612 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



lDec. Id, 189a 



SPANIELS AND PARTRIDGES. 



CooKSTOWN, Ontario.— While all reports^coming from 

 south of the line speak of exceedingly dry weather, and 

 on that account of poor sport, from the scent not lying, 

 we here in Ontario have the exact opposite, rain, rain, 

 and nothing but rain. The covers are still, and have 

 been all fall, from six inches to a foot under water, and 

 in consequence no woodcock are to be found. I have not 

 killed a single bird this fall. Such a thing as not ac- 

 counting for several bags of woodcock each season has 

 not happened to ine before. Half a dozen times I put on 

 rubber boots (a thing I never remember to have bad oc- 

 casion other falls to do, but have always hunted in leather 

 shoes) and searched every covert for woodcock within a 

 radius of ten miles only to draw them blank. 



Despairing of getting any woodcock, and as the season 

 was becoming late for these birds, I thought I would try 

 the high land and hillsides east of here near the lake for 

 partridge (ruffed grouse). So on Tuesday morning, Nov. 

 1, I drove over in that direction some six miles, and com- 

 ing to a likely looking place for partridge I tied the horse 

 in shelter of some cedars, covered her with a warm 

 blanket and left her as comfortable as possible, knowing 

 that if game proved plentiful it would be hours before I 

 might return. Walking over to a small bush composed 

 of cedai'S, with a few small beech scattered through it, 

 and situated on a hillside with a spring creek running at 

 its foot, I found an old man chopping cordwood. On 

 inquiring of him if he knew where I would be likely to 

 find any partridge, he gave me the agreeable information 

 that when he came in a little after daylight he had flushed 

 six birds, and that they were still in the little bush on 

 the hillside, about 100yds. from where we were standing. 

 Ordering the spaniels (of which I had a brace with me) 

 into the bush 1 stood ready for a shot. I had not long to 

 wait, for no sooner had the dogs entered the bush than 

 with a roar out came a bird. He got away to the swamp, 

 minus a handful of feathers. The next one that came 

 my way did not fare so well, dropping to the left barrel 

 at nearly 7()yds. I was using a No. 13 J. P. Clabrough 

 gun, a great gun for a long shot, but rather too close and 

 hard-shooting for the bush and covert. I now heard a 

 third bird go out on the other side of the bush, a fourth, 

 and the last I saw or heard, lit down close to the road. I 

 went over to where I saw the bird light and ordered the 

 spaniels to find, but the bird was not there. The old 

 bitch made several attempts to go to a cluster of cedars 

 right on the road, and I had called her back, feeling sure 

 the partridge was where I had seen it light. The bitch 

 was right, for when my back was turned she had naade 

 for the cedars. The partridge came over my head, just 

 giving me a snap shot. I was not sure whether I had 

 killed or not until the dog brought the bird to me. 



This made four of the six partridges seen by the old 

 man: the other two that the dogs failed to find must have 

 been in the trees. Calling the dogs to heel I followed the 

 creek east to another small bush some half mile distant, 

 on reaching which the dogs flushed a partridge from 

 among a number of small beeches, in rather an open 

 place. The bird flew ipto the thickest part of the bush, 

 and must have gone into a tree, as the does failed to raise 

 it again, I was about leaving this bush for another to 

 the south, when the bitch started a hare. I saw the hare 

 out of gun shot, pass just about where the partridge 

 flushed, so went and stood where it had passed, expect- 

 ing a shot on its return trip. I had not been there half a 

 minute, when from over my head ofiE a beech tree a par- 

 tridge flew. I looked up into the tree and wondered to 

 myself how a partridge could ever sit in so bare a tree 

 and not be seen by me. As if in answer to my wondering, 

 another flew off the same tree, within lOyda. of where I 

 was standing. I may be wrong, but I cannot but think, 

 the men that talk about not shooting a partridge on a 

 tree, either live where these birds are plentiful and tame, 

 or else are satisfied with very few. For my part, I bag a 

 parti-idge any way I can, on tree, ground or wing, al- 

 though I kill as many of these cunning birds on the wing 

 as in any other position. I left this bush feeling rather 

 disgusted with myself, and made for a large bush cover- 

 ing hundreds of acres lying to the south, intending to 

 hunt as much of it as I could before dark. 



