330 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 13, 1891. 



toward the once famous Center Bog. Uttering their 

 plaintive cries a bunch of fifteen or twenty yellowlegs 

 are coming down wind. Without a waver in then- flight 

 they near us and as they pass over the open water 

 directly opposite us the 10-gauge booms otit. Pat, pat, 

 pat, pat, and four of the mottled beauties are lying upon 

 the surface of the shallow stagnant water, while a badly 

 disconcerted flock of plover is scurrying away with ac- 

 celerated speed. "Mark north," I hear a voice and three 

 pairs of eyes soon espy a single pintail winging her way 

 toward us. Unsuspicious of danger she draws near, and 

 even as C. rises with the Parker at his shoulder she 

 merely swerves a trifle to one side. At the report tlie 

 game falls with a resounding splash. E, and I hold a 

 conference, and not caring to make an extra trip back to 

 the tent for our guns as the morning flight will soon be 

 over, we conclude to watch C. The day tm-ns out to be a 

 very warm one and we are glad to return to camp and 

 stretch ourselves in the shade thrown by the awning, and 

 only retrace our steps to the water's edge at 4 o'clock to 

 secure the evening shooting. 



"Wednesday, the heat not abating, most of our time is 

 spent in camp. Thxirsday dawns upon another kind of 

 day and with high hopes we make our way down to the 

 boats shortly after daybreak to find a northwest wind 

 blowing great guns. I am just preparing to pole north- 

 ward along the narrow channel, when I see great num- 

 bers of birds have risen in a body from the big lake and 

 are moving in our direction, so I make for the west side 

 of the bog and hastily draw my boat from eight. I have 

 just time to conceal myself from sight when a bunch of 

 pintails passes between us. They are much nearer the 

 boys than they are to my side of the shore, and presently 

 I see dark barrels pointed upward wit]i deadly effect, for 

 three of the flock are killed outright, and in the panic 

 which follows the flock swerves over to the west side of 

 the channel upon which I am hiding, and though the 

 distance is great, I manage to score one kill, and secure 

 the victim by wading out in my long boots. .1 have just 

 regained the cover when I see a long-necked bird ap- 

 proaching. He is high, but is directly over head and 

 presents a shot in which I take no little pride. With my 

 first I cause him to stagger, but under such headway as 

 not to fail. A second barrel follows the first, and after a 

 struggle to keep under motion there follows along, slant- 

 ing fall, and my duck, a spoonbill, lies dead upon the 

 surface of the bay tliu-ty rods distant. A single teal slips 

 upon me, getting nearly by before I catch sight of him. 

 The leaden hail j)atters around him but he seems to bear 

 a charmed life, for even my second fails to bring any- 

 thing except a tiny wing feather. Ah ha, you rascal, you 

 are not yet safe, for from the further side of the chan'nel 

 your progress is being noted. Well may you dodge and 

 waver in your rapid flight, as you a.t last catch sight of 

 the form which has risen to cover with deadly barrels 

 your tiny form. But it is too late, for long before the 

 sound of the muflied report has reached my ears I have 

 seen your fall, and I am revenged. 



The flight slackens and I get into my light ducker and 

 with long poling paddle in hand slowly make my way 

 northward, where now and then huge bodies of wildfowl 

 are seen to rise in the air for a moment, to settle in the 

 water once more after making a short flight. It is very 

 slow work and an hour has elapsed before I reach the 

 open water. A ruddy duck bounces up from somewhere, 

 although I did not see him until his plump little form is 

 pattering by me. Down goes the poling paddle and I 

 turn slightly and send a charge of 6s hustling around 

 his devoted little head. What, a clean miss ? Well, take 

 that then, and down splashes my bird all in a heap. He 

 is picked up and I continue on my way. I think I see a 

 bunch of teal swim in behind that tiny island of reeds 

 and cattails, but it might have been nothing but a flock 

 of water hens, of which there are hundreds boldly feed- 

 ing all around me. It was nothing but a glimpse and the 

 distance was too great to make them out distinctly, but 

 we will make the sneak at any rate; and the poling pad- 

 dle is laid in the bottom of the boat and a short sneaking 

 paddle is taken up in its place. Softly now. I gain the 

 margin of grass and commence the circuit of the island. 

