226 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[MakcS 10, 1893. 



PACIFIC COAST NOTES* 



EYSERVILLE, Oal., Feb. 20.— Sitting here in the 

 warm sunshine and looking' out upon a landscape 

 beautiful with green grass and fields of grain just peep- 

 ing up through the mellow soil, it requires quite a stretch 

 of the imagination to comprehend the record of 15 and 

 80° below zero reported from "Chicago and the "West" 

 in a late Forest and Stream. We have seen snow but 

 once this winter, and then it was three or four miles dis- 

 tant. Last Thursday we witnessed the phenomonon of 

 a real snowstorm upon the summit of Geyser Peak 

 (3,470ft. above us). "We first noticed a dark clould gather- 

 ing over the mountain and soon the summit was com- 

 pletely hidden from view by the falling snow. Presently 

 a beautiful rainbow appeared, the clouds rolled away 

 and Geyser Peak, grown old in the short space of ten or 

 fifteen minutes, came out in hoary locks. The one white 

 peak towering above the surrounding green ones made a 

 very pretty picture. The sua kept right on shining and 

 the larks singing, unmindful of the proximity of the 

 snowstorm. 



Our Russian River Valley is a winter paradise for 

 quail and the little birds do not need to huddle together 

 to keep from freezing. Our season closes on March 1, 

 and judging from the beautiful bands which we see 

 almost daily in the vicinity of our home we hope to have 

 some left over for another year. Two nice little broods 

 are still with us that reared their young here last sum- 

 mer, and they are so tame that they sometimes come 

 within a few yards of the house. We almost feel that 

 these birds are our own individual property and are more 

 than pleased that the little fellows have managed to stay 

 alive. About two miles from home not long since we 

 saw a band of perhaps forty birds and, in fact, we sel- 

 dom drive out without seeing at least one nice flock. 

 Pot-hunters are certainly not numerous in this locality 

 and, although within an easy reaching distance from the 

 city, sportsmen are not over-abundant. 



Last summer doves were quite plentiful, but for the 

 past three months they seem to have left the country 

 altogether. What has become of them we do not know. 

 We have been able to hook a few trout since the begin- 

 ning of the rainy season, though it is not quite late 

 enough for our best fishing. Salmon usually find then- 

 way up Russian River and into the small streams tribu- 

 tary to it, but this winter they have been very scarce. 

 Perhaps the fishermen ;down stream are somewhat to 

 blame for this state of affairs, as we were informed last 

 week, and upon good authority, that the seiners near 

 Healdsburg are meeting with the best of success. A few 

 nice salmon-trout were caught near here one day last 

 week, and they were indeed fine ones, as through the 

 kindness of a friend one of them found its way to our 

 table. A lady who lives near Dry Creek, the other day 

 spied a salmon floundering his way over the rifties, and 

 quickly running to the house for a gig went back and 

 captured a beautiful fish all by herself, and .what seems 

 almost incredible, without a scream. 



I must tell you of a goose hunt we had in the latter 

 part of November last. It was a bright summer morning, 

 when we Bet out for the overflow country lying north of 

 the city of Sacramento, on my first wild goose chase. 

 The Record-Union a few days before had published a 

 long article on St. Claire and his celebrated cannon, and 

 the work of destruction he was carrying on among the 

 geese, and I was anxious to get out before the feathered 

 tribe had become extinct. 



As we emerged from the wooded country beyond the 

 Sacramento River we beheld a scene that filled my mind 

 with anticipations of goose dinners for at least a month. 

 And at the same time there rose a doubt in our minds as 

 to the correctness of the statements made by the Eecord- 

 Unio'n, for there were hundreds of geese in sight, quietly 

 feeding around the edges of the everflow, directly in front 

 of us. A long stretch of perfectly barren, level land in- 

 tervened, and there was no way to approach save by 

 driving boldly up in front and in plain view of a thousand 

 watchful eyes. I was anxious, if not excited, and it was 

 in vain that R. endeavored to dissuade me from trying to 

 get near enough for a shot. "We can never get within 

 40 rods," he said. "They'll fly as soon as they see us." 

 "But," I urgecl, "let us try it anyway. I'll drive up just 

 as close as I dare, then you fire." 



