490 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 8, 1«93. 



CALIFORNIA SPRING TIME. 



GEYSERVlLLE.Cal., May 10.— We are taking our outings 

 on our own domains these days. Trout streams have lost 

 their charms, since we were not strong enough to clamber 

 over rocks and fallen trees as of yore. My husband has been 

 confined to the house by Ulness for many months, and 

 an occasional drive, target practice from the back porch, 

 and Forest and Stream are the only recreations he has 

 strength to enjoy. He is particularly pleased to see 

 "Uncle Lisha" and "Aunt Jerusha" back m their old 

 home, and is eagerlv waiting and hoping for the re-estab- 

 lishment of the old "shop, where he hopes to spend many 

 pleasant hours with Uncle Lisha. _ 



I have been sitting under the oak trees m our trout 

 yard this morning trying to write, but my attention has 

 been so frequently called away by the music of the wild 

 birds in the overhanging branches, that I have made but 

 little progress. We have such a variety of birds in Cal- 

 ifornia, and at this season of the year they are so tame 

 that they often come within reach of our hands. The 

 linnets have grown so familiar within the past two or 

 three days that they are carrying off every conceivable 

 thing that will answer for building material. I put scraps 

 of cotton and knitting silk just outside the window among 

 the vines, and the busy httle workers carry them off in a 

 jiffy. Sometimes they take a peep inside, as if to say, "I 

 wonder if she sees us." Golden orioles, robins, sparrows 

 and the little woodpecker, in his jaimty red cap, and 

 myriads of feathered midgets, to me nameless, all are 

 busy at work to-day: and what cheerful workers they are, 

 judging from the music they are making at the same 

 time. A dainty red-throated hummingbird was just now 

 hanging over a bunch of roses so close to me that I might 

 have touched him. 



Truly this is a birds' paradise. It could not be other- 

 wise, the whole country is in its glory. Wild flowers in 

 profusion are scattered everywhere. The golden esch- 

 scholtzia flower of California blooms in masses, and in 

 such variety and delicacy of tint as to keej) one in con- 

 tinual wonder and admiration. So common is it that the 

 natives scarcely give it a passing glance. It seems to me, 

 that in order to appreciate the beauties of nature on the 

 Pacific coast one must have been reared elsewhere. It 

 is so very seldom that I hear a person brought up here 

 mention t)ie grandeur of the surroundings, while at this 

 season of tlie year I find it difficult to think or speak of 

 anything else. 



As I sit here looking down the valley I see great fields 

 of waving grain, just beginning to head, well-kept or- 

 chards and vineyards, and neat homes. In the opposite 

 direction, great oak trees scattered here and there, with 

 their masses of green foliage make a soft foreground to 

 the picture of gradually rising foothiUSjJand further in 

 the distance a background of rugged mountains. 



But, alas, in vain I sigh for a paradise with the serpent 

 left out. While sitting out there on my camp stool, with 

 my dog Hector at my feet and our pet Maltese in my lap, 

 I was suddenly startled by the old blue rascal making a 

 spring into some shrubbery close at hand, and upon look- 

 ing to see what had taken him away so abruptly, when 

 I had been trying all the morning to get rid of him, out 

 he came proudly bearing a long dangling object in his 

 mouth, and made straight for me. I am not there now. 

 I prefer looking out at the window. Blue has deposited 

 his prize on the ground and is giving me reioroachful 

 glances for running away. He expected approval, and 

 my conduct seems to have mystified him somewhat. 

 Hector strikes at the post mortem with his great ungainlj^ 

 paw, then runs back a bit and gives a quick bark, then 

 Blue spits at him. Well. I'll leave them to settle the 

 matter between themselves, for I don't think I care to 

 have anything to do with it. 



But, to go back to our beautiful springtime, we have- 

 ah-eady had some very suggestive days, and I begin to 

 dread what the coming months are sure to bring forth. 

 A few more weeks and the lovely green grass will be 

 withered and parched, and until the cooUng rains of 

 November come we shall want to go away to where the 

 soft sea breezes blow. 



Even lovely California has her drawbacks, and an old- 

 fashioned thunder shower would do my soul good this 

 very minute, and ere the heat of summer has passed I 

 shall be sighing for a Dakota blizzard, a Mmnesota 

 cyclone, or anything under the sun that will relieve the 

 monotony of burning heat. 



Methinks I hear a voice from further down the coast 

 saying, "Good enough for you; you ought to live in San 

 Francisco." But we can't all live in San Francisco; there 

 are too many there already. 



Trout are very scarce this year. A parly of four went 

 out to Sulphur Creek last week with the intention of stay- 

 ing several days; but they returned on the evening of the 

 second day, and were thoroughly disgusted with the trip. 

