March 24, 1892.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



278 



SHOOTING QUAIL AT HOME. 



THE one thing above all others that the commercial 

 traveler is always looking forward to is the time he 

 will get to go home; and in the case of this traveler, to 

 the time when he will be at home in the quail season, for 

 my home is on a farm, and quail abound on it and on the 

 neighboring farms. Last season it was the middle of 

 November before. I was able to get there; but at last came 

 a bright, frosty morning, when I stepped out of the cars 

 into the arms of the little wife who had waited two 

 months for my coming. After inquiries for friendB and 

 neighbors, the next question was, "How is Joe?" "He 

 is all right, only he goes hunting every day, and chases 

 rabbits all over the farm. He is so full of burrs and 

 Spanish needles you can hardly tell what color he is. He 

 has been hunting so much by himself that you will have 

 trouble with him." 



"Are there many quail?" "I think so. Joe had a lot 

 of them scattered about in the garden and cherry orchard 

 a couple of days ago, and fifteen or twenty ran across the 

 yard one day last week. George Clark says he has three 

 coveys waiting for you. Arva Study said to tell 

 you to come over there so soon as you got home, 

 and EI Ball says some of the Richmond fellows 

 were over there and shot a hundred times and got 

 twelve birds. Winston Harris says you can find 

 lots of them on his place, and that the rabbits in 

 the 'eighty' will average forty bushels to the acre." 



By this time we are driving into the yard ; and 

 Joe is capering round the buggy, barking, jump- 

 ing at the horse, and fairly frantic with deiight. 

 We drive straight to the barn, and Joe tries to 

 carry my grip to the house. My wife finds some 

 eggs and gives him one, which he is very proud to 

 carry. He insists on walking right between us, 

 and is uneasy all the forenoon, and no doubt won- 

 ders if we will ever get started. After dinner I 

 begin to get ready, and Joe's capers and noise are 

 such a nuisance that wife put nim outdoors, but 

 soon let him in again to keep him from scratching 

 all the paint off the door. "Now," said my wife, 

 "I'll give you a kiss for each bird you bring in. 

 No birds, no kisses, my boy. And don't you stay 

 out late, dear, for I want some quail for supper." 



Joe and I betake us to the 18-acre stubblefield, 

 with woods on two sides of it. Joe sweeps over 

 the field in constantly widening circles, going at a 

 rapid gallop. Look, here is quail sign. It is fresh 

 too, soft and moist yet; must have roosted here 

 last night. J oe, you need not hunt out there in 

 the middle of the field this time of day. They are 

 along the fence or possibly in the woods. We 

 traverse three sides of the field, when Joe points 

 and looks back to see if I am coming. All right, 

 Joseph; the fun will begin right now. It was a 

 large covey and they whirred away into the woods 

 in great shape. Click, click, but no shot. Well 

 now what's the matter? Opening the gun showed 

 that no cartridges had been put in. As these birds 

 were sure to walk back to the field for their sup- 

 pers, and could easily be found a half -hour before 

 sundown, we did not follow them, but went across 

 the. other end of the woods to another stubble. 



Joe ran up a little hill in the woods, and just as 

 he disappeared over the brow of the hill a hawk 

 flew from the ground into a tree, and a second 

 later tumbled to the ground riddled with shot. 

 Just over the top of the hill Joe stood on a single 

 bird, and was doubtless standing on it at the time 

 the hawk was shot. The bird was killed, and Joe 

 broke for it and flushed another one. Instead of 

 shooting at the second bird, Joe was sharply or- 

 dered to charge, which he obeyed, and was then 

 told to come back and be whipped, which he did, and 

 promised not to do that way again. He was then told to 

 fetch, and did it handsomely. He then began to hunt 

 the ground closely and found eight more birds, one at a 

 time, and five of them were bagged. 



As we crossed the woods. Joe saw a fox squirrel very 

 busy burying a hickory nut, and made a dash for him. 

 As he ran along a cattle path, he made no noise and came 

 so near catching the squirrel that it had barely time to 

 get to the nearest tree, only a few feet away. Approach- 

 ing the tree very quietly and throwing a club into some 

 bruBh on the opposite side of the tree, I brought the squir- 

 rel around very quickly and he was bagged at once. 



