172 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 91, 1889. 



ADIRONDACK FOREST PROTECTION. 



UTICA, N. Y., March 15.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 Inclosed you will find a copy of a petition, which 

 is being very extensively circulated and signed in this 

 part ofthe State. It is sent out by the Black River Fish 

 and Game Protective Association, and we are anxious to 

 enlist public sentiment in its favor as far as possible. 

 Knowing your paper to be enlisted in the struggle for the 

 preservation of the forests our association, takes the 

 liberty of asking your support in its present undertaking. 

 Petition headings will be sent to any one on application 

 to the undersigned.— W. E. Wolcott, Secretary Black 

 River Fish and Game Protective Association, Herald 

 Office, Utica, "N. Y. 



PROTECTION Ol? THE ADIRONDACK FORESTS. 



To the Honorable the Senators and Assemblymen of the State of 

 New York: m ' " . . ^, 



Whereas, Large tracts of forest lands situate in the region 

 known as the Adirondack Mountains, or aa otherwise designated, 

 i he North Woods, are owned and held by individuals, and 



Wlwrcas. the State has no care or control of any forest lands so 

 held hy individuals, and 



Whereas, A large part of said Adirondack Mountain region be- 

 longs to the public domain or is owned by the State, and 



Whereas. The protection and preservation of the forests of the 

 State is both desirable and imperative, and 



Whereas, The forests of these Adirondack Mountains protect 

 and keep ever full the sources of streams which supply water to 

 the State waterways, and contribute largely to the proper rain- 

 fall over the State, and 



Wlwreas, Th« forests are the last refuge for deer and other game 

 in this State, constituting a self-supporting and self-sustaining 

 food supply, and , 



Whereas, The land where these forests stand is undesirable if 

 not absolutely worthless for agricultural purposes, and 



Whereas, VV e, the undersigned, citizens of 



view with grave apprehension the unprotected condition of these 

 forests, and foresee with anxiety the dangers which threaten 

 them; therefore we do respectfully and earnestly pray that your 

 honorable body will, at the earliest possible moment, enact such 

 laws as will result in restoring to the public domain the Adirondack 

 forest lands now owned and held by individuals, clubs and cor- 

 porations, and that you will euact such other laws as will forever 

 protect and preserve the whole Adirondack forests to the benefit 

 and enjoyment of the people of the whole State. 



HUNTING THE WILD TURKEY. 



AN article in Forest and Stream of July 5, 1888, re- 

 lating to the bighorn of the Rockies, made note of 

 their extreme wariness and what a difficult matter it is 

 to successfully hunt them: and I wondered then and still 

 wonder if tbey are or possibly could be more wary and 

 cautious than the wild turkey, numerous flocks of which 

 roam the woods in Pennsylvania and other States. 



The turkey is, I think, about the hardest game to kill 

 that is found in this part of the country, for if he dis- 

 covers a hunter on his track — and a very slight noiBe 

 will put him on his guard— he has but to raise himself 

 on his wings and soar far beyond the reach of the hunter, 

 leaving him staring at the space in the trees through 

 which he has passed. Or if not much alarmed, as is 

 sometimes the case, the bird will lead the hunter a long 

 chase on foot, giving him, perhaps, an occasional glimpse 

 of his fleeting form through the bushes at a long dis- 

 tance, but not a chance to catch sights on him with rifle, 

 and generally too far off for shot to do more than in- 

 crease his speed or make him take to wing. 



A turkey shot while on the wing with a shotgun — and I 

 have betn told with a rifle, but doubt it— will, even if 

 hard hit, soar for quite a distance, and, as a general 

 thing, finally drop in some level patch or thicket of some 

 sort where he is safe from discovery and there die from 

 his wounds. Of this I know of several instances. A 

 friend of mine, two or three years ago, shot a turkey 

 with shot. The turkey flew off across a large ravine 

 or hollow to the opposite hill, and the hunter, feel- 

 ing sure that he had hit it hard, crossed over after it, 

 but it could not be found, though he hunted long and 

 diligently. Some time after he was hun'ing about 

 the same place, and happened on his turkey, one wing 

 sticking out of a snowdrift. This is the fate of many 

 turkeys every season, and the reason is that in their wings 

 they have such great facilities for escaping the hunter. 

