168 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March SO, 1890, 



"Hit him 1 Yes, of course I hit him^ I don't think 

 he's a very big one though," 



"I don't think it. Too dark to see very good." 



Just then we heard the moose cough and it was 

 evidently hard hit. To the left of the dark thicket was 

 rather higher ground, on which the moose seemed, from 

 the sound it made, to be standing. Gabriel at last thought 

 he saw it, and after looking awhile I thought maybe I 

 saw it too, so holding the gun to my shoulder but with- 

 out attempting to look at the sights I fired four shots (the 

 twenty-third to twenty-sixth) at the supposed moose, 

 which never stirred. That it did not was not to be won- 

 dered at, for we discovered afterward that the dark 

 object was the charred stump of a huge white pine, and 

 the moose had been standing beyond it where we could 

 not see it from the canoe. Two reasons prompted us to 

 go ashore: one because I did not like to leave the poor 

 animal to suffer for I could not tell how long, the other 

 because, as Gabriel suggested, there were other moose 

 about; the country was all burned and covered with 

 thick brush, and if the moose wandered off in the night 

 it might be hard to find it in the morning, as he put it, 

 "better you knock him down." 



"We landed, therefore, and started after the moose, but 

 I soon found that I had done so without reflecting. 

 Gabriel could get along all right, for he had two hands 

 and no gun to carry; but I, with but one hand, and 

 obliged to carry my gun in that, had no way to protect 

 my face and eyes from the thick brush through which 

 we plunged, so I stopped, gave Gabriel the gun and told 

 him to knock the moose down so we would not have far 

 to go after it in the morning. He overtook it in a few 

 yards and shot it down, and in a little while we were 

 back at camp. That this was a wise precaution, was 

 shown the next day when he, a first-rate tracker, and I, 

 not a bad one, hunted for an hour before we found that 

 moose, although it lay such a little way from where I 

 first shot it. Other moose had been all about there, and 

 the dry sandy soil was all tracked up by them. We saw 

 two other moose while looking for the dead one, but I 

 would not shoot at them. When we found our game At 

 proved to be a three-year-old bull in prime order. My 

 first shot had been too low, and had struck the left fore- 

 leg about half way up from the knee to the shoulder. 

 The second shot, fired as the moose turned to the right, 

 had entered the left side far back and ranged forward 

 clear through to the right side, so that the wonder was 

 the animal had been able to go as far as it did. 



Before we skinned and cut up the moose I took several 

 photographs of it. After the butchering was over we 

 "dined and at once began portaging our things to the 

 creek: this took us until nearly dark, for we had heavy 

 loads to carry and several trips to make. It began to 

 rain a little in the afternoon and we had rather a wet 

 night of it, but as I had killed "another providential 

 pheasant," as my notebook has it (shot number 27), we 

 did not care. The Indian and I feasted on moose meat, 

 while John regaled himself with roasted grouse, eating 

 half of one saved from morning for his supper. We 

 had a good deal heavier load for our canoe now than 

 before we killed the moose, and although we worked 

 hard all day Saturday and had the current with us down 

 stream, at<5:45 P.M. when we stopped to camp, we found 

 ourselves only at the lower end of the thirteenth portage 

 — the thirteenth from Gabriel's cabin that is, we were 

 counting downward now on our way home — we had still 

 twelve portages to cross. It was dark long before our 

 camp was in order and supper ready. We had worked 

 very hard all day, most of the time in the rain, but the 

 latter stopped when we did and the night was warm and 

 eomfortable and we slept soundly. The next day was 

 Sunday, but concluding under the circumstances that I 

 was warranted in breaking my rule in regard to that day, 

 I ordered the tent to be struck and we set out on as hard 

 a day's work as we ever did on that stream. The por- 

 tages are nearly all short and we pushed over them with 

 our packs at our best pace, fairly running when we went 

 back empty-handed for our next loads. We took little 

 time for breath or anything else on the water' or crossing 

 the portages, and were tired enough when we pulled up at 

 the landing before Gabriel's cabin at six in the evening. 

 Although there was a sort of feeling that we had returned 

 to our base when we had reached this point, we were not 

 by any means at the end of our journey. It took us all 

 the next day to get our things over the river, although 

 we did not have very much in the way of provisions, tak- 

 ing only enough to last us until Tuesday afternoon. We 

 left all the moose at Gabriel's but the horns, so that with 

 only our tents, blankets and cooking utensils for cargo, 

 our canoe sat well in the water, and on Tuesday starting 

 at 7:30 in the morning, we paddled straight ahead — bar- 

 ring a ten-minute halt to talk to Peter White Duck who 

 was camped on the bank, an hour for dinner and the 

 short time occupied in crossing the three portages — until 

 4:80 in the afternoon, Avhen we reached the railroad and 

 finished our canoe journey and expeditions to the woods 

 with a day's trip of twenty-seven miles. I had fired 

 twenty-seven shots, of which' fourteen were misses, made 

 as follows: Three shots in succession at a grouse walk- 

 ing with its head stuck out in front, six shots at a beaver 

 and one at a bear, and four fired at a dark stub instead 

 of a moose. 