 I am so busy planning how I will rake the unsuspecting 

 teal upon the water with my first barrel and create a 

 panic with my second as they rise that I am almost star- 

 tled into falling overboard when with great fuss and splut- 

 ter an old redhead duck mounts upward almost from 

 under the bows of my boat. I forget about the teal in the 

 excitement of the moment and not until I have retrieved 

 my victim do I remember about the teal, and then too 

 late I see a fine flock of some 30 birds scurrying away, 

 But they are turning, are they not? Sure enough, and 

 now they are fairly on the way back. Hastily I shove 

 the boat into the shelter of the coarse grass and await 

 their coming. Now I can catch the flicker of their wings, 

 but, Great Scott! how they are traveling. There is a 

 flash of blue and brown and they have passed by me. 

 Bang, bang, slip in two more shells and knock over those 

 two cripples and four birds are mine. 



I draw the boat well in among the bogs and settle 

 down for a little flight shooting. A few scattering birds 

 afliord an occasional shot, but I am getting discontented. I 

 am just on the point of pushing out when I descry an 

 old pintail duck making her way leisurely toward my 

 place of concealment. Her long thin neck is stretched 

 out to its fullest extent, as if suspicious of danger, but 

 nevertheless she approaches, and when at last I rise to a 

 sitting posture and draw down on her she is thrown into 

 wild confusion. The report is follovved by her fall. Two 

 or three different blinds are experimented with with 

 more or less success, but at last I turn the boat's bows 

 toward camp. It is growing dusk as I pick my way 

 along, and as I mark the distance between the point 

 where I know the boys are waiting for me and the flat 

 upon which I am leaving a glistening trail behind me, 

 I see bright flashes; one; two, three four seconds pass, 

 and at last there comes to my waiting ears that sound so 

 musical to the hunter's ear — ah-rooni, ah-room, room, 

 room, With a row of blisters upon the palm of one 

 hand I finally push in beside them, and together we 

 make our way toward camp along the now well-beaten 

 path. Our birds are spread out to cool in the damp night 

 wind, and we lie at length inside our tent discussing this 

 good and that bad shot made during the day. Supper is 

 finally disposed of and we prepare for the night, our last 

 night in camp, too. Outside in the distance the fires are 

 raging; now lying down leaving only a smoking heap of 

 burning peat then leaping aloft as a gust of wind carries 



onward, to a new stretch of njareh, 



WORCESTER FUR COMPANY'S HUNT. 



WORCESTER, Mass., Nov. 1.— Friday, Oct. 30, was 

 the day selected for the fifth annual grand hunt of 

 the Worcester Fur Companv, and the success of the day's 

 hunt proved the selection a most happy one. At 5 A. M. 

 the clear notes of the hunter's horn rang melodiously 

 through the Bay State House corridors and were wafted 

 across Main street, awakening many a late riser who 

 wondered what on earth could have struck the town, for 

 the hunter's horn was something the lodgers in and about 

 the Bay State had heard only in print. The hunters, 

 most of whom had laid awake all night listening for the 

 welcome sound, were soon astir and at 5:30 a party of 

 twenty men or more gathered in the hotel dining room 

 ready to lay in the foundation for an all day's tramp; and 

 this same breakfast was one of the greatest features 

 adopted for this year's hunt. 



