170 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 21, 18S9, 



"Sam Lovel'* Camps.'' By R. E. Robinson, Price -it. 



SEPTEMBER ON BIG SANDY BAY. 



THERE are little Charming oases in the desert of busi- 

 ness routine that often stand out in brilliant green 

 in the memory of those holding a title thereto. Some of 

 these little glints of brightness to the hard-working busi- 

 ness and professional mail appertain to the domain of 

 travel and outdoor sport; others may come under a differ- 

 ent title; but all are characterized according to the tastes, 

 influenced sometimes by circumstances of the individuals. 

 It is probably true that every mind desires at times relax- 

 ation from the fatigue incident to work; and by work is 

 meant that occupation which requires the tension of 

 brain and muscle throughout the year. Paradoxical as 

 it may seem to many people, that very relaxation may 

 embody harder mental and physical labor than the 

 drudgery sought to be escaped. Mark Twain in ''Tom 

 Sawyer'' propounds a metaphysical fact without elabor- 

 ating the reasoning Avhen he told the story of the fence 

 and whitewash brush, and also when he adverts to the 

 fact of a man's oh mbing Mount Blanc and calling it sport, 

 but shunning it as the hardest of work when the element 

 of necessity and pay enters into it. We want rest or 

 change, or both. The brain that has wearied in search- 

 ing out and comparing legal precedents and rules, or has 

 tired from footing up a few miles of ledger columns, will 

 involve itself in just as severe work in a game of skill 

 and find relief, and so will the bodily structure borne 

 rlown with work hud relief in the muscular exertion of 

 play. ' But perhaps the best results are obtained when the 

 individual tastes and opportunities will permit of such 

 change of action as will equalize the condition of mind 

 and matter. It is upon the latter hypothesis that the trip 

 was undertaken which this letter is designed to in part 

 CDmmemorate. 



Big Sandy is the name of a small bay indenting the 

 ea:t shore of Lake Ontario, although I believe there is an 

 arm of the lake on the Canada side bearing the same 

 name. It is about a mile and a half in length by some- 

 thing over a quarter of a mile in width. Upon the east 

 is located a little hotel called the Lake View House, and 

 about a mile south along the lake shore, at the mouth of 

 Big Sandy Creek, is situated the LT. S. Life Saving Sta- 

 tion. The geological formation of the neighborhood is 

 peculiar. Separating the lake from the bay is a narrow 

 strip of almost pure sand scarcely more than 100yds. in 

 width, with hills of drifting powdered silica strewn quite 

 60ft. in height, upon which dwarfed pines and oaks 

 struggle to retain their hold in the unstable deposits. 

 Upon the landward side no trace of sand appears, but 

 instead you find rich alluvial deposits which are highly 

 productive under cultivation. This sandy belt crops out 

 for a few miles along the Ontario, making a sloping shore, 

 hard and firm to walk upon when the spray has wet it 

 down, but drifting and loose when dry. From the bay 

 south ward stretches a vast rice marsh, thickly in terspersed 

 with wild celery, of some 2,000 acres in area, bisected by 

 the Big Sandy Creek and its tributary, South Creek, 

 affording choice feeding grounds for wild duck, rail and 

 blackbirds, while upon the outlying flats congregate the 

 snipe, plover and curlew. 



In the late afternoon of a September day, four outers 

 with then" duffle and accompanied by a retriever stepped 

 from the cars at a small station on the Rome and Water- 

 town Railway. The party included in its membership a 

 dentist, an insurance underwriter, a merchant and a 

 lawyer. They were met upon alighting by a young man 

 with a black-tinted moustac he who answered to the name 

 of Charley. He had a wiry little team hitched to a 

 democratic wagon, which looked somewhat frail for the 

 safe transportation of the party over the ten miles that 

 intervened between the station and the bay. But looks 

 are often deceptive, and after an hour's ride the Lake 

 View House was reached with no accident or excitement, 

 except an occasional collision between the canine mem- 

 ber of the party and the native dogs frequently met 

 along the route. George Wood, the proprietor, met the 

 party with a genial smile from his stalwart height of six 

 feet and over, and in response to our inquiry as to the 

 shooting, threw a big chunk of ice upon the spirits of 

 the hunters when he said, ' Now, by Jaky, if you had 

 come last week you would have found the birds just too 

 thick, but mabby we can scare up a few to-morrow." 

 This answer was certainly somewhat discouraging. How- 

 ever, we were not fully acquainted with George. We 

 came to know him better after the lapse of a few days. 

 As supper was waiting and our appetites were in fairly 

 good order, we deferred for the present further conversa- 

 tion, aside from some pertinent comment upon the appar- 

 ently doleful outlook. 



