208 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 2, 1890 



IN THE WILDS OF PIKE. 



WlE met at the Erie Railroad Depot, in Jersey City, to 

 start out for a few days' shooting up in Pike 

 county, Pa. We took the 9:20 A. M. train, and arrived at 

 Port Jervis at 12:15. From there we took Jake Schorr's 

 Milford stage and drove to Milford, 8 miles south of Port 

 Jervis, arriving there in about an hour. We kept the 

 congenial and jolly Jake busy telling us of his numerous 

 expeditions and adventures in the wilds of Pike county, 

 and the ride was very pleasant. At Milford we were met 

 by Mr, Lou Chattlion, who drove us out to his farm, 

 about five miles back of Milford. He also is a good all- 

 round "settler," and just the man to make it pleasant 

 during one's stay. The road seemed to be all up-hill; and 

 although he told us that it was but five miles from Milford 

 to his place, it seemed like twenty to us. On the way 

 out we started three pheasants that were feeding close by 

 the roadside, and this put us in high spirits, anticipating 

 the good sport to be had back in the woods. 



The next day was Sunday. When Monday morning: 

 dawned, old Sol found us all ready to start out. 

 Climbing up a steep bill, right back of the house, we came 

 to a small clearing about half-way up, and while crossing 

 this we started a flock of pheasants. We were wholly 

 unprepared to find game so near to civilization, and 

 although we both fired away at them, the partridges kept 

 on their wild flight and did not stop a single shot. We 

 then broke into the woods, and such woods— no man can 

 imagine what it is to break through a mountain of 

 scrub-oak unless he has tried it. Every few yards the 

 birds would rise and fly madly on, but as we were yet 

 "green" and hardly capable of shooting through this 

 maze of bushes, the birds generally flew off unharmed. 



At noon we returned to the farm hungry, tired and dis- 

 couraged, and were met at the door by Lou, who gave us 

 a grand laugh and said he thought it'looked pretty bad, 

 when two sportsmen arrayed in the latest hunting suits 

 and armed with nice breechloaders could not hit a "fly- 

 ing barn," as he expressed it. At dinner he told us he 

 would take us back a few miles further and leave us in 

 the tender mercies of his brother-in-law, a noted hunter 

 and fisherman in that locality, named Lou G-availle. 



The next morning we were up early and started out 

 for Gavaille's place, and as we arrived at his clearing 

 we could see evidences of the products of his trusty gun, 

 for there were skins and birds in profusion, on the walls 

 and wherever the eye reached. As we entered his house 

 a very striking picture presented itself to our gaze. Ga- 

 vaille, whom we dubbed "Soak-'em." in recognition of 

 his unerring aim, was seated at a table, and at his feet 

 were his hounds. The man was tall, gaunt and angular, 

 but at the same time there looked in that frame the 

 strength of a Hercules, He was loading his weapon, a 

 muzzleloader. The left barrel was rifled, and the arm 

 weighed 151bs. ; but when that gun belched forth Soak-'em 

 was always sure to have something to add to his game 

 score. His hounds were tall and skinny, but when they 

 strike a trail they stick to it till the end. They went by 

 the name of Drive and Puppy. It was truly a sight to 

 see this tall backwoodsman, his gun and his dogs grouped 

 together, and with this man as guide, any aspiring 

 sportsman might hope to find the best hunting and fish- 

 ing in Pike county. We started out, and with the hounds 

 running the cottontails, and Lou's setter Nell standing 

 the partridges, we were kept busy. We made many 

 clean misses, but old Soak-'em never failed to score. 