After much argument on both sides, he consented to 

 prepare to make a shot, just to preserve peace in the fam- 

 ily, although he knew it was no use. Accordingly, shells 

 were placed in the shotgun, and, with my heart in my 

 mouth and the whip in my hand, I headed for the identi- 

 cal flock which seemed most accessible. And I was just 

 as sure of getting one of those geese as R. in his superior 

 wisdom was that he was going to fool away his precious 

 ammunition. I was permitted to make the approach in 

 my own way, my incredulous companion kindly refrain- 

 ing from offering suggestions, and I did so with what I 

 considered the greatest discretion. Keeping my eyes 

 upon the game, I drove very carefully until a grand com- 

 motion and a universal stretching of long necks told me 

 plainly that we were discovered. Our horse being spirited 

 and ever ready for a run, I knew about what to 

 expect from her; and bringing the whip into requisition, 

 we took a lively gallop and kept it until the birds rose 

 from the ground. Then I quickly reined to the right, 

 throwing R. toward them and away from the horse's 

 head. Two rapid shots followed, and as soon as I had 

 succeeded in quieting the horse I looked for the result, 

 and I saw four great geese on the ground and waddling 

 off in as many different directions. Their wings were 

 broken, but their legs, evidently, were in good condition. 

 We were between two bodies of water, and the strip of 

 land on which we stood was covered with about an inch 

 of the thickest mud imaginable. Of course, the geese 

 were making for the water just as fast as their little legs 

 would carry them, and there was no time for mincing 

 matters. R. had become thoroughly woke up by this 

 time, and he jumped out of the buggy, and heading three 

 of the victims in one general direction, splattered off after 

 them. The fourth was left for me to capture. He dodged 

 so rapidly to one side and then the other, that I was com- 

 pelled to drive him around in a circle to keep him from 

 getting into the water. After making a number of rapid 

 revolutions I concluded that he exhibited indications of 

 being about ready to surrender, and I threw the reins 

 over the dasher, leaped out into the mud and started to 

 pick him up. And I was just about as long catching that 

 goose as I am telling this Btory, I soon discovered that 

 my calculations as to the qualifications of a wild goose 



were far from correct. His momentum, instead of being 

 retarded by the inconveniences of a broken wing, seemed 

 to be increased thereby. I forgot all about the mud, the 

 horse, in fact, everything else, until I had my goose in 

 my hands. Then turning my attention to the horse, I 

 found her standing just as I had left her, apparently 

 understanding and enjoying the proceedings as well as 

 anybody. 



Getting into the buggy, with the bird in my lap, I 

 hastily drove down the coast to see how things were 

 developing at the other end of the line. R. had secured 

 his three geese, and I met him tugging them along and 

 puffing like a porpoise. He was a sight to behold: he was 

 nothing but mud, and I could not refrain from telling him 

 what I thought he looked like. He said I had better take 

 a look at my own make-up before commenting on any- 

 body else. 



Although we were delighted at our good luck, somehow 

 we could not make up our minds to go home. We sought 

 a shady retreat under some willows not far away, ate our 

 lunch and watched the movements of the geese. 



Hundreds of birds were in sight all day; and whenever 

 we spied a flock on our side of the water we would plan 

 an advance after the manner in which we had done it in 

 the morning. But it was no use; we couldn't get in a 

 mile of them again that day. Marion. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



LB;/ a Staff Correspondent.'] 



C CHICAGO, 111., Feb, 27.— Later on in the season there 

 ) will begin to be inquiries from gentlemen wanting 

 good upland shooting, 1 wish that all such would pre- 

 serve this copy of Forest and Stream and duly refer to 

 it when they begin to write in and want to know where 

 to go, right away, to-morrow, for some chicken shooting. 

 It seems probable that the locality in question is good, 

 although I have not shot there. It will not be worth 

 while for any one to ask about this who cannot give 

 references. I will not give the address to market shoot- 

 ers or to any who cannot certify me that they will live 

 up to my informant's standard of correct deportment. 

 Leaving names and places out I give^below the informa- 

 tion as it came to me in letters: 



"I noticed in Forest and Stream you had inquiries 

 about shooting, etc. Last year friends and myself killed 

 876 chickens, as high as 97 in one day, for two of us, 

 without a dog. We seldom shot more than we could 

 give away, unless we were going to the railroad and 

 could ship them. If we could have disposed of them, 

 could have killed 5,000. There is no grain, all wild 

 land; forty miles square, fine cover. Chickens and 

 sharptails, mostly latter. Thousands of geese, but not 

 a great duck country. A nice sprinkling of moose, elk, 

 deer and bear. Waders in abundance. When I get the 

 chance I take out parties and put them up; and if you 

 can turn any one this way you will do a brother sports- 

 man a good turn. 



"I have killed 59 elk, 3 moose (have not hunted them) 

 and 35 to 40 deer, just shooting the latter as I happened 

 on them, and 2 bear. 



"We are isolated and have the whole country to our- 

 selves, being about the only hunters. I have ponies, 

 wagon, tent, stove, etc., and know every foot of country 

 to the reservation. No fishing. 



