312 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



|Dec. 14, 1895, 



INDIANA QUAIL SHOOTING. 



Fob the last twenty years nearly every opening day 

 and sundry following days have found me in the stub- 

 bles and cornfields after quail, and this year was no 

 exception. Opening day this year was drawn blank 

 for the forenoon, but in the afternoon two bevies were 

 found, from one of which seven birds were bagged 

 and two from the other, and on the way home four 

 more were secured from a scattered bevy that had 

 made lots of fun for a couple of shooters during most of 

 the day. They told me afterward that they bagged eight 

 of them and would have got more only the ammunition 

 gave out, as they only had twenty shells apiece. 



Old Joe is still my partner in these quail hunts; he is 

 8 years old and there are plenty of gray hairs among the 

 black about his muzzle, and he whines about the high 

 fences, but he knows more about quail than most men 

 and is as enthusiastic as ever he was. Give him plenty 

 of raw beef every night and he will do all the hunting 

 that one man wilt care to follow. One day in each season 

 Joe and I go to Economy to have a day with George 

 Cook. George is a blacksmith and always too busy to 

 hunt much, but when he does go he enjoys it, Joe and 

 enjoy going with him too, for he seldom misses a fair 

 shot and don't want to do all the shooting either. It is 

 one of our rules that we shoot in turn at single birds, and 

 under no circumstances do we both shoot at a bird the 

 dog points. If the man shooting in bis turn fails to kill 

 it the bird goes free, Of course some birds get away that 

 the other man might kill, but the shooter, knowing that 

 it all depends on himself, and that a miss will be derided, 

 does his very best; so after all tbe bag is probably as large 

 as if we both shot at every bird. In thick brush our birds 

 don't lie well to the dog and one cannot know whether 

 his partner has any show for a shot, so then our rule is, 

 "shoot whenever you see a bird." 



One morning last week Joe and I drove up to George's 

 shop and dared him to go after quail with us. George 

 said he "wouldn't take no sech a dare," untied his apron, 

 put the horse in the stable and said, "Now we'll get a few 

 before dinner." We went to some big cornfields down in 

 the creek bottom and walked up a bevy, while Joe was 

 making a wide cast ahead of us. George got one and I 

 failed to score. We thought we had them pretty well 

 marked down, but after hunting half an hour and finding 

 but one concluded we did not know so well about it and 

 gave them up; but away up the "branch," while bunting 

 for another bevy, we came on to them closely hid in thick 

 grass and weeds. They got up "promiscuous like" all 

 round us. We got in three shots apiece, George killing 

 two and I none. It did not seem to be my day for shoot- 

 ing, for I had shot four times and had four misses, while 

 George had four shots and four birds. We followed alter 

 some of the scattered birds and Joe pointed one. It being 

 my turn to shoot, I had the luck to kill it. Soon after- 

 ward I walked up another and cut a lot of feathers out of 

 it. George downed it as it flew past him, but neither we 

 nor the dog could fi ad it. 



We then started to the house for dinner, About half- 

 way to the house we missed Joe, and after twenty minutes 

 of fruitless looking and whistling for him he backed uuc 

 from under a nearby brush heap and looked at us with a 

 why-don't-you-come-and-kill-this-rabLit exprpssion on his 

 face. I kicked the rabbit out and Ginrge kiiled it, Now 

 I thought the way was rlenr to dinner.; hut Joe pointed 

 another rabbit in the roadside tiedge right in tUe edge of 

 town. George shot at it, but it ra x . cross the field and 

 got under the meeting huu:-^ mo George got a small dog 

 and put it under the house a 'd ferrtt, and in about ten 

 minutes he brought it out. JL'nia mad. us a little late to 

 dinner, but the sausage and the sweet potatoes and the 

 mince pie and coffee were all hot, ami ample justice was 

 done to them and all the other good tbiDgs that George's 

 wife always gets up. 