Why did I miss any at all? I will tell you. When 

 about to cross a portage on our way up the north prong I 

 stood my Winchester on top of the bank against a small 

 spruce while I shouldered my pack. Gabriel, after he 

 had his pack on, carrying it with a "tump line," could 

 not raise his head very high, and did not see my gun ; so 

 that as he put his hand around the spruce to haul him- 

 self up the bank he knocked it over, and it fell muzzle 

 first on the rocks near the water's edge. I picked it up, 

 and seeing it had struck nearly fair on its muzzle and 

 that the front sight had not moved nor been knocked 

 loose in its seat, I thought no more of it. 



When at Gabriel's cabin, on our way home, I wiped 

 my gun out Monday morning before I left, and seeing a 

 white birch across the pond, about the size through of 

 the bear I had shot at some days before, I put my gun to 

 my shoulder and glanced through the sights. One look 

 surprised me, but after a moment I saw what was the 

 matter, and called, "John! John! come here a minute." 

 When he came I showed him what was wrong. It was 

 this: The figure eight band clasping the barrel and mag- 

 azine at the muzzle had been knocked loose by the fail 

 on the rocks, so that the magazine could be pushed out 

 of place to either side, throwing the front sight to the 

 right or left by the consequent partial revolution of the 



upper part of the band, on top of which the sight was, 

 around the barrel. Since 1874 I have used a Winchester 

 with a 20in. barrel; this makes the distance between the 

 sights so short, that a slight movement of either of them 

 makes a great difference in the result of a shot directed 

 by them. 



We all looked at the gun and twisted the band from 

 side to side. Gabriel could now believe what had been 

 told him, since he saw where the fault lay: John regained 

 his faith in my shooting, and I was glad to have explained 

 what puzzled me. All the same, we regretted the loss of 

 the six beaver skins and the bear skin. 



If I thought I could get such another lot of shots, at 

 that or any other pond, I would travel a good way to try 

 what I could do with them. As I look up from my seat 

 by my library table, where I am scribbling this, I see 

 hanging on the wall a photograph of John and the three- 

 year-old moose. 



I hope we shall both live to take more trips to the woods 

 and to write to you about them. Cecil Clay. 



Washington. D. C. 



[In the part of this record given last week, page 144, 

 end of third paragraph, for "the deer was 'almost a year 

 old,' " read "was 'a three-year old.' "] 



WOMAN IN THE FIELD.-I1. 



I BEGAN my second year's shooting feeling very much 

 encouraged and sure that I was going to make a very 

 good record. When I came in at the end of the first day 

 I felt like throwing my gun in the river, for I had not 

 been able to come within 6yds. of anything — either sitting 

 or on the wing. That is another discouragement that 

 beginners must expect. You leave off at the end of the 

 season feeling very proud of your progress, and sure that 

 at last you are on the road to becoming a fine shot; your 

 gun is not out of its case until the following rail season, 

 except possibly for a day at snipe in spring, and for the 

 first two or three days you cannot hit a thing, and make 

 up your mind that it is only time wasted to try to learn 

 to shoot. But persevere, and your reward will come — 

 the knack will return and you will make rapid progress. 

 And there is another warning that I would give my fel- 

 low sportswoman — do not take too long a tramp the first 

 day. To the average woman, accustomed only to walk- 

 ing on city pavements or on smooth roads, and to doing 

 very little even of that, tramping after birds is pretty 

 severe exercise. It does you no good to walk so far the 

 first day that you feel the next morning as though you 

 had been beaten from head to foot, and as if you could 

 not move a muscle. But if by chance you do reach that 

 unpleasant condition the only thing to do is to force 

 yourself to go out again at once and take another tramp, 

 even if it is only across a few fields. It will not do to 

 yield to that feeling of lameness and think you can cure 

 it by rest, for if you do the battle will all have to be 

 fought over again the next tramp you take. 



My second season's shooting began with what we called 

 a day on the meadows. It was just before the law was 

 off for rail and the Doctor wanted me to get my hand in 

 a little before trying them. So we started off, wearing 

 our ordinary hunting clothes and long rubber boots. 



i suppose that it really takes a moderately enthusiastic, 

 sportsman to find any great degree of pleasure in stumb- 

 ling over salt marshes, every now and then plunging 

 nearly knee deep into a treacherous hole filled with vile 

 black mud, having the hot August sun beat down merci- 

 lessly on your head and being devoured by mosquitoes. 

