634 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



LDec. 23, 189S 



DUCK SHOOTING FROM A HOUSEBOAT. 



Lake Champlain. 



What is a houseboat blind? Simply a flat-bottomed 

 boat with a house thereon, covering tbree-quarters of its 

 length, and hidden entirely in cedar boughs, top, sides 

 and all around. And so artfully is the cedar arranged 

 that the resemblance to a green islet (save for its some- 

 what regular outlines) is complete. 



With tight roof and sides, the interior of this little 

 house is a veritable snuggery furnished with bunks, table, 

 camp stools, gun rack, shelves for provisions and car- 

 tridges, and last but not least, a kerosene stove, which, 

 when kept properly cleaned and trimmed, will give you 

 a smoking hot dinner at short notice. 



And after a day spent in the open air, when the lungs 

 are filled to cracking with the pure breeze that filters 

 down tbi-ough the groves of pine and hemlock covering 

 the hills, and comes all jjungent with balsamic odors, to 

 dance about the clear waters of Champlain, "a smoking 

 hot dinner," sauced with the ravenous appetite of a wolf, 

 is not to be despised. 



The house, occupying three-quarters, of the boat's 

 length, leaves the bow clear, ana here you have ample 

 room to stand and with a good field glass may sweep the 

 lake in search of fowl. 



A portion of this space is occupied by a roomy and 

 comfortable coop for the live decoys, the cedar being car- 

 ried up in front and at the sides to about shoulder high, 

 so that the fowl when lured within the "dead line," which 

 is the space covered by an ordinarily strong shooting 

 gun, say about 40yds., are in plain sight when you stand 

 erect. 



A flock of ducks approach; their every movement may 

 be watched through sundry little peepholes among the 

 twigs as you crouch low with ready gun. 



A moment, and they are within shot. You see the 

 bright eyes, the hovering wings, and rising rouse the 

 echoes with both barrels. . 



'Tis done! What is done? Why, you have either 

 brought sundry ducks to bag or scared them "inside out," 

 in which case you will form some idea of what a scared 

 duck can do in the way of speed as he buzzes off, quack- 

 ing in terror the while. 



Ducking from a "houseboat" is the very acme of com- 

 fort in this oft times arduous pursuit. "Blow high !" 

 blow low ! you have your cosey cabin, and pleasant it is 

 to sit within, puffing a quiet pipe and listening to the 

 pouring rain while the storm rages. 



At the first sign of clearing weather one is literally "on 

 deck" for business. 



Fifteen miles from Burlington, Vt., over a good road, 

 winding amid everchanging scenery, you reach Sand 

 Bar Bridges, a roadway connecting the mainland with 

 Grand Island. 



South and west extend the flats, it being possible to 

 walk in some directions here quite a mile from shore 

 without bringing the water above knee-deep. 



On these flats the blind was moored, and therein it was 

 my privilege to spend a few days in September. 



To the north and west lay Grand Island, distant about 

 three miles. Above its rounding bills and flanking the 

 lake shore, far as the eye could reach to the south, 

 loomed the silent Adirondacks, grand and sphinx-like 

 in repose. The play of light and shadow gave a won- 

 drous depth of tone to the scene. Even the wandering 

 clouds seemed to linger with a soft caress about the 

 mountain tops, reaching out with long, filmy streamers 

 from summit to summit, leaving each slowly, regret- 

 fully, as though parting with an old friend. 



The use of live decoys was a feature of duck shoot- 

 ing that was unfamiliar to the writer, and I had looked 

 forward with impatience to the day when Elmer was 

 to initiate me. 



A word as to this same Elmer E. Bean, of Milton, Vt. 

 I have knocked about with many an honest fellow, in 

 rough weather and calm, but for all-round straightfor- 

 wardness, good nature and "git thar," combined with 

 downright shooting qualities, commend me to Elmer. 



The decoys were sturdy specimens of blackduck nearly 

 pure wild blood (as I am told) and certainlv their mark- 

 ings were exactly similar to those of their wild brethren. 



If it were not for a certain sluggishness of movement, 

 due possibly to their having spent the summer in the 

 barnyard among plebian ducks and chickens, it would be 

 almost impossible to distinguish them from the wary 

 thoroughbreds that frequent the lake. 



The manner of vi^orking with them is as follows- A 

 small platlorm, or log, is placed some 20yd8. from the 

 blind m front, its top just flush with the surface of the 

 water. 



