246 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 32, 11 



kn(e nnd ^uij. 



Uie Book op the Game Laws has allftsh and game laws 

 of UnUed Staies and. Canada. Price 50 cents. 



WILD RICE— REEDS. 



MMtor Forest and Stream: 



Recent articles in your journal ou the subject of wild 

 rice have been very interesting. dwellers along the 

 shores of the river Delaware have been hearing of this 

 famous grass for years. Many of us have rather hun- 

 gered and thirsted after a sight of one of those natural 

 rice fields into which the Indian pushes his canoe and out 

 of which the craft comes loaded with food to the rail. 

 What sort of a looking grass is it? some of us have asked 

 ourselves. What descendant is this of the wrestling seed 

 of Jacob that will bob up serenely in any depth of water 

 from two to ten feet? And some mad enthusiasts had a 

 mind to send for a bushel of wild rice and plant it along 

 these tide-swept shores of ours, and let it hustle for life 

 amid the familiar, towering, bird-haunted grass we call 

 the "reed," The reed is all right in its way. It is a 

 pretty thing to see. Moreover, the reed bu-d, named after 

 the thing he feeds upon, doth annually pause in this tall 

 growth long enough to allow us to shoot him after he 

 hath made himself fat beyond measure with continual 

 stuffing of reed seeds. Yet we had a notion, look you, 

 that wild rice would be an improvement. It might cut 

 pranks and drive the reed out. Perhaps the reed bud 

 would wax so very, very fat on rice that he could not fly, 

 and in that case we could just walk up and pluck him off 

 his perch in our plantation without the trouble of shoot- 

 ing him. By all means let us try this little experiment, 

 Let us send on for a bushel or two of this wonderful 

 rice. 



And now comes the learned writer in Fobest and 

 Stream who will have us to understand that wild rice is 

 Zizania aquatica, and that it looks like the picture ac- 

 companying his paper. At sight of that cut I did not 

 know whether to laugh or to smile. I finished by staring 

 in perfect gravity — staring long and intently. For therein 

 I saw the counterfeit presentment of the multitudinous 

 "reed" of the Delaware River. 



It is all very well to say I should have known better. 

 But I submit that when everybody hereabouts was con- 

 tinually saying not only "reed" but "reed bird," and just 

 as continually avoiding all reference to "rice" in this con- 

 nection, it was altogether in order for the wayfarer to be 

 deceived. No doubt there are people up and down the 

 valley of the Delaware who have known that the wild 

 rice and the reed are one and the same. And besides 

 these there are others, "smart Alecs," who will stoutly 

 deny they ever went astray on this point. Yet how very 

 silent these have all been, while people in general have 

 been talking reed, reed, at the top of their voices all day 

 long! It is only one more illustration of what comes of 

 relying on "common names." Surely the botanist is in 

 the rie-ht of it when he insists, for sake of clearness, upon 

 his "Zizania aquaMca, L," and will have none of "Indian 

 rice," "wild rice," or (heaven keep us!) "reed." 



Chester, Pa., Sept. 15. T. ChaLKLEY PaLMER. 



W Who can give any other common name for this plant? 

 e now have wild rice, Indian rice, wild oats, corn grass, 

 reed. Fext.]' 



A BIG DEER. 



A FRIEND in Essex, N. Y., writes that an unusually 

 large buck was killed near Reber, a little town in the 

 Adirondacks within five miles of Lake Champlain and 

 the Delaware & Hudson Railroad, Sept. 10, He was driv- 

 ing from Elixabethtown to Essex, and says, "Between the 

 Pine Woods school house and Reber there were many 

 (hunters) hounding deer, the first day of the season. We 

 passed a man by the road side with a tired bound lying 

 beside him. He was so tired out he didn't open his eyes 

 even at Varro (K's dog). Beside him was the largest buck 

 I ever saw. It had been shot about an hour before, and 

 was still warm. The man said he weighed SOOlbs. and I 

 have no reason to doubt it. He had a fine set of horns!" 



I wonder if this is one of the "muley" deer that hunters 

 in the eastern Adirondacks describe, and of which class 

 the big deer reported in Forest and Stream six years ago 

 is probabl y an example? That deer was said to be a cari- 

 bou, but one of the hunters who put out the dogs on the 

 memorable occasion that resulted in his death, has 

 described him to me as being low and stockily built, "like 

 a mule," short legs and very large feet. He was a great 

 fighter, and instead of running before the hounds, would 

 meet them in battle in the silent depths of the forest, so 

 that some of them would turn up missing, while others 

 would be much the worse for wear. In the end, after he 

 had administered many defeats to his enemies, he was at 

 last driven out into the open and shot, through the efforts 

 of George James and Bill Hayes, assisted by a famous 

 dog that was "part bull" and a wonderful fighter, and 

 who, with the backing afforded by the two hunters (who 

 followed as closely as possible), broke through all the 

 buck's guards and bested his subterfuges, and finally got 

 him out of the protecting shadows of the woods — where- 

 upon he was promptly converted into venison by the 

 hunters lying in wait. 



