Dec. 23, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



427 



-would stop in the next ravine. Contrary to his custom 

 he was without a rifle, and it was a six -mile gallop to his 

 cabin, but he made the trip and on his return found the 

 deer at the spot lie expected. Three of them never left 

 the canon, and their carcasses are now encircled by 

 strychnined coyotes aud badgers. 



The Rocky Mountain sheep has, when undisturbed, as 

 great a love for familiar spots as has the blacktail. He 

 is found among the rocks iu all parts of the Game Pre- 

 serve. I have seen a group stand on a cliff and watch a 

 passing train without exhibiting a sign of fear; but let a 

 solitary man walk along the track and no ledge is so 

 narrow, no ridge so steep that the bighorn cannot put it 

 between himself and Ins pursuer. In this portion of the 

 country they run in bunches of eight or ten. They are 

 not as plentiful here as in the Bruncau region among the 

 northern ranges. I have grown tired of trying to stalk 

 them, and when one is needed for the larder I shall have 

 to waylay a, bunch as they come down their well-worn 

 trail to a mountain spring. With a favorable w ind it 

 will be no trouble to get the fattest of the flock, but the 

 method is a. disreputable one. 



The buffalo alone remains for a passing note. He is not 

 quite extinct, but his habitat is so unsettled that it is use- 

 less to look for him except in the immediate vicinity of the 

 National Park. A few breed on the north era slope of the 

 Wind River Mountains; some in the remotest valleys of 

 the Big Horn, but the majority seem to understand that 

 their only safety consists in keeping within the charmed 

 square where Uncle Sam looks out for their preserva- 

 tion. I have seen four in this region within the past 

 three months — two bulls, a cow and a calf. A band of 

 cowboys roped the calf, but it died during the second 

 day of its confinement. About two years ago a band of 

 eighteen came near the railroad, but two would-be hide- 

 hunters from Rock Springs chased them into a sink-hole, 

 where all perished. The quicksand was so treacherous 

 that no effort was made to secure their hides, so the last 

 band was wantonly destroyed, and no one can telihow 

 soon the same fate "may befall the elk and antelope of the 

 Sweetwater country. Shoshone. 



Point of Rocks, Wyo., Dec. 10. 



BY THE HOUSATONIC. 



\JU ITH a feeling of. regret I shook the sacred soil of 

 V ' Virginia from my feet, after quite a stay, and 

 bade my hospitable companions good-by. Aunt Dilsey 

 and all the darkies on the plantation, forty odd, crowded 

 round the army ambulance containing my wife and 

 chicks and earthly possessions. "Good-by, massa. God 

 bless you. You've" been mighty kind to us"all." Charlie 

 cracked his whip, off went the four-in-hand team of 

 mules, and I saw them no more, glad enough to know 

 that I had ruled kindly over the simple people I had 

 charge of, nor left an enemy behind. It was a sudden 

 change from Virginia to New England, but I was cos- 

 mopolitan, a sort of citizen of the world. I had tried 

 Chinese and darkies, now I was going for the Yanks. So 

 it came about that, on the bank3 of the beautiful Housa- 

 tonic, I set up my wigwam and provided myself, now 

 more at leisure, with rod and gun and dog. 



At that time woodcock could still be found if diligently 

 sought for: and quail and partridges (so I shall always 

 call them) were in fan* numbers, and much of my time 

 was passed afield. My companion M. was an excellent 

 shot, and had as good a dog as any man would want to 

 shoot over; quail was his "best hold" any time. Duke 

 was a large, fine liver and white setter, of whom I propose 

 to say a few words. He passed into my brother's hands 

 for "large money" after I first met with him, and was 

 made a present to me, and a royal gift it was. His first 

 owner had treated him with great severit y. It is needless 

 to state that I changed this at once when he came into 

 my possession. Though I lived very near his former 

 owner, I do not think the old dog ever looked the same 

 side of the way his cruel master was on. I liked him all 

 the better for it. Knowing old dog; his photo hangs on 

 the wall near me as I write. Whenever I put on my 

 sporting rig, he would dash round and bark, anil 

 whimper with delight the moment I took my gun. But 

 let me take my rod instead, and he would go off and lie 

 down with a most disgusted expression of countenance. 