 Another hunter of this place who has been very success- 

 ful in turkey hunting, having killed three in one season, 

 shot a turkey while on the wing, breaking a wing bone. 

 This, of course, brought the gobbler, a large one, to the 

 ground, when it immediately took to its legs, and, with 

 the speed of the wind, so the hunter said, put quite a dis- 

 tance between them before he recovered from his sur- 

 prise. He followed it for two hours, and finally had to 

 give up, as it was growing dark, and the tracks still 

 showed as lively on the turkey's part as at first. 



A person not well acquainted with the turkey and his 

 habits is very apt to think from what he has heard or 

 read, that the turkey call is the greatest necessity in 

 turkey hunting, and that with one it is an eaBy matter to 

 secure a turkey. This is not the case, and in fact it is 

 very seldom that a call can be used successfully, and 

 about the only time is after a flock has been scattered 

 and are badly excited. They will after a while com- 

 mence calling to each other, and then is the hunter's 

 time to get between two logs or some similar screen be- 

 tween the divided flock. Some of the tur keys will be 

 quite sure to pass near him, when by a judicious use of 

 his call he may bring them within range. (When I say 

 "near" I mean about 75 to 100yds., as a shot at a turkey 

 at a shorter distance is a rare thing.) It is a great deal 

 more likely, though, that when the turkeys get within 

 100yds. or more of the hunter they will take a sudden 

 notion to go another way. They have, as we say, "caught 

 on to the call" and are suspicious after being scared from 

 their feeding grounds. If the hunter has seen them at 

 all he has most likely waited for a closer and surer shot 

 and has not got any, but most likely the turkeys have 

 picked their way through brush and thickets with heads 

 erect and eyes glancing in all directions, and the moving 

 into position of the gun, or any similar move, may have 

 been observed by them and scared them away. 



The best time to hunt turkeys is after a pretty heavy 

 snow — heavy enough to deaden the crackling of the 

 leaves under foot— when it has cleared up and they have 

 come off the roost in the hemlocks to feed on beech nuts 

 or hemlock buds. The best weapon, I think, because it 

 is the surest, is the Winchester repeater of any caliber not 

 less than .32, and the larger the better. 

 • On one of the many turkey hunts I have taken in the 

 last three years, a party of four of the Wildcat Club, of 

 which I am a member, were encamped five miles west of 

 this place, on the old Springfield, where we have a 

 good, substantial hunting cabin, with woods for miles 

 and miles around it. The Devil's Tract, on our north and 



east, is a very heavily timbered and rocky forest, in 

 which the deer make, as a general thing, their headquar- 

 ters, and where the turkeys roost in the great hemlocks. 

 An excellent spring of pure water, so pure that to the 

 taste it is almost sweet, trickles out of the ground not 

 more than ten yards from the door of our cabin. Add to 

 this the Springfield trout run, which runs in the woods 

 back of the cabin and into the Blacklick Creek about a 

 mile from the camp, and you have a fair idea of some of 

 the natural advantages of our location for a hunting and 

 fishing cabin. With plenty of eatables and a jolly set of 

 campers we generally have a first-class time. It was the 

 second or third week in December last, and we had been 

 camped three days, during winch timeit had snowed and 

 blowed almost constantly, and the only game that had 

 been killed was a jack rabbit, which Ponto, the editor's 

 hound, had given an hour's chase, and the junior mer- 

 chant of the party had bagged. On the fourth day (Fri- 

 day) we arose from our bunks to find that the storm had 

 abated, and a good day's hunt might be expected. We 

 all got ready after a hearty breakfast, which the Doc, our 

 cook, knows so well how to get up, and started out. The 

 editor and junior merchant declaring their intention of 

 taking their two hounds, Ponto and Billy, and having a 

 foot chase; the senior merchant thought he would watch 

 around the deer crossing, and look up things in general; 