Upon my reaching this bush rain began to fall, so 

 finding a dry spot under some hemlocks I had lunch and 

 fed the dogs. After eating and enjoying my lunch, as 

 only a hunter can, I started off again, rain still continu- 

 ing to fa.ll. Walking about half a mile I flushed a brace 

 of partridges myself from under a small scrub pine, where 

 they had taken shelter from the rain, one flew south, and 

 the other made for a thicket to the north. I made a nice 

 clean shot at the one going north. When ready for the 

 other the bird was nowhere to be seen. The bitch, after 

 hunting about for some time, took up a scent close to a 

 snake fence among some cedars and spruce, and fol- 

 lowed It a couple of hundred yards, when she flushed a 

 partridge, which lit into a small spruce tree; the bitch 

 made the bush ring with her barking at the bird. I 

 walked over to where she was, and saw the cartridge sit- 

 ting on a limb about fifteen feet from the gx-ound, and 

 some twenty-five yards from where I was standing. I 

 fared and the bird fell apparently stone dead (there was 

 no underbrush here, a dead withered spruce lay at the 

 foot of the tree). I went over to where the bird had fallen 

 immediately to pick it np (my dogs are rather hard in the 

 mouth), but there was no bird. The limb of the tree 

 where the partridge had stood was nearly cut in two 

 with some of the feathers of the bu-d remaining on it.' 

 ia>,aite a track of feathers marked where the bird had 

 tallen through the dead spruce. A handful of feathers 

 also shovped where the partridge had struck the ground, 

 i called the dogs, a.ud to my astonishment they did not 

 act or make the slightest demonstration as if a' bird had 

 been there. Had the bird been only wounded, and run 

 away, the dogs would have trailed "it, without doubt, I 

 am certain the bird had not a spark of life in it when it 

 tell from the tree, but what became of that partridge will 

 always remain a mystery to me. It is the strangest 

 thing that has ever happened to me in my long experi- 

 ence of hunting and shootmg. I may add that I am a 

 strict temperance man, and drank" nothing stronger 

 than spi'ing water with my lunch. 



The afternoon was advanced, the time being near 3 

 0 clock, so I turned my steps toward where I had left the 

 horse and buggy. On my way out of this bush the dogs 

 flushed three more partridge. The first bird went into a 

 large hembck, but flew before I got in range. The second 

 one rose oft a dead log: he got away without the loss of a 



feather. The third bird got out of some berry bushes; I 

 winged him. Both the spaniels fought to see which would 

 bricg the game to their master. As 1 was getting over a 

 brush fence at the edge of the bush, 1 started a hare. I 

 shot at him, wounding him in the hindquarters. 'He 

 made for the swamp across a twenty-acre field, the dogs 

 following. After an exciting chase they captured him 

 about the middle of the field. I must say, in watching 

 the race I was with the hare, as the odds were all on the 

 dogs, poor bunny being wounded. 



When I got to where I had left the maie it was just 

 getting dark. Putting her to, I started for home, leaving 

 the dogs to follow; it seems hard on them after a day's 

 work, but I never find that they are any the worse for it 

 the next day, I always see that they are fed and have a 

 nice warm, dry bed upon our return. I see to this my- 

 self. 



