456 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



[Deo. 25, 1890, 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



CiHICAGO, Dec. 13.— At the meeting of the Grand 

 i' Galuniet Heights Club last night nothing definite 

 was accomplished in the matter of the attempted eviction 

 of the club by the landlord. The ground is held under 

 indefinite leasehold, about the only thing the lessor binds 

 himself to do being to purchase the buildings at one- 

 third their cost upon closure of the lease. The land, by 

 reason of the south district boom consequent upon the 

 location of the World's Fair, has become more valuable, 

 and the owner wants the club out of the way. It is not 

 likely, however, that the club will be evicted so easily as 

 all this. .At present, at least, the matter is still in the 

 air. and the boys are practically saying, "Come and take 

 us." 



Dee. 14.— The Possum Club of Chicago, the great and 

 only Possum Club, held its secondjregular meeting Friday 

 night at Billy Worner's banqueting hall?. The" Possum 

 Club was bigger this time, nearly twice as big, and it talked 

 more and if possible ate_ more than it did the first time. 

 It also showed, a disposition to reach out and embrace a 

 few more members from the elite, of Chicago. Annexa- 

 tion is the watchword of Chicago and the Possum CJub. 

 The latter will probably annex the World's Fab' in due 

 time, and unquestionably it could run it better that it is 

 being run now, for whatever the Possum Club touches 

 goes, unless it is nailed down. 



Promptly at the appointed hour of 7— the Possum ought 

 really to make its dining hour a trifle later than that, if 

 it woidd be really chic — the high contracting parties 

 appeared and amid the peals of thrilling music began the 

 march up the central aisle. A.t a signal all was still, 

 until, as the waiters placed before each guest a plate of 

 smoking, savory brown, adding a vast platter in the 

 center of the board, a wild shout of exultation arose as 

 there fell upon the air the stirring notes of the old Scotch 

 air, "C'yarve dat possum, chillen!" They carved it some, 

 and then they carved it some more; and then all the out- 

 side world was forgotten and not a wave of trouble rolled 

 anywhere near Billy Worner's place. The menu was 

 baked possum, sweet potatoes and possum, possum and 

 genuine Southern hoecake, cocktails, claret and possum, 

 champagne and possum, coffee, cigars and possum. The 

 menu was voted a success. 



At the first meeting of the club it was decided that 

 each member should bring a friend to the next meeting, 

 thus doubling the membership. It was soon discovered, 

 however, that the scope of the club would necessarily be 

 curtailed in this way and the admission postponed of 

 many men between whom there was no choice, but all 

 of whom ought to belong to the organization. In other 

 words, the Possum Club found itself a more important 

 body of sportsmen than it had thought. The resolution 

 was therefore stretched and members added to their lists 

 of invitation somewhat. A few of the former members 

 were unable to be present, but following are the names 

 of those who actually sat at the table, all of whom, ex- 

 cept as earlier qualified, were by an omnibus bill admit- 

 ted to full and absolute membership in the one and only 

 Possum Club: 



W. N. Low, C. S. Burton, J. J. Gillespie, Abner Price, 

 H. W. Loveday, L. W. Hamline, J. P. Hayde, F. A. 

 Place, Geo. Holden, R. A. Turtle, C. E. Felton, A. H. 

 Harryman, E. Hough, Wm. Womer, N. F. Pfefftr, E. J. 

 Grass, N. Rowe, R. S. Cox, Jr., O. F. Malcolm, W. S. 

 Shepard, Geo. I. Maillet (of Crown Point, Ind.), C. E. 

 Willard, G. W. Andrews, C. R. Babery, E. Copland, H. 

 W. Jenney. 



Mr. Low, chairman-elect for this meeting, took the 

 head of the board. Mr. Low was seized with a violent 

 attack of modesty, and said it was in a fit of absent-mind- 

 edness that he had violated the rules and accepted the 

 chairmanship a second time. He was making his speech 

 just when the first relay of possum wa3 served, and was 

 promptly told to sit down and wait till after supper before 

 he resigned. Mr. Low then ate some possum, and forgot 

 all about the previous question. 