Some four years ago Mr. Wood leased this large marsh 

 tract, and organized the preserve into a close corporation 

 with himself as president, secretary, treasurer, board of 

 trmtces and general manager combined. Having posted 

 the notices required by law warning trespassers from 

 shooting on the lands, he laid down one very good rule 

 for his guests, that there should be no shooting on Satur- 

 day, Sunday and Monday of each week, and rigidly en- 

 forced the regulation. The wisdom of this is apparent to 

 one who has hunted where shyness is a predominant 

 feature among game. 



Upon the following morning while darkness still 

 shrouded the shore line in gloom, and mist hung heavily 

 over the water, our party in two boats of the light St. 

 Lawrence model pushed into the wild rice, and awaited 

 the morning flight of towl. Soon they came in scatter- 

 ing bunches, not sufficient in numbers to satisfy a pot- 

 hunter, or the amateur club house slaughterer, who loads 

 his 10 or 8-bore with all it will stand, and is unhappy un- 

 less he can kill or cripple an even hundred an hour, but 

 affording shots for a fairly decent bag; and as the sun 

 appeared above the horizon the marsh resounded to the 

 incessant discharge of shotguns. After two hours of 

 sport we emerged from the covering of rice and rushes 

 into the open waters of the bay, and dashed away in a 

 race for a much desired breakfast. When the inner 

 cravings of a keen appetite, born of early rising and exec 

 else, had been satisfied, we took a turn out on the bay for 

 pickerel. Now, pickerel catching doesnot involve a great 

 display of skill, and, compared with the fascination of 

 hooking and playing the gamy black bass or the agile 1 

 trout on a delicate line with a six-ounce bamboo, is tame 



enough, but when one is on a mission of slaughter he will 

 find the rapidity of strikes and the size of the pickerel in 

 Big Sandy commensurate with any excitement to be got 

 out of trolling. One begins to believe the trout and gray- 

 ling, the bass and salmon have all relegated themselves 

 to inaccessible places from the way they have disap- 

 peared from waters that a few years since fairly teemed 

 with them. Therefore it has come to pass that we troll 

 for pickerel, Still-fish for bullheads and, perchance, bob for 

 eels in waters near at home, and. save the mark, call it 

 sport (?). There are a good many things nowadays that 

 depend on main strength and awkwardness rather than 

 on delicacy and art. 



Getting an early dinner, after our sumptous haul on 

 Hie trolling lines, we pushed off in our boats for explor- 

 ation. We could just see from the boat landing the flag 

 staff of the Life-Saving Station, and curiosity prompted 

 us to turn in that direction. Rowing to the large sand 

 flat that encompassed the outlet of the bay, and dra wing 

 out the boats, we started on a tramp up the beach. On 

 all sides the golden plover and yellowlegs were uttering 

 their plaintive whistle and diverted us for an hour to the 

 filling of the pockets in our shooting coats. It was quite 

 3 o'clock when we reached the station and introduced 

 ourselves to the captain and crew. Every courtesy was 

 shown us in conducting our party through the buildings 

 and grounds and explaining the various apparatus need- 

 ful in this humane but perilous avocation. Twice a week 

 they go through the boat and gun drill, practicing the 

 former out on the lake. The gun practice consists in 

 shooting a bolt, to which is attached a line, over a mast 



Elanted on the opposite side of the river. To this line must 

 e a ttached a buoy which will convey the crew to a ship- 

 wrecked vessel. Captain Fish informed us that the 

 present season had been free from serious disaster. But 

 he told us how last year a vessel went ashore about four 

 miles north during the season of snow and ice, and how 

 the crew battled with the freezing surf in getting the life- 

 boat to the rescue. Every member of the crew only es- 

 caped freezing by the violent exertion necessary to reach 

 the wreck, wdiile several of the ship-wrecked * mariners 

 were taken from the stranded vessel, corpses sheeted in 

 ice 



It is but seldom that the tegular lake mariners come to 

 grief, and a proportion of wrecks demanding aid from 

 the life stations are from the large body of amateur 

 yachtsmen and single-banders, so-called, as well as canoe- 

 ists, who navigate the lake with a hardihood coupled 

 with ignorance of these waters. As an instance of reck- 

 less cruising, I may cite the passage of a handsome steam 

 yacht, owned on one of the small inland lakes of New 

 York, returning from a cruise to Montreal. This boat 

 ran from Kingston to Oswego one night in September 

 during such a storpi and heavy sea as few of the staunch 

 lake vessels cared to encounter. True, this yacht was of 

 excellent model and carried powerful engines; but sup- 

 pose she had become crippled by some breakage? I 

 doubt very much if, in such event, her light spars and 

 small canvas, if the latter was readily available for use, 

 would have prevented her from stranding on a dangerous 

 shore. And I very much fear if her crew were sailors 

 enough with proper rigging to claw off a lee shore. 



