the shore of Grand Lake Se- 

 bois, in Aroostook county, Maine, for some days, and my 

 guide and I had heard moose at intervals sounding their 

 calls and challenges to each other from the neighboring 

 ridges and across the waters of the lake. But, though we 

 had ourselves on several occasions sounded the cow's call 

 to the monarch of the woods, both at sunset and at dawn, 

 we had not succeeded in obtaining a sight of the animal 

 with which I so earnestly desired a short interview. 



Finally Alvah (my guide) and I decided to penetrate a 

 little further into the woods, and, after an early break- 

 fast the next morning, we packed our blankets, extra 

 clothing and sufficient provisions for several days into our 

 canoe and started. Our intention was to ascend Wad- 

 leigh Brook, one of the tributaries of Grand Lake, look 

 for signs and call at such places as seemed to promise a 

 successful result. 



My rifle was a new one, a half magazine .45-90 Win- 

 chester repeater which I had purchased especially for this 

 trip in deference to the wishes of Maine guides, whom I , 

 have frequently heard state that they preferred to have 

 sportsmen carry [rifles of large caliber when hunting 

 moose. Alvah carried no rifle, for I did not mean to let 

 anyone share with me the honor of shooting my first 

 moose. The sequel showed that the caliber of my rifle 

 was none too large. 



We paddled up the lake for about a mile and then en- 

 tered the mouth of Wadleigh Brook. We ascended the 

 brook for two miles, and while I kept a lookout for any 

 stray bull that might be crossing the stream or the bogs 

 through which the brook wound its way, I cast a piece of 

 pork rind with a light rod here and there among the lily- 

 pads in an unsuccessful search for pickerel, with which 

 the stream abounds in summer, but which seemed to 

 have sought the deeper waters of the lake at the approach 

 of cold weather. 



At the end of the two miles we found a barrier where 

 the stream found its way over a rocky bed and where the 

 water was too low for the canoe. Exploration resulted 

 in finding a carry of about one-quarter of a mile in 

 length, and after having lunched we transported the 

 canoe and impedimenta, noticing fresh moose tracks on 

 the carry, and re-embarked. At this place the banks 

 showed many large hoof prints in the mud, and making 

 a mental note of one promising place at least, for a 

 "call," we continued our voyage of investigation, observ- 

 ing that there were low wooded ridges on both sides of 

 the stream, from which they were separated by wide 

 bogs — ideal conditions for moose. 



About 100yds. above the carry the brook divided, and 

 we had time before sundown to ascend both branches. 

 We saw no more fresh moose tracks, although the lily- 

 pads had been so completely cropped that the projecting 

 stems resembled a stubble field. Their ends were shriv- 

 eled, however, and their height above the water level 

 showed that the cropping had occurred some weeks be- 

 fore, when the water was higher. 



By this time the sun was getting low and we hurriedly 

 paddled back to the "fork" in the brook above the-carry 

 where we had noticed the tracks, and took up our station, 

 backing the canoe up against the bank. The sun by this 

 time had set in an unclouded sky, and it was growing 

 cold. There was no wind, and there was no sound to dis- 

 turb the impressive stillness that intensifies the solemnity 

 of the woods as night approaches. Alvah took up his 

 birch bark horn and sounded the call. 



Low as the notes were given, since a bull might be so 

 near as to readily detect any false tone or cadence, the 

 sound of the two preliminary deep grunts, with the fol- 

 lowing long-drawn "low," slowly increasing and swell- 

 ing in volume to its height, and then gradually dying 

 away without any lowering of the pitch, was so fai- 

 reaching that it aroused the echoes of the hills, which 

 repeated the call in softened tones. The echo had hardly 

 died away when there came back to us from the opposite 

 ridge the sound of a deep thump, but so faintly that I 

 could just barely hear it, and Alvah told me, in a low, 

 excited whisper, that a bull moose had answered and 

 was coming. A whispered conversation informed me 

 that the moose was not far off, probably not more than 

 three-quarters of a mile, and that he would be with us 

 presently — the conversation being interrupted by a fre- 

 quent "Hush, do you hear that grunt?" from Alvah, and 

 a confession from me that I did not, but an anxious 

 inquiry whether the moose was approaching. I was 

 assured that he was. 



Presently I felt the canoe shake as if it had a chill, and 

 as the shaking recurred at intervals, I found that Alvah 

 was shivering with cold, not excitement; so I hastily 

 made him don my sweater, for a violent shiver of the 

 canoeman was not conducive to a steady aim by the 

 sportsman. Then we waited, withdrawing the canoe 

 still further under the cover of the bank, and I wished 

 that a life in the city did not have a tendency to dull the 

 sense of hearing. 



After about thirty minutes from the time of the bull's 

 first answer had elapsed, during which twilight had 

 rapidly changed into dusk, the grunts ceased and Alvah 

 told me that the moose was crossing the bog. 



Fifteen minutes more of the nervous tension of waiting 

 and rapidly growing darkness passed, and then we both 

 heard the sound made by a heavy animal in crossing the 

 brook below us, splashing the water and striking the 

 rocks with his hoofs. "With an excited exclamation, 

 Alvah shoved the canoe out into the stream and paddled 

 down, stopping at a point where I could faintly distin- 



guish about 60yds. below us two large black objects 

 standing out in relief between the two banks. 



"Shoot that moose!" from Alvah in a feverishly excited 

 low whisper. 



"Where is he?" from me. 



"Shoot that moose!" was the only reply. 



