FOR^Sf AND STREAM. 



69 



About the walls of the iJixkitn, now full of buffalo, were 

 distributed the women and children of the camp, who, 

 leaning over the inoloeure, waving their arms and calling 

 out, did ail they could to frighten the penned in animals, 

 and to keep them from pushing against the walls or try- 

 ing to jump or climb over them. As a rule the butf alo 

 raced round within the inclosure and the men shot them 

 down as they passed, until all were killed. After this 

 the people all entered the p«s7c/«i and cut up the dead, 

 transporting the meat to camp. The skulls, bones and 

 less perishable offal were removed from the inclosure, 

 and the wolves, coyotes, foxes and badgers devoured 

 what was left. 



It occasionally happened that something occurred to 

 turn the buffalo, so that they passed through the guiding 

 arms and escaped. Usually they went on straight to the 

 angle and jumped over the cliff into the inclosure below. 

 In winter, when snow was on the ground, their straight 

 course was made additionally certain by placing on or just 

 above the snow a line of buifalo chips leading from the 

 angle of the V. midway between its arms out on to the 

 prairie. These dark objects, only twenty or thirty feet 

 apart, were easily seen against the white snow, and the 

 buffalo always followed them, no doubt thinking this a 

 trailjwhere another herd had passed. 



By the SauikMIc tribe of the Blackfoot nation and the 

 Plains Crees, thejjiskun was built in a somewhat differ- 

 ent way, but the metiiods employed were similar. With 

 these people, who inhabited a flat country, the inclosure 

 was built of logs and near a timbered stream. Its walls 

 were complete: that is. there was no opening or gateway 

 in them, but at one point this wall, elsewhere 8ft. high, 

 was cut away so that its height was only about 4ft. 

 From this point a bridge or causeway of logs, cov- 

 ered with dirt, sloped by a gradual descent 

 down to the level of the prairie. This bridge was 

 I fenced on either side with logs, and the arms 

 , of the V came together at the point where the bridge 

 reached the ground. The buffalo were driven down the 

 chute as before, ran up on this bridge, and were forced 

 to leap into the pen. As soon as all had entered, Indians 

 who had been concealed near by ran up and put poles 

 across the opening through which the buifalo had paesed, 

 and over these poles hung robes so as entirely to conceal 

 the outer world. Then the butchering of the animals 

 took place. 



Farther to the south, out on the prairie, where timber 

 and rocks and brush were not obtainable for making 

 traps like these, simpler but less effective methods were 

 adopted. The people would go out on the prairie and 

 conceal themselves in a great circle, open on one side. 

 Then some man would approach the buffalo, and decoy 

 them into the circle. Men would now show themselves 

 at different points and start the buffalo running in a cir- 

 cle, yelling and waving robes to keep them from approach- 

 ing, or trying to break through , the ring of men. This 

 had to bo done with great judgment, however, for often 

 if the herd got started in one direction it was impossible 

 to turn it, and it would rush through the ring and none 

 would be secured. Sometimes if a herd was found in a 

 favorable position, and there was no wind, a large camp 

 of people would set up their lodges all about the buffalo, 

 in which case the chances of success in the surround were 

 greatly increased. 



The tribes which used thepiskun also practiced driving 

 the buffalo over high, rough cliffs, where the fall crippled 

 or killed most of the animals which went over. In such 

 situations, no inclosure was built at the foot of the preci- 

 pice. 



In the later days of the pisMm in the north, the man 

 who brought the buffalo often went to them on horse- 

 back, riding a white horse. He would ride backward and 

 forward before them, zipzigging this way and that, and 

 after a little they would follow him. He never attempted 

 to drive, but always led them. The driving began only 

 after the herd had passed the outer rock piles, and the 

 people had begun to rise up and frighten them. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



[Bu a Staff Cnrrespondmt.'] 

 The Horicon Shooting Club. 



[Continued from Sept. M'^. 



Horicon SHOOXiNa Club, I learned by talk with Mr. 

