286 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[April 30, 1891, 



DUCKING IN THE MOUNTAINS. 



SOUTHWARD, ever southward, to the summit of the 

 great divide, where the snows lie deep, where the 

 rivers run, some to the north to lose themselves in inland 

 lake, some to the east or south to mingle their foaming 

 waters with the muddy Colorado. Here and there amid 

 the great snowy billows rise white sentinels that, far 

 above the timber line, collect the fleecy clouds above their 

 majestic head?f. And the rivers that cut their way out 

 of this great wildernes make the grandest canons to be 

 found on the continent. Yonder the Kanab hews mighty 

 parapets from the barrier walls of trachyte; there the Vir- 

 gin boils and tosses over granite boulders; there the reced- 

 ing banks make parks along the picturesque Wa weap, 

 and, far to the south, far as the glass can spy, beyond 

 the Buckskin plateau, the Grand Canon of the monarch 

 stream stands — the crowning wonder of this mountain 

 land. 



Not on the old Thessalian hills, but here did Titans fight 

 and Ossa pile on Pelion. Aye, and before the rule of 

 Kronos, here dread Chaos, Nox and Terror had their 

 thrones. Shapeless, sombre, sublime was the waste they 

 left — awful in its solitude, peerless in its planless grandeur. 

 Age followed age; rocks crumbled and the warm wind 

 from the southern seas breathed the breath of life upon 

 the cheerless scene, until the hills were covered with a 

 mantle of pine andf carpeted with mosses and ferns and 

 the great timber district of the middle Colorado assumed 

 its present shape. But why should I attempt to describe 

 this region that the Powell expedition opened to the view 

 of the world — this region where winter and summer are 

 at endless warfare, where the perfume laded breezes 

 from the Mexic coast beat forever on the banks of eternal 

 snow and where frosty gales are lost on the cactus and 

 yucca-strewn desert? 



This great, timbei-ed angle of the Rockies occupies an 

 area 100 miles in length by 60 in width. It is unsettled 

 and the few saw mills that have been built along its bor- 

 ders have scarcely made one respectable clearing. Game? 

 Well, some. You can find deer, bighorns, bears, lions, 

 wildcats, Mexican lynxes, beavers, wolverines, dusky 

 grouse, western ruffed grouse, sage hens, quail, duck^, 

 geese, wild turkeys (these from Buckskin plateau southl 

 ward) and trout. You can find Utes and Pah-vants 

 slaughtering game by wholesale, and zealously guarding 

 their "rights" against all intruders. To one who can 

 speak their language they are inclined to give every 

 privilege, and to a "Mormon" they are invariably friendly, 

 but a stranger gets run out of the country with little 

 notice and less ceremony. It seems almost time for these 

 Indians to be converted {nolentes, volentes) into law-abid- 

 ing citizens. Only last week I knew of a man going a 

 few miles into the foothills and bringing back fifteen 

 deer that he had found in the deep snow. Of course it 

 was wrong and he knew it, but if he had not slaughtered 

 them the Indians would have done so for their hides and 

 the meat would have been wasted. There is a trout law, 

 but the Utes dam the streams, divert the brooks from 

 their natural channels and shovel out the spawning fish. 

 What better can you expect of their white brethren ? I 

 have ceased to be angry and expostulate. I am "clean" 

 disheartened at the outlook. 



Day after day there have been hours of snow and hours 

 of sunshine. The heat has grown stronger, the mercury 

 has climbed higher, the ice has broken on the rising 

 brooks, and the snow in the valleys has given place to 

 mud. It is spring. You can fool the geese, you can fool 

 the robins, you can fool the ground hog and you can fool 

 the freshly budded trees, hue you cannot fool a beaver 

 nor can you deceive a sprigtail. Last Friday, Feb. 27, a 

 flock of sprigtails sailed northward over the mountains 

 into the upper Sevier valley. 



I did not imagine that there could be much sport in 

 duck hunting on a swift, tortuous mountain stream. I 

 was certain that there could be no such fun as is to be 

 found along the Platte or upon the Missouri or Sacra- 

 mento bottoms; but ducks are ducks the world over. 

 Early Tuesday morning John T. brought his cart to the 

 door and we started down the valley. I had a lot of 

 shells in the pocket of my hunting coat. My gun and 

 outfit were on a freighter's wagon somewhere down the 

 Sevier, but coming southward at the rate of fifteen miles 

 a day. However, John borrowed the only breechloaders 

 in the settlement. As luck would have it they were both 

 12-gauge, so we were fixed. His was a "pump." while 

 mine was one of those rtisty single-barreled nondescripts 

 that sometimes gops off at half cock, and sometimes re- 

 fuses to go off at full cock: that sometimes is provocative 

 of profanity and that does best execution when used as a 

 club. After riding five miles we turned down to the 

 river, tied the horse in a fence corner, left our lunch in 

 a flour sack on the seat and made our way through mud 

 and snowdrifts to the water's edge. As a fortunate 

 omen, above us northward sailed a flock of geese; eleven 

 answered to the name Branta canadensis and one, the 

 second in line, was a white-fronted goose. 



