Sept. 9, 1893.1 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



209 



pour upon it, but sufficient to protect a part and keep a 

 portion from being drowned out. 



While we were engaged in picking the ducks Nuel 

 said: "I beny hungie. Mus' have two." One I thought 

 would satisfy me. 



It took considerable time to prepare this meal. We 

 wanted to have a good one — at least I did — and I thought 

 Nuel was " nothing loath." The ducks were cooked " to a 

 turn." We spitted them in forked sticks and " toasted" 

 them before the fire. The "flapjacks," too, were good. 

 This was before the days of prepared flour and condensed 

 milk, and it required some skill to know the proportions 

 of soda and cream of tartar to use. An old family cook 

 had taught me these things when I was a boy, and an out 

 door hfe of " roughing it " had made me quite proficient. 



Nuel seemed to enjoy my cooking very much. After 

 devouring two plates full of flapjacks, or equal, I should 

 think, to enough to satisfy at least two ordinary men, he 

 said, "Doc'or, me like camp wid you. You make um good 

 pancake. You show um me how. You beat um squaw." 



But long before we were through our supper the rain 

 had settled into a steady downpour. There was no wind 

 with it, but just the monotonous moaning of dripping 

 leaves and falling rain. Not even a loon was to be heard, 

 nor was there an owl to break the stillness. Outside of 

 the Uttle shanty the blackest night prevailed. Even the 

 light of the fire did not seem to penetrate it. We ap- 

 peared to be closed in on aU sides by a waU of the black- 

 est blackness. 



Such was the state of affairs when Nuel, after knocking 

 the ashes out of his pipe and giving his stomach a few 

 gentle pats, said, "Sposum we go sleep now. I watch fire. 

 I 'fraid we no have good day on mori'ow." 



It was long before we slept. Of course I was awake a 

 long tune after Nuel commenced to breathe that quiet and 

 long breathing for which I think the Indian is proverbial. 

 How long I had slept I do not know, before I was con- 

 scious of a pain in my back. It was not sufficient to reg- 

 ularly wake me up, but I felt a disposition to turn over, 

 and when I had done so I wanted to turn back again. 

 And then when I did sleep there seemed to be an uneasi- 

 ness somewhere. 



It was not xmtil I opened my eyes in the broad day- 

 light and attempted to rise, that I fully understood the 

 truth, an attack of lumbago. I knew what to do with it, 

 but it would necessitate my being quiet for a day or per- 

 haps two of them. 



Nuel was still sleeping and I thought it best to let him 

 sleep. On the previous morning I had been debating in 

 ray own mind, how long our supplies would last, if his 

 ■eating powers continued as he had then displayed them. 

 .1 concluded, in the event we found no game, I had 

 •enough for five days and a half, and now I thought it 

 would pay me best to let him sleep. I saw there would 

 be no chance of hunting that day. It was raining just as 

 hard as ever, and I knew that diiring the night there had 

 been no let-up to it. 



Nuel did the cooking this morning alone. He seemed 

 much concerned about me. Wanted to do everything for 

 me that a white man would do. He said, "Shall me rub 

 um your back? Put water on um?" And I do not know 

 how many other things. When I declined all his kind 

 offers, he said, "Den me keep um you warm." This I 

 had told him was the best thing, and that when the 

 weather cleared up, I thought I would feel better. 



It was a tedious day. The rain continued with few in- 

 termissions until nearly night. Nuel slept and ate and 

 smoked and talked. But he did more than this. He did 

 as he had promised, and while it was wet and damp out- 

 side, within the shanty all was as warm as one could 

 wish. He did keep a good fire going. Then his talk 

 helped beguile the weary hours, and a red squirrel that 

 seemed to regard us as intruders on his domain, assisted 

 him. 



This squirrel was a source of entertainment in himself. 

 It was curious to watch the caution with which he first 

 put his nose inside the roof of the shanty, and then the 

 familiarity at which he finally arrived. He seemed to be 

 less afraid of the Indian, though, than he was of me. 



Then of course there were the usual Canada jays 

 around, and I had a glimpse of several smaller birds. 

 The bottom of the canoe was the playground of three be- 

 draggled squirrels that were not allowed to come any 

 nearer. 



The darkness set in again as usual at 6:30, but before it 

 came Nuel said tome, "We goin' to hab um fine day 

 'morrow. Hear um loon caU. Hear um owl hoot. See 

 um white line in wes'. Smell um good smell. All same. 

 Make um one fine day." 



Nor was he wrong. Before we went to sleep he told 

 jine, "See um star, Doc'or," and later on in the night I 

 • caught a glimpse of the setting moon. 