I made a second trip to the same place on Monday, the 

 7th, getting there at 1 o'clock P. M. At the first bush on 

 the hillside the dogs did not succeed in getting up any- 

 thing. In the second bush I bagged a partridge that the 

 dogs puc into a tree. Instead of proceeding south, as 

 before, I went north across the town line into the next 

 township. I here hunted out a bush of some ten acres, 

 getting three partridge, all on trees over the bitch, two 

 of which I killed with one shot. The dogs flushed four 

 more birds, but I did not succeed in getting a shot at any 

 of them. Crossing a field, I was hailed by a young njan 

 ploughing to know if I had any squirrels, as he informed 

 me that he had a few days previous trapped a gray eagle 

 that measured seven feet across its wings, and that the 

 bird was very fond of red squirrels. Soon after the dogs 

 put a fine fat coon up into a beech tree. I shot him in 

 the head. Upon his striking the ground the spaniels 

 were on to him like two bulldogs. I thought if Mr. Coon 

 was not next thing to dead, those little dogs would have 

 got a surprise that they would have remembered for some 

 time. I slung the coon over my shoulder and started for 

 the buggy. I had not gone very far before I discovered 

 that the animal was invested with smaller ones, so had to 

 carry him the rest of the way by his legs. When I started 

 with the coon he weighed about twenty pounds, when I 

 got to my destination he weighed fifty pounds; I thought 

 he did anyway. 



I have not been out with the spaniels since, as we have 

 had a heavy fall of snow and all appearance of an early 

 winter. I intend the first day I can get away to give the 

 beagles a run. I have not had the little fellows out this 

 season. Their turn generally cornea with the snow, 



H. B. N. 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



[By a Staff CmrespondfMt.'] 

 Indiana Ouall. 



Akqos, Ind., Dec. 4,— Among the shooters present at 

 the late little impromptu trap tournament at Chicago was 

 Mr, G. W. La Rue, of New York, and in the course of a 

 little talk he allowed he would rather shoot quail than 

 pigeons. Mr, R. B, Organ, of this city, allowed he felt a 

 good deal that way just then himself, and the result was 

 a party was made up, consisting of these two gentlemen 

 and myself, for the purpose of a flying trip down into 

 Indiana after quail at the close of the week. 



"I will telegraph over to Stony Point, in Ontario, to 

 Tommy Davey and have him express Dame Bang over,"' 

 said Mr. La Rue. 



''He'll oe apt to send her," said I, knowing well the 

 value Mr. Davey put on this great young bitch, which 

 within the 30 days last past had won first in the all-aged 

 stakes of the International trials at Chatham, Out., and 

 also won second in the puppy stakes at the same trials. 



"I think he'll send her if I ask him," said Mr. La Rue. 



"Why?" said L 



"Why, I own her," 



This was news to me, but nevertheless true, Mr. La 

 Rue really bought her before the trials, and naturally 

 does not now think the less of his purchase. Though he 

 had never shot over Dame Bang but one day, he ex- 

 pressed himself as altogether satisfied with hor and de- 

 sirous of having more of the same sort of sport. Changing 

 his plans, therefore, from a hunt in Canada to one in 

 Indiana, he wired for the dog, and in due time, after the 

 incidental transfer of -$9 of his funds to the express com- 

 pany, she was handed over to him at Chicago, safe and 

 sound, with the exception of a very bad toe which made 

 her carry one foot up. In making some mention of the 

 International Trials, I expressed the hope that Mr. Davey 

 would feed Dame Bang one square meal. This he has 

 failed to do, and the little one arrived looking like a hoop- 

 skirt, with every bone in her frame showing, and with a 

 mournful look on her wrinkled and preternaturally old- 

 looking face. Dame Bang is old beyond her years, or 

 rather her months. Only 20 months old, she looks 7 

 years, and acts it— the oldest-fashioned one-season prob- 

 ably ever was, 



Mr. Organ borrowed a dog. He borrowed it of a shoot- 

 ing friend who seemed glad to have him borrow it. Per- 

 haps the dog's owner thought Mr. Organ would train the 

 dog some, and so be of use to the dog. At any rate, Mr. 