Two years ago, on the west side of the Giant, I myself 

 while still-hunting, came upon some enormous deer 

 tracks. They were defined in the black mud of a little 

 spring, and were so large that I hesitate to tell their size 

 for fear I should not be believed. I told George James of 

 these tracks, and he said they belonged to a deer of the 

 same variety as the big one he and Hays had driven out. 

 He said that in his opinion there were two varieties of 

 deer in the Adirondacks, the ordinary Virginia deer, and 

 a larger kind, fearless of dogs, slow in running, but 

 strong in fighting, short-limbed and stockily built, 



I heard afterward of efforts, that terminated in every 

 case unsuccessfully, to drive the big deer whose tracks I 

 had seen down from his stronghold on the side of the 

 Giant, but he always threw ofli the hunters and hounds 

 and came out first best, and is probably roaming his 

 native hillside at this present moment. 



The question of these big deer is a curious one. and if 

 any reader of Forest and Stream knows anything about 

 them, it would be interesting to hear it. B. 



DUNKINFIELD BY AVOCA. 



When I dwelt in North Carolina last winter and wrote 

 my s pries of "Winter Sports of the Old North State" for 

 Forest A^D Stream, I failed to speak of Avoca, the most 

 novel and interesting of all the places in the eastern coun- 

 ties. I did not get around to the locality until the middle 

 of May, and then the only legitimate sport was fishing for 

 large-mouth black bass in Salmon Creek near at hand. I 

 have a photograph of the catch, which for size and con- 

 dition would be hard to duplicate in any water. 



When I crossed the head of Albemarle Sound from the 

 railway terminus at Edenton, a stretch of twelve miles in 

 width, in quest of Avoca, my inipression was that the 

 place was a fishing village, for I had heard and read 

 much of the vast quantities of herring and shad taken 

 there; but I discovered my mistake when the steamboat 

 came to its landing and your whilom correspondent, Dr. 

 Wm. R. Capehart, an ex-army surgeon, welcomed me in 

 propria persona as lord of the manor. To be sure, Avoca 

 IS a post office, and there is a large general store there, 

 with half a dozen small steam craft and seine boats tied 

 up at the wharf and at moorings: nevertheless, the Doc- 

 tor is master and proprietor of all, and Avoca is a gentle- 

 man's plantation and nothing more. Yet it is vast and 

 impressing. So interesting is it in its details and in its 

 magnitude, so unlike most estates on this side of the 

 Atlantic and so like those of Old England, that I am 

 promising to give your readers next November, when the 

 quail shooting is on and the foxhounds take the trail, a 

 comprehensive illustrated sketch of the whole vast men- 

 age. I had almost written manege, for, indeed, a ride 

 across the country in saddle, after "hounds of the finest 

 strain, is a school of equestrianism not to be treated — 

 shall I say cavalierly? 



Dr. Capehart has blooded stoc^: and poultry of all kinds, 

 perhaps a hundred head of each species, and he runs fifty 

 plows and 150 plantation hands of the old type; and he 

 raises great crops of cotton, tobacco and corn— and 

 melons, and in November, when the garish autumn tints 

 begin to fade and the grass and leaves turn brown, and 

 the pigs are let loose among the old pea vines and ground 

 nut litter, such stampedes of partridges one is likely to 

 see when riding across the following fields, that he can 

 hardly believe the plantation would harbor so many 

 birds. 



Now, the Doctor is not poor, nor penurious. He spends 

 his summer at his Newport cottage in Rhode Island, and 

 his winter and springs at home among his pet stock and 

 wild game of the estate. He realized $10,000 last spring 

 from his catch of shad alone, and I guess, or reckon, that 

 the proceeds sufficed to see him comfortably through 

 his vacation season at the North. So I judge that it was 

 from love of pure good fellowship and a simple desire to 

 share his sport with worthy sportsmen, that he built, two 

 years ago, right on the blufi' which overlooks the Sjimd, 

 a tasteful and commodious shooting box which he calls 

 "Hotel Dunkinfield." It has been advertised in Forest 

 AND Stream, in a business way, but modestly. It is 

 "hotel" because the Doctor does not intend to pamper 

 greedy gormandizers by offering them the range of his 

 shooting grounds and free board, gratis, for nothing in 

 addition. I wonder if any self-respecting sportsman 

 would presume upon his largess, if he did? He em- 

 ploys a caterer and guides, and I believe the tariff 

 is mentioned to be $2 per day, or $10 per week, The 

 manager's name is S. W. Everitt, and I know him per- 

 sonally to be a worthy and efficient host and an intelli- 

 gent all-round sportsman who can bait a trap, tree a 

 coon, call a turkey, shine a deer, start a fox, swing a rod, 

 and rope a bear. He is keen on anything that runs, 

 flies or swims. 



