242 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 20, 1887. 



Address aU comrawnications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



A BIRD HUNT IN WESTERN KENTUCKY. 



n. 



TUESDAY morning, the second day of the hunt, broke 

 clear, crisp and cold. The snow still sheeted hill 

 and valley, and even held its own on the housetops of 

 Wingo. The only apparent signs of melting were in the 

 crystal fingers of icicles that hung pendent from the 

 edges of the shingles. 



Quite a little group, attracted by our presence and mis- 

 sion, had gathered in Lhe cosy hotel office the night 

 before, and in the ruddy firelight joked and chatted and 

 marveled at M.'s tales of adventure by field and flood. 

 The admiring audience added greater zest to his recital, 

 and provoked a livelier coloring to his broad fund of sug- 

 gestive humor. To say that under the inspiring influence 

 of the frequent "you don't say," and "is that so," and the 

 lively sallies of laughter that frequently broke forth, M. 

 fairly "let loose" is but drawing it mild. At any rate, to 

 his majestic influence we attributed our good luck in 

 inducing one of Wingo's hunters, named Wooten, to agree 

 to join us in our sport and show us the country. 



The dogs appeared none the worse for their previous 

 day's work, and exchanging Whit for Kate, as a reserve, 

 we turned loose the trio — Set, Whit and Kate — and got 

 ready for the field. Expecting a longer hunt and harder 

 work, we engaged a team from a livery stable to meet us 

 several miles in the country about sundown and bring 

 us in. 



Under advice of Wooten, we were to exchange the 

 high grounds we had bunted the day before for the creek 

 bottom that lay southward of the village. A brisk walk 

 of half an hour along the railroad track brought us to our 

 starting point. Going along as honorary escort were 

 Tartt, our host, and a loquacious vender of sadirons who 

 had dropped into the village over night. Tartt had yet 

 to see a bird shot on the wing, and was now resolved not 

 to let another day pass without encompassing that 

 event. 



Turning into a cornfield, M. took the right and I the 

 left. Skirting a worm fence, I was soon out of sight in 

 a ravine that melted away into the bottom. The ground 

 seemed favorable, and Kate was working industriously, 

 when a couple of shots in M.'s direction drew my atten- 

 tion. A moment later a covey of birds came in view, 

 skimming up the hill and disappearing over the ridge. 

 Calling off the black setter to more promising work, I 

 started in pursuit, being joined by M. at the summit. 

 Just beyond the brow of the ridge was a low depression, 

 covered with sedge grass, weeds, and small patches of 

 briers. Several brush piles were scattered about. Evi- 

 dently the birds were close at hand. 



It was only a moment before Kate's penetrating nose 

 caugbt the scent along a little ridge. She suddenly halted, 

 crept forward a step or two, her muzzle slightly elevated 

 and her tail motionless, and stood rigid as a statue. 

 Whit, a little higher up, backed her in fine style, and 

 Dyke held another bud lower down. Taking the right 

 and M. the left, we walked in to flush. Both birds went 

 up together, mine circling high across the hollow, and 

 dropping dead to the shot. M. was not so fortunate, 

 though a bunch of feathers floated down the air. He 

 scored a hit immediately after on a bird that flushed in 

 the bottom. A third was joint property, as it fell at the 

 report of both guns, that sounded almost as one shot. 



Tartt was delighted, and had he been twenty years 

 younger would at once have begun training as a cham- 

 pion wing shot. His enthusiasm received a slight check 

 at our next display of skill. Dyke found something in a 

 pile of brush; Kate and Set agreed in the point. Kick- 

 ing into the pile, out went two birds that scudded over 

 the hill unharmed by the whistling spheres that followed 

 after. M. added one more bird to the bag that got up on 

 the edge of the next hill, and following another to the 

 mouth of the copse, I caught the sun in my eye as the 

 bird rose over the bushes, and scored a miss at the same 

 time. We found no other birds of this covey. 



Crossing the bottom, M. got over the fence into a corn- 

 field, which we afterward learned was posted ground. In 

 a few minutes he had a covey up and driving through the 

 standing corn. They scattered along a rail fence in some 

 clumps of weeds and briers. Before I could get up M. 

 had dropped one in front, and wheeling quickly, scored 

 a second that got up in his rear. Throwing in another 

 shell, he had a third fluttering on the ground before one 

 could say Jack Robinson. Tartt, who was watching the 

 shooting, was absolutely astounded. 



"Don't that beat Jerusalem!" said he. "He killed that 

 one going that way and tbis one going this way, and one 

 more makes three, without movin' or missin'. Never 

 saw the like before." 



That night when we returned to Wingo we found a hot 

 dispute going on among the boys over M.'s shots. One 

 fellow insisted that all three birds were bagged by M. 

 without reloading, and nothing but M.'s word would set- 

 tle the dispute. 