Six o'clock, the hour of starting, found a jolly and pic- 

 turesquely dressed crowd of all sizes and ages and of all 

 degrees of experience in fox hunting, fiom the veteran 

 of 77 years, "Uncle Natie," to the representative of one 

 of the morning dailies, who blushed through a week's 

 gt'owth of beard left on for the occasion, whenever the 

 scornful eyes of an old timer chanced to fall on him. All 

 sorts of vehicles were drawn up before the hotel to convey 

 the party to the meeting place. First came the two 

 barges, which took in about half of the party; then fol- 

 lowed a long procession of single and double rigs, hunting 

 carts, etc., with the famous "Mustang Gang" bringing up 

 the rear. As the line moved up Lincoln street and out 

 through Adams Square, it could be seen that the day 

 would open with a blaze of splendor and all hopes were 

 high. The sky was cloudless, not a breath of air was 

 stirring, as could be seen by the lazily rising columns of 

 smoke that bespoke an occasional early riser, mindful 

 that only through the agency of a roaring fire could the 

 morning cup of coffee be forthcoming. 



At the Hey wood farm, the usual place of meeting, all 

 was excitement. Horses impatiently pawed the turf, 

 men excitedly besought President Kinney to assign them 

 a favored locality, hounds tugged at their chains, the 

 aroma of choice ''sun cuxed" filled the air with a delicious 

 perfume, and before one could get through greeting 

 friends from out of town the party was scattering in all 

 directions and the hunt was on. 



John M. White and party fromMillbury with a pack of 

 hounds were despatched to the cidar mill. There was a 

 time when to hunt foxes with John White meant a day's 

 sport such as seldom falls to a man, but something has 

 "queered'' John of late, and ever since he got harnessed 

 up with Linfield's hammerless gun he can't seem to get 

 quite in touch with the big hunts. 



One of the first packs to start a red was that of the 

 Northboro and Marlboro party, who were run in north of 

 Straw Hollow. They took up a fox and drove him up 

 toward Rocky Pond, where he met his death. Stationed 

 at the fork of the road by the old burned house was a 

 hunter, whose nerves have never played him false, whose 

 eagle eye is never dimmed, at least not by 8 A. M. One 

 barrel settled sly reynard, and, as "Denny" expressed it. 

 "No red-headed fox need come fooling around unless he 

 was bald-headed," pulling ofl' his bat and exposing to the 

 gaze of the astonished natives that noble head which has 

 been the butt of so many of Dennj^'s best jokes. But 

 Denny never gave himself so hard a rap as Burdick did 

 when he sold him the setter Dick. That is another 

 story, however, and entirely outside of fox hunting. The 

 Mustang Gang joined the Millbury party, and entertained 

 any stray htmters who were so fortunate as to run across 

 them at lunch, 



Billy Dean and Uncle Nathan , lasha and his party, with 

 a large number of others, headed for the shoemakers, 

 which is usually the center of the hunt. A dozen hounds 

 were cast off, and, after some hard work, took up their 

 fox on the nortii end of each ridge, and as he took a turn 

 south every dog within a radius of three miles, which 

 was not driving, swung to the pack. Down toward the 

 Harlow place they went, in which direction a couple of 

 guns were heard, but the dogs kept on, and it was thought 

 he had crossed to Sewell Hill. Soon they are heard com- 

 ing back on the lower side of the ledges.'the pack by this 

 time increased to a perfect mob of barking, baying, howl- 

 ing, even squalling, dogs; and as they turn ' again and 

 swing south, the hunters in that vicinity are treated to a 

 drive that makes the day's hunt a success, however it may 

 end. 



More guns were heard to the south, but some hunters 

 had so far forgotten the simplest ethics of sportsmanship 

 as to bring along a setter and indulge in bird hunting, 

 strictly against the rules of the club, and many of the 

 shots were attributed to them. What became of the fox 

 nobody knows, for the hounds ca,me back, one by one, and 

 soon took up another fox, which proved to be less 

 fortunate. When jumped be led straight away, and the 

 dogs went out of hearing. Soon Mr. Geo. Hoi brook saw 

 a fox coming toward him. When about 13 rods off he 

 turned, and seeing he would come no nearer Mr. Holbrook 

 gave him a barrel, which only served to in crease his speed 

 a trifie. Geo. Cutting driving along the road paw him 

 coming, and stopping his team, jumped out, seized his 

 gim, and had only time enough to insert one shell when 

 the fox was within range. He shot, but only wounded 

 him, and he disappeared from sight across the road. Mr, 

 Cutting followed and came across him in an orchard. 