We hunted back till we got to Log Tavern Pond, a 

 beautiful lake in a deep valley, surrounded by immense 

 forests, unbroken for many miles. At this lake there is 

 good wildfowl shooting and fishing; on this particular 

 day we failed to see any ducks, but proposed to pay it 

 another visit at some future time. After eating our 

 lunch we hunted back again and arrived at Soak-'em s 

 clearing pretty well tired out, but with quite a load of 

 game, consisting of 11 rabbits, 18 pheasants and 4 squir- 

 rels. We left Soak-'em at his door and proceeded on our 

 way home. We hunted ever day and always secured 

 good bags, but nothing out of the general run was shot 

 until the following week. For our last hunt we rose 

 early, and again started out for Soak-'em's clearing to get 

 the aid of himself and dogs to have one good day before 

 our departure for home. Arriving at his place we were 

 greeted by the joyful barking of the hounds, and Soak-'em 

 being all ready we broke right into the woods and again 

 the music commenced. I will not dwell on the shooting 

 we had, but we got to the lake with all we could carry. 

 We had just reached the lake when friend Fat, who was 

 a little in advance, shouted, "There's a flock of black 

 duck ." And true enough, out on the lake we could see 

 them diving and feeding, utterly unconscious of the ter- 

 rible danger that threatened them. Then we planned a 

 siege. Soak-'em went around the lake in one direction 

 and Lou in the other, while Fat and I jumped into a dug- 

 out, which was moored close by, and started out, and be- 

 tween us we intended to get the whole flock. But the 

 ducks saw right through our little scheme and rose out of 

 the water, and circled up and up, and flew to the south, 

 to be seen no more by us. 



We rowed across the lake to a point where we all de- 

 cided to meet; and when we got there wefound Soak-'em 

 waiting for us, and he said that Drive had struck a trail, 

 which he was following at the time, and he thought it 

 was a fox. He stationed us each at a runway and told us 

 to wait, and if the fox was around he would run down 

 our way. So we waited. After standing there with all 

 nerves at the highest tension, and seeing nothing of the 

 fox, I concluded it would be a good time to eat my lunch, 

 and began to do so, when all of a sudden I heard some- 

 thing coming through the brush. I quickly had my gun 

 in position. On it came, nearer and nearer, and I thought 

 I had the prize surely, when all of a sudden the it sprang 

 into view, and instead of being the desired fox proved to 

 be the setter Nell. She came up to me wagging her tail, 

 and stood looking at me demolishing my lunch. Well, to 

 smooth things over I gave her the rest of my lunch, and 

 then Soak-'em appeared and said we had better follow old 

 Drive and see what he was after. We started off and 

 followed the baying of the hounds, and came to a very 

 dense swamp. Soak-'em said he thought that Drive was 

 after big rabbits. He stationed us on the outside, whde 

 he and Lou went around the swamp. We waited for a 

 while, and suddenly heard a loud yell from the hound. 

 Fat said, "I think that they have a bear; let's go in and 

 see." So in we started, and kept pushing on through the 

 swamp, which was the worst place we had ever struck. 

 A man could pass within 6f t, of one here and you could 



not see him; but we knew that there was something in 

 | there, so we kept on floundering through the cold water 

 j and bog. 



i As we came near to the hounds we could hear a growl- 

 ing and spitting, as if made by a cat; and we came to 



j the conclusion that it was no bear, but a wildcat. All of 

 a sudden we broke into a little glen, and there sure 

 enough was a big catamount keeping the dogs at bay. 

 When he saw us he grew fiercer still, and leaped right 

 toward us. At the same time he spied us we ppied him, 

 and were ready for him and gave him two charges of 

 shot. He was coming with such force that the shot did 

 not stop him, but he struck me right on the stomach and 

 knocked me into the swamp. Fat thought that he was 

 still alive and gave him a rap over the head with his ex- 

 cellent gun and broke the fore end off. The cat then 

 stretched out, and we saw what a big ugly animal he 

 was. He was as tall as the hound and measured 4ft. 2in. 

 from tip of ears to tail. When weighed he tipped the 

 beam at 621bs. 



By the time we got out of the swamp it was growing 

 late, and we concluded we had enough, so we tramped 

 home, lugging the big brute with us. The skin has been 

 converted into a rug by Wallace, the taxidermist of 

 North William street. 