 Lawrence, was first organized nine years ago, its lease 

 beginning July 28, 188B. Toe lease runs for twenty-five 

 years, and covers praciically a full township's extent of 

 as fine duck and snipe marsh as can be found in all the 

 West. At first there were 100 memberships, these being 

 nowreduced tosixty. There are now forty odd members, 

 and eighteen shares are offered for sale at the very low 

 figure of $150 a share. Time was when the duck shooter 

 would have demurred to paying anything for shooting 

 privileges, but that time is past. A share in this marsh, 

 in view of the present outlook as to the duck supply, will 

 in five years be worth five times, perhaps ten times, the 

 face value of to-day. As to the shooting value of a share, 

 there is now only one club, the Fullerton, anywhei-e near 

 Chicago which compares with the Horicon. Even in my 

 short connection with sporting journalism in this part of 

 the country, 1 have seen much uf change in duck shoot- 

 ing, and it in not for the better. Take for instance open- 

 ing day at Fox Lake (Illinois), Sept. 15. The whole cover 

 about Fox Lake and Grass Lake was so full of guns that 

 it was actually unsafe. There were dozens, almost hun- 

 dreds of shooters, and no one got any ducks. Col. Felton 

 worked all day and did not get a bird. Charlie Wilcox 

 got two ducks, and says that he saw no one who had more 

 ' than that many. Fox Lake region is open country, right 

 on the same line of migration as the Horicon marsh, and 

 naturally a fine breeding ground also. Compare Fox 

 Lake with Horicon, opening day or any other day, and 

 you have in an instant a comparison of the open system 

 and the preserve system, and you know in an instant 

 what the duck shooter must do if he expects shooting for 

 the future. The ijreserve system is the only salvation of 

 the game. 



. O wing to the objections of local shooters to seeing their 

 old hunting grounds shut oft' from them, and the very 

 practical form these objections sometimes took, the club 

 some time ago adopted the policy of selling shooting per- 

 mits, the chai'ge being merely nominal, $5 for five days' 

 shooting. It is probable that this course will soon be 

 discontinued. 



Between the two clubs which now control this great 

 marsh their exists only the most friendly relations, Their 



interests are practically the same, and the future of one 

 is the future of the other. T cannot see why the two 

 (■lubs do not unite, and under their more solid organiza- 

 tion build up a still better system for keeping intact this 

 great natural breeding ground. 1 am inclined to think 

 that a share in such a club would be worth more than one 

 each in the two existing clubs. That, however, is mere 

 surmise, and, as it is, the man who owns a share in either 

 is highly to be congratulated, 



The present membership of Horicon Shooting Club is as 

 follows: Geo. Atwell, Max von Baumbach, H. F. Bos- 

 worth, VV. H. Ellsworth, Blilwaukee, W^is. : Franz Brunke, 

 Robert H. Butter, G. J. Clark, Dr. C. H. Kaetel, Wm. 

 Kliefotb, Henry Kloeden, C. W. Limoreux, Frank M. 

 Lawrence, Charles Wendt, Mayville, Wis. : BenBuchholtz, 

 E. A. Galloway, J. L Gault, W^. I. Hamilton, A.R.Keat- 

 ing, A. H. Lewis, M. O'Connel, A. Wheeler, Louis .J. 

 Zinke, Fond du Lac, Wis.; T. F. Bearne, James H. BurnH, 

 Dr. J. W. Burns, .7. .1. Burleton. W. S. Russell, Oakfield, 

 Wis.; Dr. L. D. Cyr, Negaunee, M'ch.; H. S. Eldred, Fort 

 Howard, Wis.; George Engel, Kf'koskee, Wis ; Chas. 

 Hebard, Pequaming, Mich.; Micnael Lehner, Ls Roy, 

 Wis.; D. C. McKinnon, Iron River, Mich.; C. M. Ray, 

 Chester, Wis.; L. Rhodes, Kekoskee, Wis,; B. H. Sanford, 

 Sheboygan Falls, Wis,; Chas. Schullz, Kekoskee. Wis.; 

 W, H. Selden, Stambaugh, Mich.: Wm. Strook. Chester, 

 Wis,: E. A. Wetmore, Marquette, Mich. The officers are: 

 Dr, G. J. Clark, president; B. Buchholtz, vice- president ; 



A. R, Keating, manager: F. M. Lawrence, solicitor: R H, 

 Butler, secretary; Dr, ,1. W. Burns, treasurer. Baard of 

 directors: Dr. G. J. Clark, A. R. Keating, R. H. Butter; 



B. Buchholtz, F. M. Lawrence, Dr. .1. W. Burns. 



The club opens its seasons Sept. 1, and closes at Dec. 1. 



1 



J 



s 









\ 







7 







n 







■f 



1 





\ 





A 





1 









m 













^; 











TIPPER HORICON MARSH, WIS. 