The last covey we did not hunt further, as one of the 

 party proffered the information that the land was posted, 

 and "that fellow on the hill would come a-tarin' when he 

 heard the shootin'." 



Most of the corn in the valley was yet uncut, and the 

 broken and tent stacks lying here and there on the 

 ground put the ears in easy reach of the hungry birds, 

 deprived by the snow of their usual supply of ground 

 seeds. In a thick patch of grass and weeds, in the middle 

 of a cornfield, a fine covey was started, wheeling on the 

 flush and driving straight for a patch of woods. Three 

 or four fell to our bag for reminders before the covey left 

 the corn. These buds were unusually wild, and though 

 we followed them some distance among the trees, they 

 refused, to he to the dogs, running before them and flush- 

 ing before we got within fair gunshot. An immense brown 

 owl, scared from his sleep by the noise, flew into a big 

 oak, and, at the urgent request of a farm lad who had 

 joined the party, it received a load of No. 8s and came 

 flapping to the ground. The lad claimed there would be 

 more chickens next spring as a tribute to his owlship's 

 demise. 



Keeping up the creek, which was now little mo r e than 

 a dry run, with scattered pools of water hard frozen, we 



finally struck the country road at a log bridge. Beyond 

 this the bottom was covered with standing corn, exten- 

 sive copse of briers and brush; with clumps of weeds and 

 heavy grass. It was a royal place for birds, but a bad 

 place to shoot, as the results showed. I was the first to 

 cross the fence, barely landing on the other side when a 

 small covey rose almost under my feet. Though startled, 

 I managed to drop one bird. The covey scattered, several 

 crossing the road and one alighting in a tree in plain 

 view. Thinking to drop him easily with my left barrel, 

 I hastily raised and fired a snap shot. To my amazement 

 he flew off unharmed. The laugh was on me, and M. 

 suggested to catch a bud and tie it and give me a chance 

 to practice. 



During the remainder of the afternoon birds were plen- 

 tiful, no less than half a dozen coveys being flushed; but 

 the unfavorable ground made shooting hard, and after 

 the first rise the birds went straight to the thickets, 

 where it was almost impossible to follow. The dogs 

 fared badly among the briers and burrs, Set finally refus- 

 ing to go in at command. The red streaks showed 

 plainly through her thin coat, telling how roughly she 

 was being punished. 



About sundown the wagon came to the bridge, and we 

 were glad enough to jump in, being thoroughly wearied 

 with the day's tramp through the snow. We counted out 

 on the office floor that night thirty-two partridges as the 

 fruits of the day's hunt, besides several rabbits knocked 

 over to supply our friends. 



Wednesday we planned to begin our hunt where we left 

 off the day before, and to go further up the valley. Dyke, 

 Whit and Kate were uncoupled, and Set left at home to 

 nurse her wounds and rest for future work. 



Entering the cornfield near the bridge, where I had 

 failed to make an impression on "a bird up a tree," we 

 had scarcely gone 200yds. when Dyke, by too eager trail- 

 ing, ran into and flushed a large covey. I saw and 

 marked down "about" where they dropped near the edge 

 of the creek. Approaching the spot cautiously the dogs 

 were sent in. Every inch of ground was hunted, and 

 every patch of weeds and grass thoroughly examined. 

 The dogs roaded eagerly over the frozen ground, but not 

 a bird rose. We were nonplussed, until finally Dyke 

 crossed the creek, and mounting the opposite bank, 

 flushed a bird on top. The other dogs crossed at once, 

 and we hastily scrambled after them. 



We found Kate, Dyke and Whit frozen to a point on 

 almost barren ground. Kate's lips were opening and 

 closing as if the scent were strong enough to taste. 

 Moving in, half a dozen birds arose, M. dropping one, 

 scattering feathers from another, and I getting in a miss. 

 The climb up the bank had blown me. Behind us Whit 

 began to run the furrows of some plowed ground. 

 There was no cover, and the birds were running. M. 

 got a shot at and wounded one that kept up a zig-zag- 

 flight until it crossed the top of a farmhouse a quarter of 

 a mile awa3 f . He scored a miss on a long shot at another 

 that went to the thicket. The balance of the covey 

 flushed out of range and scattered badly. 



Most of the day the sport was dull," as, with the ex- 

 ception of one small covey and a few scattered birds 

 which we got up along a drain, we found nothing. At 

 several points tracks were seen in the snow, leading here 

 and there, backward and forward, as they fed and fol- 

 lowed each other in tortuous mazes, but the rabbit 

 hunters, with which the country seemed well supplied, 

 had driven them off to the bushy coverts. Nor was the 

 pot-hunter altogether absent, as at one place we saw 

 three or four farmers on horseback threading cornfields, 

 searching for coveys to bring to the net. 