This morning he was awake in good season, and so 

 iquietly liad he gone around the camp that he had the 

 .breakfast almost ready before I woke up. His fii'st remark 

 •on seeing my eyes open was, "Ah! How you feel? Have 

 am nice partridge for you. Come, eat um breakfas'. 

 Make um you feel strong." 



I was ready for this. The pain had nearly left me and 

 now on-ly a weakness remained. 



While at breakfast Nuel proposed the following plan. 

 Said he, "Doc'or, you no hunt um deday. You no walk 

 far. You be near camp. Fish um off poin'." Hunt um 

 partridge right here on islan'. One flock, maybe two, 

 raose always in dis place. You got um some. Me go look 

 um moose. Fine a place for call. Den mor' night, if 

 good moon we try." 



This suited me; so after breakfast I saw Nuel set out. 

 He took the canoe and passed up the lake some half a 

 mile and landed on the west shore. Meanwhile, after 

 resting for some time and busying myself about the camp, 

 I felt prepared to put into execution his suggestion respect- 

 ing the partridges. 



My back did not feel strong, but it did not ache; and I 

 felt satisfied that, for this time at least, I had escaped a 

 severe attack. 



My first effort was to seek the shore and look at our 

 surroundings. I wanted to see where we were. And 

 then after that I determined to cross over through my 

 hunting grounds and give theui a most careful examina- 

 tion. This plan I carried out, though there were many 

 places where I could not follow the shore. The low banks 

 abutted too closely on the water to allow me to pass. I 

 had gone nearly half way around, stopping from time to 

 time to admu-e thesofitude and grau'leur. when, it seemed 

 to me almost beneath my feet, up went a partridge, and 

 then several more in quick succession followed it. By the 



time the last one arose, I had gained my presence of mind 

 and brought him down before he had alighted on a tree 

 near the others. These I had to shoot as they sat motion- 

 less on the limbs, taking off the heads of two, since there 

 was no chance for me in the low bushes to get a wing- 

 shot, nor could I get further away from them in such 

 thick underbrush. 



It seemed almost profane to disturb the stillness of this 

 place with the report of a gim. I could hear the loons 

 call aU around the lake. Whether they knew what the 

 noise was I could not say, to me their notes sounded like 

 a prolonged o-o-o-o with an inflection on the last letter. 



But there was no help for" it. We wanted birds to eat, 

 and science has little regard for the feelings of nature or 

 her soUtudes either, when they stand in her way. She 

 breaks in upon them as a hawk upon the fledglings. Six 

 birds were secured here before I proceeded, and then I 

 had gone but a Httle way before another was brought 

 down. I could look off in almost any direction over the 

 lake and see a loon, and I thought in the far distance (by 

 the marsh we had passed on our coming) a flock of ducks 

 feeding. The hiUs to my right were wooded to their 

 summits. Only here and there was a portion of the rock 

 visible, with the usual number of dead trees, their great 

 branches stretching out white and gray in the sunlight, 

 and a few red-looking spaces among the pines and hem- 

 locks that looked as though they had been only recently 

 killed. 



Near me w^ere a few crossbills, chickadees and nut- 

 hatches feeding. They aU seemed busy as usual and made 

 the only familiar sounds that I heard. 



It was noon before I returned to the shanty. It looked 

 more solemn around there than ever. The fire was out 

 and there was neither Nuel nor canoe to remind me that 

 I was not utterly alone in the wilderness. I suppose it 

 was this sense of loneliness that drove all thought of 

 hunger from my mind and led me to determine at once 

 to try for fish off the point. 



I must have been here an hour or more fishing and ad- 

 miring the solitude and wilderness that surrounded me, 

 before I thought of eating. Only a dozen fish had been 

 secured, none of them remarkably large, and some of 

 them quite small considering the place where I was cast- 

 ing. I learned here that there may be small troiit even 

 in large and wild waters, though the lateness of the sea- 

 son no doubt was against me. But, as I landed my last 

 fish, I began to think that something to eat would not 

 come amiss and then it occurred to me that most likely 

 Nuel, when he returned, would be hungry. 



This ended my sporting for the day. I came back to 

 the camp, cleaned my fish, picked four partridges, and 

 soon had birds on spit sand fish in pan, frying and roast- 

 ing. These were laid aside when they were cooked and 

 three pans of flapjack shad been piled up on a bark platter 

 when I heard the usual Indian grimt — "Ugha" — behind 

 me, and there stood Nuei 



His first words were: "You bees berry good to hungie 

 Ingin. Me hke um you much. Hab um big feas'. TeU 

 you 'bout t'ings w'en we eat." 



The coffee had only to be made and then all was ready. 