 Like report-s reach us from all the other streams in our 

 locality. On tlie first day of the open season a couple of 

 our little friends brought my husband a string of seven- 

 teen lovely trout, and the same little fishermen informed 

 us yesterday that there is not a fisti to be found anywhere 

 and they are perfectly reliable. ' 



We see quad every' day, as they come about the yard 

 this time of year. They seem to understand that they are 

 perfectly safe in doing so. Wliile out for a drive the 

 other day we counted twenty-sis. That reminds me; I 

 promised myself some months since that I never would 

 say "quail" to Forest and Stream again. I had seen a 

 flock of seventy-seven, and as it is so unusual to see so 

 many m one band, I was very proud to report the same 

 but imagine my disappointment when they docked me 

 fifty birds, makmg me say "twenty-seven." But as this 

 IS my only gi-ievance against our favorite paper, I'll for- 

 give the injustice this time; but should it haT)pen aoain I 

 cannot say as to consequences. Mv husband suggests that 

 I should be a httle more moderate in my count and per- 

 haps my statements would be treated with greater respect 

 I take this in good part, as observation and experience 

 have taught me what to expect in all cases with a woman 

 m it. u^tj^ 



I notice there is a demand for "chance shots" iust noAv 

 and as I made one the other day that I very much re' 

 gretted, I'll send it along. 



My birthday came last week and with it a nickel-plat«d 

 32 Wmchester that is the pride of my heart. It has 



globe sights, and I found it somewhat difficult to get the 

 combination at first, but I used the cartridges in a very 

 reckless manner, and had just got so that I coidd hit the 

 barn about every third shot, when my husband told me I 

 had better try my sights on a robin that was hopping 

 about on the lawn. "I wouldn't kill a robin for the 

 world," I replied. "But you'll miss it, you know, and it's 

 a fine target." I am ashamed of it, but I did take a shot 

 at the little redbreast and he tumbled over just as dead as 

 could be. I shut my eyes for a moment, and when I 

 opened them again Hector was bringing the little bird to 

 me. I am aware that my shot counts eleven less than 

 "twelve pigeons." but I imagine my surprise was no less 

 than was that of the other shooter. I've been offered two 

 bits several times since to try my marksmanship on a 

 robin, but I have not been tempted to try it. 



We have a few doves, but rabbits and squirrels are the 

 only legitimate game to be found at this time of year. 

 ^ * Marion. 



MY CHANCE ACQU AINTANCE.-IV. 



We— not the editorial "we," but my venerable friend 

 and mvself— had been wandering through the woods aim- 

 lessly one pleasant Sunday afternoon, admiring natm-e 

 and looking for some good natural crooks for boat knees. 

 The old man stopped quite suddenly and for several 

 minutes contemplated in silence a spring which was bubbl- 

 ing up from the ground and discharging the cool sparkl- 

 ing beverage at the rate of about two gallons per minute. 



"Nice one, ain't it? " I never come here but I think of 

 what happened to me on this here spot nigh on to thirty 

 years ago. It were a dreadful cold day; snow was deep, 

 I had lugged a deer much as three miles and was just 

 about tuckered out. I thought I'd build a fire, warm uj) 

 and rest a bit, eat the balance of ray lunch and take a 

 fresh start, as I were some distance from home. 



"It was getting late, so I hurriedly scraped away the 

 snow and built a fire jest about on that are spot. The fire 

 burned up good, and I were just gitting my hands 

 warmed before tackling my lunch, when I thought I saw 

 something move right in the bottom of that fire. I wiped 

 my eyes and took a good solid square look. 



"There certamly was a movement there, as though a 

 snake or something of that kind were a trying to roll 

 over. What could it be? Had I built a fire over a frozen 

 snake, or over the hole of some other varmint, or the tail 

 of some bogie, and the fire was a warming him up and 

 putting life into him? The durned thiagam-ely did move, 

 and the movement w-as certainly gittin' stronger. 



"Now I can't abide snakes; they beat me every time. 

