3 ?t a 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 13, 1890. 



A RECORD OF TWENTY-SEVEN SHOTS. 



A FRIEND of mine asked me a few days ago how 

 many cartridges I usually carried with me on my 

 hunting trips. I told him I took generally a good many 

 more than were necessary, so as to be on the safe side, 

 and probably brought back more than I used. He seemed 

 surprised at this last statement, so I said, ''What do you 

 suppose I do with my cartridges when I am in the woods? 

 Suppose I take a box of cartridges — I always take as 

 many as that, sometimes more — there are fifty shots; 

 surely that should be enough for a month's trip, I do 

 not shoot at a mark, in the woods or out of them, so none 

 are wasted that way. As to game, one moose, a stray 

 deer or bear, perhaps an ott^r, a mink or two, a few 

 ducks and grouse for the breakfast table make up a good 

 enough list for three or four weeks in the woods and 

 would not take many loads. Allow five shots for the 

 large game, one for an otter, two for a couple of minks, 

 sis for as many ducks and twenty for fifteen grouse, and 

 tbe total is only thirty-four. I am speaking of course of 

 my Winchester, not of a shotgun. I have before me a 

 little book containing memoranda of a trip made in 1880, 

 when I was in the woods from Sept. 12 to Oct. 4, inclu- 

 sive, and find by examining it that I fired twenty- seven 

 shots in that time. With these I killed one moose, one 

 deer, two minks, a duck, five grouse and a muskrat. Two 

 shots were put in the moose, leaving fourteen misses. 

 This seems to make a poor showing for one whose repu- 

 tation for never letting game get away is good, but 

 Marshall Marniont's idea was that more can be learned 

 from studying our defeats than from chronicling our 

 victories, so I will tell you about those twenty-seven 

 shots, misses included. 



I started on my canoe journey into the woods in 188- 

 on tbe 13th of September, and up to noon on the 15th 

 had not fired a shot at anything. There were three of 

 us in the canoe. I sat in the bow, my son, a boy of twelve, 

 in the middle, and our Indian, Gabriel, a man I had never 

 employed before, in the stern. 



Gabriel bad heard of me from other Indians and was 

 anxious to see me shoot. Not long after dinner, as we were 

 paddling along a stretch of smooth water, we, to quote 

 my note made at the time, "saw two ducks about 40 or 

 50yds.: I shot the head off one." Considering that 1 had 

 not fired a shot from my Winchester or any other gun since 

 I sjood it in the corner nearly a year before, when I re- 

 turned from my hunt, this seemed to be a pretty good 

 beginning. The creeic up which we were traveling is a 

 large one, draining many lakes and ponds, and although 

 to reach the lake we wished to camp on some fifteen 

 portages have to be crossed, these are separated by 

 stratcnes of good paddling water, sometimes a number of 

 miles long. Not very far beyond, where I shot the duck 

 the creek became quite crooked, and as the country looked 

 gamy I kept my rifle ready for instant use. About two 

 o'clock, as we turned a bend in the stream, a deer 

 "stepped out ahead of us, about 20 or 25yds. off, and I 

 killed it." Tbis seemed a very natural way to begin the 

 trip and insured us a supply of meat for some time. The 

 deer was "almost a year old" and excellent eating; and 

 the weather being cold, kept well. We camped in a 

 spruce thicket, to keep out of the wind, and started on 

 the 16th at 8 o'clock, and that day I did not fire a shot. 



The night of the 16 th we spent at the upper portage, 

 only twenty yards long, where the stream, after winding 

 through some miles of fiat country, pours over a ledge of 

 rock four or five feet high. On the 17th we started early 

 and about noon reached Smoky Lake, the end of our 

 journey in this direction, and soon after dinner had our 

 camp in shape. In the afternoon we went up the inlet, 

 but saw little fresh signs of moose or other game. Sun- 

 day was, as a matter of course, spent quietly in camp. 

