Forest and Stream 



A Weekly Journal of the Rod and Gun. 



Terms, 84 a Yeah. 10 Ots. a. CdPY. 1 

 Srs Months, 82. S 



NEW TORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1893. 



j VOL. XLI.— No. 11. 



( No. 318 Broad-wat, Nkw York. 





Editorial. 



How Long Can They Stand It? 

 They Clank their Chains. 

 Unwise Threatenings. 

 Snap Shots. 



The Sportsman Tourist. 



The Lair of Something Striped. 

 The Museum Moose. 



Natural History. 



Bruin and the Redfish. 

 Mounted Game Birds in U. S. 

 National Museum.— 3tv. 



Game Bag and Gun. 



Tenderfooting in the Rockies.-n. 

 Chicago and the v\ est. 

 Summer Slaughter in Maine. 

 Notes from the Game Fields. 

 Forest axd Stream in the 

 ^World's Fair. 

 Sea and River Fishing. 

 Live Fish for the Aquarium. 

 Chicago and the Wrst. 

 Late New England Fishing. 

 A' Day with the 'Taug. 

 The Dolly Varden in Alaska. 

 Fishing Postals. 



The Kennel. 



Fox-Terrier Old Tartar. 

 Northwestern Kield Trials. 

 Points and Flushe-. 

 Southhern Field Trials Derby 



Entries. 

 Dr;- Mills Relieves his Feelings. 

 That World's Fair Show. 

 Wire-Hair.s. 



CONTENTS. 



The Kennel. 



Dog Judges. 



Fox -Terriers at Lexington. 

 Toront i Dog Show. 

 Dog Chat. 

 Kennel Notes. 



Answers to Correspondents. 



Hunting and Coursing. 



Brunswick Fur Club Field Trials- 

 B'oxhounds in West Virginia. 

 Open Crates. 



Mr. Turpm will Judge at Nanuet. 

 Yachting. 

 The Trial Races. 

 Corinthian Y. C. of Philadelphia. 

 Royal Victoria Y. C. Cup. 

 Beverly Y. C. 

 Seawanhaka Cor. Y. C. 

 St. Lawrence Y. O. 

 Lake Geneva Y. C. 



Canoeing. 



The Ladies' Cruise and Camp. 

 Arlington Sixth Annual. 

 The Electra Episode. 

 News Notes. 



Rifle Range and Gallery. 



California Schuetzen. 

 Rifle Notes. 



Trap Shooting. 



Endeavor Gun Club. 

 New Jersey League Shoot. 

 Eureka Gun Club. 

 Drivers and Twisters. 

 Answers to Queries. 



tect them, but this would amount to very little in a 

 thickly settled country if they were permitted to be shot 

 and sold from the end of one breeding season to the be- 

 ginning of next. 



A reason sometimes advanced against the shortening of 

 the season on ducks and snipe is that they are migratory, 

 and that even if protected in one State they will be killed 

 in those adjoining. This is only another way of express- 

 ing the selfish sentiment, "if we do not kill them some 

 one else will." So long as every gunner is trying to kill 

 the last bird, we can only look forward to shooting that 

 will constantly yield smaller returns, to a more general 

 buying up and leasing of the best shooting grounds, and 

 to a contraction of the free shooting. 



We all of us need more public spirit, a greater willing- 

 ness to sacrifice a little present pleasure for the general 

 good, and until sportsmen generally are willing to make 

 such sacrifices no very hopeful view can be taken of the 

 recovery of our shooting. The matter is one which inter- 

 ests gunners alone, and the remedy, if there is one, lies 

 with the gunners. If our shooting absolutely disappears, 

 they wiU be the sufferers, and they cannot say that they 

 have not had fair warning of what is to be expected, for 

 each one has seen with his own eyes the decrease in the 

 birds. 



For Prospectus and Advertising Rates set Page 245. 



The Forest and Streaivi is put to press 

 on Tuesdays. Correspondence intended for 

 publication should reach us by Mondays and 

 as much earlier as may be practicable. 



HOW LONG CAN THEY STAND IT? 

 The complaint made by a correspondent last week 

 about the rail shooting calls attention again to the very 

 great diminution in the numbers of these birds within the 

 last twenty years. While a marked decrease has been 

 noted in the numbers of all species of game birds, in no 

 groups has it been more apparent than in the rail, the 

 snipe and the duck families, and these are just the groups 

 of' birds which receive least protection from the law and 

 f|6m the public sentiment which the law represents. On 

 the other hand, while there are not so many quail and 

 ruffed grouse as formerly, the diminution of these birds 

 has been relatively much less than that of the water fowl. 