The next stubble field yielded no birds, although there 

 were recent signs, and the dog found a trail, but was un- 

 able to make it out. The scattered birds found in the 

 woods were probably the ones that lived in this field. We 

 next tried a cornfield and found one covey. Joe trailed 

 them 200yds. along the corn rows, and I got frequent 

 glimpses of them as they were running. At last they 

 rose wild and went across the creek into another corn- 

 field. One bird was winged and fell into the corn. Joe 

 found the spot where it fell, but it had run away and he 

 could not track it. He hunted it for ten minutes and at 

 last pointed it under a bunch of foxtail. It is a fact that 

 Joe and many other dogs cannot track a winged quail, 

 though they will follow an unwounded bird with no 

 trouble. As it was now near the close of the short No- 

 vember afternoon, and the creek difficult to cross, this 

 covey was not followed. A quarter of a mile further 

 down the creek a large covey was found, and went across 

 the creek, coming down in the border of weeds and 

 bushes along the creek bank, a few going on and drop- 

 "i"g in the weed field beyond. Two shots at this covey 

 failed to get a feather. 



I was about to start homeward when Ed Ball hailed 

 me from the other side with, "Come over. I spotted a 

 half dozan of 'em out there in the weeds." "Haven't got 

 my rubber boots," said I. "I'll come and get you, then," 

 siid Ed. After carrying me across he said, "They are 

 right out there about sixty yards. It's a good place for 

 old Joe to get in some fine work, and I'd rather see him 

 hunt than to eat when I'm hungry.*' 



Joe pointed, then went slowly forward with head 

 stretched forward and tail on a line with his back. After 

 proceeding a number of yards he turned to the left, but 

 soon came back to where he had made the turn, and kept 

 on in the first direction. Ed said. "I'll bet the trail of 

 another bird crosses this one where Joe made that turn. 

 I'll lay my hat there to mark the spot, and we will bring 

 Joe back after he finds this one and see what he makes of 

 it." Joe trailed along forty yards further, stopping a num- 

 ber of times. At each stop Ed was sure he had the bird, 



but I said not. "How can you tell?" asked Ed. "Watch 

 his tail. While he walks along as he is doing now he 

 smells only the foot scent left on the ground and what 

 scent may be left on the weeds where its body has 

 rubbed them. It is what might be termed second-hand 

 scent, and the dog is able to distinguish between it and 

 direct scent, He pays no attention to the foot scent ex- 

 cept enough to guide his course. His main effors are to 

 catch the direct scent, and his stops are made when he 

 thinks he has caught a little of the direct scent. If the 

 f cent does not continue he moves on." 



"Well now," said Ed, "what's his tail got to do with 

 all that? He smells with his nose, don't he?" "Certainly, 

 but his tail is an index to what his nose smells. So long 

 as his nose smells foot scent only his tail is on a line with 

 his back, but when he stops and his tail slowly rises 

 about 2in. and stays there, he is smellin? the bird itself." 



"Is it that way with all dogs?" asked El 



"No, but every dog has some way of showing what he 

 smells. Hogs have as strongly marked individual char- 

 acter as men have." 



"I don't see why they shouldn't have them" said Ed, 



fife. 



Hon. John G. Smith, 



President Iowa State Assouiitioo for Hie Protection of C4ame and Fish. 



"for lots of dogs have a blamed eight more sense than 

 some men. Some men— there! he raised his tail that 

 time." 



"Yes," said I, "the bird is there." Two birds got up. 

 The first one went down all in a heap, not 20yds. away. 

 The second one lost a few feathers, and began to tower. 

 Up, up, higher and straighter up, till at a height of 75ffc., 

 it turned over backward and fell. I have never known 

 a quail to recover itself after turning over and starting 

 to fall in this manner, but have frequently seen prairie 

 chickens right themselves before reaching the ground 

 and flv clear away. After retrieving the dead birds we 

 took Joe to the place where Ed had left his hat. Joe 

 took up the left-band trail again, and traced it bv a cir- 

 cuitous route to the point where the two birds had got 

 up. Before it become too dark to shoot, five more birds 

 were bagged, and several more shot at, that are still very 

 good birds if no one else has got them. EL carried me 

 across the creek and said, "Come over again, I'll leave 

 the team right in the middle of the cornfield, and follow 

 Joe if you come." Joe and I got into the road and 

 trudged homeward; pretty tired, very hungry, but feel- 

 ing more free from care and worry than I had for 

 months. 