Thus ended the very successful and pleasant trip to 

 Pike county; and the next morning we started for home 

 with a new lease of life and tender recollections of Soak- 

 'em, the dogs and our kind host and hostess. Drive. 

 Nett York City. 



BOB WHITE SHOOTING IN VIRGINIA. 



TO leave home, about which Bob White is fairly nu- 

 merous, for the purpose of shooting, seems like 

 "carrying coals to Newcastle," but close application to 

 professional work had tried both mind and body, and ren- 

 dered a short vacation absolutely necessary. An old 

 friend and whilom companion in the field had just re- 

 turned from a four-years' residence in Texas, and sent a 

 cordial invitation for me to come to see him. He 

 reported birds plentiful, time was auspicious, the close 

 season passed; what, therefore, so natural as that dog 

 and gun should be my companions, and the trip in search 

 of mind rest should have a two-fold object? So we started, 

 Blaze and I. Early the week before I had shipped a case 

 of ammunition by freight and a Winchester repeating 

 shotgun by express to my friend, which, with the abnor- 

 mal speed' apparently inseparable from the V. M. R. R., 

 had arrived the same day I did, so with valise, gun and 

 dog, the boxes were tucked neatly under the seats of the 

 carriage, and with a small "colored brother" astride of a 

 big horse to carry the lantern, which only made the dark- 

 ness conspicuous, we drove out over the old familiar road 

 with its wealth of holes and corduroy patches. A half- 

 hour of jolting brought us to St. Stephen's, where before 

 an open fire all discomforts were forgotten, while we 

 talked over the past, enjoyed the present and planned for 

 the future until we sought repose in the small hours of 

 the morning. 



Rain pouring upon the shingles greeted our waking 

 sense of hearing, and the wind blowing most uncompro- 

 misingly from the east showed little signs of fair weather, 

 and little hopes of sport that day, but toward noon it 

 broke away, and being desirous of trying the new repeater, 

 we took the dogs over into the orchard where, as in years 

 of old, there was a fine covey of birds. Just as we opened 

 the gate leading into the field, startled by something, the 

 entire covey flushed and sailed across the road, dropping 

 in posted ground. They were very tame, and by judicious 

 handling of the dogs we got them back into the orchard 

 and scattered along the old fence with its famous cover 

 of briers and weeds. How the quick whir-r-r! whir-r-r! 

 of a covey of full-grown Bob White thrills one, sending 

 the warm blood rushing through the veins; it is always 

 the same, every year, everyday; and for the time every- 

 thing is forgotten but the mad fury of the chase. Tasso, 

 Carl's dog, pinned the first bird in a tuft of long grass, 

 Blaze backing steadily, and as it darted out the queer- 

 looking gun flew to my friend's shoulder, the report fol- 

 lowed, the bird dropping dead; following it out flew 

 another, which I missed with both barrels; rattle-clack- 

 bang! went the repeater, and, as tho' struck by lightning, 

 the bird fell. "Something like a case of wiped eye, Picus," 

 suggested Carl, with a quizzical smile. "So it was, and 

 neatly done, too, old fellow," quoth I, " mind your eye 

 though." By the time we had hunted out nearly every 

 bird, the noisy repeater and the more modest Greener 

 were tied on five birds each. 



Leaving the orchard we climbed the fence of a nearby 

 cornfield, in which we found another covey, accounting 

 for five of its number. The tall grass hanging heavy 

 with its weight of water had now saturated our lower ex- 

 tremities, despite high boots, so we returned to the house. 



As the next day broke the sun shone over the eastern 

 horizon and mounted up into a sky without a cloud, its 

 early rays kissing the tops of the already gorgeously 

 tinted trees of the forests, clothing the mountains, undu- 

 lating up, up, until merged into the far away Blue Ridge. 