 On Monday I took John and Gabriel, went back down the 

 creek several miles, then turned up another stream run- 

 ning into the main creek from the south, and reached 

 another lake at noon, a beautiful sheet of water about 

 two miles long, with rocky banks and surrounded by 

 hardwood ridges, on which the autumnal coloring of the 

 foliage was most beautiful. Just as we left Smoky Lake 

 in the morning and entered the outlet, there quite wide, 

 but shallow, and much grown up with rushes, we ran 

 across a pair of fawns, beautiful creatures that had never 

 seen a man and wondered what we were. We sat still 

 and floated to within a few feet of them, where they 

 stood in a few inches of water on the sandy bottom. I 

 would gladly have photographed them, but my camera 

 was not ready. It was as interesting as amusing to watch 

 them look at us, stamp their little feet, and then bob their 

 heads together as if consulting. After a while we waved 

 our hands atyi off the little creatures bounded as our 

 canoe shot forward and we sped on our way down stream. 

 When we reached the "Inland Lake," as we called it, the 

 wind blew furiously, and I did not much like canoeing 

 among the white caps. However, we made the island 

 and camped there. The wind fell in the afternoon, and 

 while paddling about the lake before dark we saw three 

 deer and got within a few yards, but did not molest them, 

 having no use for them. Next morning we started back 

 to Smoky Lake, but before reaching the main creek 

 turned up an affluent of the one we were on, and looked 

 for moose and beaver, but found no fresh signs in a long 

 way, so returned to our work and before noon reached 

 the creek. Just as we turned into it we saw two otters, 

 which discovered us and started up stream, with us in 

 furious pursuit. 



Although the water was smooth and of good depth, and 

 we could follow the otters by their wake showing on the 

 surface at intervals as they swam below it, there was 

 considerable current and the bends in the creek were so 

 short and close together that going up stream as we were 

 it was hard to make good time, and the beasts had such a 

 good start that we did not know at what moment, when 

 out of sight around a bend ahead of us, they might escape 

 by taking to the shore unknown to us. Gabriel was ex- 

 cited, and with the full strength of his sinewey arms, 

 swept the canoe along with mighty strokes of his heavy, 

 broad-bladed paddle, one so strong and heavy that ten 

 minutes use of it would have tired me out, although I 

 could use my own light one all day. What we feared 

 really happened. As we shot around a bend I saw the 

 ripple on the surface as one of the otters pushed around 

 the next one beyond, and with my Winchester cocked 

 and aeross my arm, kept my eye fixed ahead. Suddenly, 

 "Shoot! shoot!" cried Gabriel. "There's one of them out 

 on the bank r " said John; "Look! Oh he'll get away." 

 All this time the canoe plunged forward, but with 



slackening speed as Gabriel, when he saw the otter slip 

 out on the bank, stopped paddling, but as neither he nor 

 John said where the otter was, it was only after I turned 

 to them to ask what all the row was about that I found 

 it had been so hard pressed that it ran out on the bank 

 almost abreast of us, and they saw it to our left as we 

 flew by it, while I had my gaze fixed on the wake of the 

 one ahead. 



There was no time to stop to discuss how or why we 

 had let this one get away, we must go on af t«r the one 

 before us, and in an instant the big blade was "shoving 

 her ahead," so that at every stroke the bow of the canoe 

 left the water, and behind us the waves caused by our 

 wild rush washed both banks of the creek. Another 

 bend was passed, and another, until as we shot from be- 

 hind a point into a longer reach of water than usual we 

 saw, 30yds. away, to our right, the ripple of the otter's 

 swimming as it turned another bend again to the right. 

