Aug. 9, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



45 



mm j§xg mid (§m\. 



Antelope and Deer of America. By J. D. Caton. 

 Price $2.50. Wing and Glass Ball Shooting unth the 

 Rifle. Bij W. C. Bliss. Price 50 cents. Rifle, Rod and 

 Gun in California,. By T. S. Van Dyke. Price $1.50. 

 Shore Birds. Price 50 cents. Woodcraft. By '-Ness- 

 miik." Price $1. Trajectories of Hunting Rifles. Price 

 50 cents. The Still-Hu n ter. By f. S. Van Dyke. Price $9. 



THE GROUSE AND SQUIRRELS.— III.* 



Editor Forest and. Stream : 



Uncle John's predictions regarding the weather had 

 proved to be correct, for when we awoke in the morn- 

 ing the first thing we heard was the rain pouring down 

 in torrents; and it seemed anything hut encouraging to a 

 pair of eager hunters like Jack and yours truly. The 

 smell of Uncle John's jupe and the noise made by him as 

 he rattled around with the old kitchen stove, soon brought 

 us to our feet; and in a few moments we had greeted the 

 old man with a hearty good morning. "Well, boys," 

 said he, "this may be a good day for fishing, but I guess 

 you will not burn much powder, unless we go up to Long 

 Pond and see if there are any ducks around." 



We tried to make the best of it. hoping that it might 

 light up a little after breakfast; but no, the darkness 

 grew to blackness, everything was soaked, the atmos- 

 phere was so full of moisture as to be oppressive and to 

 make breathing a difficult task. As Jack had been find- 

 ing fault with his Winchester, I thought it a good time 

 to try a little experiment to see if I could do anything to 

 improve its shooting; and so, as he was going to reload 

 some shells, I asked him for a few to work with. I had 

 an "Ideal" reloading tool, with mould, stamped "for Colts 

 lightning rifle, .32-eal." Rummaging around in the shop 

 we found some old type and mixed it with lead in propor- 

 tion of one part of type to five parts lead, by weight, and 

 ran some bullets of lOOgs. each, then with some tallow 

 filled the grooves and loaded the shells with the usual 

 2()grs. of FFG-. deadshot powder; and here is a point that 

 is worth remembering. The improved accuracy of the 

 rifle was apparent from the second shot wdiich Jack fired 

 at a target from the shop window; and after a half doaen 

 shots we both voted the Winchester rifle to be a good one 

 if the bullets were only hard enough and the rifle held 

 where it should be. 



After we had done with the target shooting, we heard 

 the caw ! catv t of some crows up on the mountain, and as 

 Uncle J. had predicted, they soon made for the bait that 

 he had left for them 150yds. from the barn, down in the 

 meadow. They were soon at work, and we adjourned to 

 the barn to give them a shot from the window. "How far 

 is it ?" I asked Uncle J. ' ' Just thirty rods, measured wi 1 1 1 

 a rod pole," he answered; and as Jack insisted on my 

 trying the first shot, I brought the little .22 c.f. rifle to 

 bear on them, with the sight set for thirty rods. It was 

 pretty dark, but the ivory bead of the Lyman front sight 

 only showed up the better; and with the greatest care 

 and most deliberate aim from a good rest I fired and — 

 missed him clean. In fact, I shot over him so much, that 

 together with the fact that the report was very slight, he 

 did not move, but kept on pecking away at his feast. 

 That I felt a little— just a little bit cheap, I will not deny; 

 but I invited Jack to go ahead and sat down to think the 

 matter over. What shall I do ? was my mental inquiry. 

 Jack declined the shot and urged me to try again, so 

 something must be done, and that quickly, too, before 

 the crows were scared away. This is what ran through 

 my head then, "The light is bad, and the atmosphere is 

 very light; with my sights where these are I shoot too 

 high." So I run the wiping rod through the barrel, put 

 in a cartridge, and with a twist on the Lyman rear sight 

 I lower it half a point; then with a careful aim the trig- 

 ger is pressed, and as the smoke clears from before my 

 eyes I have the satisfaction of seeing the old crow give a 

 jump and with one convulsive flap of his wings tumbled 

 over dead as a herring. The others started and flew a 

 short distance, then circled around and came back to their 

 dead comrade: and before I had once thought of such a 

 thing Jack commenced to get in his work. He kdled the 

 first one dead in his tracks, and then, as the others started 

 toward the mountain straight away from us, he began to 

 work that lever for all it was worth — crack, crack, crack, 

 crack — and when at the fourth shot another one tumble, 

 Jack said that was "good enough" for him, and stopped 

 shooting. Uncle J. was as wild as a boy sixteen, and 

 trembled like a leaf > he was so much excited; and, when 

 we had a hurrah all around, and had retrieved the birds, 

 we found that the first one was shot in the breast, the 

 second had lost most of his head, while the third was 

 completely split from stern to stem (to reverse the words 

 a little); and if ever a rifleman felt proud of a good shot 

 Jack did, and well he might, for bringing down a flying 

 crow that is "just hurrying" away, at forty rods distance, 

 is no mean shot. 