Deer and pquirrel shooting are permitted by the game 

 law during September and October, for venison is best 

 just before the rutting season. Partridges (quail) are in 

 order on Nov. 1, and the house opens for guests at that 

 date, though I dare say that Mr. Everitt can take care of 

 a party before that time, if written to. 



I am sure, Mr. Editor, that you will be willing to per- 

 mit this much in the common interest of us all in full 

 assurance that a more complete and interesting descrip- 

 tion is to follow as soon as I can get on to the ground 

 again the latter part of next month. 



Charles Hallock. 



BIG GAME AND BIG FISH. 



The sceneiy, hunting and fishing along the Pacific ex- 

 tension of the Great Northern Road in northern Montana 

 cannot be duplicated any where east of the Rockies. 

 Having spent several months in the country through 

 which the extension runs, I will try to give you a few 

 facts regarding it: 



The first station at the foot of the mountains on the 

 eastern side is Midvale, near Two Medicine River and 

 lake, in both of which are found speckled and salmon 

 trout. The country about Midvale is par excellence all 

 that a sportsman could wish. Birds there are, and fish, 

 and four-footed game — bear, deer and the like, and no 

 snakes. An hour's ride up the mountains, on a grade not 

 noticeable and as smooth as a prairie road in Iowa or Illi- 

 nois, brings us to Summit Station. This is the lowest 

 railway pass in the Rocky Mountains. Here two streams 

 have their sources. One, the Marias, flowing east to the 

 Atlantic, while the other, the Flathead, a few yards 

 away, flows west to the Pacific. Fish in them? I should 

 say so. As soon as they get 200yds. headway fish are 

 plentiful, and you must be a poor one with the rod if you 

 cannot fill a bag or basket. I had with me a few dozen 

 Irish trout flies and the first day I was there I tried them, 

 Half a mile from Summit there is a little bridge. I began 

 there, and between that bridge and a culvert at the mile 

 post I caught upward of fifty speckled trout, some so big 

 I couldn't land them for want of a net. I had a man with 

 me, and it gave us as much as we wanted to do to get 

 them home. Next day I tried the eastern river. It was 

 more difficult to fish in it, but the trout were heavier. I 

 caught three and a half dozen, and they were beauties. 

 For whipping these streams big flies should not b^ used. 

 A No. 10 hook ia large enough, and green-body, brown- 

 hackle, yellow-partridge, turkey-brown, and black-gnats 

 are the best and surest killers. 



I staid some time at Bear Creek with old "Two-Links- 

 Ahead," the foreman of a track gang. He has a rich 

 Munster brogue and it is a positive pleasure to hear him 

 giving orders. There is beau'tiful timber here, so straight 

 it would make excellent masts for small craft. Here, too, 

 is the finest mountain water in America. Mountain upon 



mountain rise here and in the midst of all is a valley 

 wherein lies the deserted village, the once famed McCar- 

 thy ville, the track graders' home, now given over to the' 

 coyotes, save for two ranchers. From indications placer 

 gold will probably be found here one of these days. A ' 

 bald mountain rises from Bear Creek and on it can be 

 found the finest grouse shooting in the Rockies. Seldom 

 a train passes down the west side of the Rockies from 

 Summit to Kalispell that passengers do not see deer and ■ 

 occasionally bear from the car windows. Engine fire- : 

 men shy coal at wild game every day. I am told that 

 the station agent at Java was alarmed one day by the 

 appearance of three bears on the platform, and locking 

 himself in telegraphed to the next station for the track 

 gang to return and help him. From Belton Station thf 

 noted Lake McDonald is reached. This is a beautiful 

 body of water high up in the mountains and full of fiah, 

 A snow-peaked mountain comes right down to its shores, 

 and in the timber big game is found. Indeed, one nee: 

 only to go from any station west along the line for hui 

 dreds of miles and find excellent fish and game resorts. 



I cannot close without remarking on the excellent rail 

 road work done on this extension. It is a marvel of com 

 pleteness, and I think I am safe in saying it is the eafeet, 

 smoothest, and best ballasted road in the West. 



John Aikins, 



Summit. Mont,, Sept. 6. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



[Bu a Staff Correspondent.'] 

 HORICON shooting CLUB. 