 I shot over him until he got too old to hunt or to stir 

 around, and at the last buried him in a quiet nook near 

 the scene of his early triumphs. We all felt as if we had 

 lost a dear friend, and so we bad, and I drove down, a 

 summer ago, to the old fellow's grave on purpose to 

 review the innumerable pleasant hunts I had had with 

 him in the olden time. 



M. had, or claimed to have — and I do not doubt him — 

 the very singular faculty of smelling a partridge. At 

 fust I thought he was making game of me, but after- 

 ward I changed my mind. I have repeatedly been out 

 with him, when he would call out, "Look out, Capt,, 

 there's a bird here; I can smell him," and his face would 

 flush up and so would the bird. In these days of guns 

 we have all sizes and makes of guns and ingenious con- 

 trivances, with endless discussions as to bores and loads 

 of powder and shot and wads and all that. But here was 

 a man who did great execution (I call kiling sixteen quail 

 right along good execution ; I call killing four partridges 

 straight in the brush better) with a mean, insignificant- 

 looking little muzzleloader, weighing about scant 61bs., 

 and carrying say 2-|drs. of powder and about loz. of shot, 

 a gun you could hold easily in one hand. I have often 

 seen M. kill three partridges straight. I had a grand gun 

 and it would carry further than M.'s, but he secured the 

 most game as a general rule. I tumbled into a bog one 

 day and got my muzzleloader clogged up with mud. I 

 scrambled to my feet, up got a bird and I pulled on him. 

 I heard a peculiar ringing sound and I found two inches 

 odd of my right barrel blown up and twisted round. I 

 could only use the left that day, but when I had the bar- 

 rels cut off it made a grand w T oodcock gun, and as far as 

 I could see performed as well as ever. 



"Capt., let us try Bog Hollow." We jump into the 

 wagon, stow away dogs and gains, cluck to old Buckskin, 

 a famous trotter, and rattle away. Four miles over a 

 drive it would be hard to match in beauty, along the 

 banks of the Housatonic. We are going for woodcock 

 and partridge; the law is not up yet on quail. A capital 

 place I fancy for birds — a long reach of swamp and lots 

 of alders running well up, with hills on borh sides. This 

 must be the home of the woodcock. And here I am not 

 having had any practice on game for several years, and 

 facing one of the crack shots of the country. 



Though it was not always so, yet can I stand a. heap of 

 silence when I'm hunting. Most hunters do too much 

 talking out in the woods; and nothing riles the Governor 

 more than to keep shouting out, "Toowho, toowho!'' or 

 "Did you kill Mm?" I ha ve a black dog, Dash, not to be 

 named with old Duke. Up we go, M. on one side of the 

 swamp, I on the other. Whirr, whirr, up go three or 

 four partridgss; out sing the reports of our guns. First 

 sight best sight. I pull quick and see my bird go end 

 over end, while M. says, "Mine's hard hit." We call our 

 dogs and down-charge them, load up and go carefully. 

 Dogs are both fresh and will do better when they slow- 

 down. Steady, Dash! Whoa, Duke! Ah! they are begin- 

 ning to draw 'on the birds. Lovely sight. What sports- 

 man worthy of the name can ever tire of looking at it. 

 Careful, find dead bird; fetch him here, Dash; that's a 

 good dog. Here, Duke. Both dogs come in, each tend- 

 erly bringing iu his bird, with no chewing nor mouthing. 

 Good boy, good boy. I feel delighted to think my right 

 hand has not forgot its cunning. But better not brag. 

 Go easy. 



We wave hands to the two dogs and walk on. Old 

 Duke knows there's another bird ahead. How carefully 

 the veteran covers Ms ground. By Jove! what a dog. 