 But for some reason or other I always look back to those 

 days with pleasure. Meadow larks, green herons and 

 swallows formed the game, and now and then we would 

 have a shot at the little long-legged, speckle-breasted 

 sandpipers that ran along in big flocks at the edge of the 

 water. 



I remember with great distinctness one experience that 

 we had. The meadows were nearly divided by quite a 

 broad creek, easily fordable at low water, but quite deep 

 at high or even half tide. We had been strolling along 

 the shore, not paying much attention to the tide, and 

 when we reached the creek we discovered that the tide 

 was nearly high. The Lawyer was with us that day, and 

 we three sat on the sand, like the children of Israel by 

 the waters of Babylon, and gazed at each other in dis- 

 may. We must get across in some way, and finally the 

 Doctor, who had hip rubber boots on, volunteered to try 

 to wade across, and if he found it practicable, he would 

 carry me over first and then the guns. But when he 

 tried , he found the water was nearly up to his waist. 

 Then followed another discussion, when suddenly I said, 

 "What is the use of talking? We' have simply got to get 

 wet, that is all;" and I marched boldly into the water. I 

 had intended to simply wade across, but once in, the 

 desire to swim became too strong for me, and to the up- 

 roarious amusement of the men I threw myself forward 

 and began to swim. But I did not prolong the exercise. 

 Swimming in a canvas costume and with heavy rubber 

 boots on is not the most enjoyable thing in the world, an/1 

 as I trudged along the sand afterward , dripping from 

 head to toe and feeling that each foot was weighted with 

 lead, I began to suspect that I hadlbeen foolish. 



The next day the rail season began. I suppose that 

 the rail is the easiest to hit of any bird that flies, but 

 there is a great deal of satisfaction to a young sportsman 

 in seeing them fall to his gun. And what picturesque 

 sport it is, and how musical the swish, swish of the corn 

 grass as the boat is pushed through it iuthe mellow light 

 of a September morning. 



They brought a chair for me and I began by trying to 

 shoot sitting in it, but I think that is a mistake. You 

 can't shoot nearly as well: and if you have a moderately 

 steady shover there is no difficulty in standing. Put 

 your feet tolerably well apart, the left foot a little in ad- 

 vance of the right and rest a little against the thwart. 

 Bend your knees a trifle and hold your body loosely, so 

 that it will yield to the motion of the boat. When the 

 bird gets up, take your time, and don't grow nervous. 

 Rail fly very slowly, and unless the bird is just on the 

 edge of some bulrushes, you will probably have plenty of 

 time. But if he gets into the weeds don't waste time 

 trying to get him out, for you won't be able to. 



Rail shooting is very good practice, and is apt to en- 

 courage one. I know that when I came in on the last 

 day, having fired twelve shots and secured nine birds, I 

 felt that I had done very well. But there was greater 

 glory than that before me. I had yet to shoot my first 

 partridge. 



The occasion on which that never-to-be-forgotten event 



took place was a very gloomy day in November. The 

 Doctor and myself drove "over Huntington way" early 

 in the morning, and met Joe at a little farmhouse. How 

 plainly I can see Joe, as he drove up in his square box 

 wagon, with two dogs curled up in the straw behind, 

 their heads hanging out on either side, and Joe's dear, 

 hotiest face all abeam with welcome. Would there were 

 more like him. 



We hunted all the morning, with varying luck, seeing 

 several birds, but unable to get a shot at most. About 

 noon we came to a fine willow run, and almost at once 

 Joe flushed a partridge. The run was arrow-3haped, and 

 the bird, rising at the broad end, lit somewhere near thei 

 point. When he had located the spot to his satisfaction 

 Joe proceeded to organize the party. The Doctor was; 

 placed in the path at the right side of the run, about half 

 way down; I was stationed on a flat rock exactly at the** 

 point, with open space all around me, and Joe started in 

 to get up the bird. For a few moments there was intense « 

 silence, broken only by the patter of the dog's feet and 

 the crackling of dead twig3 as they broke under Joe's' 

 weight. Then in an instant there was a mad whirr and 

 buzz, and I saw a brown flash rise from the point in 

 front of me, and make for the woods beyond. How I did' 

 it I do not know to this day, for my heart was beating so 

 hard that it fairly shook me, but I got my gun up and; 

 fired — and the bird fell. For a second there was silence, 

 then my self-control vanished, and the woman in m&! 