Now for the first time we noticed that the clouds are 

 breaking away; and after a "bite" of something for a 

 lunch, we shouldered our rifles and started for the 

 woods above the pond with Jim the little dog at our 

 heels. As it was pretty wet we kept in the cart road, and 

 as we neared the upper end of the pond, Jack said he 

 would just look into the cove for ducks, and in less than 

 five minutes after he left me his old Winchester com- 

 menced to work and crack, crack, crack, went the rifle, 

 which together with Jim's barking was enough to 

 start the hah upon any man's head. Pretty soon I heard 

 Jim splash into the water; and when I got to the edge 

 of the pond Jim was just bringing in a large black drake 

 that Jack had killed with the first shot. As the sun had 

 come out in all its glory, we thought we would take to 

 the woods once more and look for grouse and squirrels. 

 We had hardly done so before Jim began to jump around 

 and whine; and in a moment more he had three ruffed 

 grouse up in a spruce tree about forty or fifty feet from 

 the ground. "Now," exclaimed Jack, "R. you just go 

 for them, shoot the lower oues first and you can get 

 them all." I believe I had just a little tinge of the fever 

 — for I heard a very distinct pounding beneath my vest — 

 but the little rifle came up and the first one lay fluttering 

 on the ground, another cartridge was quickly put in 

 and down comes the next one; and while the smoke, 

 noise and all the rest of it were exciting enough, little 

 Jim was yelling like a demon and trying to climb the 



*See Forest and Stream, April 26, 1888. 



tree. Jack said that things looked a "little suspicions'' 

 after I had shot the second one and so dropped the third 

 one. When the third one fell he landed right on Jim's 

 back, and such a change as came over the little fellow I 

 never saw. He did not know what to make of it and 

 with Ms tail down he shot out from there into the open 

 as if he was on business and it was quite a while before 

 we could get him cooled down again. 



We had done well for a rainy day and had birds 

 enough, so we went down to the "oak pasture" to look 

 for gray squirrels. Jim soon had one started, and after 

 chasing him on the wall for about 1 00yds. he had him 

 treed in an oak. We looked the tree over a while but 

 could not see anything of him, and Jack wanted to give 

 it up, but I told him that Uncle J. said that "Jim never 

 told a lie;'' and persevering in the search I soon caught a 

 glimpse of something that looked like fur up on the top 

 of a limb. Yes, it is he, but oh! how flat he lies and how 

 he hugs the limb. Well, old fellow, let us see how much 

 longer you will stay there. Through the large hole in the 

 Lyman sight the little ivory ball is brought in line with 

 his head, there is a whip-like report, and the squirrel 

 comes tumbling to earth with the top of his head shat- 

 tered. A thrill of savage exultation, a pang of remorse 

 for the death of the bright little fellow and in he goes 

 into the bag. Yes, we are sorry for the death of the 

 little innocent creatures, and why do we kill them? Why 

 do we spend many dollars in time and equipments? Why 

 do we travel miles and miles through bush and bramble 

 to find these beautifid birds and animals, and then, whew 

 we have feasted our eyes on them for perhaps not more 

 than a second, send them to the earth mangled, without 

 beauty, without motion and without life? I do not know, 

 I have not killed a game bird nor gray squirrel for twenty 

 years that I was not sorry for it and wished I had not. 



As we moved on we found the red sqiiirrelsin abund- 

 ance, and here it was that Jack found that the bullets we 

 had moulded were excellent for squirrel shooting. He 

 killed about a dozen of them without a miss, while the 

 writer — well, he killed some, and some — that is, niost~of 

 them that were hit he killed, but Jack hit all of his and 

 killed them, too, and one thing we noted unanimously, 

 that is that the .22-10-45 and the .32-20-100 are the two 

 best cartridges in use for small game at short range. 



Then as the sun was getting low in the west and we 

 turned our steps toward the house, we began to realize 

 that our vacation was over, and while, we were to go 

 back to the city and to business once more, we had some- 

 thing to lay away in our memories as well as renewed 

 vigor for the present, and with a new lease of life we bid 

 good-bye for a while to the old farm and the people that 

 have made our trip so pleasant. Iron Ramrod. 



TURKEYS IN THE NATION. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The story of an old hunting trip is sometimes of as 

 much interest to the reader as that of one of recent date; 

 so I thought perhaps the readers of Forest and Stream 

 would he interested in a deer and turkey hunt that the 

 writer, in company with three others, once had in the 

 Nation, or Indian Territory. It was in the fall of 1879. 