 and the salesman said he was going for jaybirds with his 

 little Stevens rifle. Taking my double-barrel shotgun I 

 started out for turkeys. When I had crossed the Black- 

 lick Creek, and climbed one of the steepest hills I found 

 myself on a narrow flat composed mostly of beech, and 

 well adapted as a feeding ground for turkeys. Here I 

 struck a fresh turkey track which I followed for about a 

 mile, and found myself in about as rough a place as I was 

 ever in, an immense thicket covered all over with snow. 

 The track had mysteriously disappeared; so, thinking if 

 it had got too rough for the turkey to go through I 

 wouldn't stand much chance, I gave her up. 



I had seen her once, but she was too quick for me and 

 dodged into a thicket before I could get my gun up. She 

 saw me when I saw her, and after that would every now 

 and then rise and fly about 50 or 100yds. and then light 

 and run a piece. I finally struck another track, which 

 seemed to be a much larger and better one, for the first 

 was a small hen and would not have weighed over lOlbs. 

 at the most. I followed this track a piece when another 

 good-sized track branched on to it. They finally sepa- 

 rated, and I took the first of the two, which was the 

 largest. Every now and then I would notice where she 

 had been scratching for beech nuts, which put me on my 

 guard, as I knew I could expect to come on her soon, and 

 I almost had her over my shoulder so sure was I of get- 

 ting her. I finally did come on her, and could just see 

 her tail moving up and down as she would thrust her 

 head forward to pick up a nut. She was around a bend 

 in the old log road, along which she had traveled for 

 some distance. I leaned cautiously around a tree and 

 took dead aim on her body. The shotgun roared, the 

 turkey staggered, and Nim, my spaniel, rushed in on her. 

 But just about that time the turkey seemed to remember 

 that she had wings, and away she went up through the 

 trees. Another load of turkey shot did no more good 

 than the first, and she flew on, likely only to drop and 

 die in some laurel patch along the creek. On examina- 

 tion I found that I had drawn some blood, but concluded 

 that it would he no use hunting for her. 



I then went back and took the other track and fol- 

 lowed it until I came to two wing marks in the snow on 

 a log and the track ended. By this time it was getting 

 toward evening, and not knowing exactly where I was, 

 I thought I had better start for camp. After walking 

 about a mile and a half, or perhaps two, I came to a 

 farmhouse and discovered that I was going in exactly 

 the opposite direction from camp, and was about three 

 miles away from it. Had I not come to the farm, which 

 I knew, I would have been in sight of town in the next 

 hour. I changed my course and reached camp after a 

 hard walk, tired and disgusted. I found that I had com- 

 pany in both respects, as after hunting hard all day 

 nothing of much account had been bagged. 



They had been very uneasy about me, as it was after 

 dark before I got back, and they had been shooting signal 

 shots, which I had heard and taken for a celebration 

 over a monster buck or some other monarch of the for- 

 est, which had been laid low by the sure aim of some of 

 the party. Or perhaps the wildcats, of which there 

 were quite a number known to stay on the "Devil's 

 Tract,"' had surrounded the camp and the besieged were 

 acting in self-defense. 



The senior merchant, who wears far and near spectacle: 

 had lost one of the glasses and hadn't seen any deer on 

 that account. We fixed a piece of wood in the frame so 

 as to bind the other glass in, and this produced much 

 merriment on account of the comical look which it gave 

 the senior, and he laughed so much that he took a bad 

 cold, which required wild cherry tea to break it up. 