The incidents of the afternoon were reviewed as I 

 walked along, and if it had not been for one poor bird 

 that had gone off with one leg hanging down, I would 

 have voted a time of perfect enjoyment. The cheerful 

 lights of home were shining wnen I reached the top of 

 the hill, and the little wife met me at the door with, "How 

 many kisses do I owe you?'' "Fourteen," said I. "Oh, 

 there will be enough for supper and hreakfast, and dinner 

 to-morrow, too." "Enough kisses?" "No! quads, you 

 naughty boy. Turn them out here and we will have 

 some for supper," Twenty minutes later we sat down to 

 a meal that could not be duplicated in any city and with 

 an appetite that could not be bought with money. For 

 weeks past I had been unable to sleep more than four to 

 six hours out of twenty-four, but that night at 9 o'clock 

 wife remarked that somebody was getting sleepy, and she 

 was correct, for the next ten hours were spent in dream- 

 less, refreshing sleep. 



At noon, next day, George Clark came up and said that 

 as he came to dinner he raised a big covey in his east 

 cornfield. "Yes," said I, "and they went south into the 

 woods and cams down at the head of the little branch" 

 "How do you know they did?" asked Gaorge, "did you 

 see them?" "No, but I've shot over that ground nearly 

 every season for twenty years, and know the ways of the 

 birds pretty well." "That's just where they went, any 

 way," Baid George, "and I came up to tell you about it. 

 I ought to gather corn this afternoon, but if you are going 

 after the birds, I'm going along." 



Of course I went after the birds and was glad to have 

 George along, for he is pleasant company, and an excel- 

 lent marker of birds. He never shoots any, but enjoys 

 seeing it done. To give details of that afternoon's sport 

 would make too long a story. It happened to be one of 

 my shooting days and eighteen quail were bagged at 

 twenty-three shots. O. H. Hampton. 



THE " KITCHEN GARDEN " GUN. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I have long been a reader of the only sportsman's jour- 

 nal that has ever come up to my idea of a pap?r that met 

 the wants of the great mass, old and young, in fact all 

 that they want or think they do; and I remember well 

 when our friend Hallock, that genial sportsman, was at 

 its head. I would rather go without my dinner than to 

 miss my Forest and Stream. 



_ Once in a while I see something that both amuses and 

 instructs, and in the issue of Jan. 28 I find an article 

 headed "Short Gun Barrels," which states in part that 

 the 'enthusiastic sportsman who kept cutting off the 

 barrels of a 10-gauge gun until they were reduced 

 to 24in. may have a marvelous arm for duck shoot- 

 ing, but many of your rf aders accustomed to the 

 usual length will, I fear, consider it better adapted 

 for scaring away domesticated ducks from the 

 kitchen garden." Now, we are told in the good 

 book that there are wise men in the world and 

 that there is nothing new under the sun. I must 

 confess my ignorance as to the use, make and 

 proper length of barrel of a thing thev call a gun. 

 but having been quite young when I first handled 

 the tarnel gun, it being a double barrel flint-lock 

 (length of barrel 28in.) and having uaed a gun for 

 the last forty-seven years, have come to the con- 

 clusion that I have just begun to learn what a 

 proper gun should be, and how to load one prop- 

 erly, and after all to shoot it. 