 I was second miller in the City Mill, at Wellington, 

 Kans. I procured a leave of absence for two weeks. My 

 family was in a claim near Caldwell, about five miles 

 from the State line. My wife's brother was farming the 

 claim, and on my arrival home I found him (whom I will 

 call Jake) and two of our friends, lately from Pennsyl- 

 vania, with plans cut and dried for a turkey hunt down 

 on the Big Turkey and Cimarron, or Red Fork, as we all 

 called it then. Loading our outfit in my wagon, with a 

 good team of horses hitched on, we were soon off, via 

 Caldwell and the Pan-Handle Stage route. Jake and 

 Cal were armed with shotguns for turkeys, while Bill and 

 myself had repeating rifles, and expected to pay our re- 

 spects to the deer. 



It was in the month of November and the weather and 

 roads were fine, so we made good time, and had some 

 sport shooting quail and chickens on the way down, and 

 on the afternoon of the third day we crossed the Big Tur- 

 key, a few miles above its mouth . and turned down stream. 

 The stream here runs through a small valley or second 

 bottom, as we call it. in which was a heavy growth of 

 brush and timber. Some of the timber was very large 

 and heavy, consisting of oak, ash, pecan, cottonwood, etc. 

 After leaving this second bottom there was a narrow 

 strip of prairie, crossing which one enters the black jacks 

 — a small oak thicket among which the turkeys roamed 

 in great flocks, living on the nuts from the black jacks. 

 At night they would come to the bottom by the thousands 

 to roost in the big cottonwoods, along the banks of the 

 creek, and also to get Avater. 



After crossing the creek I took my gun and told the 

 boys to drive on down the creek until they found a good 

 camp ground with plenty of feed for the horses, and I 

 would take a little scout and see what the prospect was. 

 I had not yet got out of hearing of the wagon when I saw 

 a big flock of turkeys stretching their necks to see what 

 was up. One fine fellow hopped up on a dead treetop, 

 which gave me a fine mark. I dropped my Winchester 

 on him and pulled, when up went the whole flock, in- 

 cluding the one I had shot at. I thought it strange that 

 my turkey did not stay with me, but as the flock came 

 down again a few hundred yards away I followed on, 

 and I soon came to my turkey with wings all spread out 

 but stone dead, showing that he had flown until life was 

 extinct. As it was now near sundown and no meat in 

 camp for supper, I shouldered my turkey and started for 

 camp. On my way in I saw a fine deer, but I did not get 

 a shot. Arriving at the creek I found the wagon trail 

 and followed it to camp. 



The boys were camped in one of the nicest spots for a 

 hunter's camp it has ever been my good fortune to strike, 

 with everything a hunter could wish, including good 

 grass for the horses. After camp was prepared I told 

 Jake and Cal to take their shotguns and go up the creek, 

 while Bill and I got the supper, for I thought they might 

 possibly get a turkey or two as they came in to roost. 

 After a short time we heard then: guns, and long before 

 we had the turkey cooked they arrived in camp, each 

 toting four big i'at turkeys. Cal said he thought they 

 could have killed a wagon-load had they desired to do so, 

 and if I was to judge from the gobbling and noise made 

 the next morning, and from the number of turkeys I saw 

 going from the bottom to the jacks, I would say that 

 more than a thousand turkeys roosted that night within 

 a half mile of our camp. 



We shot a number of big fat fellows in the morning 

 near camp. It then become so warm we decided not to 

 shoot any more turkeys for fear they would spoil, so 

 Jake and Cal said they would remain in camp and dress 

 the turkeys, while Bill and I took a hunt for deer. We 

 learned to-day that a band of some 800 Indians from Ft. 

 Reno had been camped here for some time, and had only 

 left the. day before we arrived. From some cause un- 

 known to me they will not kill the turkeys, but give all 

 their time to hunting deer, while the squaws jerk and 

 dry the venison on racks placed some two feet above the 

 ground, under which they place a slow fire — more smoke 

 than fire. Here we found large numbers of these along 

 the banks of the creek, and in dressing our turkeys the 

 boys cut all the flesh off the turkeys they could and 

 spread it on the Indian racks, sprinkled it lightly with 

 salt, and we soon had a fine lot of jerked turkeys. The 

 "drum-sticks" we cooked for camp meat. 



During the first day's hunt. Bill and I saw some deer, but 

 did not get any. Bill killed a large bobcat down on the 

 bottom below camp, and we took off his pelt and brought it 

 along with us, as well as one very large gobbler which 

 Bill shot because he had such a big long beard. I think 

 he must have been an old timer. Our camp was a merry 

 hunter's camp that night, and we rolled up in our blank- 

 ets feeling full and happy. 