Late in the afternoon, on a grassy plot, beyond a thicket 

 of young trees, we found in the snow a maze of tracks, 

 indicating a large covey. The scent was cold, but the 

 tracks evidently made in the early morning. Tracing 

 them some distance through some heavy swamp grass, 

 they finally turned abruptly to the right, and led toward 

 a cornfield on a hillside. In a fallen treetop, near the 

 edge of the corn, Kate, who had been industriously nos- 

 ing among the weeds, suddenly drew to a point. Dyke 

 and Whit honored her challenge a second later. Two 

 birds rose to M.'s flush, one of which he bagged, and W. 

 the other. The treetop interposing, I failed of a shot. 

 No other buds were found, but numerous tracks leading 

 into the cornfield. As the scent was now warm, the dogs 

 were sent forward to cut out the hunt. The field was 

 almost crossed, when Dyke ran into and flushed a single 

 bird, giving an ineffectual side shot through the standing 

 corn. A moment later Whit anchored his stub tail on a 

 point near a rail fence. At the rise M. dropped two birds 

 and W. and I one each. 



Most of the covey were further up, trailed by Dyke and 

 Kate, but they took wing at our shot and went off to the 

 woods. Noticing several tracks trending to the right, I 

 took Kate and followed. They grew more numerous 

 until a hundred yards away, Kate came to a point. I 

 got near enough to put in one successful shot as a dozen 

 birds rose over the corn and scudded away. 



It was now near sunset, and abandoning the hunt we 

 started homeward. As I crossed the fence near the 

 thicket I heard a partridge whistling in a weed field to 

 the right. Taking Dyke I hurried to the spot. The bird 

 was evidently running, as Dyke would point, then go for- 

 ward a dozen steps and point again. I ran into a flush 

 and bagged it as it rose over the weeds. M. and W. had 

 driven several into thicket. Marking them down I 

 bagged two more before the others could get up. 



' The boys who brought the wagon out were now whoop- 

 ing to let us know they were at hand, so with twenty-two 

 buds only we ended the day's sport. 



That night, after cleaning our guns and partaking of a 

 hot supper, M. entertained a group of villagers, before the 

 glowing reflection of the office fire, by explaining the 

 mysteries of his hammerless Greener, a novelty in that 

 section, where muzzleloaders and hammer guns held 

 sway, with few exceptions. No reflections, of course, 

 were intended for my little Parker, whose working quali- 

 ties and record stand unchallenged for perfection and 

 execution. 



Tern W., a beardless youth, whose stores of knowledge 

 had recently received accession by a visit to the branch 

 penitentiary at Eddyville, then constructing, contributed 

 to the humor that flew fast around the circle, by numer- 

 ous inquiries as to convict life at Frankfort. M. finally 

 turned the laugh on Tom by assuring him that he should 

 have a nice cell all to himself, the walls padded and a 

 | bed without springs on his next visit to Frankfort, and 

 I to make assurance doubly sure, that he would see the 



warden of the penitentiary immediately on his return in 

 Tom's behalf. 



Thursday we shaped out a hunt down the creek. Leav- 

 ing Wingo early, a brisk walk of half an hour brought us 

 to an opening near a cornfield. A ditch drain ran throtxgh 

 the center and on its edge M. and W. flushed a small 

 covey. One bird fell to M.'s share. The covey scattered 

 on a hilltop in the edge of a thick piece of woods. Fol- 

 lowing, the party unitedly did some very ungraceful 

 shooting among the trees and saplings on the second rise. 

 The birds went further in the woods and we "left them 

 alone in their glory." 



A second covey flushed in some sedge grass on low 

 ground , also went to the woods. With these we did bet- 

 ter bagging three or four birds and crippling one that 

 fell among some dead leaves near a decayed log. Kate 

 pointed it, and kicking it out it fluttered through the 

 group and hid again so deftly it was several moments be- 

 fore it was discovered and captured. 



In a thick piece of stubble we got up two coveys within 

 50yds. of each other. Here we had some excellent shoot- 

 ing, a dozen birds being bagged. I lost one, badly crip- 

 pled, in a drift of logs and brush. Later on we killed 

 half a dozen from a covey that scattered in a rough piece 

 of oak woods. Under the shadow of an abrupt headland 

 we got up a covey in a neck of meadow. M. did the 

 flushing,getting a bird. Risking a long shot as they crossed 

 the bottom I dropped a second at full 70yds. It was a 

 chance at the bunch. On top of the hill we got two or 

 three more in the heavy undergrowth, closing the day's 

 count with twenty-seven. 



Friday morning W. was unable to accompany us, and 

 M.'s feet were so sore from the chafing of his heavy shoes 

 he seemed indisposed to go out. As the weather was 

 fine, M. was at last persuaded to risk his chances by a 

 solemn pledge on my part to do most of the walking, and 

 to drive the birds where he could shoot 'em easy. Dyke 

 had behaved so badly by flushing unnecessarily, we con- 

 cluded to leave him at home a second day all by himself. 