A little business was transacted in a leisurely way. 

 Col. Felton was chosen chairman for the next meeting. 

 Mr. Geo. I. Maillet, of Crown Point, Ind., was elected an 

 honorary member. It was observed that some definite 

 system of increasing and regulating the membership 

 would finally need to be adopted, and a committee on 

 membership was appointed, consisting of Messrs. C. E. 

 Felton, Ab. Price, W. L. Shepard and W, P. Mussey. A 

 collection was taken up pro rata for the purpose of pro- 

 curing some appropriate stationery. It was decided that 

 the next meeting should be held one week from the fol- 

 lowing Tuesday. Mr. Worner announced that one week 

 from that date he should do himself the honor of offering 

 to the Possum a complimentary banquet, the same to be 

 a game dinner of his best ability. This game dinner he 

 proposed to make an annual fixture. His remarks were 

 received with great enthusiasm and applause. 



Chairman Low, in his usual felicitous way, succeeded 

 in extracting a speech from nearly every member pres- 

 ent, two or three or four or five from some of them. An 

 interesting discussion arose between Abner Price and Col. 

 Felton, both of whom objected to being called "old" 

 sportsmen. Mr. Price declared that he used to read of 

 Col. Felton's wonderful shooting when he himself was a 

 boy in copper-toed boots. Col. Felton was equally cer- 

 tain that he had heard of Mr. Abner Price, the famous 

 ground sweater of ducks, when land was worth $2.50 an 

 acre in Chicago, and he himself had a rattle and a tin 

 savings bank. Mr. John Gillespie, who in his ignorance 

 before the supper had declared that he "would just as soon 

 eat cat as possum," was called upon for an expression of 

 opinion up to date, and publicly apologized to the club, 

 saying he would rather eat one possum than two cats. 



Through all the fun of the meeting, however, there 

 was apparent the tone of a very steady purpose. Let no 

 one think this club only a gathering of the boys for a 

 "lark." It is already much more than that. It will soon 

 be, if it is not so already, the centralization of the diverse 

 branches of the sportsmen's craft in this city and vicin- 

 ity. Chicago as a shooting city has long been in many 

 ways ultra-conservative, and therefore behind the times. 

 It may not be known to the outside world, but there 

 have been cliques in the body general of Chicago shoot - 

 ei'S. The Possum Club, lucky accident, is ignorant of 

 this fact, and it and all its members will remain forever 

 ignorant of it, so that by and by everybody will forget 

 that ever there was such a thing as a division of opinion, 

 or will refer any small difference to the ultimate arbitra- 

 ment of the wish-bone of a good fat possum. 



Dec. 15. — Mention was made in these columns a short 

 time ago of some shooting done by Mr. T. Benton Leiter 

 and Mr. W. H. Haskell, on the Rice Pond near Chilicothe, 

 111., and it was stated that these gentlemen had acquired 

 title to a large tract of marsh there. The full facts in 

 regard to the matter are interesting, and are as follows: 

 The marsh about Chilicothe has always been a fine one, 

 and Mr. Haskell was well acquainted with it in boyhood, 

 when his father lived at Rome. The Rice Pond was 

 great mallard ground, a fact entirely well appreciated by 

 the crew of market shooters who hung about it. For 

 years these market hunters, prominent among whom 

 were Dick and Bill Beebee, Shinn, Wilkie, Jo Davis, Ed. 