It was long past dark and the wind had become half a 

 gale when we left the hospitable quarters at the station 

 to return. We had a hard pull against a head wind on 

 the bay that kicked up a. brisk little sea on this small 

 landlocked bit of water, and our arms ached when we 

 drew up on the boat landing at our hotel. After par- 

 taking of a generous supper we ensconced ourselves in 

 the little barroom among the half dozen other sportsmen 

 guests present, and over our pipes and an occasional 

 glass of beer became better acquainted with our land- 

 lord. We soon found that the stalwart proprietor played 

 a good hand at old sledge and enacted the role of romancer 

 with equal credit. Let a party of hunters sit around a 

 blazing wood fire on a crisp autumn evening, each man 

 equipped with a pipe of good tobacco, and you may rest 

 assured the marvelous will predominate in "story-telling. 

 I recall with a smile a little episode our ubiquitous host 

 related of the preceding winter. 



'•You see," he began, "it is mighty lonesome herein 

 the middle of winter, when it is so cussed cold that none 

 of you fellows care to come out and see a body. Well, 

 one' morning my brother, who lives just back up the road, 

 came over and said, 'George, let'sgo on a fox hunt.* Now. 

 I would rather go hunting foxes than to a funeral any 

 day, except one, and that is a fellow down the lake: when 

 they plant him 1 11 go to his funeral if I am not dead. Well , 

 we filled our pockets with doughnuts and other grub, 

 took our guns and dog and cut across the pond to the lake 

 shore. By and by the pup started a track and lit out up 

 the beach a ways and then swung inland. Now, said I, 

 1 know just where the little critter will strike the bank 

 again, so we legged it off for a couple of miles. All at 

 once we both stopped, for we saw close against the bank 

 three wild geese roosting in the snow. I agreed to go 

 around and come on them over the bank while my brother 

 was to walk slowly along the beach and shoot if they 

 tried to fly away. I crawled through the snow for a 

 thundering long ways, and at last looked down on them 

 from the top of the bluff. But they did not stir or even 

 wink. I didn't know T what to make of it. They warn't 

 dead and it puzzled me because they didn't scare away. 

 Well, I had the gun just ready for them, so we went up 

 and took them in our arms and made up our minds they 

 were about froze and hungry. By and by they thawed 

 out and we allowed they were about starved the way they 

 stowed the doughnuts, and so we sat and visited with 

 them in the snow until our feet got real cold. Then we 

 were puzzled how to get them home. We finally con- 

 cluded to carry them, and slung the guns across our backs 

 and started. On the first send-off I carried the two geese 

 while my brother carried the gander. Then we would 

 change off. 1 tell you, after we had waded through the 

 snow for a mile with them it became mighty hard work. 

 At length, coming to a smooth strip where the snow had 

 blown off I stopped to rest and put the gander down. 

 I guess my body and the doughnuts had warmed him 

 up, for he walked off clever enough on his pins. 

 So we put them all down and found we could drive 

 them along ahead of us until we oaine to deep 

 snow, when we would carry them over to the 

 smooth places and set them down again. Well now, 

 didn't we have fun. and didn't we just talk and brag 

 about the flock of decoys we would have next season 

 out of these birds. Well, as the geese began to warm up 

 they trotted right along, so we had to step pretty lively 



to keep up, and then we got to laying bets on their rac- 

 ing. The gander seemed to be a" little spryer than the 

 other two and I thought he needed weighting clown a 

 little, so I took a fur collar I had in my poaket and slip- 

 ped it over his neck, which slowed him up some. We 

 were just having a gay old time and had got down the 

 shore to just across the pond there and had one little 

 smooth strip to run over before we turned in to come 

 across, so we started them up again, and thev put out 

 right smart, and they kept going faster till we had to 

 run to keep up, and they flapped their wings which 

 helped them along all the faster, and just as they came 

 opposite the house over there where we wanted to turn 

 in, would you believe it but the ungrateful cusses just 

 sang out honk! honk! and went flying away and we 

 a couple of blamed fools stood and watched them until 

 they went out of sight down past the station. Then I 

 turned to my brother and said, 'Well, 1 11 be dura!" and 

 he said, 'Yes, you be durn', why didn't you shoot?' Now, 

 seeing both our guns were tied on our backs, that wa-n't 

 possible, but I do believe if we had had the guns in our 

 hands we were too paralyzed to shoot. And then there 

 went my fur muffler, a brand new one too, and one my 

 wife made me a present of, which did not reduce the ex- 

 pense any. Well, we just came plodding home here 

 across the ice, and made a hot tod, and sat and cussed 

 our fool's luck. About an hour afterward and while we 

 were trying to wonder how it all came about we heard 

 a racket among the fowls at the barn. I got tip and 

 went out to see what was the matter, and I hope to die 

 if I didn't see that same old gander flying away, and 

 there right on the hitching post hung my fur muffler. 

 The cuss was too honest to steal and had brought it 

 back." 