A decoy is tethered by a string to a peg firmly thrust 

 into the hard sand of the flats, about 6ft. distant, said 

 string being just long enough to allow of the decov reach- 

 ing the platform, where it will stand and preen its feathers 

 quacking meanwhile with energy at every passing bird' 

 or in more subdued tones holding converse with ite com- 

 panions in the coop on the blind. 



The live decoy occupies the apex of a triangle, the sides 

 being strung with the ordinary wooden decoy, in greater 

 or less numbers as inclination may suggest, althoiigh the 

 squawking of this feathered siren makes a large disnlav 

 unnecessary. * "^oF^a-j 



When a flock of ducks appear, her calls seldom fail to 

 attract their attention, and as she stands upon the little 

 platlorm, she shows up in such fine form, that they 

 generally turn to investigate. 



And now Elmer will take a decoy from the coon 

 cronchmg low as he grasps it firmly with both hands. A 

 quick toss sends it high in air above the blind, wherl 

 with noisy expostulation it presently sails down >^th out- 

 spread wmgs and joins its tethered mate. 



This rarely fails to decide the action of the wild birds. 



They either set their wings and at once scale in to the 

 decoys, or ending a few times alight, and after consult- 

 ing together, swim up withm range of the leaden death 

 that IS lurking within the cedars of the bUnd 



Should they act as though suspicious, the judicious 

 tosbingof a tew more decoys will settle it, and it is 

 curious to see the air of fearlessness which now nervades 

 the flock as they swim rapidly up. peivaaes 



It c*-^"" ^ ' ■ 



swim 

 then 



decoys are liandled. 

 No tossing now I Instead a decoy is quietly pushed 



through between the cedars on the opposite side the 

 Ijlind, and quacking loudly with a sense of freedom, it 

 hurries to its chums, who are already disporting them- 

 selves about the little platform with its tethered occu- 

 pant. 



With bated breath we peep through the boughs at the 

 approaching fowl; not a sound is made by us as they 

 come in; a look is all that is required; it says, "Are you 

 ready !" a wink answers yes, and rising we cut loose. 



Not waiting to see what execution has been done, each 

 grasps a spare gun, and again we stop a couple as they 

 cross in wild affright; "doin' stunts," as Elmer says. 



With the clearing away of the fog of burned powder, 

 we see eleven ducks scattered here and there waiting to 

 be gathered, and wading out we attend to them. 



But what of the live decoys? During all this excite- 

 ment they have been huddled in a compact bunch near 

 the little platform, and are now unconcernedly swim- 

 ming about among the dead and dying. 



I go to the blind, raise the sliding door of the coop, and 

 Elmer walking behind them, our duck assistants swim to 

 the gangway, and waddle up and into the coop in a 

 matter of fact manner that is laughable. 



Fully plumed for flight, not hampered in any way, the 

 idea that they are free to go never seems to enter their 

 silly heads. Once in a while they will leave for parts 

 unknown, but this seldom occurs. 



In the use of live decoys it is found of great advantage 

 in accustoming them to their duties, to have a few well 

 trained older birds, whose example is quickly followed 

 by the younger members of the flock. 



It is very necessary to take pains at the outset in the 

 arrangement of the little board or gangway, which leads 

 up from the water to the coop in the blind. The incline 

 must be easy, so that at the first attempt on the part of 

 the decoys to enter, they will find no difficulty in com- 

 fortably ascending. If too steep an incline, they are 

 likely to slip and flutter clumsily in the effort to regain 

 footing, and ever after will hesitate to make the attempt, 

 swimming and dodging about the blind until finally 

 driven in. 



This of course is very annoying and seriously interferes 

 with the results of a day's sport. With proper attention 

 to these details, however, there appears to be little trouble 

 afterward, and certainly to one wno finds something of 

 interest in the accessories of duck shooting, and whose 

 entire enjoyment of a shooting trip is not confined to the 

 mere killing of game, the working with live decoys is 

 extremely interesting. 



In selecting a decoy to tether out as caller, a female 

 should always be taken, as she has the well known 

 loquacity of her sex in general, and proves, as with 

 human beings, a greater attraction than the male. The 

 drakes are rarely tethered, being reserved for tossing into 

 the air. 



In calm weather when the fowl are not moving about, 

 the door of the coop may be raised, and the whole flock 

 will go out and disport themselves, romping and playing 

 tag as it were, having a big time generally for an hour 

 or so, returning of their own volition when ready. In 

 giving them liberty as above, always see to it, that one 

 of their number is tethered, as they are then less likely to 

 stray. With regular feeding and plenty of exercise a 

 decoy will keep in excellent condition the season through. 