The first bird I ever killed was at the first time I 

 ever put a gun to my shoulder, and it was an old 

 squaw. A prouder boy never walked on the face 

 of the earth. Later on my uncle and guardian had 

 the gun changed to a percussion; and many is the 

 bird that I killed after. One time I came to New 

 York city to visit some friends, and I bought in 

 Chatham street an 11 -gauge English gun of about 

 lOlbs. weight, 34in. barrels. I found that it was 

 muzzle-heavy, and had it cut off by the county 

 blacksmith 4in., and killed a great many birds 

 with it. As I grew older I had made in London 

 an 8-gauge, 32in. barrels, expressly for ducks; and 

 I found that I could kill just as many with the 

 11-gauge and without so much work. As time 

 flew on, the breechloader came to hand. One was 

 bought— a Parker 10-gauge 32in. After shooting 

 it one season, I had it cut off to 30in., and found 

 the results good. Then I bought a 30 Remington 

 and found that in wildfowl shooting it shot a little 

 close; so I had it cut to 28in.; and I think it is as 

 good a shooting gun as one can wish; at least it 

 suits me. One day I was in town and a friend of 

 mine had a 10-gauge Parker weighing lOj-lbs. in 

 fine order, in fact new, but too heavy for him, so 

 I bought it and had it cut to 28in., and for shoot- 

 ing qualities I do not find any of the "proper 

 lengtn guns" that kill any more or at greater dis- 

 tance than it does. One day I was conversing 

 with an old friend, who is a gunsmith by the way. 

 I said I had a mind to have Parker Bros", make me 

 a set of laminated steel barrels to fit the 28 Parker 

 stock, 2lin. long, and full choke and of the same 

 weight. Like your correspondent "T. H. G." many 

 said it would be a failure, and would be worthless: 

 perhaps do for a Fourth of July gun, etc. But they were 

 made and paid for. Now for results. I soon found that 

 the 30in. would burn 4-Jdrs. of C. & H. powder, and that 

 the 28in. would do the same; and the baby was equal to 

 all. I will not say positively, but if my memory seives 

 me right, the official test at the factory was 183 and 192 

 at 30yds., with ljoz No. 8 shot; at least that was on the 

 card that came with the gun. 



As to the kitchen ducks being scared off. I should be 

 sorry to have "T. H. G." in the barn yard. I labor under 

 an impression he would find out perhaps that it would do 

 something more than scare. Since October, 1891, the 

 opening of the season, to Nov. 16, I killed over two hun- 

 dred good birds for the table wi thin 60 miles of New York 

 with a 24in. "barn yard" duck gun. I killed in one day 

 on the south side of Long Islaud in the Great South Bay 

 50 black-heads from 10 A. M. until 3 P. M., with that 

 same 24 in. "kitchen garden" duck gun. 



Why not go back a hundred years and have the old- 

 fashioned Queen's Anne barrel that would stand 6ft. long. 

 That was the proper thing, you know, then, but not now. 

 Of course I would not, according to my experience, wish 

 a 24 ; n. cylinder barrel for general shooting; but notwith- 

 standing all that, there is a gentleman on Long Lland 

 who has a Scott 12-gauge with a 22tn. barrel, and kills 

 about as many quail and rabbits as those who have the 

 proper gun, you know. The load I use for geese (I killed 

 a pair two weeks ago with the "kitchen garden" gun) is 

 4idrs. C. & H. and ljoz. BBB; same powder charge for 

 ducks and broadbills, with No. 4 shot in left barrel and 

 No. 5 in right; and I am satisfied with the results. I am 

 not much of a shot, but somehow or other I get the birds 

 all the same with the "kitchen garden" gun. Ezeyjul. 



Orean Park Association.— A number of Passaic, N. 

 J., gentlemen including Mayor Walston R, Brown, Gen. 

 Bird W. Spencer, Judge Morrell and W. I. Barry, have 

 purchased 2,500 acres of land in the Pequannock Valley, 

 West Milford Township, Passaic county, N. J,, which 

 they propose to turn into a park and game preserve. An 

 organization has been effected under the name of the 

 Orean Park Association, and the following officers have 

 been elected: W. R, Brown, President; W. I, Barry 

 Vice-President; Richard Morrell, Treasurer; Frederick 

 Lowe, Secretary. An executive committee, consLtins- 

 of W. R. Brown, B. W. Spencer and John J. Bowes; and 

 aboard of director-? made up as follows: W. R. Brown, 

 Dr, C. Van Riper, John J. Bowes, Jo-eph H. Wright, w' 

 I. Barry, B W Spencer, Andrew McLean, Richard Mor- 

 rell, Colin R. Wise and James T. Ball. The park will be 

 stocked with grouse and quail. 