 Kate had distinguished herself the previous day by at- 

 tempting to walk on the sash of a glass flower-pit belong- 

 ing to Tartt, leaving sundry jagged holes in the glass to 

 show how easy it was to fail. So she was taken along. 



Luck seemed to favor us at the .start, as we found a 

 nice covey shortly after entering the field. At the second 

 rise, the dogs having driven it from cover, M. and I got 

 two birds each, with a fifth to M.'s shot a second later. 

 We marked down two in an open stubble, which we 

 divided between us. The eighth bird fell to my gun 

 along a deep gully. This was encouraging work in less 

 than twenty minutes. 



It was about the only interesting featiue of the day, 

 however, excepting a little incident in which M. displayed 

 some marked adroitness. We were told a piece of corn 

 land, having excellent cover, was posted only against 

 tobacco trespassers and fishermen, and M. , who has an 

 adventurous turn, concluded to invade its sacred limits. 

 I was not far behind. In five minutes we had up a covey, 

 and the banging of our guns made music in the air. I 

 was some thirty paces from M. when I noticed two 

 natives pushing rapidly through the corn, heading for 

 M. They had not seen me, though I was nearest. Step- 

 ping behind a dead tree I waited till they bagged M., 

 and then, taking a short circuit, I mounted the fence in 

 front on the skirmish line. The group were only a short 

 distance away, and the first words I caught were M.'s 

 vigorous praises of the virtues of a hammerless gun. The 

 truth was, as soon as the farmers came up and notified M. 

 of his trespass, with keen craft he diverted their atten- 

 tion to his hammerless gun, taking it to pieces and ex- 

 plaining its wonderful mechanism. They were filled 

 with curiosity and surprise, and before five minutes were 

 apologizing to M. for then apparent madness, while M. 

 in turn extended them an invitation to come to Frankfort 

 to see him. As he retired from the cornfield there was a 

 twinkle in his eye that meant more than a volley for my 

 taking post on the skirmish line. "Didn't I manage it 

 nice ?" said he; "all you have to do is to keep pullin' the 

 trigger and she keeps a-shootin'," and his shoulders shook 

 with laughter. 



Saturday morning, the last day of our stay in hospita- 

 ble Wingo, broke cloudy, warmer and foreboding rain. 

 The quartette of dogs were loosened for the final tramp. 

 M. exchanged his hard shoes for my rubbers, an excellent 

 swap as it proved. 



The Jersey wagon was engaged to take us out and 

 come after us at sunset. Tumbling in, we drove several 

 miles west of town, intending to hunt new territory. Our 



Elans were slightly altered by Dyke, who was skirting the 

 elds by the roadside, dropping to a point over the fence. 

 Hastily dismounting, we put our guns together as Kate, 

 Whit and Set drew a rigid circle about Dyke. Three 

 buds were bagged, of which I was lucky enough to get 

 two. Following them up clown the hillside, we got two 

 more on the second rise, and I afterward scored another 

 on a cross-fire ; s it was darting for the woods. M. bagged 

 a seventh before we quit the covey. Concluding to con- 

 tinue the hunt from this place, we ordered the wagon 

 back. Going over the next lull into a brushy ravine, M. 

 and W. took the. bottom and I the top, keeping Kate in 

 my front. She pointed a covey on a ridge, but owing to 

 the trees, briers and saplings, I only got a single snap 

 shot, bagging one bird. M. fired at one or two that 

 crossed the bottom, but without success. A light, misty 

 rain now began to fall which continued at intervals dur- 

 ing the day. The snow had almost disappeared. Dyke 

 seemed a new dog entirely. His two days' confinement 

 had evidently revolutionized his notions of duty. He 

 was strictly obedient to word and gesture, and never 

 made a flush during the entire day. No doubt he had 

 reasoned the matter over, solved the cause of his tempo- 

 rary retirement, and resolved to be a better dog in future. 



Several fields were hunted over before another covey 

 was put up. M. and W. were again in luck in getting 

 the first shots. They bagged several, when the remainder 

 were frightened to the bush by a wagon passing an adja- 

 cent road. 



Descending into a long bottom M. flushed a covey in 

 some heavy sedge grass, killing two birds at the rise. 

 They scattered in a small patch of standing corn, where 

 we brought several more to bag. Further up, I started a 

 fine covey near their night's roost, dropping three plump 

 fellows on the rise and winging another that fell over 

 the fence. M. promised to watch the wounded bird, but 

 taking his eyes off for an instant it disappeared and was 

 lost. Most of this fine covey went to a wooded hillside, 

 where we marked them down. Following a few scat- 