 came to the fore. I clasped my gun to my breast and 

 jumping up and down, shouted, "I've killed it! I've' 

 killed it! Come quick! I've killed it!" which was 

 answered by stentorian shouts as the Doctor and Joe came 

 hurrying up, the former greatly excited and delighted 

 and Joe exclaiming, "Well, that's worth a hundred dol- 

 lars any day." And then the dog brought the bird in and 

 we took it over and laid it on the ground before us, while 

 we three sat on a fence rail and talked it all over. Oh,J 

 halcyon days! What mattered it that presently it began 

 to rain so that we were forced to give up shooting and had 

 to walk two wet, weary miles to the wagons? The recoil 

 lection of that brown bundle of feathers securely tucked' 

 into my big game pocket was a panacea for all ills, and 

 the mere thought of it sent a glow over all my chilled 

 frame. We had it for dinner the following night, and JJ 

 know well that never on Olympus did the gods partake^ 

 of .any ambrosia that could be compared to that dear, 

 delicious partridge. N. B. j 



MORE QUAIL FOR MASSACHUSETTS. 



THE good work of restocking old Massachusetts with! 

 game is making excellent progress. The fourth 

 consignment of live quail from Tennessee was received 

 on Monday by the committee of the Fish and Game Pro-; 

 tective Association. There were 300 birds in the lot, and 

 only three or four had died during the shipment, though 

 they were packed in boxes or cages altogether too small; 

 as, for instance, 2QS>r 30 birds in a box no more than 18in.i 

 square by 6in. deep. The whole of the 1,100 birds the' 

 committee has thus far received has come in remarkably! 

 good condition, the number of dead birds being very 

 small. The quail have been all distributed except the' 

 above lot, and have generally been set at liberty. This; 

 last lot will be held in confinement for a few days, till 

 the snow is off the ground and there is a change from the 

 very severe winter weather that has been a feature of 

 March tfeus far. The birds are being gladly received by; 

 all to whom the committee grants the favor. They go tot 

 applicants who can make the committee feel that they! 

 are the proper persons to receive them and that they wilj 

 do their best to properly distribute them and see that they 

 are properly cared for after distribution. They are goingi 

 to nearly every town in the State, and the names of those 

 who have received them show that they are generaujij 

 falling into good hands. Prominent sportsmen and game' 

 protectors are, of course, the first to receive birds, and all 

 applicants are questioned very closely and are made to 

 promise all that is needed for the life and propagation of 

 the birds, in the way of scattering grain *'or them to feed; 

 on the balance of this season and then the sowing of it ini 

 the spring in localities where they will feed on it another 

 year. There is but one dangerous feature, and that is, 

 that the temptation will be too great to hunt them to ex- 

 cess too early after they have begun to multiply. But 

 the receivers promise all that the committee can ask for. 



The birds are being sent out in pairs as near as possible, 

 and the stock received thus far has been pretty evenly 

 matched up. Bob White is easily distinguished from his 

 mistress by his white throat, while that of his partner is, 

 of a yellowish color. Some rather curious instances are 

 already cited concerning the liberation of these quail. 

 The committee recommends, in every instance, that they 

 be scattered as little as possible when liberated. The box 

 is taken to a good location in the woods. It is rested on 

 the ground, and considerable grain is scattered close up 

 to where the opening is made and then a little further 

 away. The liberators remove a slat or side of the box, 

 already loosened, from the side of the box away from the 

 operator, and then every person should run away. The 

 quail are not alarmed. They soon work their way quietly 

 out of the box, pick up the grain, and whistling and 

 chirping betake themselves to the trees in bodies, instead 

 of scattering wildly, as they would if the box was opened 

 quickly at the top and the operators stood around to 

 frighten them. 



In proof of the admirable working of the plan, Mr. 

 John Fottler, Jr., one of the workers of the committee, 

 tells this good story. From one of the first bunches of 

 quail received by the committee, a nice little clump was 

 given to a caref u 1 gentleman for distribution in the neigh- 

 borhood of Wareham. He took the birds some days ago' 

 to a good location, opened the box, after scattering grain, 

 according to the above plan. The birds were not fright-i 

 ened , but staid in the vicinity, as was amply proven by the 1 

 fact of the grain being eaten which was scattered almost 

 every day in the vicinity of the box, left on nearly the] 

 spot where the quail were first liberated. The recent 

 snow came, and the gentleman, with a friend, went out 

 just at nightfall to see how the birds were getting along. 

 Everything was quiet, only there were evidences of con- 

 siderable scratching, with marks of quail in close prox- 

 imity to the old box. The gentleman stepped up to the 

 box and hit it a careless kick, when, much to the surprise 

 of both, the whole bevy of quail beat a retreat out of the 

 box. The little fellows had found it so comfortable that 

 they had made a winter home out of the box in which 

 they had been shipped all the way from Tennessee. An-< 