After dinner we went leisurely down the hill and along 

 the east road. A quarter of a mile from the house seven 

 quail flushed from the edge of a cornfield, flew across the 

 road through a strip of willow bushes and dropped in the 

 short grass of the meadow. Joe pointed every one of 

 them singly. George and I shot by turns. Four of the 

 birds dropped dead, two to each of us. Each of us let 

 one go away badly hurt, both of which Joe found after- 

 ward, one dead and the other unable to fly. The last one 

 of the seven flushed unexpectedly, flying between us, 

 confusing George so he did not shoot, so I fired both bar- 

 rels at it, but too late to stop it. Half a mile further on 

 Joe was trailing a bevy around a clump of thicket, and I, 

 walking round the thicket to meet him, flushed them be- 

 fore he got within 50yds. of them. I got one, but George 

 being on the opposite side, got no shot. There were 

 twenty to twenty-five birds in this lot. They went into 

 thick beech woods full of undergrowth. It was an abom- 

 inable place to shoot, and as we approached the birds they 

 began to get up wild from in front, from right and left, 

 and a number flew out of the trees. For a few minutes 

 there seemed to be flying quail everywhere, and our guns 

 were being used as fast as we could handle them, but all 

 the quail except three got away. We followed the scat- 

 tered ones and got two more, making six bagged from 

 this bevy. 



After this we spent an hour working out an old field of 

 weeds and briars and two more cornfields, but found 

 nothing. We were half-way back to town when Joe 

 pointed at the edge of a strip of weeds covering a hillside. 

 I told George to go down and put them up, while I stayed 

 on the hill to mark them. He got one when they rose, 

 and I marked part of them in weeds thirty rods up the 

 valley and close to the road, while some others went just 

 across the road, dropping into short grass. Joe pointed 

 in the weeds. Two birds flew, two guns discharged at 

 once; there were two little clouds of feathers in the air 

 and two quail fluttering in the middle of the road. After 

 getting these birds Joe got into the field across the road, 

 pointed, and again two birds got up and fell dead in the 

 road. Knowing these birds were safe I did not let Joe go 

 after them, because there were others in the grass close to 

 us. Joe did not agree with me about this and had to be 

 spoken to quite sharply. Before he had gone two rods he 

 pointed again, and for the third time two birds rose, two 

 guns cracked again, but (love for the truth compels me to 

 Bay it) this time two birds flew right on over the hills and 

 out of sight. Joe looked for a moment after the flying 

 birds, turned and ran for the road. Jumping the fence, 

 ha picked up one of the dead birds, brought it and went 

 rignt back for the other one George said, "Aren't you 

 glad I missed my bird?" "I'm just that mean," said I, 



"but rather than acknowledge it I put it t'other end fore- 

 most." "How's that?" asked George. "Why, so long as 

 you missed your bird I'm glad I missed too," said I. 

 "Yes, I see," said George. "That way of viewing it 

 makes a man believe he is big, while the other way makes 

 him feel small." 



Joe pointed four more and we got two of them, and 

 both missed another that flushed while we were both 

 climbing the fence. "How many have we got, George?" 

 "Don't know; let's count." So the pockets were emptied 

 on the grass. "Nineteen, and five before dinner are 

 twenty-four. That is enough, George. Let's go home;" 

 and we went. George said, "Stay till morning;" but it 

 was only seven miles to drive over a good road, and an 

 hour later I was at my own supper table satisfying a great 

 big appetite, while Joe lay in the yard tearing chunks of 

 meat from a beef bone. Altogether it was one of the 

 days that doesn't need to be written down to be remem- 

 bered. 



This is only one of a number of tramps after quail this 

 season. Birds are not very plenty, but always get some. 

 My note book shows that I have been out ten times this 

 season with the following numbers bagged each trip: 14, 

 5, 5, 11, 3, 2, 12, 5, 12, 4. None of the trips except two 

 were over five hours. I am using a full choke gun, and 

 think the bags would have been one-fourth larger with an 

 open patterned gun. 



My note book shows that with a gun that makes a pat- 

 tern of 150 the average of birds killed was 70 per cent. 