As remarked by our correspondent, the opening of the 

 rail season late in August or early in September results in 

 the killing of all the birds of the tidewater breeding 

 grounds before any flight commences, and when the time 

 for the migration comes, the only birds left to move 

 south are those which have been reared in localities where 

 it is impossible to shoot them on their breeding grounds. 

 If the rail bred only on tidewater marshes, a single season 

 would be enough to exterminate the species. As it is, the 

 result of the unseasonable shooting is clearly seen in the 

 lessened numbers of the birds brought to boat each suc- 

 ceeding season. 



With snipe and shore birds the conditions are not quite 

 the same, though they are similar. As soon as they set 

 out on their southward migration the birds begin to be 

 shot, and the pursuit is kept up until the approach of cold 

 weather drives the survivors away, or the opening of the 

 season on other birds divides the attention of the gunners. 

 Laws for the protection of snipe and shore birds are found 

 on the statute books of most of the States, but these laws 

 in most cases have little practical effect for the reason that 

 they afford protection to the birds only while they are 

 absent from our territory. To prohibit the killing of cer- 

 tain species of birds during the period when they are rear- 

 ing their yoimg in British America sounds well perhaps, 

 but it mea,ns very Uttle. 



As with the snipe so it is with the ducks. They are in 

 season from the time of their coming in the early autumn 

 tintil their departm-e in the late spring. During all this 

 period of nearly eight months every one has license to kill 

 all the ducks he can. Only one result can follow this un- 

 restrained destruction for so long a period of each year. 

 The birds must diminish in numbers, and yet people won- 

 der what has become of the ducks, and ask why they are 

 not as plenty as in old times! 



Over a considerable part of the United States the 

 grouse and quail are protected for nine months out of the 

 twelve, and as one result of this, they have held their 

 own against the shotgun far better than the other groups 

 mentioned. Their habits, too, tend in a measure to pro- 



THEY CLANK THEIR CHAINS. 

 Now IS THE time for the chained big game hunter to 

 clank his fetters and rebel against fate. As the nights 

 grow longer and cooler and the autumnal haze thickens 

 the air, as the golden rod makes the old fields and the 

 roadsides yellow, and the cardinal flowers flame in the 

 wet runs, the hunter becomes uneasy. He takes out his 

 rifle and looks it over to see that the barrel is hright 

 within, and that the sights have not been changed. He 

 counts the cartridges left over from his last trip, to learn 

 if he would need to purchase any more if he could go on 

 a hunt tills year, and feels the edge of his knife, which 

 needs grinding. Then he sighs and puts his things aside, 

 realizing that this year it is hopeless to think of getting 

 away. Yet though he gives it up with keen regret, he 

 thinks of it often through the day. Every time he goes 

 out of doors he sees some sign in the sky, or catches some 

 odor, or hears some sound that reminds him of the blue 

 arch of the far-stretching prairie, or of the pungent fra- 

 grance of the sage plain or of the sounds of the mountain 

 and the forest. 