 There was a kind of a spasm went down my back, some- 

 thing like a touch of the ager; then a creepy, crawly sort 

 of a feeling shot all over me; my knees wabbled and my 

 hair, if it didn't stand on end; my eyes stuck out as you 

 might have hung your hat on 'em. As the motion got 

 more powerful like, something about the size of a big 

 snake certainly did roll over. I were that rattled 1 

 hollered. Yelling seemed to let a little sense into me. I 

 reached for my knife. It was gone! I jumped for my 

 gun, which I "had stood up in the crotch of a tree about 

 ten or twelve stops away. As soon as my hands touched 

 that are gun my nerves quit shivering. I was all right 

 again. That gun came to my shoulder quick; then with 

 my finger on the trigger I marched back, solid as old 

 cheese, ready to blow a hole big as yer arm through any 

 livin' critter. I aimed and looked, squinted and peeped, 

 but could not see anything like a snake nor eny moving 

 thing; but there about a foot or so from the fire was my 

 himting knife. I reached for it, but dropped it mighty 

 sudden, for it were nearly red hot. Yer see I'd used it to 

 whittle some stuff to start the fire with, and in my hurry 

 had raked it up with the kindlin', but the knife had more 

 sense than I had, and w^hen the fire begun to git too hot 

 for it it actually rolled over and over until it had cleared 

 itself more'n a foot from the fire. Yes, I've got that are 

 knife yet, and if I don't show it at the World's Fair it will 

 be because I can't get space." A. W. 



BACK TO THE OLD HOME. 



For more than forty years I have been a very busy 

 man — indeed, a veritable slave to business. Though of 

 late years I have managed to take short mid-summer 

 vacations, w^hich were spent at the sea shore, while the 

 change was delightful and agreeable, it did not satisfy 

 the longings of a man who was born in Vermont and had 

 spent his childhood and youth amid her green hills and 

 her smiUng valleys. I remembered these hills and valleys 

 as they appeared to me in the memy month of June, and 

 often wondered if they would prove as entrancing now as 

 they did then. During my leisure hours I dreamed of and 

 longed for the time when I could revisit my native hills 

 during the summer, "when the bloom was on the rye." 



At last, after many years of patient waiting, the golden 

 moment came. The cares of business were laid aside, and 

 with the ardor and impetuosity of youth I began prepara- 

 tions for spending a summer in dear old A'ermont. Vis- 

 ions of apple blossoms, purling brooks and wary trout 

 flitted before my eyes, and I was impatient for the day 

 of departure. It came at last, and like a school boy when 

 just "let out," 1 was off, full of bright anticipations 

 which were to be fully realized as the sequel will show. 



I readied H., my native town, on June 1, and was 

 heartily welcomed by a few warm friends, who had 

 shown their good sense and love of home by refusing to 

 emigrate. 



On the day following my arrival I took down the old 

 shotgun, with which I had learned to shoot chipmunks, 

 woodchuck and gray squirrels when a boy. and which 

 now would bring down a coon or a hawk, and with 

 Edmo, a typical barefoot boy of eight years,' son of my 

 host and long-time friend, genial, larg-e-hearted, sport- 

 loving Capt. B., started across the fields for the old sugar 

 mill, where in my youth I had learned the mystic art of 

 transmuting maple sap into maple syrup, sweeter than 

 honey of the Hymettus. 



The day was perfect, the air exhilarating, the fields 

 were sprinkled with daisies and buttercups, just as they 

 were fifty years ago, the birds aang ay sweetlv, the apple 

 blossoms were just as fragrant, just as modest and lovely 

 as ever. The grand old maples— primeval trees— still 

 stood in all their glory, jealously guarding their ancient 

 domain and inviting me as of yore to rest under theii- gen- 

 erous shade. 



Edmo and I plunged into this forest primeval, explored 

 it from circumference to center, visited the old boiling 

 place, the rock where I shot my first partridge, the ledge 



where the wild honeysuckles grew, the blttff overlooking 

 the pond that forms the western boundary of the hill, the 

 outlet and falls that bound it on the south, in short, every 

 thing that had impressed me as a child was eagerly sought 

 out and lovingly remembered. 



The southern sloiie of the hill is pasture, with huge 

 maples towering skyward scattered about, affording luxu- 

 rious shade for sheep or cattle or men or boys, and under 

 one of these trees with wide-spreading branches we ate 

 our lunch. Near by was a spring of pure cold water, 

 which went with our lunch. At this spring I had quenched 

 my thirst many a time when a boy. Just as we emerged 

 from the deep woods and entered this open, we ran on to 

 a brood of young partridges only a few- days old, and the 

 lightning-like rapidity with which they disappeared under 

 dead leaves and bits of bark made young Edmo's eyes 

 dilate, and a look of bewilderment 'and wonder over- 

 spread his bright boy face. 



The lengthening shadows reminded us that the day was 

 waning and that as we had a long walk before us, it was 

 time to turn our faces homeward. The unalloyed pleasure 

 derived on this first day's outing in Vermont was only a 

 forerunner of the days that were to follow and to prove a 

 perfect realization of the dream I had indulged in so long. 



Pond Hilt.. 



"Game Laws in Brief," United States and Canada, 

 illustrated, U cents. "Book of the Game Laavs" {full 

 text), 50 cents. 



