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FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 13, 1887. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



OCTOBER. 

 T\OWN from the north they are marching, 



The scouts of the Winter Kingj 

 Where bright spring flowers were blooming, 

 Withered and dead leaves they fling. 



Their bivouac fires they've kindled, 



Sumacs and maples aglow j 

 Oaks On the hillside are waving 



Signals to birches below. 



O'er field and meadow are drifting 



The smoke and dust of the frayj 

 la woodlands dead leaves are falling, 



This Indian Summer day. SpigeIWOOD. 



A BIRD HUNT IN WESTERN KENTUCKY. 



i. 



LITTLE attention is paid to protecting either game or 

 fish in Kentucky. While there are laws on the 

 statute book providing penalties for hunting game out of 

 season, and for taking fish by net, seine or trap, they are 

 as obsolete as the slave provisions in the State constitu- 

 tion. There are no -wardens, no special instrumentalities 

 for enforcing the statute, and any one giving information 

 of infractions of the game laws is looked upon with dis 

 favor. It is, in fact, a disreputable business to "tell on 

 the poor fellows," and public sympathy usually aligns 

 itself on the side of the offender. As a natural conse- 

 quence, game and fish are scarce and rapidly disappear- 

 ing. But few deer, turkeys or beam linge 1 - in the State, 

 and the only sport left to kindle the blood and occupy 

 the leisure hours of the ardent hunter is to search out the 

 few spots where Bob White whistles his companions to 

 the evening roost after feasting on the fat things of earth. 



In search of just such a place the writer, with a com- 

 panion thoroughly congenial and every inch a sportsman, 

 left Frankfort one afternoon last December on the west- 

 bound train. Our destination was Wingo station, in 

 western Kentucky, where report said partridges were 

 plentiful. There were a couple of inches of snow on the 

 ground the day we got off, and a bitter cold wind com- 

 ing from the direction of Omaha. Yet we had made up 

 our minds to go, and it would have taken something 

 more serious to have broken our resolution. 



Besides, we had been laying store by this trip for several 

 months, and to have shown the white feather at the last 

 moment would have cost us a deal of disappointment, 

 besides losing our only chance for a year. 



In our hunting box were stored about 700 shells; and 

 our four dogs — Kate, Dyke, Whit and Set— were safely 

 ensconced in the baggage car. Kate is growing in years, 

 but her earnest glance of rare intelligence does not belie 

 the keen scent, the patient industry and the unerring 

 steadiness she possesses still as relics of past greatness. 

 Dyke is younger, but restless, nervous and of dauntless 

 endurance. Whit has the sad notoriety of being bob- 

 tailed— the fruit of a luckless fall of 20ft. from a second 

 story. He seemed to recognize by his shy, sheepish 

 glance, the oft-repeated joke that his tail had been driven 

 Up in his spine, leaving only the small bit exposed. Set 

 was a long, slender, short-haired white pointer, whose 

 special dread was briers, This quartette of hunters had 

 seen service on many a fruitf id field, but of late their 

 education had been sadly neglected and their habits 

 spoiled by sundry chases after "cottontails," under the 

 seductive encouragement of the small boys at home. 

 However, they seemed instinctively to "catch on" to the 

 idea that sport was ahead, and their restless movements 

 gave the baggagemaster no end of concern. 



Less than three hours landed us in Louisville, and 

 alighting on its hard frozen streets, with a bitter wind 

 coming across the Ohio River and the mercury dropping 

 toward zero, we felt the prospect of a pleasurable hunt 

 grow dimmer each hour. Passing up Third street, the 

 occupant of a doorway, who had sheltered himself from 

 the wind, laconically ejaculated, as he noticed our dogs 

 —"Been?" Our response, given with chattering teeth, 

 was equally graphic — "No! going." No doubt he felt we 

 were not "going" the right road to Anchorage Asylum. 



Finding a hotel, at last, we entered and stumped the 

 clerk at the desk by registering for self and dogs. "Can 

 put you away, but don't know about the dogs," said he, 

 in a puzzled sort of way. 

 "No dogs, no us!" we replied with emphasis. 

 Just at this juncture the night porter, with an eye 

 doubtless to business, came up and guaranteed to provide 

 the dogs with comfortable quarters, as he "knew of a good 

 pla.ee." With a caution born of experience we went along 

 to see that his guarantee was worth something. The 

 hunter who fails to give a personal supervision over the 

 security and comfort of Ms dogs will often find that 

 promises are faithless and proper feeding left for "some 

 other time." The quailers were good and warm, but 

 reached only after threading the dark and devious by- 

 ways, corridors and underground passages of a city hotel. 