 At this moment as we were shooting forward in one 

 direction, and it, 30yds. off, was going nearly as fast in 

 a parallel but directly opposite direction, the otter put 

 up its head for an instant— I say its head, but it was 

 really only so much of its head as would uncover its eye 

 and permit it to see what pursued it— and any one who 

 knows how cl«se an otter's eye is to its nose knows what 

 sort of a mark I had to shoot at. As the head appeared 

 I clapped the gun to my shoulder, dropped my eye into 

 the notch of the hind sight, caught the front sight as it 

 swung to the right, and just as it cleared the otters nose 

 by an apparent 4in. space, pulled trigger. There was a 

 swirl in the water as the otter's race came to a sudden 

 end, and it changed ends like a flash. Instead of its 

 head its tail now stuck out of water, straight up like a 

 stick; it was evidently dead. Our exciting chase was 

 over, and I had made one of my best shots. An examin- 

 ation of our prize showed a good sized otter 52in. long, 

 with fur dark, and, for so early in the season, in very 

 good condition. The ball had gone in one eye and out 

 the other, without smashing the head or in any way 

 marring the skin. 



After congratulating ourselves on the success of our 

 efforts, Gabriel's skillful handling of the canoe having 

 the most to do with it, and grumbling at the loss of the 

 other otter, we bethought ourselves of dinner, and land- 

 ing on a convenient point, where were a thicket of spruce 

 and hemlock for shade and a dead stub for wood, we 

 started a small fire and cooked our dinner. Our hunger 

 satisfied, and everything packed up again, Gabriel shoul- 

 dered the canoe and we tramped off to a lake some dis- 

 tance back from the north bank of the creek. It was a 

 very irregularly-shaped body of water, queer bays and 

 nooks running about in all' sorts of dirtctions: but we 

 saw no game about it, and at 3 o'clock were at the creek 

 again and started for our permanent camp at Smoky 

 Lake, reaching there at sundown. The next day the 

 wind was southwest and it rained all day, but even John, 

 though young in years, was too old a woodsman to mind 

 that, so after dinner we broke camp and started home- 

 ward, our plan being to go up as far as Gabriel's cabin 

 and then ascend the north prong of the creek and spend 

 a week as we had on this branch. We traveled rapidly 

 down stream, and reached the head of the long carry, 

 that night, and the next day went clear through to 

 Gabriel's. On the way I killed a ruffed grouse, shooting 

 its head off. This was my fourth shot. 



The next day (Friday), having procured a small addi- 

 tion to our supply of provisions from Gabriel's stock, we 

 started up the north prong of the creek, called by the 

 Indians theZe gond-e ga-boo-seebe (sippi), which Gabriel 

 explained meant "something like thick balsam creek; 

 like you couldn't see very far 'cause dem balsams hung 

 so thick; you couldn't see nothing if you look up de 

 creek." We left at 8:45 A. M., and pushed ahead as hard 

 as we could. We reached the fourth portage at 10:50 

 and had carried the canoe and all our traps half way 

 over by 11:20, when we stopped for dinner. The falls 

 and pools here were so grand that while Gabriel cooked 

 I took several photographs. By 1:42 P. M. we had dined 

 and completed the second half of the portage, and hard 

 work by all hands took us to the lower end of the twelfth 

 portage, where we camped. The night was clear, cold 

 and frosty, and we slept soundly. Saturday was bright 

 and clear. After breakfast and two trips apiece over the 

 portage we left the head of No. 12 at 8:30 o'clock, and 

 between that and the next portage I got out on the bank 

 to lighten the canoe. Becoming aware of a grouse walk- 

 ing along a limb of a tree near me with its kead stuck 

 out in front of it, I missed it three shots in succession. 

 Surprised at this proceeding, the bird stopped and 

 straightened itself up to inspect me, when I knocked its 

 head off. It is easy enough to take off a grouse's head if 

 it is standing or sitting erect, but when walking with the 

 neck nearly horizontal the elevation is as important an 

 element as the line, and the chance for a miss is* good 

 one. I had now doubled my number of shots; had fired 

 eight and missed three, all the latter at this one grouse. 