 Two more barrels laid him out, and 1.5 minutes later the 

 dogs came up, having apparently been bothered back in 

 the swamp. 



All this time old Railsplitter could be heard driving to 

 the north, and some of the party who gathered about the 

 successful hunter went to the old dog's assistance. 

 Among them was A. W, Hunt, who had stumbled on to 

 a fox near Randall Rocks, and stalked and killed him as 

 he woi'ked across a meadow listening to the hounds. No 

 dogs were after him. By this time it was 10 o'clock, and 

 over on Bond Hill, where Mr, Kinney put in his hounds, 

 there had been a perfect cannonade since early morning. 

 Many thought the Lake View Gun Club were holding a 

 "tourney,'^ Others thought the foxes had all congre- 

 gated there, and were counting up how many had prob- 

 ably been killed. Some thought as many as fifteen sure, 

 and the most skeptical and conservative gave them a 

 half dozen. Ima2:ine onr surprise on learning that the 

 entu-e fusilade had been directed at one poor little fox 

 that weighed less than seven pounds, and that the dogs 

 had been obliged to catch her to finish the chase. No one 

 oouldl tell who shot at her flret, bvit Charlie Steel gave 



her two barrels and claims to have hit her. Shot after 

 shot was fired after her and every one hit her. Still she 

 kept on. As one hunter expressed it, "The more they 

 shot her the better she ran," Finally Frank Sweet, of 

 Ashburnham, got a crack at her and gave her both bar- 

 rels, later he shot two more, and claims to have hit her 

 the fourth shot, though he admits missing clean with the 

 first three. No hounds coming on her track, Sweet set 

 out to get a dog; and finally ran across a couple, which he 

 worked up to the trail, and was rewarded by seeing them 

 take it the back way and whoop it up for more than it 

 was worth. It was three-quarters of an hour before he 

 could get hold of a dog again, and this time the fox was 

 started and Mr, Sweet contributed another shell; and 

 after a short run the dogs caught her. Another youthful 

 fox hunter shot off' his gun about this time and claimed 

 the fox, but his claim was not allowed; in fact, the self- 

 constituted governing board of the club declined to give 

 Mr. Sweet the credit of kUling the fox, claiming it was a 

 clean catch for the hounds, an idea so ridiculous that it 

 merits the severe criticism it is receiving at the hands of 

 the majority of the club. 



Early in the morning Mr. E. O. Conforth was so -unfor- 

 tunate as to break his gun. He walked back to the city, 

 hh-ed another gun and a little before noon was back at 

 the Heywood farm. Finding the famous crossing "the 

 old oak" uncovered he took up his station there and soon 

 heard a dog driving on Burncoat Plain. The music drew 

 nearer and in a few momentsj Mr. Conforth bowled over 

 a fox. 



Will Brigham, of Boylston, was out with his hounds 

 and killed a fox, but as he was not present at the dinner 

 the particulars of his run could not be learned. Charlie 

 Howe, one of the club members, was putting in his vaca- 

 tion up in New Hampshire and killed a fox which was 

 not counted, as he failed to produce him with the pelt 

 on, as is required. Throwing out Howe's fox gives the 

 hunt a total of six, which is the largest score made at an 

 annual bunt since the club was formed. 



The day opened up perfect, but about 9 o'clock the 

 wind came up and interfered Fomewhat with hearing 

 and also served quickly to dry off the leaves and grass, 

 so that by noon the following was extremely di'y and the 

 bunt was practically over. 