Next day we again entered the cars and hurried further 

 westward." The snow had increased in depth, and after 

 an all-day journey, as we landed at Wingo, a full 3in. 

 lay on the ground. It was 9 o'clock as we halted at the 

 station, and everywhere and over everything stretched 

 the cold, silent mantle of white. The air was raw and 

 keen, though the stars looked down from a clear sky. 



Our advent at Wingo was quite a surprise to the inhab- 

 itants of that quiet town. It was a no less cause of dis- 

 turbance to the genial landlord of the only hostelry as he 

 surveyed our troup of dogs. While we were warming at 

 the big fire in the office, and the dogs were making their 

 presence pointedly noticeable by sundry scratches at the 

 door and speedy intrusions whenever it was opened, 

 Landlord Tartt was in a brown study over the "dog" 

 question. When, at last, after much cogitation, he an- 

 nounced his purpose to turn his own horse from his com- 

 fortable stable quarters into the open lot and install the 

 dogs in his place, we had no further doubt that we had 

 struck the right man and the right place for hospitable 

 entertainment. Whether the horse appreciated the ex- 

 change is doubtful. 

 Despite the cold, the usual crowd of villagers had 



gathered to see the train come and go. Our presence 

 gave them new ground for speculation, and when my 

 companion, whom I shall call M., frankly announced we 

 had come 300 miles to shoot partridges, and proposed to 

 spend a week at the business, a stare of incredulity re- 

 sulted. There must be some mystery about these fellows, 

 was the popular surmise. Hence, in the next day or two, 

 we were beautifully clothed with suspicion as a couple of 

 "detectives," nosing on the track of some undefined and 

 mysterous criminal. What there was in our composition, 

 or bearing, or the cut of our left eye, to lead a sober citi- 

 zen to believe we might be two of Pinkerton's men 

 "piping a mystery," or seeking to catch some safe-blower 

 "dead to rights," was never settled between M. and myself. 

 I loaded the blame on M., and he tossed it back to me. 

 _ However, by preserving strictly our sportsman preten- 

 tions, by the zeal with which we pursued Bob White over 

 hill and valley, and by the soundness of sleep that followed 

 each day a hard tramp, we got the better of Wingo's sus- 

 picious citizens, and established ourselves as genuine 

 Nimrods, although a little "off' in the upper story. That 

 300-mile journey to shoot partridges was too big a cherry 

 to swallow at one bite and taste good. 



One incident we cannot forego. We trust our generous 

 landlord will forgive the recital. Just before getting off 

 the train a drummer interviewed us. Finding our des- 

 tination, he cheered us by announcing Wingo as his own 

 stopping place. We nailed him for information. Dwell- 

 ing on the features of the place, said he, "You'll find 

 plenty to eat and a good place to sleep. Nice clever 

 people and sociable. Do you love pie? Yes? Well, 

 you'll get plenty of pie— pie for breakfast, pie for dinner, 

 and pie for supper." Modestly we denied the pie possi- 

 bility. The drummer was obstinate. We ventured a 

 trivial bet that there would be no pie for breakfast next 

 morning, The drummer closed on the wager as a dog 

 would snap a doughnut. 



Next rooming, as we sat down to a smoking hot break- 

 fast, we had forgotten the wager, when happening to 

 cast our eye down the lice of dishes, there sat, in all its 

 sweetness, the inevitable pie. At the same moment, we 

 caught tin eye of the drummer across the table. He re- 

 marked, with a quiet smile, "I win." I nodded. Con- 

 science, however, compels the confession that while the 

 pie was frequent, it was good. Born with a sweet tooth, 

 we sampled it often, in common with the other good 

 things that bountifully supplied host Taxtt's table. 



The first day of our hunt opene i with forbidding pros- 



Sects. Three or four in hes of snow covered the earth, 

 azzling the eyes and making travel difficult. The coun- 

 try was new to us. Nobody, "except Captain George," 

 hunted birds at Wingo; and, unfortunately, we had 

 failed to make Captain George's acquaintance. Little 

 definite information could be gained as to the locality 

 where birds were plenty. Those of whom we made in- 

 quiry seemed obliging and des : rous of extending all 

 possible knowledge, but not being hunters, their informa- 

 tion was largely incidental and inferential. Generally, 

 we were told that for years birds had been abundant, but 

 the deep show of the previous winter had starved and 

 frozen them out. 