 The gun used this season makes a pattern of 310, and the 

 average of kills is 50 per tssnt, Why not continue' using 

 the open gun? Well, for tiro* reasons. One is that it is 

 rather too destructive on the bird3 when as scare as they 

 are now, but the chief reason is that the close- shooting 

 gun requires greater skill and more careful aim, and 

 when it kills the shooter knows he did it about right and 

 feels good over it. So soon as a man masters any weapon 

 or tool he wants to try one more difficult. He is built 

 that way. I felt that' I had mastered the open-shoOting 

 gun, and wanted something that would further tax my 

 skill and add more interest to the sport, and the close- 

 shooting gun did it. I find that with the close gun fewer 

 birds go away wounded, and there are fewer winged ones 

 to chase through the weeds or dig out of brush piles. It 

 is usually a clear miss or a clean kill. 



Some critic says, "If you are so anxious to test your 

 skill, better use a rifle." Now there are two extremes to 

 this question: One is to use a gun that will carry enough 

 shot and spread them wide enough to kill all the birds 

 without the need of any skill, and the other extreme is to 

 use one so close that the shooter can do no good with it. 

 In the first case, he would soon feel that he was complete 

 master of the situation, and lose interest in it. On the 

 other hand, the skill of the shooter must be sufficient to 

 produce fair results or there will be no satisfaction in it. 

 A young friend became so enamored of quail shooting 

 from seeing others shoot them that he has bought a dog 

 and gun and hunted until he had fired 400 shots without 

 bagging a bird, except three that he got by firing into 

 the bevies ae they rose. Here was a man born with the 

 shooting iustinct in him, but after persistent effort, find- 

 ing he could not acquire the skiil, it did not interest him 

 and he gave it up. It was not because his instinctive love 

 of the sport had failed ; for after he had entirely given up 

 shooting he used to follow me in the field, saying he liked 

 to see the sport, if he could not do it himself. 



The elem' n(s of pleasure in shooting are sufficient skill in 

 getting shots and shooting to produce reasonable results, 

 but there must remain the knowledge that there is more 

 skill to be acquired and confidence in the ability to acquire 

 a least some more of it. Besides this, there is the pleasure 

 of getting wild creatures in our power. It is this desire to 

 control or capture, and not the desire to kill, which sends 

 us afield with the gun. If it was simply a desire to kill, 

 it would answer the purpose and be. cheaper to have the 

 birds delivered alive in the back yard and shoot them 

 whenever the killing mania attacked us. Many of us 

 have eagerly pursued game, and after capturing it alive 

 turned it loose, though we pursued it with full intention 

 of killing it. So soon as we got it in our power we lost all 

 desire to hurt it and would have fought in its defense. I 

 once (without dog or gun) chased a rabbit four solid hours, 

 and at last picked it up; during the last half hour of the 

 chase I threw perhaps fifty clubs at it, each one of which 

 I hoped would kill it, but after it was in my hands never 

 thought of killing it; but after holding it a few minutes 

 put it down, and did not even note which way it went. 

 These finer feelings, of course, do not apply to the meat 

 hunter, the man with a killing mania, nor does he ever 

 enjoy the highest and best things in field sports. 



O. H. Hampton. 



More Maine Game Statistics. 



The Bangor & Aroostook Railroad sends us this record of 

 deer, moose and caribou shipped from its stations during 

 the months of October and November, 1895: 



October. November. Total. 



Cari- "° Cari- Cari- 



Shipped From. Deer. Moose, bou. Deer. Moose, bou, Deer. Moose, bou. 



Presquelsle 6 2 3 25 6 18 31 S 15 



Mars Hill & Blaine 2 .. 4 2 .. 4 



Oakfleld 14 12 5 12 1 5 26 13 10 



Island Falls 3 .. ,, 3 



Crystal 46 1 5 2 1 1 48 2 6 



Sherman 14 5 1 35 3 4 49 8 5 



Stacy ville 33 .. .. 88 .. 1 61 .. 1 



Grindstone 40 . . . . 21 1 . . 61 1 



Millinocket 33 7 58 3 3 91 3 10 



Norcross 159 11 2 81 2 240 11 4 



WestSeboois 17 ., .. 23 .. .. 40 



Schoodic 52 4 . . 16 . . . . 08 4 



Brownville 20 .. .. 13 .. .. 33 ... 