We got to the fourteenth portage at 9:35, and while 

 Gabriel mended the canoe I photographed. We left again 

 10:20; from 11 to 1 o'clock stopped for dinner, and at 3:30 

 P. M. reached the Deserted Cabin Pond, where we 

 camped. We used up the rest of the day by portaging 

 some three-fourths of a mile over to a beautiful lake 

 with a fine island in it, where we saw an otter but no 

 moose. We spent Sunday quietly in and about camp. 

 Gabriel told us the deserted cabin was built by a fellow 

 named Basquin, who had his family there all winter. 

 He is no hunter, and provisions running low and the 

 snow falling so deep as to prevent traveling to the settle- 

 ments for more, they had to eat moose hides and the like 

 t« keep from starving. Of the many, many nights I have 

 spent in camp either for pleasure or from necessity, there 

 are two or three 1 remember with particular clearness. 

 One in the winter of 1860 61 was spent on the banks of 

 a little nameless lake some ten or twelve miles, as I re- 

 member the distance, south of EaquetteLake, with Mitch 

 Sabattis, Bill Wood and Ransom Palmer. The snow was 

 5ft. deep in the woods and we were after moose. The 

 only blaaket in the party was my traveling shawl, but 

 we slept soundly for all that, cold as it was. We had 

 been snowshoeing all day and were tired, but I was not 

 too tired to sit up and watch the glorious moonlight 

 until Mitch and Bill Wood came back from "a little run 

 around that mountain across the lake," which took them 

 from after supper until 9 o'clock, when they came back 

 and we turned in. Another was one of these two nights 

 at the Deserted Cabin Pond. It was cold and there was 

 a magnificent aurora borealis, the whole sky to the zenith 



blazing with waving streamers of various colored light 

 shifting and changing every moment with mysterious 

 silent grace. John and I put out in the canoe and float- 

 ing in mid air, as it were, saw the "heavenly vision," to 

 quote old Saint Paul's exprf ssion, both above and below 

 us: the clear, still water reflecting everything with mar- 

 velous distinctness and fidelity. 



On Monday we left camp at 7 o'clock in the morning 

 and continued our way up sirearn; stopped for dinner at 

 11 o'clock; went on agam at 1, and at 3 P. M. halted and 

 camped. The latter part of our day's journey was through 

 burnt country— bru e— and our camp was only half a 

 mile below a small lake, ordinarily a likely place for 

 moose. During the day it turned warm, after 10 o'clock 

 in the morning: Sunday night had been cold and ice 

 formed. Early in the day I killed a grouse by knocking 

 its head off with a single shot — the ninth one so far — and 

 in the afternoon Gabriel killed a muskrat with his paddle. 

 Later, but before we camped, he set a trap for mink to 

 show John how to do it, uaing a piece of the rai for bait. 

 About sundown we went up to the pond to watch ii»r 

 moose and heard our old bull, but he did't come in sight, 

 although not far off. When we found he had started we 

 paddled furiously down stream to head him off, but were 

 too late. 



Tuesday we went up a branch of the creek to a large 

 lake in the midst of the desolate burnt country. The 

 stream was low and crooked, and there were many logs 

 across it, so that we spent about as much of our time 

 out of the canoe as in it. As we rounded one point that 

 was thickly covered with alders and other brush, we 

 scared some animal we did not see, but supposed was a 

 bear, and shortly afterward saw, or at least Gabriel did, 

 a cow moose. I was not sure I saw it and would not 

 have shot at it in any event. A mile or two before 

 reaching the lake, the stream became wide and still with 

 low hills to the left as we ascended and a wide expanse 

 of bog to the right, perfectly flat and dotted over with 

 dead tamarack saplings charred by some long ago fire. 