 About midnight a terrible thump, thump, thump, on the 

 cabin door was heard by all. We jumped to our feet 

 and reached for our guns; the Doc expressing the idea 

 that it was a bear which, having smelt the frozen rabbit 

 and our desire for blood, was trying to kick the door 

 in, and suggested that we set fire to the cabin and 

 make our escape in the smoke and confusion, The editor, 

 who had pulled a blanket over his head, and whose nerve 

 was rapidly returning, suggested that the Doc put the 

 dish towel on the poker as a flag of truce, and offer the 

 bear one of his tobies, which, if accepted, would likely 

 have the desired effect, besides furnishing us with smoked 

 bear meat. Finally some very expressive language from 

 the outside was heard, and the opened door admitted a 

 man. The newcomer was a messenger from the family 

 of the junior merchant, and had orders to take him home 

 dead or alive, as his flue was on fire and his family were 

 afraid to stay alone with it. After loading his game in 

 the sleigh, and expatiating on the question "Is marriage a 

 failure?" he took his departure. At daybreak all was ac- 

 tivity and packing up for the home stretch had com- 

 menced. At the breakfast table the senior merchant 

 told a story concerning the only wild turkey he had 

 ever killed. It seems that when a boy the senior worked 

 on a farm in Ohio, and that every Sunday an immense 

 old gobbler would come out of the woods and into the 

 barnyard of the farmer, who was a very religious man 

 and always attended church in the neighboring town, 

 taking the senior with him. The boy had noticed the 

 turkey's visits on several occasions, and it seriously 

 troubled him to think that it always came on Sunday and 



that he had no way of securing the prize without the 

 farmer knowing it.' He finally concluded to run the 

 risk and so, when one Sunday morning came, he was 

 sick and unable to attend church with the family. As 

 soon as he thought they were a safe distance away he 

 took down the old flintlock musket, primed it and went 

 out to the barn, where he stationed himself at a conve- 

 nient hole in the side and thrusting the musket through, 

 waited for the appearance of the gobbler. He came at 

 last slowly picking his way across the fields with a gob- 

 ble, gobble, gobble, which sent the blood flying through 

 the boy's veins, and which was answered by the farmer's 

 turkeys. On, on, he came until at last he was within 

 range and the boy could wait no longer, so taking dead 

 aim he fired, and rushing out discovered the turkey flop- 

 ping around at a great rate. He finally got it killed and 

 nook it to the woods, where he hung it up, and on re- 

 turning loaded the old musket and hung it up. The 

 family returned and were no wiser. The next morning 

 he was still indisposed and thought he would take a hunt, 

 maybe he might run across the turkeys. He went to the 

 woods, got his gobbler, and took it to town, and the store- 

 keeper gave him a quarter for it. It weighed 4Sibs., and 

 was the largest turkey he ever heard of. The editor had 

 killed three wild turkeys, I had killed one, and the Doc 

 had killed one, for which he paid a dollar and a quarter. 

 After breakfast and the packing was done we started 

 out to take a hunt, they to hunt until dinner time and 

 return to camp where, the sleigh would come for them 

 and I to hunt through the woods home. I was going 

 after flay turkeys of the previous day; this time armed 

 with my Winchester, which I had longed for the day 

 before; but as it happened I now got a splendid wing 

 shot for a shotgun and had no use for my rifle at all. 

 We all arrived home safe and sound and expect to occupy 

 the cabin some during the trout fishing season and also 

 next fall. W. R. T. 



SHOOTING CLUBS OF CHICAGO. 



XI. — THE GRiND CALUMET HEIGHTS CLUB. 



THE man was nearly right who said of the Chicago 

 clubs that there is not "any one of them alike." It 

 is a fact that each has some features of interest not pos- 

 sessed by any of the others. It is this fact which has 

 made the visits to the clubs so exceptionally pleasant, and 

 which is the main foundation of the belief that so long 

 a series of articles may still retain some interest, even for 

 those not members of the clubs themselves. 



Of all the clubs, none has more unique features than 

 the Grand Calumet Heights Club, and none will better 

 repay the curious seeker after novelty or pleasure. 