Milo 7 1 11 .. 31 1 



Katahdin Iron 



Works 20 1 1 53 1 73 1 2 



Brownville Junc- 

 tion 6 ,,9 .. .. 15 



Monson 3 .. .. 13 .. .. 16 



Greenville .185 16 9 £9 6 2 274 22 11 



Shirley 1 •• 1 



Blanchard 3 .. .. 1 .. .. 4 



Guilford 1 .. .. 1 



Sebec,.,.., 6 „ 6 .. 12 



Total 669 53 37 501 21 31 1170 74 68 



Shipped in Octo- 

 ber and Novem- 

 ber, 1894 479 24 10 315 8 1 3 824 32 23 



During October, November and December, 1894, there were shipped 



from the line of this road 1,001 deer, 45 moose and 50 caribou. 



The Fohhst and Sthbam is put to press each week on Tuesday, 

 Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at the 

 latest by Monday, and as much earlier as practicable. 



TWO WEEKS ON LITTLE PRAIRIE. 



Reprinted from the Minneapolis Journal by suggestion of Mr. W. 



B. Mershon, who thinks the FoVest and Stream readers should see it. 



Aitkin, Nov. 22.— Just as soon as the game law of the 

 good State of Minnesota made the deer thereof a legal 

 target we started out in search of a gocd time primarily, 

 and incidentally such venison as we could accumulate. 

 We were R. H. Hartford, W. C. Palley, Stephen Stearns, 

 Scott Way and "a literary cuss, who writes himself as we 

 and us" in the columns of the Aitkin Age. Hartford, 

 commonly called "Rube," is an old sailor, a thorough 

 woodsman, a first-class cook, and as good a rifle shot as 

 can be met in a day's travel anywhere, Palley is a. vet- 

 eran of the "36th Wisconsin, also an old woodsman 

 and a past master in woodcraft, a fine shot and an excel- 

 lent conversationalist. Stearns is a typical pioneer, at 

 home anywhere, and able to make himself comfortable 

 under any circumstances. Way is a young lumberman, 

 and can work a Winchester like a bell punch, and the L. 



C. had his hands full to size up to his company, I can as- 

 sure you. 



Well, we started, taking Stearns's team, plenty of blan- 

 kets, a sack of flour, some butter, sugar, tea, coffee, salt, 

 baking powder, potatoes, onions and beans. As to meat, 

 we took a round of salt pork. We had five rifles and two 

 shotgunB in the party, and only took the pork, for use in 

 baking beans, or in case of a "ground hog" necessity, 

 which we did not fear. We also took a sheet iron camp 

 stove, and of course ammunition galore, and off we went. 

 Before we were three miles out of town we saw a flock of 

 geese in an oatfield near the road, and Scott and'I exe- 

 cuted a flank movement on them, which resulted in eight 

 fine, fat birds to start on. Of course we took enough 

 cooked rations to last on our two days' journey to our 

 hunting grounds, and only stopped to feed the horses and 

 when night overtook us. When passing Sandy Lake we 

 discovered lots of ducks, and made six of them our own. 

 We could not tarry long, though duck shooting there was 

 fine, but pushed straight on for our destination, which we 

 reached at 8 o'clock the second night after leaving home. 

 Our ledge in the wilderness was an abandoned logging camp 

 in a fair state of preservation, and half a day's woTk of 

 all hands sufficed to make it very comfortable. We had 

 to build a temporary barn for the horses, but we had 

 plenty of axes and knew how to use them, and the job 

 was soon finished. A kindly lumberman, who was not 

 aware of our coming, had stacked a lot of hay in a neigh- 

 boring meadow, and as we had brought plenty of oats, our 

 four-footed allies were in as good care as reasonable horses 

 could ask while we stayed. 