As he concluded the story a silence fell upon the party 

 which was oppressive. Some one whistled a few bars of 

 a plaintive air, then some one asked, "George, what be- 

 came of the pup and the fox?" "Oh!" he said, "the pup 

 got mad because we left him and went up to Woodville 

 and hired out to a friend of mine, where he is yet. But 

 say, mebby yrju don't believe that story? Well, I can 

 show you the muffler, and you can ask my brother when 

 he comes over to-morrow, so what more proof do you 

 want?" 



Early upon the following morning we were out on the 

 marsh distributing No. (is from our chokebores impar- 

 tially among teal, widgeon and black duck. But to re 

 count the exploits of one day is substantially to inclicate 

 the daily life at the bay. Mornings we shot ducks, fore- 

 noons we fished for pickerel or anything else that would 

 bite, and in the afternoons we did some loafing, some 

 target shooting, or took a sail on the lake, while toward 

 evening we went for rail and plover and took another 

 crack at the wildfowl. Upon the whole, we found Big 

 Sandy a pretty fair sort of all round resort. Wildfowl 

 shooting is fairly good, pickerel fishing (especially in the 

 creek) excellent, yachting on the lake pleasurable, and 

 George Woods' cuMne admirable. The officers and crew 

 at the Life Saving Station are genial and accommodat- 

 ing, and number among them some good shots and 

 expert fishermen , and we found ourselves greatly obliged 

 to Messrs. Wheeler, Anderson and Williams of the crew 

 for showing us the retreats of wildfowl among the rice 

 ponds, and the best river and bay trolling ground for the 

 largest pickerel. 



To the tourist-sportsman who loves the rugged grand- 

 eur of the mountains and the dark recesses of the forest, 

 and w ho has the means as well as the time to spend in 

 casting his fly upon waters far from the centers of civili- 

 zation, or awaking the echoes of primeval fastnesses with 

 the crack of his rifle, Big Sandy will prove tame indeed. 

 But to the business man residing in the inland towns of 

 New York, who can spend now and then a day for a 

 breath of fresh air, and who prefers recreation of a, mixed 

 kind to a plethoric game bag, this little arm of Ontario 

 will become interesting. There are many delightful 

 nooks within the borders of nearly every State in the 

 Union where economy can be practiced with full returns 

 iu recreation and health. How many people there are 

 dwelling in our large cities, such as New York, Boston 

 and Chicago, who read the glowing accounts of sport 

 among the pines of Maine, among the rugged peaks of 

 the Rockies and far away Alaska, or the bogs and up- 

 lands of the Carol inas, who sigh as they figure up the 

 expenses of such a trip, the tariff of boaid bills and the 

 hire of guides, and then compare the luxurious list of 

 expenditures with the scantiness of their bank accounts. 



I do not address this communication to the man of one 

 sport This letter does not refer to him who pins his 

 hope of earthly bliss upon the rifle or shotgun, the rod or 

 trolling line, the canoe or yacht, nor the bycicle or saddle, 

 but on the contrary to that large body of all-round out- 

 ers who seek health and recreation in which is the spice 

 of variety, an intermingling of the above sports, within 

 reasonable means. And to these staunch representatives 

 of our Commonwealth I say, curtail your beer and cigar 

 bills and save up enough to take yourself, your wife and 

 little ones if you have them, your dog,y our gun and rod and 

 perhaps your canoe, for a few weeks' outing, or perchance 

 for a few days at intervals throughout the summer and 

 fall among the easily accessible places less than a day's 

 ride from your homes. I have in my mind's eye aside 

 from Big Sandy many cosy little hotels whose menu is 

 excellent without an accompaniment of prices that seem 

 to absorb the earth, situated along the lovely Cayuga 

 Lake in New York, on Buzzard's Bay in Massachusetts, 

 adjacent to the Suscmehanna in Pennsylvania, and among 

 the lake lands* of Wisconsin, all of which are easily 

 accessible to some one of the large cities before referred 

 to. Cayuga. 



Uncoje Lisha ajnd Sam Lovel. — Dditor Forest and 

 Stream: Fifty years ago I was a Yankee boy and my 

 life until I was twenty years of age was passed amid 

 such scenes and such people as Mr. Rowland E. Robinson 

 has pictured in "Uncle Lisha's Shop" and in "SamLovel's 

 Camps." The singular fidelity to nature with which 

 these surroundings of my youth are depicted makes me 

 wonder, while the author's wholesome feeling, his senti- 

 ment, his love for our common mother fills me with de- 

 light and enthusiasm. I have never read any two books 

 which moved me as these do. Every Yankee and es^ 

 pecially every one who has been a Yankee but whose 

 memories of the life of his native state have been dim- 

 med by time and distance, must feel a thrill as he reads 

 these books. I have written very feebly but I feel 

 deeply about them.— Ex- Yankee. 