 Organ had accumulated this dog when we came to get 

 on the train— a white, black and fcan bitch of small frame 

 but good collection of fat, and a cheerful, benign ex- 

 pression of countenance. This dog's name, he so in- 

 formed us, was MoUie O'Brien; a rather Irish name for 

 an English setter, but it had to go. Personally I wish 

 that Mr. Organ had not borrowed anv dog at all, or, if 

 any, one with a more phlegmatic disposition. It trans- 

 pired, when we got into the village hotel late at night, 

 that Mr. Organ and I and Mollie O'Brien all had to sleep 

 in the same room. Mollie was used to sleeping on the 

 sofa, and did not take kindly to the floor, Mr, Organ is 

 troubled with insomnia, and only sleeps once in a while 

 so it didn't make any difference to him, I sleep when- 

 ever I get a chance, and, not having had very many 

 chances lately, I was enjoying this one in advance. 

 Every time I shut my eyes I would hear Roll Organ talk- 

 ing to Mollie, 



"Lie down, you owl-eyed daughter of fmiseryl" he 

 would say, "lie down, blame you! Your father was a 

 shepherd, for a hundred, but it's too late to help that now, 

 and here you are, you wedge-faced sheep driver— keep 

 that tail still, 'I say ! You'll wake up the folks in the 

 next room." (Groans from the next room, and expostu- 

 lations from myself. Temporary silence, to be broken a 

 moment later by much the same formula). "Keep still 

 there, you Robert Burns collie, confound you, or I'll 



come after you and knock the everlanting oatmeal por- 

 ridge out of your inmost thoughts! Keep that tail still, 

 can't you? Dash bing a dog that'll wag its tail all night 

 and keep folks awake! Lie down you son of a gun!" 

 And so forth and so forth. On the whole, I can not say I 

 am fond of sleeping in a. room with a man and dog who 

 are both troubled with insomnia, for I believe it is 

 catching. However, as we didn't get in town till 1 o'clock 

 in the morning and didn't get to bed till some time later, 

 we hadn't so long to wait till breakfast time. 



In the morning we made a latish start, the weather 

 being very foggy. No one could tell us anything about 

 the quail supply. The average opinion was to the effect 

 that there were not many birds but plenty of posted land. 

 We were encouraged to learn, however, that no one had 

 been out lately after quail, and that there was not a 

 broken quail dog in the town. This being the case, we 

 thought we would be our own judges and our own 

 guides, and so struck off east over' country we had never 

 seen before. Soon we came to a lake, which we discov- 

 ered to be called Mud Lake, and out of this ran an outlet 

 lined with a wide swamp which fringed out in thickets 

 and brier patches in the edges of the corn and wheat stub- 

 bles. This impressed us as being about what we wanted, 

 and on a couple of miles of this we made our dogs hunt. 



On the first stubble we struck we walked up a fine lit- 

 tle bevy at which Mr, La Rue and Mr, Organ both fired at 

 long range. We marked them down and going on over, 

 Dame Bang pointed at a fence, and much to her owner's 

 surprise, materialized a dead bird. This bird had been 

 hit without showing any signs of it, and had flown 

 .^OOyds. Passing into the thickets, Dame soon worked 

 out another point, and the birds going out near me, I got 

 down a couple. Mr, La Rue, to my left, also got one 

 with each barrel, and a moment later knocked down a 

 third. On these birds Dame did very handsome work at 

 finding dead birds, Mollie found one of my birds, doubt- 

 less the first quail she had ever seen, as she was broken 

 and has been worked altogether on chickens. Our birda 

 now jumped up in the thicket, and after some hard work 

 here we emerged with only five birds, losing a wide crip- 

 ple and missing one bird which Dame pointed hand- 

 somely. It was now easily apparent that while Mollie 

 was too new at quail work to be of great value, Dame 

 was as steady as a clock and not to be rattled at all. 



We now went up on a high stubble, and drawing one 

 field blank we entered another, a wide one, and one just 

 fit for quail, Mr. La Rue cast Dame off to the edge next 

 the wood, and in a few momenta we saw hia upraised 

 hand, and coming up saw Dame on a staunch point. 