The Sevier at this point was open, with steep banks 

 from 3 to 8ft. high. It was turbid, swift and filled with 

 floating ice. It made more bowknots in a given distance 

 than any stream of its size in America. In the great 

 bends, where the flow was more gentle, beneath the 

 shelter of the wind-breaking banks, the ducks were sport- 

 ing. Here and there were little clumps of willow, but 

 the principal protection was from knee-high sage brush. 

 For half a mile we walked without seeing a feather. 

 Then on a bend below us we saw some bright objects 

 bobbing up and dovm. We stole up as cautiously as pos- 

 sible, but before we were within gunshot four or five of 

 them flew up. Supposing that no more were there we 

 walked boldly to the brink and from the base of the bluff 

 at our very feet a large flock raised. John was so taken 

 by 8uri)rise that he forgot to raise his gun and mine came 

 up only through force of habit. There was a snap, but 

 no report, and I was so mad that when I did succeed in 

 getting the gun off I scored a clean miss. As we went 

 along the ducks kept rising before us, but always just 

 out of range. At length John bent over and commenced 

 to run. An instant later he shot and a pair of blue- winged 

 teal fell as the first trophies. Then five mallards flew 

 overhead. John banged away and a fat female fell in the 

 meadow 100yds. away. He had now three to my none, 

 and I was getting my Irish up, but it didno good, for we 

 WilJsed Kecwljt wo miles without seeing another bird. 



At length John pointed out a line of willows far to the 

 left. 



"There," said he, "is a warm creek, where there are 

 always lots of ducks. We will go down to its mouth and 

 then follow it up to the spring." 



Down the warm creek rode a horseman on a white 

 horse. We have a special reason for remembering him. 

 In all probability he would scare up whatever ducks were 

 over there. That is just what he did. .John and I were 

 sitting on the bank, when there was a rustling of wings 

 and, within 20yds. of us, a tremendous flock of teal 

 fluttered to the water, balanced themselves and prepared 

 to settle. Bang! bang! whoop-la! John made a miss, but 

 I dropped one in the water and one in the sage brush on 

 the further bank. The current carried the first out of 

 reach, but I was determined to secure the second. The 

 river was about 40ft. wide, and only two weeks before I 

 had waded it 50 miles below this point and the water had 

 not reached the top of my hip-boots. It would be only 

 knee- deep here. One step, two steps, thi-ee steps. Ob! 

 I catch my breath, gasp, and just manage to keep my 

 head above she water and the floating ice.' Evidently the 

 melting snow had exerted a decided effect upon the 

 treacherous stream. Well, I got over and came back 

 with that doggoned little teal. After getting wet I'd 

 have crossed if it had been for only a sparrow. Then, as 

 there was no bridge within 10 miles, I plunged in and re- 

 joined the smiling John. Revenge is sweet, and to pay 

 for his levity John scored three consecutive blanks. Oh 

 the perverseness of inanimate things! Up to this time the 

 sun had shone brightly, but now he hid himsllf, and one 

 squall followed another in rapid succession. To dry was 

 an impossibility, and I became terribly chilled. My 

 fingers were so numb that 1 could scarcely cock my gun 

 or pull the trigger. But I kept constantly in motion, and 

 John T, did most of the shooting, which grew better as 

 the snow and wind increased. We were enabled to get 

 closer to the ducks, and they arose in confu-ion and made 

 short flights. At one bend we found the river perfectly 

 black with teal. As there was no way of stealing upon 

 them we ran along the chord, a distance of some 60yds., 

 intending to intercejit the flock as it came floating by. 

 When we reached our vantage point a flock arose. As 

 we blazed away John remarked that he had never before 

 known ducks to swim so fast. We each dropped one into 

 the river, and, as I could not get any wetter or any 

 colder, I played retriever, and made a most excellent 

 water spaniel. 