 It really did me good to see my Micmac eat, although I 

 knew at the same time that provisions might get scarce 

 before we reached civilization. I said nothing about his 

 morning's work, knowing right well that his tongue 

 would be loosened before long. It only wanted two mugs 

 of coffee with plenty of sugar to do that. I could see, 

 however, that he was disappointed. His face had a 

 thoughtful expression very different from the look that 

 was upon it when I caught the trout and shot the musk- 

 rat. At last he commenced: "Doc'or, you able go 

 trabbil now? No get sick?" 



"O, I am all right now, Nuel. Only have to be careful 

 for a day or two." 



"Well, we must leab here sartin. Walk all mornin'. 

 Long way. No see um moose. No see um moose track 

 only berry old ones. No big moose roun' here. Sposum 

 morrow mornin' we go udder place me teU you of. Must 

 have um. You go?" 



"Yes, Nuel, any where you like. Must get big moose," 



S. 



[TO BE CONCLUDED.] 



MONTANA GAME, WILD AND TAME. 



Piega:^, Mont., Aug. 26. — ^The shooting season in this 

 State opened Aug. 15 Grouse of aU kinds are more num- 

 erous than they have been for some years, especially the 

 dusky and sharptail varieties. I for one do not under- 

 stand why they should be plenty' one season and scarce 

 another. The weather apparently has nothing to do with 

 it here. The past spring was veiy cold and backward, 

 with gales of sleet and snow, which should have had the 

 effect of chilling the yoimg birds to death. 



As yet there has been no hunting in the mountains this 

 season. The attractions of the World's Fair, together 

 with the hard times, have caused most sportsmen to fore- 

 go their annual outing in the Rockies. As a consequence 

 the guides are dejected, and the grizzly is roaming about 

 in happy security, and the white goat squats on the low- 

 est shelf of the moimtain. 



The employees at the Blackf oot Agency have a num- 

 ber of interesting pets Sir. Callahan has a badger which 

 is the cutest as well as the clumsiest thing I ever saw. 

 It is now three-fourths grown and as playful as a pup. It 

 delights to roll about with the dog and visits from house to 

 house every day. When in particularly good spirits it 

 backs away from one, raises its head and laughs. Other 

 pets are a coyote, and two swifts (kit foxes). These are not 

 so tame as the badger, but will come up to one for food 

 and can always be seen at the door about meal time. 



At Mr. Kipp's ranch the other day I saw a tame wolf 

 which the boys had clipped in imitation of a lion. They 

 left the long hair on the neck and a big tuft at the end of 

 the tail, which gave the animal a very grotesque appear- 

 ance. 



Mr. Irving Cook, Dr. Martin and several others spent a 

 few days at St. Mary's Lake last week. Mr. Cook was on 

 Kootney Mountain one day hunting sheep and would ha-\ a 

 killed one had he left his horse behind He was leading 

 the animal along, making considerable noise, when a big 

 ram jumped up in front of him. Mr. Cooke had a snap 

 shot and missed. The sound of the gun scared twenty or 

 more sheep not far a (vay, and they lost no time in getting 

 around the mountain. 



Some fine fish were caught in the lake and river by the 

 party, including lakers, Dolly Varden and red-throated 

 trout. The largest Dolly Varden weighed 41bs., and was 



caught by Mr. Cooke. Dr. Martin got the largest laker. 



Dr. Walter B. James and Dr. Draper, of New York, are 

 expected here the 30th for a month's outing. Wm. Jack- 

 son wiU guide them. They are going uj) Cut Bank River 

 and across the summit, where game is very plenty. Their 

 main object, however, in going there, is to scale a certain 

 mountaiu known as "Flinche's PeaJi." Dr. .James at- 

 tempted the ascent last season, on the north side, but 

 some perpendicular walls headed him off. He thinks 

 now that by trying the south side he may be able to 

 reach the summit. 



Antelope are said to be very plenty in the Sweet G-rass 

 HiUs. Since the Indians settled down on their reserva- 

 tions no one has hunted them, and as a consequence they 

 are increasing every year. J. W. Schultz. 



RAIL SHOOTING HERE AND THERE. 



Hackensack, N. J., Aug. dl— Editor Forest and 

 Stream: So far there is little of interest to report with 

 regard to the rail shooting. The season has opened and a 

 good many boats have been out, but as a rule they have 

 little reward for their eff'orts. The very high tides which 

 followed the easterly storms of the past two weeks made 

 shoving easy, and enabled the boats to cover a good deal 

 of ground, but the birds were not plenty. On one of the 

 days when the tide was good Mr. Geo. Van Buskirk, of 

 this j)lace, made the best record of the season, boating 49 

 rail and one yellowleg in the" tide. A shover from Pali- 

 sades Park, on the other hand, reports 10 birds in a good 

 tide, and others who have gone out have returned with 

 smaller numbers. Ex-Senator Griggs was here yesterday 

 and tried the birds, but the tide was a poor one and no 

 feathers rewarded his labors. Hack. 