M. — ever ready for the fray — was eager to be off. So, 

 investing in a pair of light rubber overshoes tb insulate 

 my feet from the melting snow, we donned our hunting 

 suits, filled our belts and pockets with shells, whistled 

 Dyke and Set over the fence, having tied up Kate and 

 Whit for future use as a reserve, and ploughed through 

 the snOw to the eastward of the town. We had levied on 

 the little son of our host as guide. 



Several hundred yards travel brought us to the frozen 

 bed of a long gully, beset with bushes and briers. It af- 

 forded good cover against wind and cold, and as the dogs 

 rapidly coursed its path and hiding places, we confidently 

 watched for signs of a covey. We were disappointed, 

 for not a track was visible, nor did the dogs betray evi- 

 dence that they caught a scent fingering on the frosty 

 air. 



In a little grove of locusts, off to the right, our guide 

 detected the ears of a "cottontail" peeping above the 

 snow. Getting into position where he could see the body 

 of bunny, he shied, one after another, the apples he had 

 in his pocket for lunch, at the little animal without hit- 

 ting it or frightening it from its bed. Breaking off the 

 branch of a iree, we handed it to him, and taking better 

 aim, he hurled it with such force as almost to bury the 

 rabbit in the shower of snow. The latter, feeling it was 

 time to say good-bye, went off down the hill at ninety 

 miles an hour. 



Crossing a rail fence and getting into a tangle of long 

 grass, briers and weeds, we found the first evidences of 

 Bob White's habitat. A covey had been running through 

 the snow, feeding on the seeds of the rag weed, and their 

 tracks led up the dry run. The scent was cold, however, 

 and the dogs shifted about uneasily. Keeping them well 

 in hand we followed the tracks, momentarily expecting 

 a point or a break away. Our spirits experienced a sud- 

 den check as we found in the snow the broad foot-prints 

 of a rabbit hunter, and at the same moment noticed the 

 brush of wings on the white surface, showing only too 

 plainly that our feathered friends had taken flight at his 

 mtrusion. 



M. now veered to the left, and I hunted a long thicket 

 of briers and bushes ahead, without success. Turning 

 into an old field, I was just climbing a ridge when I caught 

 sight of a covey taking flight out of a swale of matted 

 grass. Going fifty yards, they dropped down again in a 

 copse of green bush. M. had not seen them, although 

 Dyke, working eagerly to his right in the thicket, had 

 flushed them without dropping to point. Hurrying up, 

 I called M., and we moved carefully to where the birds 

 had gone down, The dogs went in ahead. The birds 

 were wild, and one went up before we got near. I let 

 drive, making a snap shot, and he forgot to stop. 



Another broke cover just in front and came straight at 

 me, passing to the rear. I wheeled and fired, and he — 

 didn't stop. This was bad. M. was under the brow of 

 the hill, and didn't get a chance. The balance of the 

 covey got up some distance ahead, and went across a field 

 toward a piece of woods. As they disappeared we heard 

 a couple of shots, and clearing the thicket, we found 

 three rabbit hunters, one of whom had killed two of the 

 partridges at one shot as they flew by. Of this perform- 

 ance he seemed exultingly proud. Had he killed his 

 mother-in-law by accident, he could not have shown 

 profounder emotions of pleasure. While we were talk- 

 ing to our new friends, the dogs were nosing around in 

 some light sedge grass. Tkey had not yet found reason 



to halt, when M.'s quick eye detected a covey in the 

 snow. They had not left their night roost. Here was a 

 good chance for a pot-hunter. Foregoing the opportunity, 

 the birds were flushed, and three quick shots dropped 

 two, and I got another with the second barrel as they 

 crossed an adjacent fence. " ' 



Leaving the rabbit hunters we followed the birds into 

 the woods. They were much scattered and most of them 

 we failed to find. M. sighted one that was winging its 

 rapid flight through the trees, and dropped it at full 60 

 yards. It was a quick shot and well done. Climbing a 

 second fence we bagged a right and left, and missed one 

 that we watched till it again came down in a fallen tree- 

 top. Going up together we prepared to close its career. 

 M. took one side of the tree and I the other, and giving 

 the limbs a shake as we went by, we had almost met 

 again when quick as a flash the bird went up behind us, 

 and putting a tree to his rear with quick instinct of 

 escape, he scudded away as two loads of shot rattled 

 harmlessly among the twigs. Returning to the first 

 woods, I was kicking a pile of brush when another rose 

 and was climbing for the sky through the treetops when 

 he was called back at the report of the gun. 