The warm creek yielded its quota, and when we started 

 on the four-mile walk back to the cart the game bag was 

 more than heavy. The last shot of the day was a won- 

 der. The snow stopped falling for a few minutes, and on 

 a little pond a quarter of a mile away John espied a flock 

 of big ducks. 1 was too stiff to crawl or even to lift my 

 gun, so John played a lone ha,nd. He did it in elegant 

 shape. There was only a solitary sage brush to hide 

 him, but he flattened and crawled like an adder. At 

 length he stopped and raised his head. I thoaght that 

 he was out of range, but at the report two ducks dropped 

 dead in the mud on the further side of the water. One 

 was the finest greenhead I have ever seen, and his mate 

 lay beside him. The distance from the sage brush, where 

 John stopped, was 93 good paces, and the shells were 

 loaded with 3^drs. of powder and l^oz. No. 4 shot. The 

 shades of night were falling fast when we reached the 

 cart, to find that our lunch had been stolen by the man 

 on the white horse. I still have a warm place in my 

 heart for him. John helped me to my seat and held me 

 in place, for I was too nearly frozen to look out for my- 

 self. All I could do was to shiver and with chattering 

 teeth pray that I might land somewhere where a simple 

 prescription could be compounded; but no such luck was 

 mine. At 7 o'clock we drove up to the door, and in a 

 few moments John's kind mother was dosinij me with 

 ginger tea and cayenne peeper. A change of clothes and 

 an hour before the glowing fire-place restored the circu- 

 lation, and the next day I was in excellent condition to 

 enjoy the duck dinner. 



All the readers of Forest and Steeam are duck 

 shooters, but I imagine that few of my confreres have en- 

 joyed ducking at an altitude of 6,500ft. above the sea 

 level. I did not know that the Anatidfe were so abundant 

 in this region, but they winter only 60 miles away in the 

 streams east and south of the divide, where the climate 

 is as warm as that of Louisiana. The Escalante, Paria, 

 Kanab and Virgin rivers are covered with ducks during 

 December, January and February. But the habits of 

 these western ducks differ from those of the aristocratic 

 dweller upon the Calumet marshes or upon the shallows 

 of the Chesapeake. Here there is no feed in the streams 

 and ducks follow the example of geese and take their 

 meals in the stubble fields. The mountain lakes are full 

 of lemna and algae, and with the addition of an occasional 

 trout, an ordinary duck can make a square meal. On the 

 lakes, however, ducks and geese are migrants. They do 

 not enjoy the gloomy environment of somber pines. 

 Along the upper Sevier mallards and teal are found dur- 

 ing the entire year. If a cold snap freezes the river, an 

 hour's flight over the divide brings them-to Dixie, and 

 just as soon as the ice breaks they return. Sprigtails are 

 migratory, making a very brief visit and I am told that, 

 in a week or two, there will be a few canvasbacks on the 

 stream. 



There are very few shotguns in this country, so the 

 ducks are comparatively unmolested and they are too 

 small game to attract the noble redman, so those of us 

 that do enjoy ducking can have a genuine feast. I have 

 selected half a dozen lakes and streams where deer, trout 

 and ducks are abundant and where there is plenty of big 

 game. These pools and preserves I intend to put on the 

 market when I return to civilization, and I think the 

 scheme ought to be as profitable as the ordinary mining 

 sale, especially if the mine is salted. However, I do not 

 believe in a blind sale, and I wish it were possible for the 

 editorial staff of Forest anp Stream and as many of 

 their friends as they could induce to make the trip, to 

 come up here to this out-of-the-way land of wonders to 

 enjoy rod, rifle and gun, to drink in the glorious scenery 

 and to find in every breath a new life, Friends, the latch 

 string hangs out. Shoshone. 

 Panquitgh, Utah, Marcli 6. 



Since writing the above I have learned that one Mike 

 Lloyd has been appointed game commissioner for this 

 county of Garfield. He has not yet qualified but I under- 

 stand that it is his intention to"^do so. I haye ixpt the 



honor of a personal acquaintance with Mr, Lloyd but I 

 wish to give him a little friendly advice. 



Don't quaUfy, Michael, unless you intend to see that 

 the law is obeyed. If you enforce the game laws you 

 will incur the ill-will and the anger of your neighbors; 

 if you close your eyes to the wanton destruction of deer 

 and trout you will only excite the scorn and derision of 

 the very men that it is your duty to watch. There is ex- 

 cellent fishing in your meadow onPanguitch Creek and I 

 suppose that you will never refuse any one loermission to 

 catch enough trout for one meal, but what are you going 

 to do about the carloads of trout that you know are caught 

 with seines and giant powder and, regardless of the 

 season, are shipped to Salt Lake? What are you going 

 to do with your friends that pitchfork trout out of the 

 brooks when they go up to spawn and then salt them 

 down by the barreful? You would not begrudge a deer 

 to a family that you know is out of maat, but what will 

 you do about the wagon loads that you know are slaught- 

 ered for market every month in the year? 



Speak up, Michael. Be a man. Enforce the law, 

 whether you cinche friend or foe. The country at large 

 and Utah in particular needs the example of a "few fear- 

 less, honest game wardens. If you are such a one your 

 praises will be sung by every true sportsmen from ocean 

 to ocean. You may have the old laurel wreath of Cin- 

 cinnatus for your brow and may wear the little toma- 

 hawk of George Washington in your cartridge belt. But 

 if not, bah! The sooner you get a corner in that lot that 

 was originally homestead ed by Ananias, why the better 

 you will suit SHOSHONE. 