 Look out! he's on a point and Dash is backing Mm. 

 Cluck! Away goes the bird, but the shot follows faster. 

 Over he tumbles. You can almost hear the thud as he 

 strikes. Wonderful little gun. Bah! a partridge gets up 

 right in full view and I miss him with both barrels. 

 Better luck next time. "Capt., you'd bea good shot," says 

 M., "If you didn't pull so quick." That comes from early 

 habit in shooting woodcock in the brush. 



Let's sit down by this spring a while. Not so bad. 

 Three present and accounted for. No. 4 has gone up the 

 run, we will put him up again. 



M. gets both barrels off about as quickly as any man 

 1 ever shot with; and he fires away at the smallest provo- 

 cation, no matter how far off the bird. What's a charge 

 of shot, anyhow? Then again, and I thoroughly agree 

 with him. pull on a partridge, no matter how far off; if 

 he hears the shot whistling around him, which he is sure 

 to do, he will stop all the quicker; probably thinks it is a 

 hawk. I deem this sound doctrine, and I add, follow 

 your bird right up, if you fail to down him the first time, 

 go for Mm the second, Keep ongoing; keep him mov- 

 ing, he will tire sooner. Then put your trust in good 

 powder and shot aud aim, to say nothmg of luck, and 

 you will fetch him. 



I have before said that no sport in my estimation sur- 

 passes shooting the ruffed grouse. Where can you find a 

 bird more up to all sorts of wiles and dodges, wide awake 

 all the time; cunning as a fox? Yet not such a hard bird 

 to kill, if you can only get a fan - "swipe" at him. That is 

 the season I say train up your dog in the way he should 

 go on these birds first; then when he gets age, he will go 

 it. If your dog is to cut loose and set sail and away the 

 moment he strikes the scent, no more game for you. You 

 want your dog to road the bird right along, carefully and 

 quietly. The Governor, who has killed no end of these 

 royal birds, used often to bring his favorite pointer to heel 

 and then walk the bird up; this was when the game was 

 very scarce. I agree with Bogardus, use plenty of pow- 

 der, so you can feel a slight spring to your gun when you 

 lire it , but not such large size shot. The Governor ran out 

 of ammunition once and went for grouse with No. 10 

 shot, and had excellent restdts. Tlie pointing of the gun 

 is the key to the whole matter. 



All this while we are sitting down by the spring, and 

 that fourth bird is to be looked after. Hie on, good dogs, 

 and let us see what you can do. Whoa, Dash ; look out 

 your way, M. Cluck! up goes a woodcock. I pull on him, 

 over he goes and the dog with tad cm-led proudly over 

 his back s brings him carefully in. Now look out for an- 

 other bird. Both dogs are making game. Up goes a ball 

 of feathers. M. cuts loose with both barrels. No go, clean 

 miss. I bang away with the right, and timber doodle's 

 feathers part company, and I can't help saying "Wiped 

 your eye," and I put No. 2 away safely in my jacket. 



We ought to be close up to that fourth partridge. Look 

 out, he must be right by us; the swamps are not very 

 wide here. Both dogs are making game; we move ahead 

 a step, and with a mighty roar away goes the old cock. 

 No use, he had to go or be kicked up, and M. downs him 

 handsomely with the right-hand barrel and Ms equanim- 

 ity is restored. He bates to be beaten, but I, who have 

 always hunted with good shots, don't cry over a defeat. 

 I have enjoyment enough watching the intelligence of 

 my dog, breathing the pure delicious air, enjoying the 

 sunshine and scenery, without howhng if I do not get my 

 bird every shot. 



One thing in the woods M. and I always made a point, 

 that was to destroy all the traps and twitch-ops we came 

 across. The woods were full of them; and lots of game 

 went off to market with never a shotmark on them. One 

 old chap lised to trap Ms birds and then hang the bunch 

 up and fire away at them. 