No spring shooting is allowed. The Wisconsin law pro- 

 tects mallard, teal and woodduck in the spring, but holds 

 the season on other ducks open till May 1 — another in- 

 stance of legislative wisdom. If any one thinks it tame 

 sport to shoot season ducks after Sept. 1, let him go out 

 on the marsh, any day after the Ist, and try it. He will 

 find that much of the wild duck's shrewdness is born 

 already in its head, and the rest of it is learned mighty 

 early, 



MORNING ON THE MARSH. 



The evening passed swiftly, as is commonly the case 

 with the company gathered at a shooting box, and it was 

 late when we turned in. Nevertheless it was only '6 o'clock 

 in the morning when the alarm went off, and there was 

 a hasty rolling out of bed. More hot coffee and a big 

 breakfast, and long before 4 P. M. , the little procession of 

 boats was gliding out of the ditch and past the big lantern 

 which all night long burns high on the staff at the mouth 

 of the ditch, as beacon for any belated shooter who may 

 have fallen into the really serious plight of getting lost 

 on the marsh. The dawn was now barely beginning to 

 show. A white mist bung over the marsh, streaked 

 feebly by the lantern's yellow rays. The line of boats 

 pushing out looked spectral, huge and unreal in the weird 

 light and shade, and the trees about the club house stood 

 truncated and visible only above the curtain of hanging 

 fog. I stopped my boat and looked back at the singular 

 picture. Why have we no artist to paint such jMctures — 

 pictures new and of a sort to thrill one? Why do they 

 all cling to the same worn-out conventionalities? No pic- 

 ture like this of morning on the marsh was ever painted. 

 It is valid subject for an American, and fit for the grand 

 prize of America, when that shall be worth all the 

 grand prizes of the earth. It will be painted some day, 

 when some artist stands in the morning and^watches the 

 grays turn to pink, and sees the giant boatmen passing 

 through the tvristing fog, and feels the inspiration in the 

 sharp air blowing from the marsh. 



The sun was half an hour from rising when my com- 

 panion and I were settled, he again on Center Point and 

 I across from him on a little bog just big enough to hold 

 the boat. The light now grew stronger. Above and be- 

 low the guns began to talk. In the mind's eye one could 

 see each lusty gunner crouching in his blind, peering this 

 way and that in the dim light, and listening for the 

 whistle of oncoming wings. Below and to the west of us 

 the shooting grew heavier, but nothing passed in range of 

 the narrows at the point for some time. A mudhen scut- 

 tled back of my boat, and to try the range I took a back- 

 handed shot and missed it finely. Then a pair of teal 

 flitted by in front of the blind, and I got one and missed 



one, and then i missed another teal, and then some more, 

 and lost two crippled, and missed a, pair of teal bodily 

 with my right barrel and killed them both with the left, a 

 good way to average things. Tuat was about all the 

 flight there wa=(. Meantime my friend's gun on the Point 

 had had very little to say. Half an hour after sunup the 

 boats came pushing out of the rice, everybody complain- 

 ing about the flight and all hunting for new locations. It 

 was evident that the morning's flight did not in any way 

 represent the ducks on the marsh. 



WHERE THE BIRDS WERE. 



On the evening before we had noticed a great many 

 birds going down away over to the west, beyond the rice, 

 and it seeming probable that the great body of fowl was 

 in that direction, four of us started over. Following a 

 crooked channel through the rice, and pushing through 

 the dense growth where there was no channel, we came 

 to a "pull-over" of dry ground, about 60 to 100yds. across. 

 This brought us to one of the quartette of the "burnt 

 holes," a half mile square or more. On the further side 

 of this we saw a great sight, and one worth the trouble of 

 a mile or more of hard work, A vast bank of ducks line 

 the shore for hundreds of yards, thousands of ducks, pro- 

 bably ;^,000 to 4,000 birds in one body, "like old times." 

 as one of the shooters said. Investigation showed that 

 these birds were mallards and pintails mostly, with a few 

 spoonbills. They were feeding on snails, of which the 

 greatest abundance existed. This solved the riddle. So 

 long as the birds could come back into this unvisited part 

 of the marsh, where food was handy and plentiful, there 

 existed no especial reason for them to come out in thh 

 oppn and get shot at. 