 Eaton and the two Carrolls, have run a close combine on 

 this coveted bit of marsh, and have effectually shut out 

 all competitors and all sportsmen . They were sometimes 

 hired as pushers, but even then they were careful to take 

 their men into a part of the marsh where no ducks were 

 to be had, thus keeping the real resources of the marsh 

 as much a secret as possible. Any one whom they could 

 not thus fool away they tried to bluff out, under a claim 

 that they had leased the marsh. The fact was that a 

 man by the name of Lester, the dealer who shipped all 

 their ducks to Philadelphia for them, and who made 

 something on their trade, had a lease on a part of this 

 duck farm, and what was not leased was claimed. This 

 Lester asked Mr. Haskell down to shoot, and Mr. Haskell, 

 on the invitation, or rather on the advice of his friend 

 Jake Worth of that town, went over in the Rice Field 

 and began to shoot. At once there was a great uproar 

 among the market shooters. When Mr. Haskell got in 

 at evening, Mr. Worth informed him that he had heard 

 the complaints of the market shooters, had found that no 

 valid lease really existed, and in short, had leased the 

 Rice Field himself. At once Mr. Haskell re-leased the 

 property from Mr. Worth. Mr. Leiter at once went in 

 with him. Some of the land has been bought and more 

 will be picked up quietly. It is probable that a little 

 club of ten or a dozen Chicago men will own or control 

 the old Rice Field, if all goes well. This will disgust the 

 market hunters, whose special mallard preserve it has 

 been so long. The market shooters would never kill any- 

 thing but mallards in there, because they got more money 

 for them. The territory is good. 



I observe the following item of news in the daily press 

 of a late date: "A Wickford (R. I.) man recently killed 

 eleven out of thirteen quail at a single discharge of his 

 fowling piece." I presume that in the eyes of the daily 

 press this is a piece of news worth recording, perhaps as 

 a feat of daring, or heroism, or of skill. Noble Rhode 

 Island man ! Noble daily press ! 



From accounts of the late Cincinnati elephant hunt, it 

 seems that it takes twenty-four Springfield rifle bullets 

 to kill a mad tame elephant. I hear they shot old Chief 

 till it got dark, and then began again in the morning. 



I was in at Jenney & Graham's the other day, and met 

 there Jim Wheeler, of Freeport, 111., an old-timer of the 

 old-timest sort, who was picnicking around with his 

 friend, Mr. G. W. Baltsley, of this city. Freeport, it is 

 well known, is the home of Mr, C. E. Cahoon, who was 

 one of the Western team in last winter's tour of the U. S. 

 Cartridge Co., and who is better known through most of 

 this Western country as "Cooney." Jim Wheeler and 

 "Cooney" are great friends, and while we were talking 

 he told a story of which "Cooney" was the hero, conclud- 

 ing the story with the injunction that it should never be 

 published. The narrative runs as follows: 



"Cooney," Jim Wheeler and a friend or two were duck 

 hunting up in Dakota this fall. They struck a clear, 

 mild sort of a day, and as usual the ducks banked up out 

 in the middle of the pond and refused to "work." There 

 was a big raft of birds out in the open water on the lake 

 where the boys were camped, and do all they would, they 

 could not get them started up to moving. They fired 

 shot after shot out over the water, but the birds seemed 

 well enough contented where they were and refused to 

 go out. Finally "Cooney" came down from the wagon, 

 carrying his big 10 -gauge and a handful of goose shells. 

 He walked down to the edge of the bank as close as he 

 could, for it shelved off very sharply there;, and putting a 

 couple of shells into his big gun, remarked: 



"Youse fellows' guns aint any good, that's what's the 

 trouble with you. You want a gun that'll reach 'em. 

 Now you just watch them ducks!" This last with a look 

 out of the corner of his eye, which anybody who knows 

 "Cooney" can imagine. 



Doubtless everybody knows what a start it gives one, 

 when, after bracing to meet the recoil of a heavily- 

 loaded gun, the discharge does not take place at all. 

 Well, "Cooney" had in a heavy load, and he knew it: 

 and so put on a good deal of brace. There was a dull 

 click, and no discharge. Consequently there was no 

 kick, and therefore the brace was altogether unnecessary. 

 As a result of all these things, "Cooney" took a convul- 

 sive step forward and walked right into the water, the 

 shelving shore landing him clean up to the neck ! It was 

 cold water, too. 