 There is amusement in watching their many antics. For 

 instance, one habit they have is to pitch into the decoy 

 that has just been released from its tether, the instant it 

 is returned to the coop, and the scramble that regularly 

 takes place on these occasions is ludicrous, each one 

 trying to thump the luckless individual, and all squawk- 

 ing and tumbling about the coop in wild confusion. 



Why they should wish to vent such spite is beyond my 

 comprehension, but such is the case, and at each, change 

 of decoys the scene is repeated, with never-failing 

 regularity. When fowl are moving the sport from such 

 a blind is fine, as they come right up until one can see 

 their eyes twinkle. 



I hope to live over again those delightful hours in the 

 •' houseboat," and in the meantime I dwell in remem- 

 brance on what has been, until the scene in imagination 

 is again a reality. I see the sun touch the mountain tops 

 with gold, the stars glisten once more in the throbbing 

 waters, and the plash of tiny wavelets lulls me to rest. 



Bay RiDGE, Long Island. WlXMOT TOWNSEND. 



ANOTHER PANTHER EXPERIENCE. 



I NEVER caught a panther in the act of screaming, but 

 I have camped out in the deep woods where they held 

 forth, and was once followed by a big one nearly a mile. 

 It was in Warren county, N. Y. I had been over the 

 mountain some five miles from our house, to Uncle Joel 

 Dayton's, our nearest neigbor in that direction, for a 

 back load of buckwheat. I had secured the meal, which 

 was well strapped on my back. There was considerable 

 snow on the hemlock brush, and this brushing off fell on 

 my shoulders and breast and was then melted by my 

 breath only to freeze securely over the straps in front. It 

 was about 7 o'clock of a January evening. I had reached 

 the apex of the mountain and was on the bend down- 

 ward. At the foot of the mountain, after passing a run- 

 ning brook, was our cabin. I was aroused by a scream, 

 piercing, intense, resembling as near as I could describe 

 it, to the cry of a woman in great fear or distress. I 

 knew in a moment what it was, for I had heard it before 

 in the wilds of Wisconsin, and the scream of a panther 

 can never be forgotten nor mistaken for anything else. 

 I tore down that mountain side, tugging at the frozen 

 straps of my pack. The cry was repeated three times. I 

 reached the brook, and not looking for the log, plunged 

 in and fell headlong, almost unconscious, on the cabin 

 floor. Mrs. "Jacobstaff" removed the pack with the help 

 of warm water, and I told my story. 



The next morning, with my gun and dog, I took my 

 back track and found that an enormous animal of the 

 cat kind had followed me nearly half way down the 

 mountain side. I measured the point of one of its paws 

 in the snow, and it took the width of both of my hands 

 to 1311 it, and one of the jumps by measurement was 

 thirty-three feet. It must have been a full grown dog 

 panther. I followed that U-ack all day, until toward 

 night it began to get rather hot among the rocks twelve 

 miles from home and I gave it up. 



There is a small owl (I don't know its name; it is not 

 the common screech owl) that is capable of making a 

 piercing, hair-raising cry, entirely out of proportion to 



its size, but it is not a panther's scfeam by several oc- 

 taves. 



Old Ralph, a fellow trapper with me in northern Wis- 

 consin, told me once that while watching for deer, near 

 where a tree had been felkd across the stream for a 

 bridge, he saw a painter (he called it) come toward him 

 on the log. It crouched down, waving its tail back and 

 forth and gave several yells which, as Old Ralph said, 

 "stopped his heart a beating," and he was no coward. 

 Ralph said the critter was answered by a similar cry, 

 though somewhat different in tone and intensity. Ralph 

 didn't shoot then, for the creature turned back and sprang 

 into the woods. Jacobstaff. 



VERMONT DEER AND SHEEP. 



The following letter received by a Vermont correspon- 

 dent has been sent to us for publication: A client by the 

 name of Charles A, Church, was in the office last Satur- 

 day afternoon, and made some casual comments regard- 

 ing deer in his neighborhood. His remarks were of so 

 curious a nature that we quizzed him considerably, and 

 the condition of things in Moretown and vicinity with 

 reference to the performances of deer seemed so unusual 

 that we thought you might be interested in knowing 

 about it. This Church is a blustering farmer of More- 

 town, whose post office address is Montpelier, and the 

 statement that first attracted our attention was that over 

 twenty sheep had been killed by deer in his neighborhood 

 within a year. 