After our house was put in order we proceeded to build 

 a fireplace outside, taking as large green logs as we could 

 handle to build it with, and digging a hole about 2ft. 

 square and as many deep in the center. As the object of 

 the hole may not be apparent to such as are not hunters, 

 I will explain its use. First you dig the hole, then you 

 build a fire in and over it and keep the fire going till you 

 have the hole filled with live coals. We had a sheet of 

 sheet iron, with a ring in the center to lift it by, and when- 

 ever we were through cooking for the nonce we clapped 

 the iron over the coals and we always had fire, and 

 plenty of it, at our command. Before we fired a shot we 

 provided wood enough for two weeks' consumption, cut- 

 ting dry tamarack and poplar and green white birch, all 

 of which are easily accessible at any logging camp, and 

 which make a splendid combination for cooking and 

 camp-warming purposes, and right here I'll let city men 

 who go camping and only too cfttn get more vexation 

 than enjoyment out of it, into a secret. First of all do as 

 we did and institute a fair division of labor at the start, 

 and he who willnot adhere to it don't let him eat. Second, 

 get the best baking powder in the market for your bread, 

 put in lots of it and bake only before a fire of dry poplar 

 wood. 



Of course you will have a tin "baker" along, and be sure 

 to take two or more baker sheets. Keep your coal hole 

 ever full of live coals, and all you have to do is to parboil 

 a pot full of beans at night, cover them up in the coals 

 and you have as appetizing a dish for breakfast as hungry 

 hunter could ask, and one that will support you in the 

 long, hard tramping you needs must do. if you ever hope 

 to crimson your hand with deer's blood; and if you have 

 a soul capable of rioing above tbe pitiful conventionalities 

 of society, you can enjoy the rarest dish ever mortal man 

 set tooth in by the aid of that same coal hole, and due 

 hearkening to the wisdom of the sage who speaketh. 

 Take, therefore, such grouse, partridge or duck as you 

 may kill, making the proportion one for each man, wrap 

 each bird, unset and undrawn, in clay enough to thor- 

 oughly cover it and place it tenderly in your pit, cover it 

 with live coals and over it build a fire, wherewith you 

 cook your potatoes, boil your tea or coffee, or what not. 

 When the rest of your cooking is complete shovel out the 

 coals, and carefully taking out your clay-covered birds 

 you will find them enveloped in a substance somewhat 

 like potters' ware, breaking which ware to pieces, in the 

 process stripping your bird completely of feathers and skin, 

 you will find underneath what no chef on earth can serve 

 up, i. e., a game bird cooked to perfection, without the 

 loss of one jot of its natural flavor or ore tittle of its nat- 

 ural juices. Follow the hunters' rule; don't commit the 

 sacrilege of putting a knife into it; just take it into your 

 fingers, sprinkle on salt and pepper as you like, eat it 

 down to the bones, and if its savor, flavor and all-round 

 exquisite goodness don't make you "thank God for the 

 room that was inside you" before you took the first bite 

 —there'll be none before you take the last— you were born 

 without either soul or palate, and are past praying for. 

 Such was the bill of fare of the first dinner we took at 

 Camp Hartford, as we named our habitation. 



And then we made a "booyaw" — that's the way it's 

 pronounced hereabouts anyhow, and any one hypercriti- 

 cal enough to find fault with the spelling can alter it to 

 suit hiB pleasure. Now, there are booyaws and booyaws, 

 of course, as there are cooks and cooks, but of such a boo- 

 yaw as Rube Hartford makes there is only one. Our first 

 day's hunt yielded a young doe, half a dozen partridges 

 and sundry rabbits and squirrels. Rube had brought 

 along hiB big kettle, and in that he concocted the divinest 

 mess of venison, partridge, rabbit and squirrel, mixed 

 with potatoes and onions, that ever fulfilled to hungry 

 man's stomach the promise it gave to his nostrils. And 

 from the first day the booyaw pot was never empty. We 

 kept it always full, and every morning, on starting to 

 hunt, set it on the iron slab over the live coals, and every 

 time a man was hungry he'd only take the lid off the pot 

 fork out what he wanted to eat and fill in. And just re 



