May 29, 1890.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



369 



of being the fool game of some poll whose cracked voice 

 had misled my attention. 



Dr. Allen solemnly averred that they had been cooking 

 some four horns, but fork and knife would not make an 

 impression; and while anxious to know how the Doctor 

 had cleaned them, I asked no questions, but strongly 

 suspect that the Doctor must have bored through some 

 soft spot with a gimlet to have made an opening. 



The Doctor was ordered to keep them simmering until 

 supper time, and did so, for remaining in camp with 

 some calculations, I knew the fire was kept up. At sup- 

 per the birds appeared again. This time a sharp knife 

 and skillful management would leave a mark, but were 

 insufficient to furnish a taste around. Further orders 

 kept the stew pot on the fire until bed time, and from 

 daylight until breakfast, and then our game was not 

 overdone, although thoroughly cooked. Success crowned 

 our efforts at mastication this time, and the victory was 

 gained, but as to the distinctive flavor, now that several 

 years have passed, I cannot be positive, but think a piece 

 of vulcanized raw-hide would resemble it, especially if 

 the hide was smoked, for the parrots certainly were. 

 Several pollies were killed afterward, but no attempt 

 made to use them as game by any of the party, as their 

 curiosity and my antipathy had both been appeased. 



Several varieties of parrots are to be found in the Sierra 

 Madre, some of them not larger than sparrows, all fre- 

 quenting the immense pine forests, and feeding on the 

 pine nuts. 



The climate is remarkably even, with summer cool and 

 wet and winter dry, but ice and snow are not infrequent, 

 and the parrot has chosen a favored spot to live out his 

 century. Some of the summer varieties I would consider 

 preferable as game birds, inasmuch as there would be 

 less of them to dispose of. J. V. B. 



AIMING THE SHOTGUN. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



In your paper of Jan. 30 I see that Mr. Louis Hartman 

 takes up the question of "Aiming the Shotgun." It is 

 often quite difficult to explain how a thing is accom- 

 plished, and especially in the matter of aiming. I think 

 •Mr. Charhers method of shooting might be explained in 

 la somewhat different way. There are also many good 

 .shots who handle their guns in a maimer that it would 

 be hard to imitate. What I would like to show is that it 

 is easier to take aim when sighting much above the bar- 

 rel of the gun and consequently shooting with the muzzle 

 of the gun well under the object. 



Those who notice rifle shooters break glass balls and hit 

 other moving objects with the rifle, must observe that in 

 'the cases where these rifles have the common crotch 

 sights the shooter of necessity does his aiming much 

 above the sights. So it is with the shotgun, only that as 

 it has no rear crotch sight in the way, it is easier to aim 

 than with the rifle. 



I do not recommend any one to use a gun with a stock 

 so straight that aiming is an uncomfortable operation, as 

 Mr. Hartman would seeui to imply. 



I wish to speak of one matter relating to this subject, 

 and that is the best form of a rear right for a shotgun, if 

 one is to be used at all. Those who shoot much with the 

 .shotgun .and practice intelligently keep their guns in 

 pretty good alignment, and when they miss it is because 

 the muzzle of ihe gun is not in the right position. 



With beginners, however (especially when using choke- 

 bore guns), a great source of error is from this trouble of 

 bringing the gun up to the shou.der and aligning it just 

 right even if it is well fitted to the shooter. I have found 

 that by using a sight near the eye having a very large aper- 

 ture and narrow rim, just enough to guide the ej e with- 

 out being in the way of the view, is a help for close 

 shooting. This sight is my short express windgauge 

 eight, with the aperture reamed to be at least -^in. diam- 

 eter. The base of this sight is of a good form to fit the 

 hand when grasping the gun, and as it turns down for- 

 ward can be used or uot without being at all in the way. 

 I wish it to be understood that I do not advocate the 

 general use of rear sights on shotguns, for I think it 

 is unnecessary where one knows how to handle the gun 

 well. Still this sight is certainly a help to beginners, and 

 is used by a good many who are not beginners. 



Any rear sight very far from the eye, such as on the 

 rear end of the gun rib, would be worse than useless. In 

 this connection I will say that while in Texas last sum- 

 mer I found one of the beat shots in the country using 

 one of my rear sights — with the regular £,m. aperture— 

 on a three- barrel gun, and he never turned it down when 

 hunting, but used it for shotgun as well as rifle. Although 

 he had the reputation of bringing home more birds 

 that his fellow sportsmen, I do not ascribe it to the sight, 

 for it is essentially a rifle sight; but the point I wish to 

 make is this — that it was not in the way of quick sight- 

 ing for wing shooting. He certainly was sure of perfect 

 alignment. William Lyman. 