 A heavy hoar-frost coated the leafy carpet of the grand 

 old park of oaks surrounding the house and the smoke 

 from our pipes hung for a moment in the air before dis- 

 appearing, as we strode off down the broad gravelled 

 road bed, toward a wood-cutting, where we knew there 

 was a large covey to be found. The dogs raced over the 

 frosted leaves, fairly wild with enthusiasm, and it was 

 no wonder that the hot- headed Blaze raced into a clump 

 of green briers and came out the other side in close pur- 

 suit of a long-eared cottontail, which scudded away on 

 nimble legs with the dog yelping at his heels, despite our 

 yells. When he did return he found a strong arm and 

 a fine hickory all ready for his benefit, and when the 

 painful scene was over the dog was in first-class shape 

 for the day's sport. 



From Blaze's overcaution Tasso found the birds first, 

 yet in the fence corner where they had roosted. Coolly 

 we took our positions and flushing the birds as coolly de- 

 livered our fire, each dropping a pair, as with a roar of 

 wings the startled birds whirred off into the woods near 

 by. 



Then followed royal sport. For full two hours we 

 quartered back and forth, the dogs working like 

 machines, and when we left what we could not find, 

 our pockets held thirteen fine large birds. Moving the 

 dogs out into a broad stubble field, they struck the trail 

 of a covey, and loading full 500yds. each froze to a point 

 on separate birds, and both men killed upon the rise. 



Almost instantly two more rose, only to drop at the re- 

 ports. Then up went the rest of the covry, Carl getting 

 a bird as they rose; I missed from too much haste in re- 

 loading. As I stood with empty gun, watching the birds 

 as they sailed over the stubble with noiseless wings like 

 feathered ghosts, up rose two barred owls, which Carl 

 dropped with the last two shots in the magazine. 



"Well, by Jove!" said Carl, "that came pretty near 

 being what our English friends would call a 'hot corner'; 

 we interrupted one of nature's tragedies, Picus. Sorry 

 you weren't loaded, but I would not have missed those 

 owls for ten dollars cash." 



"That's all right, old fellow," I replied. "You must 

 have those gentlemen mounted, Carl, for I have never 

 seen a pair in such magnificent plumage." 



"Verily, thus shall it be done as a memento of our re- 

 union." 



While we were examining the beautiful plumage of 

 the owls, the dogs had retrieved the five dead birds and 

 were patiently awaiting our commands. We decided not 

 to pursue the demoralized remnants of the covey, and 

 made the best of our way toward a locality famous for 

 its woodcock. Neither of our dogs were proficient upon 

 this variety of game bird, and the few we found were 

 wild; so little wonder that of the six birds we killed not 

 one was killed over a simon-pure point. What grand 

 birds they were, too; entirely different from the same 

 birds when found in July; full-plumaged, with well- 

 rounded plump bodies, is it any wonder that we stowed 

 them away most carefully in our game pockets, that with 

 unruffled feathers we might display them in their full 

 beauty on our return? 