Stratford, Conn. , Aug. SI.— Editor li orest and Stream: 

 I wish that I could tell you that the rail were plenty, but 

 I cannot tell a lie. Practically there are none. Dr. Blake, 

 of New York, has been here for some days with a yacht, 

 and has gone over the grounds almost daily with small 

 returns. Other gentlemen have been up to the meadows, 

 but all make the same report. 



To-day I went up the river with four other boats, but 

 for most of the time the flats were as silent as the grave. 

 The tide was not high, and it was impossible to get in to 

 the cat- tails, and if there were any birds they were hidden 

 in these refuges. I shot at seven birds and boated six; the 

 seventh was killed, but not recovered. Another boat, 

 which started from the same landing with me, got eight 

 birds and another one. The best score yet made is 26 

 birds, obtained during the recent very high tide, which 

 enabled the boat to go over the highest grass. 



The corn grass — wild rice — is heading out and the seeds 

 are falling a little, although as yet they are not fully ripe 

 and hai'd. There is rather more grass than usual, but it 

 is thin and has a yeUow frost-bitten look, which is unusual 

 at this season of the year. This may possibly be due to 

 the smnmer drought,, or to the recent high tides which 

 must have brought up a good deal of salt water. 



It is extraordinary how the rail have diminished in num 

 bers of recent years. Nowadays there is not one where 

 there used to be fifty. I believe that this scarcity is largely 

 due to the early opening of the season, which admits of the 

 killing of aU the birds on a marsh before the beginning 

 of the migration. Everywhere the slaughter begins long 

 before the first flight, and the birds of each feeding ground 

 being cleaned out,, there are none left to start when the 

 time for migration comes. Thus, the only shooting is at 

 the native bii-ds of each marsh, and this lasts only for a 

 few days, as the birds are tame and feeble and are soon 

 killed off. These views were expressed editorially some 

 years ago in Forest and Stream, and since that time I 

 have been watching the thing for myself, and beheve 

 that this explains the deplorable lack of this delightful 

 sport. 



If I were the Emperor of the United States I would 

 chop off the head of every man who went rail shooting 

 before Sept. 15, and the result of this decapitation would 

 be that in about three years we would have such shootiug 

 as we used to have twenty years ago, when a man thought 

 bu-ds were scarce unless he got forty in a tide. In those 

 days ninety to one hundred birds was a good score, 

 though much larger ones were often made. 



I never expect to see good rail shooting again. Onyk. 



Evil Deeds of Tenderfoot Days. 



Florissant, Col., Aug. 19.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 An article in your paper of recent date, referrhig to a cer 

 tain party who had killed woodcock out of season and 

 sent their bills to the game warden to taunt him, and 

 your correspondent's wondering "Why such cattle lived," 

 brings to mind a circumstance ol equal, or worse, butchery 

 which I took a hand in a few years ago; and I now 

 wonder "Why such cattle [as we] lived." A friend and 

 I arrived from Pennsylvania in the month of Jime. Our 

 first ambition was for a hunting and fishing trip. We 

 were soon in camx), twenty-five miles from town. The 

 next morning we started on our bloody career. A few 

 hundred yards from camp a deer (which we took to be a 

 five-point buck) slowly walked out on a cliff near by and 

 looked at us with the innocence of an old mule. Our 

 first action was to blaze away, both of us, shot after shot, 

 until the animal lay down to die. On ouf reaching it we 

 found we had crippled a poor old doe, but this being our 

 first deer we cut her throat and dressed her mangled car- 

 cass with great pride. We did not have sense enough to 

 look for the fawn, but hurried into camp with our meat. 

 The next morning we started again. When near the 

 same place I heard John shoot and found he had shot a 

 httle doe fawn, probably a week old. Just then its twin 

 jumped up close by and I captured it, as it did not 

 attempt to run. We took it to camp, stuffed it full of 

 flour and water, and in a few hours it died. In two 

 days we had murdered this happy family of innocent 

 deer, killing the mother in a most cruel manner and igno- 

 rantly and brutally destroying the little spotted twins. 

 Pennsylvania tenderfeet should not be allowed to handle 

 a gun until they have lived in this State at least five 

 years. S. T. S. 



Protection for Dead Skunks. 



Proceedings Chenango County (N. F.) Supervisors. 



At the regular annual meeting of the Board of Supervisors of th 

 County of Chenango, convened at the Court House in gaid county, on 

 the lath day of November, 18953, doth enact as follows: 



Section 1. No person shall catch or kill, or attempt to catch or iill 

 (except upon theu' own premises, or upon the limits or corporations 

 of villages), or have in their possession after the same has been killed, 

 any mink, muskrat, coon or skunk, which was killed out of season. 