This organization, not yet two years old, but already 

 numbering well on toward a hundred members, is prac- 

 tically an offshoot of the old Lake George Club, which, 

 like itself, lies in the famous Calumet region, by many 

 thought to be the greatest duck country in the West, and 

 equal or superior, in natural advantages, to the famous 

 Fox Lake district. The Tolleston, Lake George and 

 Grand Calumet Heights clubs, are all kindred "tfandhiil" 

 or "Calumet" clubs, and lie not far apart in that favored 

 region, as a glance at the appended map will show. 

 Without some sort of map, it would be hard to explain 

 the peculiarities of this singular section of country, al- 

 though no map and no description can place it justly 

 before a reader. 



_ The main Calumet stream connects Calumet Lake with 

 .Lake Michigan. Its mouth is now built up with the 

 wharves and docks of South Chicago. Calumet Lake is 

 feebly imitated by Hyde Lake, Wolf Lake and Lake 

 George, which lie between it and the big water. It was 

 in this marshy district, supplied fully with all sorts of 

 feed, and inhabited by countless myriads of ducks in the 

 good old days, that the old Kleinman homestead lay. 

 Kleinman pere kept the wagon hot, hauling ducks to 

 Chicago, and if the boys didn't have another wagon load 

 killed by the time he got back there was blood on the 

 moon. That was where the Kleinmans learned to shoot. 



Out of this district two more absent-minded streams 

 start forth, but these run in a general direction, exactly 

 opposite to that of the main Calumet. The Little Cal- 

 umet starts out for the middle of the State, changes its 

 mind over by Blue Island bluffs, where it takes in the 

 "Feeder" from the "Sag," and then whkis around four or 

 five times and wabbles in an entirely drunken and dis- 

 reputable fashion over toward Lake Michigan, which it 

 reaches no one knows where. It passes through Tolles- 

 ton, Marsh, and is the basis of the Tolleston Club, which 

 has been described in an earlier article. The only object 

 the Little Calumet has in going out into the country in 

 this way is to get up in the world. Near Miller station 

 the Little Calumetis by the Government survey shown to 

 be 19.3ft. higher than the Grand Calumet, which is only 

 three miles distant from it, A canal cut across this neck 

 — as is the proposition now before a certain improvement 

 company — would drain Tolleston Marsh dry as a bone 

 apparently. It would not affect the Grand Calumet 

 marshes, which are always of just the same level as Lake 

 Michigan, since they lie right along the shore, and would 

 be maintained by seepage in some localities, even if the 

 crawling current of their main waterway had more am- 

 bition than it has. 



As may be seen the Grand Calumet, the remaining one 

 of these three erratic rivers, is necessarily a slow, delib- 

 erate, tortuous and torturingly crooked stream. It doesn't 

 go inland, and it doesn't go north. It just strolls off 

 among the sandhills and pine barrens toward the foot of 

 the lake, sometimes running within a half mile of Lake 

 Michigan, and then again changing its mind and taking ■ 

 a whirl over in the opposite direction. Its general ap- 

 pearance is that of a long, crooked valley of rice and 1 

 cane, running between low wooded banks, and stretch- 

 ing out from half a mile to three-quarters of a mile or 

 more in width. Somewhere in this winding marsh, hid 

 often by what a poet would call the lush and dank sedges 

 of the marsh, creeps the deliberate Grand. 10 to 15ft. 

 deep in much of its channel, a lake creek rather than a 

 river, and a darling for ducks. 



History does not quite agree whether it was Mr. Lloyd 

 and Mr. Booth or Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Cleaver who first ex- 

 plored the Grand Calumet to its end. The first two gentle- 

 men were old Calumet Lakehabitues,stopping at Florence 

 Benner's old house, and the latter was one of the old Lake 

 George Club. They bethought them it might be well to 

 seek fresh fields and pastures green, and the result Avasan 

 exploring voyage, which started at Wolf Lake, went 

 through the cut-offs into the Grand Calumet and down 