We now came to our usual noon rendezvous, where we 

 found Ulysses, Carl's colored factotum, thoroughly 

 equipped with material to satisfy the cravings of the inner 

 man. Nothing loth, we spread ourselves comfortably, 

 while the colored adept covered the big flat stone which 

 served as a table with our dinner. How one can eat when 

 the craving for food has been stimulated by an half day 

 of sport, especially when one has been successful. We 

 threw dull care to the winds, took full credit for good 

 shots, found excuses for poor ones, as is the custom of 

 the sportsman, and were truly comfortable. Ulysses re- 

 packed the dishes, fed the dogs and carefully tied up our 

 game, which with the big basket was placed in the buggy, 

 then once more we started the dogs out over a broad 

 stretch of meadow, famous snipe ground in the spring, 

 with now and then a small whisp to be found in the early 

 fall. We found none, nor any sign, but on the edge 

 among a grove of dwarf willow trees killed a pair of 

 woodcock, and by a long shot Carl dropped a little hawk 

 which was hovering just within range. Crossing the run 

 we met two men hauling wood, who told us they had 

 just flushed a covey upon the edge of a cornfield, which 

 they pointed out to us, and wished us luck. The corn- 

 field was well furnished with cover, and the birds were 

 scattered and lay well, most every shot being at single 

 birds, so that for a few minutes we had good sport, bag- 

 ging eleven birds with thirteen shots. The owner, at- 

 tracted by the firing, rode up to us upon a horse intent on 

 driving us off, but upon recognizing us not only told us 

 to go ahead, but clapped heels to his horse and set off to 

 the house at a gallop to get his gun and join us. Under 

 his piloting we found several other coveys, of which we 

 took no less than forty birds to the three guns, not one of 

 which our host would accept when we reached the fence 

 which marked the boundaries of his extensive farm, and 

 where, as the sun was now fast going down, we decided 

 to take the road home. So we bade our genial host good 

 night, and well satisfied with our day's sport, left the 

 woods and fields for the road, where we were fortunate 

 enough to meet a carriage with an empty seat going our 

 way, the gentleman driving very kindly taking us up, 

 and saved us the long walk home. Picus. 



MALLARDS IN THE TIMBER. 



JERSEYVILLE, 111.— In a former letter I promised to 

 write you something about duck shooting in this part 

 of the West. A few years ago we were favored with an 

 "open winter." It consisted of a little of all kinds of 

 weather, a little cold, some sunshine, considerable rain, 

 much mud, warm days and foggy ones, but principally 

 mud. These winters we have occasionally, and when we 

 do it is an assured fact that we are to have good duck 

 shooting all winter, for the creeks and rivers overflow 

 their banks, and low lands, covered with smart-weed and 

 water oaks, are soon inundated. Mallards feed upon the 

 tiny acorns and the seed of the smart- weed, grow fat 

 and lazy, and are hard to drive away. 



Three of us were camped on the banks of a small lake 

 situated in the western part of Jersey county, and one 

 mile from the the Illinois River. We had had fair suc- 

 cess, rare fun and ravenous appetites, with a fair pros- 

 pect for the continuance of the same blessings, One 

 morning I told my companions that I would go back of 

 the lake in the timber on a, prospecting tour. Taking my 

 boat, gun, ammunition, and twenty flat-bottomed mallard 

 decoys, I started diagonally across the lake until I reached 

 the timber. Here I turned north, then west, then south, 

 and finally east toward the lake, my object being to find 

 a place where the ducks were bedded, then quietly to 

 rout them out, put out my decoys, and secrete myself in? 

 some convenient fallen treetop, or by the side of an old 

 stump, knowing full well that the ducks, if not shot at, 

 would soon return, a few at a time, and afford fine sport 

 for several hours. But I was unable to find such a spot. 

 I could find the ducks singly, in pairs, and in small 

 bunches, but not in ouch numbers as I wished, although 

 there were plenty of 'Signs," such as muddy water and 

 feathers where they had been feeding. 



As I neared the lake I stopped to view an opening in the 

 timber. Here grew willows, maples, water-oak and 

 smart-weed; and here, too, the ducks had been. It oc- 

 curred to me that this was about as fine a place both for 

 ducks and shooter as I had ever seen. I was standing up 

 in my boat, as I always do when in shallow water, to pro- 

 pel the boat with a push pole. I had probably stood and 

 gazed on this place for at least ten minutes, without see- 

 ing a duck, when some one to the south of me fired; and 

 a wing-tipped mallard struck the water about thirty yards 

 from me. I reached for my gun, that lay in the bottom 

 of the boat, when some one about two hundred yards to 

 the west of me called out, "Shoot that duck," which I 

 did. He started to pick it up. Then overhead came a 

 single one. This I dropped toward where the stranger 

 was, After this one he went. When I asked him if nt 