A STORY OF THE FIRST RAILWAY. 



I PASSED the winter of 1833 in Au.gusta, Georgia. It 

 was the year when South Carolina proposed to 

 nullify the revenue laws of the United States, "peacably 

 if she could, forcibly if she must," always provided that 

 Georgia would join in the act. In February the annual 

 race meeting was to be held in Charleston, and this 

 usually brought the leading men of the other slave States 

 to that city, where the scheme was to be laid before 

 them. A party of Augusta gentlemen were going down 

 to these races on horseback and I was invited to join 

 them. 



At that time there was an excellent breed of saddle 

 horses in Georgia, called the "Cherokee pony," being 

 raised in the upper country, then occupied by the Cher- 

 okee Indians. It is now a thickly settled region, with 

 Atlanta for its chief city, but the Indians have long since 

 disappeared, along with their ponies. I owned one of 

 these ponies, a very handsome animal, about twelve 

 hands high, a compactly built bay, with long tail, mane 

 and foretop, very easy in all gaits, gentle and spirited. I 

 had ridden him in fox chases, and he could generally 

 keep up with a field of big horses, and would jump any 

 common fence. I have ridden many horses in many 

 lands, but I think "Little John" was the best saddle 

 horse I ever rode. 



The distance from Augusta to Charleston is 140 miles; 

 there were no railroads then, although one had been begun 

 from Charleston toward Augusta, and it was the first 

 railroad in the United States which was operated by 

 steam power. On a fine morning in the latter part of 

 February we started, six in number, with a change of 

 clothing in our saddlebags, down south through the great 

 tract of pine forest which lies between Augusta and the 

 coast, thinly settled, with i-oads only suitable for horsemen. 

 We made about thirty miles a day, and ate and slept 

 usually in some log cabin by the roadside. There were 

 few villages or taverns, but almost any planter or farmer 

 would take us in for the night. 



One day as we approached Charleston suddenly there 

 appeared on the road an elephant, coming slowly toward 

 us flapping his great ears. -This apparation was more 

 than our horses could stand, and they all bolted into the 

 woods with their riders, and refused to be comforted 

 until the monster had passed. A few hundred yards 

 further we met the caravan of wild beasts to which the 

 elephant belonged — as the wagons were drawn by the 

 familiar mule our horses passed quietly, but as we got 

 abreast of them from one of the wagons came the roar of 

 a lion, with the growls of other beasts. The bolting pro- 

 cess was renewed, and off' went our horses in a panic. 



Hardly had their nerves become quieted again, when 

 we saw in the distance the new railroad, finished some 

 ( ten or twelve miles out of Charleston; it was built upon 

 ' piles, longer or shorter, according to the nature of the 

 ground; sometimes in crossing a ravine the rails were 

 20ft. from the surface. Our track ran near this L road, 

 and soon a horrid shriek as from twenty panthers was 

 heard in the woods. By this time we were nervous. Ble- 

 I phants and lions we had heard of, and some of us had 

 ; seen them, but what monster was this whose screams we 

 ' heard? Presently it came in sight, flying aloft through 

 the air, and breathing fire and smoke, and again our 

 frightened steeds became unmanagable. And in fact I 

 think that some of our party were as badly frightened ae 

 their horses. If any of my readers are old enough to 

 remember the introduction of locomotives, and how they 

 felt at first sight of them, they will perhaps understand 

 om' sensations that day in the pine woods. 



A mile or two further on we came to a broken wagon 

 by the side of the road, and near it sat a Georgia cracker 

 smoking his pipe. On being asked what was his trouble, 

 "Well, stranger," was the reply, "I've offen hearn tell of 

 nullification, and now I reckon I've saw it for true." 



We found Charleston full of the notable men of the 

 South, bent upon politics and the sports of the turf. I 

 attended the races every day and saw the finest horses of 

 that region. The methods were different from those of 

 the present day. Instead of running two and three-year- 

 old horses in short races of a few furlongs, as now, these 

 old-timed turfmen seldom trained a horse till he was four 

 years old, and then run him in heats of 1, 2, 3 or 4 miles 

 — best two out of three, or three out of five — so that a 

 horse had to run from 3 to 20 miles before the contest 

 was decided. The great event of the week was a match 

 race, four mile heats, between the gray mare Bonnets 

 of Blue, belonging to Wm. R. .Johnson, of Virginia, 

 called the "Napoleon of the Turf," and the chestnut 

 mare Clara Fisher, belonging to Col. Singleton, of 

 South Carolina; this for $5,000 a side. The Virginia 

 mare won in two straight heats, the quickest being 7 :45. 

 I also saw a little chestnut mare (name forgotten) belong- 

 ing to Wm. R. Johnson win the regular four mile race in 

 three heats, equal to 13 miles, and she was ready to ri^j 