Jonathan Darling, of Nicatous Lake, Me. , who was 

 arrested last November on the two charges of hunting 

 deer on Sunday and hounding deer, was convicted and 

 fined. From this he appealed to the Supreme Judicial 

 Court, held in April. In the meantime he endeavared to 

 persuade the principal witness for the prosecution by an 

 offer, in writing and otherwise, to not appear against 

 him; but the warden was not purchasable; and when the 

 case came on, Darling was tried on one of the complaints 

 and found guilty. He then settled up the whole matter, 

 paid his fine and went home. 



A Loon in a Cornfield.— Windsor, N. C.May 20.— 

 Editor Forest and Stream: One day last week Mr. Wat- 

 son Tayloe, a farmer living two miles from this place, 

 found in his cornfield a loon. The question is, how did 

 he get there? The field is a mile from Cashie River and 

 thirty miles from Albemarle Sound, which is the nearest 

 point where they are found. It was brought to town and 

 liberated in the river.— Cashie. 



A Book About Indians — The Forest and Stream will mail 

 free on application a descriptive circular of Mr. (irinnell's book, 

 "Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk-Tales," giving a table of contents 

 and specimen illustrations from the volume. — Adv. 



Names and Portraits oe Birds, by Gurdon Trumbtui. A 

 book particularly interesting to gunners, for by its use they can 

 fdentily without question all the American game birds which 

 they may kill. Cloth, 320 pages, price $2.50. For sale by Forest 

 and Stream, 



m Htjd ^ivqr fishing. 



FISHING NEAR NEW YORK. 



U^OR practical and specific directions to reach several 

 hundred fishing resorts within easy distance of New 

 York city, see issues of 1889 as follows: April 18, April 25, 

 May 2, May 9, May 30, June 6, June 13. June, 20, June 27. 



POCONO. 



WE were off for the 1:10 P. M. train at Hoboken— Dr. 

 Levering, Dr. Hornung, Counsellor W. C. Spencer 

 and the subscriber. Visions of large trout had been 

 dancing before our eyes all the winter, and where better 

 to find them than in the streams of Canadensis and the 

 Pocono range? Dr. Chas. E. Denhardt, little less success- 

 ful in the mountain brook than he is in the sick chamber, 

 with Messrs. Kraft and Imhoff, well known druggists in 

 New York city, had preceded the party a couple of clays 

 as avant couriers to prepare the way and let the denizens 

 know that we were coming. How the professions do 

 like to get away from the cares of business and indulge 

 in the gentle art— more especially they of the medical 

 and dental professions. And it is a good thing to have 

 them along, as will be explained later on. 



We were cosily fixed in the smoking car and bowling 

 along speedily and almost noiselessly on this well-con- 

 ducted road, when w were approached by a fine-looking 

 gentleman who evidently had Fontinalis in his eye 

 largely developed. . Upon hearing our destination he in- 

 formed us that he had been up that way the week before 

 and had caught to his own rod 200 trout, not one of which 

 he saved less than the Sin. Walton regulation. He told 

 us of his fishiug in Norway and Canada and Maine, and 

 of the Paradise Club, of which he is a member, and of 

 the big trout in those celebrated regions; but he said that 

 in no case within access of New York city had he found 

 any trouting equal to the streams around Canadensis. 

 We soon found that he knew considerable about trout. 

 He showed us his fly-book, and picking out the smallest 

 in the large and varied collection, a little mite of a thing, 

 a light brown body with dun-colored wings on a No. 12 

 hook — a gnat and nothing else — he said he had caught all 

 his fish on that. He gave us one of the midgets, and we 

 found it the very thing. Pennsylvania trout, at least 

 early in the season, will not take a large fly, no matter 

 how made, colored or thrown. We were not astonished 

 when he presented his card to recognize the name so well 

 known to the lovers of the gentle art, the author of that 

 charming little book, "Where the Trout Hide," Kit 

 Clarke. Yes, he does know where they hide, and has a 

 way of calling them out from their hiding places. After 

 a very pleasant ride of less than four hours we reached 

 Cresco our station on the D. , L. & W. R. R. Here we 

 were met by Mr. D. M. Crane, at whose place in Cana- 

 densis w r e proposed to stop. Mr. Clarke went to the other 

 place where they catch all the big trout and kill all the 

 bears (in the New York Sun). 



We were soon over the three miles and at the door of 

 Brookside Cottage, where we were cordially welcomed 

 by good, motherly Mrs. Crane, Misses Jenny and Fanny, 

 not to forget the Laverack setter Nellie and that darling 

 little vivacious cocker Duke, over whom so many grouse 

 were killed last fall, and he then but a mere puppy. Dr. 