At the first break of day Cal awoke us all by a loud 

 "Gobel-lobel-lobel-lobel;" the camp was soon astir, and 

 breakfast over, horses watered and picketed, and every- 

 thing in order, we all struck out for the black jacks. I 

 soon found a fine flock of turkeys, and sat down to watch 

 them and see the old Toms chase the smaller ones about 

 and get as many hens under their care as possible. While 

 sitting here engaged in this very pleasant pastime, I saw 

 a young deer (yearling buck) coming directly through the 

 flock and toward me. This was good enough for me, so 

 I sat still and let him come. When within about a hun- 

 dred yards of me, he stopped to look at some turkeys that 

 came flying in, and then, as if he thought all was liot just 

 right, he turned and walked «way on his trail. Seeing 

 my chance for a good shot about "to fade away, I pulled 

 on him, but overshot, and he, not knowing whence the 

 shot came, stopped and turned broadside to me. I gave 

 him another shot, this time with better success, as he 

 came down with a broken back. After dressing him, I 

 thought I would tote him to camp, as he was not very 

 large, which I succeeded in doing, although he was an 

 awful big deer by the time I got Mm hung up in a tree at 

 camp. 



The other boys had poor success after deer, but all 

 came in loaded down with turkeys, for if any of us came 

 in empty he was laughed at as a poor shot and no good 

 at hunting if he could not get so much as a turkey. 



The following day, the programme for the day's hunt 

 was the same as the day just passed, and each fellow 

 took his own course. As I was walking along through a 

 grassy opening I saw two small deer heads sticking up 

 out of the grass under a small oak; it was a pair of spring 

 fawns, lying with their heads and shoulders together and 

 their rumps in opposite direction. Thinking I could get 

 them both at one shot I pulled on the shoulder of the 

 nearest to me and killed it dead, but the other one bounded 

 in the ah — I should think as high as my head — and was 

 off like the wind. I was so amused at his performance 

 that 1 forgot that I had a repeating rifle until he was dis- 

 appearing in the timber. This deer was further from 

 camp than the one I got on the day before, but I started 

 with him. When within about a mile from camp I met 

 one of the boys and he gave me a lift, so we got to camp 

 in good time. Bill wounded a deer to-day, but did not 

 get it. 



The usual quota of turkeys came in again that night, 

 and our camp was a veritable hunters' camp, with two 

 fine deer hanging in the trees, and the small saplings 

 bending down with good fat turkeys, while the savory 

 smell of roast turkey came from the Dutch oven at the 

 camp-fire. Ye poor dyspeptics, think of this. Could you 

 be here a few days you could eat like a wood chopper. 

 The next day we got no deer and the turkeys were some- 

 what wilder, for a party of hunters from Arkansas City 

 pulled in here yesterday and went at them as if they ex- 

 pected to exterminate every turkey in the Nation in a 

 few days, which I guess they came very near doing. I 

 got nothing for my day's tramp, and was trudging 

 along up the creek bottom just at dusk when I saw an 

 object up in an elm tree some seventy-five yards away, 

 which I took to be a big gobler roosting alone. It was 

 too dark to see my sights, but I thought I would make 

 Mm get out of that any way, so I gave him a random 

 shot, at which he stood up on the limb and said '■'quit- 

 quit" I walked up a few rods and gave him another 

 shot, when he walked out further on the limb and again 

 told me to "quit," but I had no notion of quitting unless 

 he got off that. It was now so dark he could not see me 

 very well, so I walked up near the tree and gave him 

 another ball. This time he flew and went across the 

 creek, where there was no timber, but high grass. I 

 heard him go down there with a loud flop, and I knew 

 he was hit, so I went hunting for a log to cross the 

 creek on, as it was qmte deep here. I soon found one 

 and crossed over. After hunting for Mm a long time I 

 gave it up and started for camp, and had gone but a short 

 distance when I again heard him flop, and looking around 

 I saw him making his last struggles. I think he was the 

 largest turkey I ever killed; he made a good load for me 

 to camp. 



Some time after dark w T e concluded Jake must be lost 

 as he had not got in, so we fired off our guns, hut got 

 no reply, for Jake was not lost, but was waiting for a 

 flock of turkeys to get to roost, as we learned later when 

 he brought in two fine ones. 



The next morning we were up before day and Cal and 

 I started off to the roost for a few more turkeys, as we 

 wanted to start for home that day. We each got one 

 fine one and were back to camp for breakfast. After 

 breakfast the horses were brought in, fed and harnessed, 

 and the outfit loaded in the wagon and a start made for 

 home. A short distance up the creek, a white-tail fawn 

 was jumped up, and he received a warm salute from shot 

 and ball, but waved his white flag at us, as he passed 

 over the ridge unhurt. On our way home we passed by 

 the graves of three freighters killed by the Indians a few 

 years before. 



That night we camped on Salt Fork, and such a yelp- 

 ing and howling as was kept up there all night by 

 the coyotes I never heard before nor since, but they 

 were smart enough to be all out of range of our guns at 