History does not say whether or not "Cooney" made 

 splash enough in the water to scare the ducks, but at any 

 rate he didn't do it with his goose shells, and of this fact 

 I am inclined to think his friends sometimes remind him. 

 "Don't say a word about this in the paper," said Mr. 

 Wheeler, "for if you do, somebody will have to get licked 

 in Freeport, and I don't want that to be me." 



Mr. Jas. Bird, of the Grand Calumet Heights Club, 

 while hunting on the grounds of that organization a few 

 weeks ago, made two shots which for uniqueness deserve 

 a chronicle. The truth of the story is vouched for by Mr. 

 C. W. Lee, who gave it to me. Mr. Bird was out after 

 ducks, and was fortunate to see a, flock of redheads pass- 

 ing over, though so high that he had no thought of 

 dropping one. He, however, fired, and much to his sur- 

 prise knocked one out of the flock. The duck fell directly 

 into the top of a tall dead tree, and was impaled by a dead, 

 limb which was sticking up. The weight of the bird broke 

 off the limb, and Mr. Bird picked up his game neatly 

 skewered, with the broken stick showing at back and 

 breast, in which condition he put it in his game pocket 

 and later showed it to his friends. 



After this shot Mr. Bird had gone on only a short dis- 

 tance when he discovered a large owl sitting on the top 

 of a tree. He fired at it, and it came to the ground ap- 

 parently unhurt, excepting that one foot was bleeding. 

 Mr. Bird attempted to gather his owl. but the result was 

 that the owl nearly gathered him. His owlship was 

 strictly on the fight, and Mr. Bird saw he would have to 

 resort to strategy. His strategy consisted in throwing his 



rubber coat over the owl, and thus attempting to embar rass 

 its movements. It didn't embarrass the owl in the 

 least, for in about two swipes of his claws old Mr. 

 Owl was wearing a sadly- split-up rubber coat for a neck- 

 tie. Mr. Bird did not care to risk any more of his ward- 

 robe with this belligerent fowl, and so undertook to com- 

 plete the ta.king off by means of a pole. But at the first 

 blow of the pole the owl caught it by the end and refused 

 to let go. This gave Mr. Bird an idea, and shouldering 

 the pole he marched off to the club house, and entered the 

 room with the gritty owl hanging on to the end of the 

 pole and the speared duck in his pocket, the hero of as 

 singular a pair of shots as one often hears about. 



Dec. 18. — Nobody has been duck shooting, and nobody 

 knows anybody who has been, or who wants to go. The 

 duck season is over. Hank Smith threatens to go rabbit 

 shooting at McHenry. Charlie Burton threatens to go 

 rabbit ferreting at some mysterious place or other, but he 

 won't go, Charlie Gammon and Al Hofmann got 81 

 quails and a lot of rabbits , one day last week, about 9 

 miles about Shelby, Ind,, and Charlie and the writer are 

 threatening to go down there again and try for the quails 

 on the last day of the Indiana season, the 20th, which 

 falls on next Saturday. 



Mr. J. H. De Long* of New York, accompanied by his 

 wife, is in the city this week, en route east after a long 

 and delightful trip through Cuba, Yucatan, Mexico and 

 the West. They started from New York by steamer for 

 Cuba, and have made a leisurely journey of it. Mr. De 

 Long put in a little time in Missouri hunting quails and 

 rabbits. This may be the reason he declines to hunt some 

 more quails and rabbits with us in Indiana, though he 

 says he must get home. 



Sporting matters here will soon settle down into an in- 

 tense activity of talk. It is pretty cold for fun here after 

 winter once gets its legs on. I believe the "winter club" 

 in the South, which our Wisconsin friend has mentioned, 

 could be put on its feet by proper handling in Chicago. 

 We have great people here*t'or clubs. E. HOUGH. 