Well, we have done well enough up Bog Hollow, let us 

 swing round by Squash Hollow, we ought to pick up a 

 few woodcock there. Four partridges and two wood- 

 cock — that will keep the gridiron going. Round we go, 

 and strike in by the headwaters of a trout stream, put the 

 dogs m and follow them right up. Grand ground for 

 woodcock, this. Look out, there went a bird. Dash ran 

 over him. I remind my dog that that kind of work won't 

 pass muster. I don*t believe in continually lath ering your 

 dog; but if you do whip him, let hhn know you mean 

 business. Careful now, here's a bird. See Dash. Look 

 at Duke. Curious quality this, that the moment the dogs 

 strike the scent and feel it growing warm they should 

 stop instantly as if turned into stone. A little toss of my 

 head, up goes the bird through the adders, two reports 

 ring out, M. lias fired at one, but did not know whether 

 he struck him or nor. It is brash work now, quick 

 trigger and eye of faith. Old Duke, thoroughbred that 

 he is, points his bird and retrieves. Dash stops, and yet 

 brings nie nothing. E'rd here somewhere. I look, and 

 we both look, and I :v\\ on the point of giving up when 

 M. says, "Look up," an 1 lo! there is the woodcock hang- 

 ing in the bush. 



We beat through tha!, cover carefully. I picked up a 

 couple more of woodcock and M. did equally well, 

 though I think the cov -r favored me, and I had more 

 practice in the brush. I carried my gun differently from 

 my companion, he gene- lly hunting with muzzle down, ! 

 while I habitually carri 1 mine at "present arms." In 

 this way it keeps twigs . nd branches out of one's face, j 

 and the gun falls readily into hand as you pull on your 



bird; if it goes off, well and good, no harm. I have had 

 so many close shaves shooting with careless people that I 

 have made it a rule "Two's company, tM'ee is none." 



One curious incident happened to me. We had hunted 

 down the swale and had done fairly well. I had lost 

 sight of my dog; and following him up found Mm on a 

 point, and lo! in front of him was a fine partridge strung 

 up by a wire, and not long caught. With a fervent wish 

 that the trap-maker had been in the bird's place, it was 

 only the work of a moment for mo to uproot the snare 

 and transfer the bird to my game jacket. So we came 

 out of the swamp and over the fence and down the road 

 to Old Buckskin. I was well pleased that we had taken 

 five partridges and five woodcock into camp. I had, con- 

 trary to expectations, "kept my end of the log up;" and 

 as we drove home in the twilight we made an agreement 

 to be soon on hand again at an early hour and have an- 

 other whack at the birds. ' Capt. Clayton, 



THE GROUND RATTLESNAKE. 



I > EADERS of this article living in the extreme Southern 

 XV States will know what is meant by "ground" rattle- 

 snake, as this branch of the Orotalus family is at homo 

 in those States. But Northern people often, and quite 

 frequently, too, think that, s s this is called the ground 

 rattlesnake, some varieties of rattlesnakes spend part of 

 the time in trees away from the ground. 



The ground rattlesnake is so called from its great re- 

 semblance to the surface of the ground where it is usually 

 found. Its color is ashy gray, almost white underneath, 

 speckled on the sides with small black or brownish spots, 

 and marked along the backbone with beautiful, velvet- 

 like black blotches — a specimen of 18in. havmg some as 

 large as a two-cent piece. They are rarely seen of a 

 greater length than 1 Bin., the usual size being about 12 

 or 15 long, and lin. in diameter in the largest part. The 

 rattles are very small, but, nevertheless, a noise is made 

 with them which can be heard several feet away. They 

 love a warm, rather barren ridge, and are seldom met 

 with on low lands. The fangs arc two in number, situated 

 at the outward corners of the upper jaw, and vary in 

 length with the size of the snake, the largest being not 

 over Un. They are curved in shape, sharp as a needle, 

 and hollow up to withm a very short space of the point. 

 The virus is ejected through this hollow into the wound. 