We put the birds out and took stations, but as the day 

 had turned off bright and warm no one expected much 

 shooting till evening. The whole body of ducks simply 

 flew a little further over to the edge of the marsh and 

 settled in another hole. Wishing to explore still further 

 a marsh which seemed to have no end, I pushed on in, 

 dragging and pulling my boat overland at the dry places, 

 and pushing over the wet, until I made the discovery 

 the bog in the burned district was perfectly safe to walk 

 on. Then I left the boat and went on some distance, 

 putting the great bunch of birds up again. Again they 

 circled and settled still further on, and it was evident 

 they could not be worked very well that day. As I had 

 to be back at the club house by noon, I had to give up the 

 interesting problem and retiurn. Before leaving I put up 

 three swans and a number of cranes. In the afternoon 

 the shooters heard a great deal of firing over in that 

 direction and it was supposed that the others who went 

 into the burnt holes had some good sport. The birds 

 may have begun to work, or these may have been north- 

 ern birds coming in. We had to hurry away that after- 

 noon and did not get out again on the marsh. For my 

 part, I needed no further pleasure and no further proof 

 of the duck supply on these grounds. This was the lar- 

 gest body of clucks I have seen for many and many a 

 day. , 



Dr, Clark and Mr. Lawrence again went south, and 

 got down as far as Big Lake, on the Diana grounds, 

 where they met Dr. Buechner, Mr. Dicks and Mr. Mc- 

 Whorter, all of whom were doing fairly well. The net 

 result of our hurried shoot was only 36 birds, mostly 

 killed by our hosts, though other guns, those familiar 

 with the marsh, were averaging about a dozen a day. 



"Tois is no shooting at all," said Dr. Clark, "and you 

 have struck the worst possible time. U you can come' 

 up again we will send for you in about three weeks. If 

 the northern flight is anything like the average you can 

 stand right where you were last night and shoot 200 to 

 300 shells a day. Very often the best flight is late, after 

 the frosts have cut down all the cover. You have to 

 hide without a blind then, but if you lie down on your 

 back and shoot you are apt to have some red hot fun. 

 Sometimes the pintails, redheads and mallards fairly 

 tumble over each other. I think we are going to have 

 some canvasbacks this fall, there is so much water. " 



It now became our duty to leave this comfortable spot. 

 Mr, Lawrence wanied to show us a spring, and we went 

 around by a new road. He did show it to us, too. the 

 largest and boldest spring I ever saw in my life, hardly a 

 spring so much as a creek, gushing directly out from 

 under the hill. The water is cold as ice. A better chance 

 for a trout hatchery and farm never existed than is pos- 

 sessed by the farmer who owns this remarkable flow of 

 water. 



CURIOUS KEKOSKEE. 



On the way home we passed through the village of Ke- 

 koskee, where there is a mill, a dam and a bridge on the 

 Rock River. A very quaint place is Kekoskee, and yet a 

 place with a distinction of its own. Kekoskee is the 

 home of the biggest fish story that ever was told on 

 earth. I dare not join this fish story with the record of 

 our visit to Horicon Shooting Club, for, though both 

 are strictly truthful, the former might bring discredenoe 

 on the latter. I shall therefore tell the Kekoskee fi&h 

 story by itself, in another place, perhaps in another issue 

 of the paper. In advance I solemnly aver that it is the 

 biggest fish story that ever was told, perpetrated, per- 

 formed or executed in the history of man. Ihe whole 

 surrounding country is educated up to this fish story. 

 Every man in the entire population has it on his tongue's 

 end, and tells it without a skip or a break. It is unani- 

 mous, convincing, overwhelming. A Minnesota champion 

 liar once was lying, when a man from Mayville began to 

 tell the Kekoskee fish story. "Are you from Kekoskee?" 

 said the Minnesota man, "Then hold on, I haven't a 

 word more to say." The story may thus be seen to have 

 a reputation. Great as is this reputation, the story has 

 never appeared in print. It is a Forest and Stream 

 scoop, and one of the utmost importance. The strongest 

 thing about it is, it is true, every word of it. You see. 

 the Horicon marsh was once— but I am anticipating, and 

 I said I wouldn't. 



That night we spent at the quaint German inn of the 

 town, so different in its customs from the average modern 

 hotel, and in the morning bade our good-hearted host 

 good bye with actual regret. It would^ be regret also to 

 leave the gentlemen who so kindly entertained us did we 

 not hope to meet them again somewhere in the world of 

 sport. It is not often one meets such hosts, such a club 

 and such a fish story, ail on one trip. The story is really 

 part of the appurtenances of the Horicon Club, although 

 that is a shooting and not a fishing club. It runs away 

 back to 1860. At that time Horicon marsh was Horicon 

 Lake, and there was no Horicon Club— really it is bard 