It was a long tramp before we found more birds. The 

 snow made it tiresome walking and the air was raw. 

 Several seemingly good places were hunted through with- 

 out result. Threading a 6mall patch of stubble at the end 

 of which was a thicket, I caught glimpse of a covey run- 

 ning on the ground. They had seen the dogs, which 

 were lower down the hill, and were hastening away. 



Calling to M., I moved carefully forward, but before 

 the dogs got in range they went off into a piece of woods. 

 I was fortunate to get two at one shot, while M., who 

 had not yet come up, shortly afterward bagged another, 

 at which I had made a clean miss. When we again got 

 the birds up in the woods they were well scattered and 

 the shooting hard, but in a half hour's work we had 

 dropped seven or eight birds, only a single one getting 

 away. About half the covey we never found after the 

 first rise. 



We were now tired and hungry, and, crossing one more 

 field, located ourselves on the sunny side of a rail ^ence 

 and industriously began the demolition of the lunch our 

 kind landlady had provided. It aided materially in warm- 

 ing up the inner man. When we had finished the dissec- 

 tion down to the bones the lunch was washed down with 

 a draught of cold water, obtained by breaking the ice of 

 an adjacent pond. 



The afternoon was almost barren of result. M. took a 

 random shot at a stray bird that rose from a thicket some 

 distance off, but it saved both body and feathers. Later 

 on several more partridges were added to the bag from 

 the first covey we found in the morning, and M. closed 

 the day's sport by showing how long and how far a man 

 can fall when he trusts to appearances in crossing a gully 

 with snow. Taking the full measure, we should judge 

 M. to be about 22ft. high, as that length of snow was torn 

 up, mashed down and displaced from where his feet en- 

 tered a muskrat hole to where his hands left their im- 

 print. 



Seventeen birds were the outcome of the day's sport, 

 a result not bristling with encouragement for five days 

 yet to come. S. R. S. 



Frankfoht, Ky. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub, Co 



THE ARMADILLOES. 



BY R. W. SHUFELDT, M.D., C.M.Z.S., TJ. S. ARMY. 



Corresponding Member of the Linnasan Society of New York 

 City, etc., etc. 



IN my last contribution to Forest and Stream, having 

 reference to my series of "Sketches of our United 

 States Mammals," I had something to say about the 

 Opossums, and the Provisional List of Mammals of the 

 U. S. National Museum was earned through the Ant- 

 eaters in that paper. To continue that List in the order 

 in which it was published, we find the following to be 

 the continuation of it, viz.: 



Sttborder LORICATA. 

 Family Dasyrodidje. The Armadilloes. 

 Tatusia novem-einctus (Linne), Alston. Armadillo. 



Texas to Paraguay. 

 So then, to proceed with the plan as- set forth in the 

 Opossum paper, we will in the present connection turn 

 our attention to the Texan Armadillo, and what we know 

 of its life-history, while in our next contribution the 

 Order Strena will be dealt with, and this contains 

 no less interesting an animal than the Manatee of Florida. 



When a zoologist, in these days, directs his mind tow- 

 ard the study of any particular animal, or group of 

 animals, one of the first questions he asks himself is, 

 What has been the history of this creature during the 

 past ages of the world; and, during that universal, for 

 all-time development of animate forms, what have been 

 the lines of ascent along which it has come to bring it to 

 its present appearance, and structural state? Now in the 

 case of our reptile-looking Armadilloes there is much, very 

 much, to be discovered and correctly interpreted yet 

 before any such question can be answered. The present 

 richest center in its variety of living species of Arma- 

 dilloes is the general central region of South A m erica; 

 and it is here, too, that Professor Lund and others have 

 found, more particularly in the bone-caves of Brazil, the 

 skeletal remains of not only existing types of Arma- 

 dilloes but of those forms which connect the existing 

 ones with armadilline animals of the most recent geo- 

 logical periods. But as I say there is an enormous field 

 yet to be worked up here, which is brim-full of interest 

 and importance. Paleontologists of the future will surely 

 undertake all this and the day will come when men will 

 probably know, through the remains of extinct forms 

 brought to light, the very path along which Armadilloes 

 have ascended from their ancestors of low reptilian stock. 

 Those who have been in the main hall of the old Smith- 

 sonian Building, may remember the great cast of a queer, 

 turtle-looking animal, that used to stand by the door that 

 led down to the west basement below, it was the plaster- 

 of-Paris model of a Glyptodon (O. clavipes), and the 

 Glyptodons were gigantio ancestors of the Armadilloes 