 The fangs are loosely attached to the jaw. similar to the 

 claws of the cat family, and connected with the poison 

 sacks situated immediately in their rear. A more nicely 

 calculated arrangement cannot bo found in all nature ; in 

 fact, to use a slang, but expressive phrase, it "fills the 

 bill," The sacks somewhat resemble a gumboil. 



So much for the natural history of the ground rattle- 

 snake, as observed by one whose most fascinating pleasure 

 consists in studying nature — from nature — and roaming 

 the fields and forests with and without the instruments of 

 destruction, f recently received a letter from a little 

 friend who lives on the far southeastern coast of Florida, 

 wMch I give below, verbatim et literatim. The writer is 

 but twelve years of age, and the composition and hand- 

 writing something remarkable. But the letter will speak 

 for itself: 



GLENCOE, Fla., Oct. 16, 1887. 



Dear Charley: 



* * * Wednesday morning. The train hasn't come 

 through yet because of the wash outs, but we expect it to- 

 day, and so I thought I would tell you what happened to me 

 Monday afternoon. It was late in the afternoon when I 

 reported to papa that there were some quail in the front 

 road, so he took Charley's shot-gun and went out there to 

 .see it he could not kill some, and I followed him to show 

 him where they were, and when he was just aiming at them 

 I felt a sharp pain on my left ankle and looking down I saw 

 a ground rattlesnake in the act of running into the hushes. 

 He was about six inches long and only had a button on its 

 tail. I called out to papa that I had been bitten by a rattle- 

 snake, and then ran in the house where mamma bathed my 

 foot iu strong ammonia. Papa shot at the snake [killing it] 

 as soon as he saw it, and came running in the house and 

 sucked the wound, which took a good deal of poison out. 

 The. bitten place turned purple, and commenced swelling 

 half an hour after that, and now it is swollen up to my 

 knee. 



Mamma gave me a great deal of brandy and whiskey and 

 when it had made me. dizzy they said the danger was over. 

 Dr. Fox happened to be at Mrs. Joe Bryan's aud came to see 

 me. He brought some nitrate of silver so that papa could 

 cauterize the bite if it needed it. 



Your loving friend, 



Robert W. Howard. 



Since receiving the above I learned a f e w more partic- 

 ular's. Two wine glasses full of whisky and the same of 

 brandy were given immediately after the wounds had 

 been bathed in ammonia. No effect was noticed (from 

 the liquor drank) until quite a while afterward, when it 

 produced a dizziness. The bite was situated between the 

 heel and ankle bone, and the fang marks about three- 

 eighths of an inch apart. The boy was complaining — 

 limping, etc. — for nearly a week, but then got well and 

 lively. Two or three hours after the bite his foot was 

 swelled, but no swelling above the ankle, The next 

 morning his leg was swelled some. 



The snake was a young one, and the wounds probably 

 not as deep or the virus quite as poisonous as if made by 

 a larger specimen. 



In a second letter Robert says: "I felt a sharp pain in 

 my left ankle the instant the snake bit me, and after a 

 little while under my knee and then my hip." 



During a residence of over twelve years in Florida, I 

 only came across six of these snakes, notwithstanding that 

 three-fourths of my time was spent in the woods and 

 fields hunting, surveying, etc. 



Dr. Yarrow's experiments with rattlesnake virus (now 

 in progress at Washington) will probably be of lasting- 

 benefit to the country at large. The results will be eagerly 

 looked for by every reader of Forest and Stream, in- 

 cluding Redwing. 



Haiititobd, Conn. 



An Antlered Doe.— A party of hunters returned 

 from the West Mountains a. few days ago, and'during the 

 hunt Mr. Beauregard Kenner succeeded in bringing 

 down what he supposed to be a buck, but which, on ex- 

 amination, proved to be a fine doe, with as magnificent a 

 pah- of antlers as ever adorned the head of the proudest 

 buck of the Wasatch. We understand that Mr. Kenner 

 has preserved the head and horns for the curious to look 

 at if they so desire. — Home (Dak.) Sentinel. 