"Please do not publish this letter. We do not want 

 every one in here. My wife and children do all their own 

 work, but if you knew some nice fellows who wanted a 

 quiet, clean place, kindly mention. us. We are roughly 

 housed (I'll send you a photo as soon as I can get some 

 paper, I'm out), but do not sell 10-cent butter and live on 

 skim milk. We always have a good garden, plenty of 

 cream, good butter, and game ad lib., not to mention 

 choice lamb, and charge $1 per day, $3 for a team. When 

 I go after big game I get $5 a day and the party finds 

 everything, except my pony, and I get oats for him. For 

 $3 I merely furnish team and my boy ; if I go I take my 

 gun, shoot my share, and the party can please themselves 

 what they give me according to the sport I show them, 



"If people knew what a corner we have here we'd soon 

 have no game; it is too easy of access. 



"Big game, while enough for sport, is not picked up by 

 tyros and not found without experienced guides." 



Upon receipt of the above I explained that I was in the 

 newspaper business, and hunting news, not picnics for a 

 few friends. The request for permission to give the news, 

 without names of persons or places, obtained consent in 

 the following letter: 



"Replying to your letter of the 3d, I do not wish to 

 reap all the benefit, but you said you had friends apply- 

 ing to you, and in that way I supposed the benefit would 

 be mutual. You can certainly publish the news if you 

 wish, but you will please not mention my name unless to 

 parties who may apply to you, when, if they are respect- 

 able, we shall be only too glad if you will put in a word 

 for us. I have a family, and we have to be a little par- 

 ticular. You know as well as I that some go out to see 

 how much whisky they can drink, and that kind we do 

 not want, though by no means teetotalers, I will not 

 hunt with any one full of whisky. We feed guests well, 

 and can give reference. Only charge $1 per day, $3 for 

 team. Every one who comes says we make them more 

 comfortable and feed them better than they expected. 



"I have some photos of chicken hunts, if you would like 

 them for cuts, say so and I'll send them, also a snap-shot 

 at two moose calvea. 



"Game laws have been well observed, no arrests, but 

 the presence of a local warden has had a deterrent effect. 

 Don't think a moose has been killed up here and no elk 

 or deer since the season. Chickens are in large packs and 

 the snow everywhere tracked up with them : with a good 

 season there'll be millions, like it was in the early "70s." 



Next summer or fall if any gentleman of approved 

 standing wants to learn the name of my "unknown," I 

 shall be prepared to give it, but not till close to the open- 

 ing of the chicken season, and only to well accredited 

 persons. Any applicant must have been a reader of For- 

 est and Stream for a term at least six months, and I 

 shall have to like him, or he don't get this name. That's 

 the kind of a bureau of information I am this evening. 

 The man that likes Forest and Stream the most, and 

 has read it longest, and is the most faithful believer in 

 the paper and its doctrines, is the one that has the best 

 chance on the immortal snap herein. 



Last week articles of agreement were signed whereby 

 Mr. Henry Smith of 183 Clark street, was to swim a 

 match with Mr. T. W. McFarland of 79 Clark street, in ' 



the icy waters of Lake Michigan. Both contestants were 

 to wear Boyton rubber suits, and Capt. Paul Boyton was 

 to go along as referee. It was Mr. C. S. Burton who first 

 agreed to contest with Mr. Smith in this dubious honor. 

 Both these gentlemen are readers of Forest and Stream, 

 and interested in natural history. They told me privately 

 that they were bound to get "a Labrador duck, as they 

 felt sure that supposedly extinct bird existed in quantitv 

 in the center of Lake Michigan in winter. At the stick- 

 ing point, however, Mr. Burton acquired a sudden case 

 of bad rheumatism, and declined to start. Mr. McFarland 

 took his place. Mr. McFarland's courage was good up 

 till yesterday morning, when it transpired that he had 

 suddenly became afflicted with a carbuncle on his neck. 

 This latter had not been visible the night before. A sub- 

 stitue was found in one Whistler, a light-weight wrestler, 

 who agreed to go out with Mr. Smith. 



At 3:30 yesterday afternoon these two actually did go 

 into the water with Boyton, in the presence of a crowd 

 of 3,000 people, and they stayed in for 42 minutes. At 

 the end of that time Whistler said he had enough, and 

 was hauled on board the tug which carried the reporters. 

 Mr. Smith came aboard a little later, and then it was 

 learned that his pluck had been of a real sort. In going 

 over the boat as he went into the water, he cut a hole 

 through the heavy rubber suit, and although he could not 

 sink, he lay for 40 minutes in a bath of ice cold water, 

 which poured out in bucketsful as he was lifted into the 

 boat. It took hard rubbing to restore circulation. Boy- 

 ton went through his usual water performance. Mr. 