Hunters and dogs came straggling back to town during 

 the afternoon; and at 7:80 a large party were gathered in 

 the corridors of the Bay State House discussing the hunt, 

 with an anxious eye on the dining-room door. The annual 

 dinner was fair— to speak well of it. The serving of it 

 was miserable— to let iffdown easy; and the post-prandial 

 speaking was about half-way between. Still every one 

 enjoyed the dinner, for appetite had been sharpened by 

 the long day's outing and every one had had a good 

 time. On such a day no one with blood in his veins 

 could do otherwise than enjoy himself if he were but out 

 in the woods. 



The himt on the whole was not so satisfactory as some 

 precedinff ones, in spite of the large number of foxes 

 killed. The majority of hunters did not hear as much 

 driving as usual. The runs were short, or the foxes led 

 oft" and took the dogs out of hearing, and a number 

 scarcely heard a pack with a running fox. But what 

 driving there was was fast and furious and the number 

 killed proved that on their old ground the Worcester 

 Fur Co. have plenty of foxps for the most successful and 

 enjoyable "grand hunt" held in New England. Hal. 



WILD GOOSE SHOOTING IN DAKOTA. 



ONK! HONK! ONK! HONK!" the voice of the wild 

 goose is heard in the land , and our sportsmen are 

 putting aside their chicken shot and loading a supply of 

 shells with B.B. The noble birds are just beginning 

 their flight from their remote northern nesting grounds, 

 and the Dakotas seem to be like a half-way house for 

 them, where they can "rest and refresh themselves" be- 

 fore completing their long journey to the Stmny South; 

 and they find plenty of the very best feeding gTounds in 

 our extensive wheat sttibbles and cornfields. 



In the State of New York I never saw wild geese fight 

 or act as if they were looking for a feeding place. They 

 passed over in unbroken V-shaped flocks and at an alti- 

 tude far above the reach of the best fowling piece. I once 

 killed one there with a long-range rifle, but I considered 

 it a mere chattce shot, for I believe the flock was more 

 than 200yds, high. Here in Dakota tliey are usually 

 seen in irregularly shaped flocks, not very high and ap- 

 parently on the lookout for food and ready to light where 

 there is any chance of getting something to eat, always 

 j)rovided the situation looks perfectly safe to them. In 

 this respect they manifest a rema,rkable amount of cau- 

 tious cunning, invariably selecting a place in an open 

 field, where there are no sharp ridges nor other irregu- 

 larities in the surface that might enable a sportsman to 

 approach them unseen by their sentinels, several of 

 which are always on the lookout while the others are 

 feeding, I never knew them to trouble a cornfield 

 where there was a good even stand of stalks, but if they 

 discover a piece of scattering corn, where the seed has 

 been mostly taken by gophers or worms they will not 

 hesitate to go in and gobble up what corn has been per- 

 mitted to mature. Bat their favorite feeding ground is 

 on wheat stubble; in fact that is their only chance in the 

 spring. For several years the autumns have been so dry 

 here that the scattered wheat on the stubblefields has not 

 sprouted, and in the spring the geese find it a little soft- 

 • ened and just to their taste, 



I am a practical sportsman, but I never go on "a wild 

 goose chase," and I notice the amateurs who follow them 

 and try by one device and another to creep up to them, 

 seldom come back with any birds. My way is to get there 

 first, and let the geese come to me. They are naturally 

 quite regular in their movements and habits, and no one 

 need expect much success in endeavoring to shoot them 

 until he has familiarized himself with their ways, Moat 

 of the geese that pass here stop several weeks to feed up, 

 before completing their long flight. During the night 

 they stay in the many small lakes, at a safe distance from 

 shore. Shortly after sunrise they fly out for food, return- 

 ing about 10 A. M. They go out again in the middle of 

 the afternoon and do not come back until after sundown. 

 I have sometimes been quite successful by watching a 

 fly-way at the shore of a lake, and shooting them by twi- 

 light as they came in. Looking upward, I could see a 

 dim outline of the shape of the flock and would blaze 

 away at the front ranks. With two barrels I have 

 brought down ae many as five in this way, from gne flock. 