Afraid to wait any longer, I raised my rifle and three 

 successive cannon-shots broke the stillness,* the bullets 

 being fired at what I found the next morning to be a large 

 bush surrounding a small tree standing where the stream 

 made a bend. 



There was no resulting sound to indicate any effect of 

 my shot and the two black objects were motionless. 



Again, ''Shoot that moose!" from Alvah, this time in 

 hoarser and more excited tones. 



"Where is he?" was my reply. 



"The canoe is pointed at him, can't you see him? He is 

 standing right there, looking at us, shoot!" was Alvah s 

 responsive rejoinder. 



I overlooked the tone of command because of his evi- 

 dent excitement; but as the canoe was pointed at both 

 objects indifferently, I was tempted to laugh at the in- 

 definiteness of the information. Still, as I had fired three 

 times at one of the objects without any result, I decided 

 to try the other one. This time my shot was followed by 

 a commotion, and then, as I could plainly see, the moose 

 turned and, splashing the water at every step, recrossed 

 the brook in the direction whence he had come. I hastily 

 fired two more shots at him while he was crossing, and 

 then I could hear him crash into the alders on the opposite 

 bank and forca his way into them. 



"Did I hit him?" 



"Hush!" 



After an interval, during which I could hear nothing, 

 I was told that the moose was wounded, and we decided 

 to leave the place and return in the morning, as we could 

 not track him in the darkness, while any noise that we 

 made would result only in either causing the moose to run 

 further or provoke an attack which would be dangerous. 



Accordingly we left the place, and passed the night 

 lying wrapped up in our blankets in a clump of cedars on 

 the bank of the stream about three-quarters of a mile 

 away. , 



With the first appearance of light in the east we pad- 

 dled back to the spot where the moose left the brook and 

 entered the alders. We could see new tracks in the mud 

 on the bank, but could find no blood and no signs to in- 

 dicate the direction which he took. With many doubts of 

 ever seeing our quarry again, we began to make circles 

 through the alders in hope of discovering something to 

 guide us. 



In making one of my circles, one wider than that which 

 Alvah was following, I happened to look out over a small 

 open spot in the bog beyond the alders, and saw between 

 the trunks of the low cedar trees which dotted the bog 

 what seemed to me to be the antler of a moose. Closer 

 inspection convinced me that it was, and I saw it move. 

 I called to Alvah, and we both approached the spot. We 

 found the moose lying down and we cautiously advanced 

 toward him. 



He turned his head and looked at us, but although we 

 were not more than 20ft. away he made no demonstra- 

 tion. He was lying in such a position that there was no 

 vulnerable point exposed except his head, which of course 

 I did not wish to injure. 



Concluding that he was unable to rise to his feet, we 

 approached still closer. But we were in error. When we 

 were about 12ft. from him the bristles on his back became, 

 erect, a dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes, and he 

 began to scramble to his feet. With a shout to me to run, 

 Alvah, who was unarmed, himself ran like a deer, and 

 dodged, behind a cedar some yards off. I followed him a 

 short distance and then turned, with the one idea that 

 the moose was on his feet and would escape. But I found 

 that he had no intention of escaping, but wa3 charging 

 upon me, hampered, however, as I subsequently discovered 

 by a broken leg, the result of one of my shots of the 

 night before. I saw nothing at the time that he was 

 charging, however, but a huge black breast, at which I 

 fired as fast as I could work the lever and pull the tng- 



g6 My fourth shot (my seventh in all, for my last three 

 shots of the preceding evening and these four had all been 

 effective) proved fatal, and the moose fell heavily on hi s 

 side. He was lifeless. 



With the blood coursing rapidly through my veins and 

 my heart thumping, I gazed upon my first moose. 



His antlers proved to have a spread of 4ft., and, esti- 

 mated from the number of points, he was about 8 years 

 l ( j j J. E. Hindon Hyde. 



Oct. SO. 



* The silence of the woods can be appreciated from the^act that 

 I subsequently learned that my shots were heard and correctly counte 

 by men working on a dam five miles distant. 



'.Mr. Baird has IaicJs. 



While Mr. Evins Baird, one of the employees at Mt 

 Orford Lodge, was passing along the base of the mountain 

 last Saturday morning, he had the fortune to see the lar- 

 gest deer that these woods produce. As good luck would 

 have it Mr. Baird had his Winchester with him and with one 

 shot the beauty was his. Mr. Baird had to leave his prize 

 in the woods and go out for help to convey the deer home. 

 The dressed meat weighed 2001bs. The antlers measure 

 S2in. from tip to tip and are as fine a pair as this country 

 produces, and can be seen at tne residence of Mr. Miron 

 Gould. Messrs. Harry Hobbs and Butler^Aldrich had 

 the good fortune to run on to Mt. Orf ord^Lodge last Friday 

 night at bed-time, where they were welcome to a hot po 

 of pork and beans and other dainties such as a lumber 

 camp contains. They eased their sore feet and told of 

 deer that they came near getting, then piled into bed feel- 

 ing more comfortable than they would had they not 

 found the Lodge and roosted under a L bush.— Magog 

 {Quebec) Enterprise. 



Mr. Burnham gets a Moose. 



318 Broadway, New York^City, Dec. 8.— Special to 

 Forest and Stream: Jock Darling and self have been out 

 in the Maine forests after moose. I got one 



J. B. Burnham. 



The Forest and Stream is put to press each iceefc on Tuesday 

 Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at ih« 

 latest by Monday and as much earlier as practicably, 