MORE ABOUT SIGHTS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



It is two months since I came into the woods for the 

 forty-second consecutive season. Have not taken much 

 fur, as infirmities incident to old age prevent my cover- 

 ing much ground; but I have two caribou hung up, all I 

 need for the winter, besides a full stock of supplies, and, 

 best of all, plenty of dry, hard wood under cover. Some 

 three weeks ago a kind young friend made the long, hard 

 trip to camp and sacked in my mail (not a light load), and 

 of course there were several editions of Forest and 

 Stream. Now, I have been a constant reader of the 

 paper since its initial number and note its constant im- 

 provement, and would rather miss my dinner every day 

 than be without it; but it is never so fully appreciated as 

 when I am alone in the woods. 



In a paper by Mr. Orin Belknap I note his views on 

 the Lyman combination sight, and although I have not 

 experienced the like difficulty that he has, yet I find 

 "outs" that are as objectionable. Here I digress to state 

 that until two years ago my hunting rifles have al ways 

 had the common rear open sight with some little improve- 

 ment; for instance, I cut down the horns to a level with 

 the top of the V, rounding off the outer corners; then 

 with a flat, thin file with square edge file to the bottom 

 so the slot represents three sides of a square. This hint I 

 got from an article in "our paper," and is a great im- 

 provement for old eyes. For many years this enabled 

 me to get a good sight, but at last even this caused a blur. 

 I had tested the combination sight at a mark on rifles 

 owned by friends, and found it all right as to clearness 

 of vision, and the front head sight I have used for years 

 and there are none I like so well. 



Now I come to the "outs" as I find them by experience 

 in timber shooting. One cannot carry the combination 

 sight in position for shooting, as it is constantly catching 

 on brush, so there is danger of wrenching it out of 

 plumb if not breaking, and when turned back on the 

 tang it is constantly filling with snow when the brush is 

 loaded, and it is a constant care to free the disc by the 

 breath. Sometimes in very cold weather it requires 

 several puffs to dislodge the ice, and will even freeze 

 down so a knife blade is resorted to to free it. Every 

 one who is at all familiar with hunting big game in the 

 timber knows there is constant liability in a good game 

 region to have to make a quick shot to" secure the game. 

 Now, in such a condition, with the Lyman combination 

 sight frozen down, or filled with ice or snow, the game 

 would leave and the hunter "get left." With failing 

 vision that will fail even more. I shall use this "sight" 

 as a dernier ressort and allow all credit for this one merit 

 (aid to old eyes), but were my sight normal no money- 

 would induce me to give up my old open sight for the 

 new one for timber shooting in winter. Hunter. 



HOLDING ON GAME. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



When any one is especially pleased with an article in 

 a paper like Forest anl Stream, it is not a bad idea to 

 speak out and say so. It is rather, therefore, with a 

 desire to state my appreciation of a thoroughly good 

 article than to open an old controversy, that at this late 

 date I write a few words concerning "Hints and Points 

 on Duck Shooting," by Mr, Henry Kdeinman, published 

 in your paper last June. The novice will find it replete 

 with valuable information which will repay careful study, 

 while those who, like myself, have shot ducks in a desul- 

 tory way for the last fifteen years, will see some things 

 that they knew long ago, with much more that they wish 

 they had known a little earlier. 



When I was a boy, fired by the stories the ' 'old country" 

 people used to tell about cutting down partridges on the 

 wing in Old England, it was my chief wish to become a 

 good shot on flying game. I adopted the plan of swing- 

 ing the gun with the flight of the game and holding dead 

 on, pulling the trigger while the gun was in motion. I 

 killed, too, sometimes, but not often enough to convince 

 me of the infallibility of my method. I grew to man's 

 estate, and still as a wing shot was not a bright and 

 shining success. I subscribed to Forest and Stream, 

 and there made the acquaintance of the hold-ahead 

 theory. Now I thought I knew what was the matter. 

 The killing I had dono the other way was merely acci- 

 dental. If I held ahead from 2 to 6ft. I would snap them 

 —well, nearly every time. I tried it and did not kill at 