He remembers that now the bull elk, round of body 

 and hard of antler, are whistUng on the mountain side, 

 and how morning and evening, and all through the 

 moonlit night, challenge answers challenge from park 

 and forest and rocky point, interrupted sometimes by the 

 sharp rattle of clashing antlers, as two great bulls come 

 together with a rush, and push and tug and strain, glar- 

 ing into each other's angry eyes, while the columns of 

 white steam from the four distended nostrils mingle on 

 the ground between them. Or perhaps he recalls some 

 successful stalk of years gone by, when starting at gray 

 dawn from his camp well up toward the edge of the 

 timber he made his way toward the heights above in 

 pursuit of bighorn. He remembers the toilsome cUmb 

 on foot through the thick timber, then up the slippery 

 grass slopes, and then over the loose and unsteady slide 

 rock; how he faced the cliffs, worked along the ledges 

 and clambered up the waterways. At last the game was 

 sighted, higher still beyond the snowdrifts, a little band 

 of rams feeding along a moimtain meadow, carelessly, 

 to all appearance, yet, as he well knew, alert and watch- 

 ful. How well he remembers each detail of the hunt, 

 how carefully he cUmbed, looking weU to wind and cover 

 until at last he reached the coveted point and found himself 

 within rifle range of the game. All had lain down save 

 one noble beast, the patriarch of the group, who stood on a 

 point taking a last look over the mountain side. Alert 

 yet unmoving he stood there, outlined against the sky, 

 a model for artist or sculptor, yet one that neither artist 

 nor sculptor could ever hope to reproduce. What feel- 

 ings passed through the hunter's mind; how much of 

 hope and excitement he felt. Yet his nerves did not 

 tremble, and he lay there waiting for his breath to 

 come back to him after the labor of the climb, and at 

 length with a steady hand he sighted at the old ram's 

 heart. At the shot, how mighty the leap that the mon- 

 arch gave, and how brave his bounds down the slope 

 through the flying sHde rock, while the frightened band 

 disappeared behind a ledge, and made their hasty way 

 up the mountain side. But the greet ram, ere he reached 



the shde rock's foot, staggered, and when he disappeared 

 the hunter knew that the noble game was his. Then 

 came the toil of preparing the carcass, and the slow 

 journey down the mountain side bowed under the weight 

 of a heavy load, the return to camp, the hearty meal, 

 the story of the successful hunt and the weU-earned 

 rest beside the fading camp-fire. All this he remembers. 



Or it may have been his first white goat, which he had 

 followed to dizzy heights and along the face of beetling 

 cliffs until at last he got the shot; or perhaps his first 

 moose, carefully hunted through the dense timber; or the 

 bear that he saw at evening digging roots in the little 

 park and killed by a single well-aimed baU. These memor- 

 ies come back to him, and he longs to revisit the well- 

 known spots and again to take part in such scenes with a 

 feeling so strong that it can hardly be put into words. 



But this year he is chained to business and can only 

 rattle his fetters, weep and read Foeest and Stream. But 

 let him not sorrow as one without hope. So long as he 

 has the memory of these glorious days to look back upon, 

 he is not altogether unhappy. Nothing can take from 

 him the joys that plain and mountain, lake and forest, 

 peak and far-stretching snow field have yielded to him in 

 years gone by, and if he cannot look forward to like days 

 in the future, he can at least live over again in memory 

 the pleasures of the past. 



UNWISE THREATENINGS. 



That men are but children of larger growth has been 

 said so often that it is hardly worth repeating, but every 

 now and then in the affairs of our daily life we see some- 

 thing that emphasizes this truth. In a letter printed 

 in another column, a correspondent expresses the dis- 

 satisfaction of his local gun club with a particular game 

 law, and says that if its objectionable features are not 

 changed before another season, no effort will be made to 

 enforce the present game and fish laws. 



Some allowance may be made for natural irritation 

 over a law that seems unfair or unwise, but how short- 

 sighted, selfish and childish are such expressions as this. 

 We do not know whether our correspondent — an old and 

 valued one — is expressing his own views or those of some 

 members of the club, but at all events the sentiments are 

 imworthy ones. It is just in this way that the small boy 

 when the game that .he is playing does not go to his hking 

 declares that he "won't play," and, however natural the 

 feeling to boys, it ought not to be acted on or even ex- 

 pressed by grown men. 



Resistance to injustice is always justifiable, but the 

 means to be employed, if such resistance is to be succesful, 

 must be those which appeal to the sense of right of the 

 community. To refuse obedience to game laws because 

 they favor one special section against another wiU never 

 tend to the righting of any wrong which may have been 

 done. Such a course will only stir up bad blood between 

 the sections without benefitting either, and so long as the 

 quarrel lasts the interests of game protection are sure to 

 suffer. 



SNAP SHOTS. 

 A Maine correspondent sends us an interesting note of 

 a colt's straying in the dense forest of the upper St. Johns. 

 In the spring of 1890 John Hunter, who hves on the 

 upper St. Johns about ten miles below the Seven Islands, 

 turned out in a back lot an old horse and a two-year-old. 

 When he came to take them up again, a few days later, 

 the colt was missing. Hunter and his neighbors spent 

 several days in a fruitless search, and the colt was given 

 up as a probable prey to the bears. Two years afterward, 

 in August, two moose hunters at Eound Lake on the 

 Allegash came upon the strayed animal, which was in 

 company with two bull moose. They secured help, cap- 

 tured it, built a raft and rafted it to its owner. It had 

 become very wUd, and no doubt had fraternized with the 

 moose from the first, living with them in their yards in 

 the severe Aroostook winter. When found it was sleek, 

 well developed and in good condition, and had grown a 

 coat of hair which for thickness and length would have 

 done credit to a range horse or a marsh-tackey. 



A library in one of our principal cities desires to com- 

 plete its files of Forest and Stream, and applies to us 

 for a copy of August 13, 1874. We are unable to furnish 

 this, and have been authorized to offer |1 for a copy of 

 that date. We should also be glad to obtain a few copies 

 of the Boyhood number (Jan. 7, 1892) to complete files, 

 and will pay 20 cents each for a limited number. 