 Smith is one of the best known sportsmen of this city, 

 and a man well to do, and how he ever concluded this 

 singular arrangement, which came so near being serious, 

 must remain a mystery; but he was clean grit and stayed 

 through and worn After he saw Mr. Smith fairly in the 

 water, Charlie Burton made frantic efforts to jump in 

 also, accoutred as he was, but his friends persuaded him 

 he didn't mean it. Mr. McFarland, the man with the 

 carbuncle, comes in this morning for a plenteous "roast" 

 in the daily papers, which gave the matter much atten- 

 tion. "Hank" Smith is the hero of the town. "If any- 

 body wants to go swimming in the lake now, he can," 

 says he, "for I don't want any more of it. But after this 

 I can decline with thanks, and won't have to plead any 

 galloping rheumatism nor any papier mache carbuncle. 

 I'm the only real Labrador duck champion of Chicago, 

 and I pity these people that haven't got any nerve." I 

 have been coon hunting all night with Mr. Smith in Indi- 

 ana before now, and know he has plenty of staying qual- 

 ity. He will probably show this now by staying out of 

 the water. 



Mr. Chas. Antoine is back this week from an extended 

 purchasing trip for his firm. He was absent over a week 

 in New York, his old home. 



Dr. Abbotts, of Austin, returned not long ago from 

 a long trip to Honduras and Central America, in which 

 he had some interesting experiences in sport of a novel 

 sort, of which I hope he will tell more at a later time. 



Indiana readers may be interested in the following 

 card, published by the Fish Commission of that State: 



Office op Fish Commissioner.— Richmond, Ind., Jan. 15.— 1 

 Lave made arrangements by which I can have orders filled for 

 breeding fish, at Reservoir in Ohio, for private pond owners, such 

 as bass, channel cat, pike, croppies and blue BUD fish, one and two 

 years old, at $3 per hundred, to which must be added cost of cans 

 and freight, charges to destination. As the U. S. Fish Comini?- 

 sion does not furnish fish for private ponds, I have made arrange- 

 ments as above and will promptly attend to all orders and iUr 

 quiries.— W. T. Dennis, Commissioner of Fisheries, Indiana. 



Mr. Dennis writes me that he will meet the protection 

 committee of the Kankakee Association at English Lake 

 club house at a date early in March. E, Ho UGH. 



UNCLE BARNEY'S STORY. 



Editor Forest and, Stream: 



I think lots of your readers would enjoy the acquaint- 

 ance of Barnard Saucerman or, as he is better known. 

 Uncle Barney. He is a gunsmith, a tall, quaint Pennsyl- 

 vania Dutchman, honest as daylight and about 70 years 

 old. His name on one of the old time muzzleioading 

 rifles of this section is as well known and as good a 

 guarantee of excellence among the older people of the 

 vicinity as that of Greener, Parker, Colt or Winchester 

 is to the sporting world in general. I seldom pass Uncle 

 Barney's shop without exchanging a moment's gossip, and 

 many are the pleasant reminiscences I have enjoyed in 

 this manner. A few days ago the old man hailed me. and 

 the conversation turned upon a very fine collection of 

 ancient firearms which are on exhibition in a store in 

 Muncie. 



"Yes," said he, "I learned to shoot with the old flint- 

 lock, and many a lurkey and deer have I killed before the 

 percussion cap came into use. I remember well my first 

 deer, I was only eight years old. I had found that a 

 deer was using on some fodder in my father's field; and 

 I had heard my brother older than me say that when it 

 rained in the afternoon and then the sun came out bright 

 in the evening the deer would come out to feed before 

 night. On this particular evening I was sure that every- 

 thing was just right, so I slipped into the back room and 

 set father's gun up against the open window and went 

 quietly around the house to get it. But my older brother 

 caught me taking it out. I coaxed him to let me go on, 

 however, as I was sure I would kill a deer. He only 

 laughed and told me to be careful. 



'Arrived at the field, I crouched down against the fence 

 in the c jrner of a woods and waited with the gun between 

 Ihe rails. I had been sitting perfectly still for perhapB 

 fifteen minutes, when I heard a slight noise behind me, 

 and turning my head I saw a three-point buck not two 

 rods behind, standing perfectly still and eyeing me curi- 

 ously. Here was a fix. The long, heavy rifle sticking 

 through the fence, my back to the deer, and the slightest 

 motion might send him skipping away. I hardly breathed. 

 Very slowly I moved the gun around and brought it to 

 bear on the other field: slowly, very slowly, I turned my 

 head, and there stood the deer. He had bounded over 

 into the clearing and then perhaps, attracted by my curi- 

 ous motions, had stopped and was looking squarely at me. 

 Again the gun barrel was between the fence rails. There 

 was no chance to raise it to my eye, and I would hardly 

 have dared to do it if it had been open ground. Resting 

 it firmly across my hip and taking the range as best I 

 could (I suspect I shut my eyes) I pulled the trigger. 

 When the smoke cleared off there was the buck, kicking 

 and wallowing on the gi-ound. 



"Proud? I was the proudest boy in twenty miles, and I 

 always could get the gun after that." L, H. H, 