Chicago, 111., Sept. 17.— On Sept. 1, 1891, 1 took a triji 

 to the Diana Shooting Club's grounds on the great Hori 

 con Marsh, of Wisconsin, and made some mention of i\ 

 later, it being my recorded belief that this was withou; 

 question the greatest duck marsh now left in the sectior 

 visited habitually by Chicago shooters. It was at thai 

 time stated that the Diana Club held the lower half of the 

 marsh, and that the upper portion was leased by quitr 

 another club, the Horicon Shooting Club, better knowi, 

 as the "Upper Horicon Club," with headquarters at Font 

 du Lac. This upper club marsh I did not then visit, arn 

 intended to accept the invitation of Mr. A. R. Keatiii:. 

 the club manager, for opening day, Sept. 1, of this yea 

 This alpo became impossible, and it was only this wee 

 that I was able to carry out the long-cherished intentic 

 of completing the investigation of this interesting countr 

 and of learning more about the gentlemen who control il 



Mr. Waters and myself were met at May ville. th 

 pleasant village on the east side of the marsh, by Dr. (J 

 J. Clark, the president of the club, who forthwith carried 

 us off to his home for dinner. On the following day Dr 

 Clark and Mr. F. M. Lawrence, the able attorney of tb( 

 club, took us over to the club housie on the marsh, i 

 pleasant drive of eleven miles through a charming rura 

 country. 



FIELD FOR AN ARTIST. 



It is hard to see why American artists and writers ni^M 

 go to other countries for their themes. The searcher a| 

 the quaint, the simple, the picturesque, the beautiful, 

 in America as wide a field as in Europe, and one mucl 

 less trodden of the general. Were I an artist or a write 

 in search of new and fruitful country, I should not go t 

 Europe, but to Mayville, The simple German folk wh 

 now occupy that country are odd and interesting as an; 

 old Acadians and the country itself is something unkno wj 

 to the picture-makers, though with a character pleasing! 

 distinct. On our ride we passed through a gallery o 

 small landscapes. Each turn of the winding road brougli 

 into view some vista, some corner, some framed view 

 some landscape wide or in little, which should be a keei 

 joy to a natural American. I am not sure I have evt 

 seen a country so full of pictures as this, unless it beoen 

 tral New Mexico, which also is unknown to artist- 

 more'a the pity. Much of the charm of theMayvill 

 country is due to the Rock River, here a swift, shallo\^ 

 rocky stream, winding in the most careless way amon 

 the hills; an excellent bass stream for the fly, moreovei 

 and one well worth remembering. A week of May vili 

 fly-fishing — whole books have been written around let 

 interesting themes. 



THE MARSH IN PERSPECTIVE. 



Our road finally took us high upon the great rock ledt: 

 which frames this marshy basin on the east, and lookin 

 to the west, north and south we could see the great gree' 

 sea stretching out, nearly twenty miles north and soutl 

 and more than five miles wide from utter edge to edgt 

 Below could be seen the wide water of the "Big Lake, 

 on the Diana grounds, and directly west lay the mai 

 lake of Horicon Club. The east branch of the Rock Rivci 

 which runs through Mayville, we had now left behin 

 us, emptying into the lower marsh. The west fork of tt 

 Rock, which expands and makes the upper marsh, w 

 could trace iii the distance beyond the marsh, to the poir 

 where it loses its identity in a wilderness of rice an 

 weeds. 



A great deal of open water was visible all over tb 

 marsh, a pleasing contrast to last year, when it ws 

 almost impossible to get about at all. 



"Much of the open water is now in what we call th 

 'burnt holes,"" said Dr. Clark, "Last fall in the dr 

 weather all the upper end of the marsh burned over, c 

 at least did so in wide strips. The peat burned down tw 

 feet deep, and all the vegetation was killed. The watt 

 has now overflowed this burned region, and made a serit 

 of open ponds. This year you can go all over the mare 

 with boats, though all this open water you see is hardlf 

 more than two or three feet deep." 



AT THE CLUB HOUSE. 



We presently arrived at the club house, a corafortabll 

 two-story building, and went directly out on the marsi 

 to get a better notion of it, and to see if we could 

 some evening shooting. Both Mr. Lawrence and D> 

 Clark are old-time duck shooters, and know the mars- 

 to a dot. They told us that we were both too early an 

 too late for good shooting, the local ducks having bee 

 shot at until they had grown wild, and the norther 

 flight not yet having come in. Of snipe none at all wer 

 left, the mysterious early flight of August having left * 

 a bird. As to the shooting, however, we were carele? 

 for the keen air of the coming fall put zest into mei 

 living, and made poling a boat a pleasure bordering oiil 

 luxury. We found the typical Horicon boat to be ver I 

 small, sharp at both ends, and barely sitting out of tfa' 

 water, though undecked at either end. Compared wit 