 We saw a number of ducks on this part of the stream 

 and a doe and two fawns ran off across the bog as we 

 approached them. We got to the lake just before noon 

 and found it a fine sheet of water with a number of 

 islands in it, some of them containing a number of acres 

 and with bold rocky shores. Had "the hills around the 

 lake and these islands been wooded, it would have been 

 a delightful place to the eye, but fires had been every- 

 where and in places had burned everything off down to 

 tbe solid rock. In blueberry time this is no doubt a great 

 place for bears, but we saw nothing, and after dining 

 and taking an horn's cruise about the lake, started down 

 stream and got to camp by tea time. There was a heavy 

 frost at night and the next morning was clear and 

 pleasant. Cecil Clay. 



Washington, D. C. 



[to be concluded next week.] 



THE BUCK WE SHOT. 



ONE morning last November when I awoke I found 

 the ground covered with snow. I thought, '-How 

 glorious for a deer hunt." As I was on my way to the 

 hotel for breakfast, I met Stephens all rigged out in his 

 hunting suit. "I'm after you," he said. "Let's go and get 

 a deer." "All right," I responded, and in a brief while 

 we were driving out of Detroit City, Becker county, 

 Minn., toward the Ottertail Eiver. After diiving eight 

 or nine miles we came to a place where Stephr ns said 

 we had better stop and look for signs. We put the horse 

 in an old stable that stood in a little clearing some dis- 

 tance from the road, and then we started back for the 

 road but had gone only a short distance when we found 

 fresh tracks, tbree deer having gone along recently. We 

 took the tracks, and had gone but a short distance — I 

 tracking and Stephens making a detour — when 1 heard 

 Stephens shoot and saw the three deer disappear over a 

 little hill followed by a second shot from Stephens, but 

 they were gone untouched, a fine doe and two fawns. 

 We tracked these deer all the forenoon, but did not get 

 sight of them again. About noon they were joined by a 

 buck and went very much faster. 



While eating our lunch we debated what to do next, 

 and finally concluded to go nearer the river to some pine 

 "slashings" ihat we knew of. We stepped at a man's 

 house and bad his boy go and get our horse and bring it 

 to his barn. We took a road across the "slashings" and 

 were walking along talking together when a grand big 

 buck jumped from the brush not three rods away. Bang! 

 bang! went Stephens's Winchesler, but away went the 

 buck. I took his track and Stephens went to head him 

 off. I had gone but a short distance when I heard S.'s 

 rifle ring out again. He told me later that he 6hot at a 

 doe that he staited. At the same time I heard his rifle 

 the buck I was tracking sprang up a short distance from 

 me. I shot but he went off safely. Again I took the 

 track, and Stephens made the cut off. Suddenly I heard 

 Stephens's rifle ring out seven times. I hurried along and 

 found S., but the buck was away in seeming safety. 



We took the track again and kept together, two tired 

 and disgusted hunters. On we went, and just before 

 sundown we started him again in plain sight on an open 

 hillside. Two rifle shots rang out, but away went the 

 buck. But stay. On a rise of ground he paused and 

 looked back at us, a grand picture, with whole form and 

 noble antlers outlined against tbe sky, a sight to be re- 

 membered while life lasts. Again Stephens's rifle rang 

 out; and I saw the buck drop as if smitten by lightning. 

 It was a fatal last look to him. As we started forward 

 Stephens said, "Did I hit him?" "Yes," 1 said. "Well, 

 if he is not there, he can go: I'll not go one step further 

 after him,*' said Stephens. But he was there, a fine fel- 

 low, shot through the neck, droppingwhere he stood. It 

 tired us both out hauling him back to the road. We 

 went and hitched up tbe horse, and as we were driving 

 back in the dusk to load in the buck, a deer went acrots 

 the road just ahead of the horse. Stephens fired, but he 

 got off, whether wounded or not we could not tell, Thus 

 ended our first day after deer last fall. We saw six deer 

 and killed one, but he was a monster and led us such a 

 chase. Myron Cooley. 



Detroit City, Minn. 



Montreal, March 11.— Wild geese have put in an ap- 

 pearance in this vicinity. The first flock was seen last 

 week.— -Stanstead, 