 Hornung, our amateur, never having caught a trout (out 

 West he would be a tenderfoot), with Dr. Levering, soon 

 had their hip-boots on, rods adjusted and were off for the 

 stream just opposite the house. Just below the dam and 

 amid the dashing waters i3 a big rock and a favorite 

 place to cast a fly in the eddying foam below. Dr. H. 

 was soon on the rock, but having hooked his first trout, 

 in his excitement reaching forward for the wriggling 

 four inches, he lost his balance, slipped from the rock, 

 got a big ducking, broke his rod tip and lost his fish. 

 Thus ended the Doctor's first lesson. He did better after- 

 ward. 



But few fish, and those small, were caught before the 

 bell sounded for supper. About this time Messrs. Kraft 

 and Imhoff and Dr. Denhardt came in. They had been 

 down the Broadhead after big fish. They showed some 

 fine ones, but not nearly as many as they had captured 

 in the Bushkill the day before. ' Dr. Denhardt is a suc- 

 cessful fisherman, and his skill as a physician also now 

 comes in good play. Miss Jenny Crane had been com- 

 plaining all day. He pronounced it tonsilitis. He suc- 

 ceeded in breaking the fever and rescuing our fair in- 

 valid from what might have been a severe and protracted 

 sickness. 



In the morning Drs. L. and H. started for the Bush- 

 kill. Counsellor Spencer and the undersigned were 

 driven up the road some three miles to fish down Goose 

 Pond Run. We found a good many trout in this brook, 

 but small, something like half we were compelled to 

 throw back, being fingerlings only and under the regula- 

 lation size. We tried our new $3 split-bamboo. It 

 proved a good fly-rod in open water when kept dry, 

 but a poor thing in the brush, as what fly-rod is not. 



Our expedition the next day was a buckboard ride 

 toward the headwaters of Bright's Creek or the little 

 Bushkill, some seven miles over the roughest and most 

 abominable road ever cut through a wood. We reached 

 Mud Creek, a sniall; stream that empties into Bright's. 

 Here we proposed to commence operations; but what did 

 our eyes see on a board on a-tree close by the bridge but 

 this: "Notice. All persons are forbidden trespassing by 

 fishing or hunting on any grounds owned or leased by 

 Joseph Brown." Just then another fisherman came 

 along from up the brook. We asked him if Mr. J. 

 Brown owned or leased the land thereabouts and con- 

 tiguous to said brook. He said that "he didn't know." 

 As Mr. J. Brown's domicile was some mile and a half dis- 

 tant through the woods we concluded that Mr. B. might 

 own or lease land somewhere, but that there was not suf- 

 ficient evidence, so our Counsellor Spencer averred, to 

 show that this particular stream was covered or intended 

 to be covered by said J. B. A fly tossed lightly over the 

 bridge was eagerly seized; a five-incher was landed and 

 the die was cast. We found the fish numerous, but 

 small, until we struck the fork below, where they in- 

 creased in weight very materially; but no very large 

 ones were captured — they ran about 6 to 8oz. only. 



We left the stream about 5 P. M. with very satisfactory 

 creels. What we might have done had we gone earlier 

 and fished down the main stream, or Bright's Creek 



proper, there is no telling, but I have no doubt each 

 one could have more than filled a No. 3 creel with good- 

 sized fish. 



Dr. Hornung had left us the day before with 46 trout, 

 his own catching, and he went off proud enough, deter- 

 mining to return again in May ; and so say we all of us. 

 The next and last day the Counseller and Dr. L. took in 

 the main or Broadhead Creek. The subscriber had had 

 enough and as he had in his possession the largest fish, 

 13 Jin., with two of 12in., he merely looked on and 

 awaited developments. On this day happened one of the 

 richest episodes of our trip. The Counseller is not exactly 

 sylph-like in his proportions, in nautical phrase he would 

 be called square-rigged, and with his immense rubber 

 boots up to his waist and his little Dutch wool hat stuck 

 full of leaders and flies, over a round jolly face, is rather 

 an interesting specimen on land; but when he slips off a 

 boulder and takes a header in a deep pool, to come up 

 blowing like a porpoise, and getting a footing on the 

 treacherous rock only to go over again over his head in 

 that pool— well justice cannot be done to the scene. How 

 Dr. L.'s cachination did echo in that resounding glen. 

 The Counseller is a too enthusiastic fisherman to mind 

 such little things, and he kept right on down the stream 

 in his phlegmatic way; no audible language escaped his 

 lips to our ears, what he thought or said mentally is 

 another thing. 



They day was cold and raw, and but a few trout would 

 rise to a fly. They got a few to add to our already ample 

 supply. Had we had better weather, like the week be- 

 fore (but then it is proverbial that Dr. Levering always 

 brings a storm for himself and party when he is on an 

 outing), we might perhaps have caught a few more fish, 

 but we had enough for home consumption and several 

 packages to friends. We all propose another trip in May. 