He said that the first evidence he had of deer troubling 

 sheep was one Sunday morning about a year ago. He 

 was up early building a fire, when he heard a scampering 

 and scurrying in the barn yard, and stepped to the door 

 just in time to see his whole fiock of sheep rush in from 

 the pasture and huddle together in a corner made by the 

 fence. Right behind them, not more than five rods from 

 his verandah, was a fine buck which had evidently chased 

 the sheep from the hills. He stole into the house and 

 called his children to see the buck, and the animal stayed 

 there for some few minutes, apparently without timidity, 

 and then slowly bounded away. Church didn't once 

 think of shooting the buck, though he had a loaded gun 

 in the house and knew nothing at the time of the penalty; 

 but the sight was such a pretty one, and he had so little 

 thought of the buck harming his sheep that he only 

 looked upon the affair as a pleasant incident and some- 

 thing very unusual. A few mornings after, while in his 

 barn feeding the stock, he looked through a hole in the 

 flooring down into his sheep pen and saw just outside a 

 buck rising from the spot where, from the appearance of 

 the snow, he had spent the night. Since then he and the 

 members of his family have seen deer frequently — Church 

 says almost every day. He has seen bucks playing with 

 his sheep, and one day saw a biick run a sheep off over 

 the hills. The sheep "never came back any more." He 

 has had sheep come in bruised as if punched with a 

 pointed instrument, so that they have died, and on skin- 

 ning them the flesh would have many marks indicating 

 that they had been tossed by a buck. Chm-ch has lost, 

 in all, five sheep in this way, as he asserts, and he is going 

 to sell his flock for the reason, as he says, that he can't 

 afford to suffer such losses. 



Barney Mayo, of Moretown, has had several sheep 

 killed by bucks, and he feels particularly confident that 

 deer killed theta because he was behind a bush and saw 

 one of them killed by a buck. The buck evidently was 

 in heat and would toss the sheep about and punch it in a 

 playful manner, evidently not realizing that he was 

 harming it and not intending to do so. It is Church's 

 theory that the bucks do not wish to harm the sheep, 

 but desire to mate, and do what they do in playfulness. 



John Carrigan, of Moretown, has also lost sheep in this 

 manner, as has Matthias Cannon, of JSTorthfield. and An- 

 drew Sleeper, of Moretown. 



A peculiar incident happened to Church the forenoon 

 of the day he saw us. He was at the miller's, not far 

 from his house, when a neighbor shouted to him that he 

 would better look out for one of his lambs if he didn't 

 want a buck to kill him. Church ran into his pasture 

 toward the point indicated, and saw a young lamb trot- 

 ting along beside a large buck, there being a perfect un- 

 derstanding between the two apparently. As he neared 

 the two the buck bounded away, and to Church's sur- 

 prise the lamb followed. He gave chase, and finding 

 that he might have a difficult job of it threw off his coat 

 and shouted to his boys to send up the dog. Meanwhile 

 the buck and lamb were making good time across fields 

 and through wood lots, so that but for a light fall of snow 

 which enabled Church to follow them, he would have 

 lost his lamb altogether. As it was he kept up the chase 

 for over a mile till his dog came along, when the buck 

 broke away and the lamb ran down into Andrew Sleeper's 

 barnyard, near which they were when the dog separated 

 them. In the chase the lamb showed the greatest per- 

 sistence in following the buck, scrambling through holes 

 in the fence and running around obstacles that the deer 

 could clear in a jump. 



Mrs, Sleeper came out and claimed the lamb, but 

 Church persuaded her it was his own, when he found to 

 his surprise that his girls had neglected to let the sheep 

 out that morning, so, although on his farm, the lamb 

 could not belong to him. The Sleepers afterward iden- 

 tified it as one of their own, which, together with its 

 mother, had disappeared over three weeks before without 

 having been once seen in the interval. The ewe did not 

 appear on the scene at all. 



Church has a respect that borders on veneration for the 

 law — according to his own story — and even went so far 

 as to try to persuade us that if a deer was found dead on 

 any of his land it would cost him a hundred dollars ; but 

 he thinks "Uncle Sam," as he expresses it, ought to 

 modify the game laws so that bucks found killing sheep 

 can be sent to their long home. lie says deer are very 

 plenty all through his neighborhood, whereas a few years 

 ago one was rarely seen at all. He claims to have been a 

 resident of the Canadian border, and to know all about 

 the habits of deer, and says that the bucks and does never 

 yard together, nor does more than a single buck occupy 

 a yard. He says that there is no trouble with the does, 

 and that few of them, comparatively, are seen. 



We assured Church that the Fish and Game Confmis- 

 sioners were interested in all svich matters, and were glad 

 to learn of the unfortunate operation of any fish or game 

 law that they might take steps to remedy it at the next 

 Legislature. 