WILD GOOSE SHOOTING IN KANSAS.' 



I WAS located at Kinsley, Kan., a dining station on the 

 Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe R. R., near which the 

 Arkansas River winds its way between and through the 

 sand hills. Four miles below there were at that time 

 large sand bars, where thousands of wild geese and sand 

 hill cranes were to be found roosting. They \vere in the 

 habit of feeding two miles back from the river upon the 

 high ground. Leaving the river at daylight and returning 

 at about 11 o'clock A. M. ; then at 3 P. M. they went out 

 again, returning at night, thus affording the gunner a 

 choice of stands. 



I preferred to shoot over decoys in the wheatfields, and 

 as a rule in the afternoon. Sometimes, when delayed 

 after 3 P. M. , I would go to the river, shooting them as 

 they came in after sundown, using seven sheet-iron pro- 

 file decoys and a live wild goose that I had wing-tipped 

 the season before. I would select a wheatfield where 

 they were in the habit of feeding, place the iron decoys 

 across their line of flight with the old live gander in the 

 lead; and preparing a blind of tumble weeds I was soon 

 ready for business. 



Looking off toward the river I could see a dark line in 

 i\v^ distance and I knew that the first flock was on its way 

 to the feeding grounds. Nearer came this dark line and 

 closer I hugged the ground in my blind. Soon they sight 

 my decoj^s and then begm to call. The old gander be- 

 comes wild with excitement; sti'etching his neck to its 

 fullest extent he flaps his wings and returns the calls of 

 his flying companions, which have by this time set their 

 wings and are rapidly coming to the decoys. Waiting 

 until the flock vrere within 3r)yds. and tlieir wings beating 

 the air, their long black legs stretched out ready to alight, 

 I op°n fire upon them and down comes a pair, or some- 

 times three, and sometimes only a single one. Shooting 

 a heavily choked gun, I usually selected my bird and sel- 

 dom failed to score at that distance. 



The report of the gun had scarcely died away before- 

 another flock could be seen coming in tlie distance, and 

 the old gander again began to talk to them, and setting 

 their w'ings the flock start for the decoys and death. 

 Thus flock after flock follow each other, many passing 

 aruund us and others being frightened by the report of 

 the gun used upon those ahead of them, and goose after 

 goose fell among the decoys. Between flocks I would set 

 up the dead geese among the decoys, thus adding materi- 

 ally to the attractiveness of the display until the flight 

 was over, lasting from an hour to an hour and a half. 

 The sheet iron decoys were very lifelike, but with the 

 addition of the live decoy the aggregation was very de- 

 ceiving, and his repeated caUs j)roved very assuring to his 

 free companions. 



1 have in this way bagged in an afternoon from 12 to 

 20, and in one .single instance with a friend (who did not 

 shoot) from Pittsburgh, Pa., watching me from the 

 shelter of a neighboring straw stack, I bagged 89 in about 

 an hour's time over this string of decoys. Many geese 

 were killed on the sand bars at the same time by digging 

 pits and using decoys, when they came in from the feed- 

 ing grounds, and much larger bags made than in the 

 wheatfields. 



The sandhfll cranes >vere hunted differently. Taking a 

 spring wagon and driver, with a pair of fast-running- 

 Texas ponies, we start out for cranes. Sighting them 

 feeding iu a field, or upon burnt ground, the shooters 

 drop out and secrete themselves in high grass or behind 

 small Cottonwood trees and cornshocks. The driver 

 goes away round them, The cranes M^atching him soon 

 forget, if' they knew, that the other occupants of the 

 wagon are hiding in the other end of the field. When 

 the driver gets them between us and the wagon he lays 

 whip to the ponies and they run like the wind for the 

 cranes, which take wing and come directly to us, not 

 over 30yds. high, looking back, as it were, at the flying 

 team. We jump up and fire into their ranks, which so 

 demorahzes them that I have repeatedly fired a third shot 

 into them before they went out of range, and bagging 

 three bu-ds. The j)rowess of that old 10-gauge gun was 

 the talk of my farmer friends long after I left that coun- 

 try, for it protected their wheatfields from the inroads ■ 

 made ui^on them by these large numbers of geese and 

 cranes. 



A most laughable incident happened one morning when 

 I was shooting with a couple of Chicago friends, who 

 had joined me to go goose shooting. Getting a late start 

 we were huri-ying along as fast as the team could travel, 

 but daylight overtook us before we reached the point we 

 expected to shoot from and the flight was on. One 

 friend and myself jumping out ran into a cornfield and 

 lay down, telihig the other, a very large corpulent man, 

 to drive the team along out of the way. We soon had a 

 chance to try our skiU, and seven geese were bagged as 