Mr. Kureau, teller in the Bowery Savings Bank and 

 one of our part last year, has an engagement with Tur- 

 ner, the bear and deer hunter of that region, for a rattle- 

 snake hunt in June. Turner knows of a den where, he 

 informs Kureau, he can capture or kill from 100 to 500 

 in an hour. Levering, who loves snakes so well (a great 

 way off), will not be of the party. We think spine of 

 joining the party, as we have not interviewed a rattler 

 since our sojourn among the Chippeway Bluffs, in Wis- 

 consin, more than 30 years ago. They Bay the oil is a 

 great specific for rheumatism. Jacobstapp. 



A CAPE FEAR FISHING POINT. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The warm summer days now upon us bring to mind 

 the summer vacation and serious attacks of spring fever. 

 It is a little problematic whether I will get my vacation 

 this summer, but I had one last summer that I will not 

 soon forget. In search of health for my wife I went to 

 North Carolina, and first tried Asheville, a beautiful city 

 and a noted health resort. We soon grew tired of the 

 monotony of a place whose daily routine was eat, sleep 

 and ride, and we set out for the coast, our destination 

 being Wilmington. Apparently no one ever goes to 

 Wilmington of his own free will, for no facilities are 

 furnished for getting there. The trains all miss connec- 

 tion, and a ninety-day note would be barred by limita- 

 tions before the trip was over. But we will pass over the 

 dreariness of that trip through pine woods, occasional 

 occasional tobacco fields, and patches of bumblebee cot- 

 ton, so called because a bumblebee could sit on the 

 ground and suck the top blossom, and assume that we 

 iave arrived at Wilmington, and being strangers are 

 piloted to the worst hotel in the universe. There is a 

 good one there, the Orton; but alas for us, we did not 

 find it the first night. After a night spent on a mattress 

 stuffed with pine straw and containing more inhabitants 

 than ancient Jerusalem at the Passover, we started on a 

 neat little steamer to Southport. This is a little town at 

 the mouth of Cape Fear River that had brilliant prospects 

 at the beginning of the revolutionary war and has never 

 changed since. The Government has built a telegraph 

 line to the life-saving station, and that and the steamer 

 are the sole connecting links between it and the outside 

 world. As soon as the steamer landed it was overrun 

 with Senegambians of all shades of blackness seeking for 

 baggage, and after a little swearing at the too officious 

 volunteer porters we find ourselves at Miss Kate Stuart's 

 hotel. This establishment is primitive but beautifully 

 clean, and the meals are well cooked. 



After the horrors of Wilmington we thought we had 

 struck it rich. 



Southport is situated on a sand flat three miles 

 from the ocean, is breezy, cool and free from mos- 

 quitoes. The people are primitive, kind, and form a little 

 world of their own. I soon made the acquaintance of 

 Capt. Pinner, a retired ancient mariner, somewhat re- 

 sembling in appearance the Lone Fisherman in "Evange- 

 line," a skillful pilot and a most excellent companion. 

 He was the owner of a sailboat of about 4ft. beam, made 

 of an immense tree, and knew where every shell reef, 

 wreck and fishing point was in the river. Under his 

 skillful guidance we used to go fishing every morning. 

 The ubiquitous Senegambians brought shrimp for bait 

 every morning. I could tell you of our catch, Dut when 

 I tell the sportsmen hereabout my success they immedi- 

 ately present me with a card of membership in the Amal- 

 gamated Association of Fish Liars, and I do not desire 

 your readers to cast insinuations on my veracity. I can 

 excuse the parties here, for they know nothing of salt- 

 water fishing, but many of your readers do and could 

 realize that I was only telling the truth. I have never 

 been to Florida, but I believe the fishing about Cape Fear 

 is as good as in Florida. About ten miles from Southport 

 is Carolina Beach, on the Atlantic, where there is a good 

 hotel. If any one of your readers ever go to Southport 

 or vicinity my advice would be for him to look up Capt. 

 Pinner, and under his guidance he will have such fish- 

 ing as I never dreamed of before I experienced it, and 

 his catch will have variety enough about it to satisfy 

 any one. 



The shooting is said to be good in the winter. The 

 marshes then had a considerable quantity of water fowl 

 in them, but I was not familiar with the game laws and 

 did not shoot any. I was content to sail and fish with 

 Capt. Pinner, and hope that fate will soon give me an- 

 other vacation with him for a companion. UNO. 



Arkansas. 



To Salmon Anglers.— T. J. Conroy, 65 Fulton street, N. Y., 

 has a lot of fine salmon rods, assorted kinds, which he will sell at 

 a sacrifice until stock ib reduced. Don't mm the opportunity.— 