 We got right among this bevy, and as they went up 

 scattered we got a lot of fun out of them, including a 

 number of handsome points to Dame Bang's credit. I 

 had no idea a one-season puppy could be so wise, so 

 methodical and so knowing of the ways of birds. Out 

 of this bevy we cleaned up eight birds, Mr. La Rue doing 

 some very nice work with a cylinder Greener, 28in. bar- 

 rels. Mr. Organ was shooting a close-choked Parker 

 and had to wait till the birds got oil BOyds, or so before 

 he dared shoot, though he killed two or three birds at 

 astonishingly long distances. More clearly than ever 

 before I could see the mistake of using too closely -choked 

 a gun for field work. My own gun is rather open, but 

 if I were to purchase another for quail shooting, or other 

 cover work, it should have no choke at all, or, the very 

 least, in either barrel. The dealer who descants on the 

 elegant pattern of his gun and points out the number of 

 shot it will put in a given circle often utters words of 

 condemnation for the arm, so far as this particular sort 

 of shooting is concerned. 



After lunch we left Mollie at the wagon, as she was too 

 fast to stand the work, and trusted our fate to Dame 

 Bang. That plucky creature was cut by the briers, her 

 tail whipped raw, her hurt toe so swollen that the nail 

 was out of line. Moreover, she had in the morning met 

 the singular accident of sticking a stiff stalk of coarse 

 grass into her nostril. When we found out what 

 caused her sneezing, we removed the stiff stem. It was 

 thrust three inches deep into the nostril, and two inches 

 of it was covered with clotted blood. Yet in this condi- 

 tion, with the straw still in her nosti'il, she found and 

 pointed a bird I had killed, and even after the wound had 

 had time to become sore and certainly acutely painful, 

 she continued to hunt at a slashing gait, and never flushed 

 a bird, but pointed a great deal better with three legs and 

 only half a nose than most dogs do with a full equipment. 

 "I don't know what we couldn't do if we had a whole 

 dog along," said Roll Organ. No one could help admir- 

 ing the courage of the gritty creature, or loving her for 

 the quality of her work. 



We got ordered off from a nice lot of stubble, where 

 we were just about to find about 500 quail, and after that 

 we had a long walk for nothing, and a wet one, too, for 

 it began to rain. Then we struck a brier patch that 

 showed a lot of signs of roosts, and knew the birds were 

 using on a stubble near by. It was easy enough for 

 Dame to make a cast around over the top of the hill — 

 and there she was, stiff as a poker! We walked up and 

 admired her for some moments before we put up the 

 birds. A Kodak picture of her peculiar strained, in- 

 tense, Btretched-out point, would have been a beautiful 

 thing to have. Not having the Kodak, we stood and 

 took the picture mentally. When we put up the birds, 

 Mr. LaRue and I fired together, and it seemed to me we 

 had killed the whole flock, for I never saw so many 

 feathers come out. We only found two birds, though, 

 and Mr. Organ's long two-barrel shot netted a third. 

 Then we followed the birds into the swamp, and there it 

 was point after point, the bitch grabbing off singles as 

 easy as husking corn. Mr. Organ made another 45yd8. 

 kill, and Mr. LaRue got one alone and assisted me on 

 another, of whose immediate dissolution there existed no 

 doubt. Then Mr. Organ and I both shot into the same 

 bird as it topped the thicket, and a moment later Mr. La 

 Rue and I nearly destroyed one which flew high directly 

 over my head. After our hot corner we counted up and 

 found we had eight quail more, Mr, Organ insisted that 

 we must have just an even two dozen, as he wanted to 

 send a dozen each to some railroad officials of the Nickel 

 Plate road— of which corporation, by the way, Mr, Or- 

 gan is general live stock agent at Chicago, a fact which 

 helped us in locating our grounds and in getting accom- 

 modations on the trip. 



It was now nearly dark, and a nasty rain was falling, 

 but we took pity on the two railroad dignitaries who 

 needed a dozen each, and tackled another stubble field. 

 Of course, Dame got on the trail of a bevy before we had 



