114 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



[Feb. 10, 1894. 



birds ir> here.' The old dog began to take a little interest, 

 and jogging on about twenty yards ahead would now 

 and tnen look around for instructions, with his eyes fixed 

 on Loveman. 



"Ten minutes' walk along the wagon track brought us 

 to a little clearing of about two acres of buckwheat stub- 

 ble. Although we knew that our guns had been properly 

 loaded, just as we struck the edge of the piny wood out- 

 side of the settlement from force of habit we broke barrels 

 and looked again. 



"A wave of the hand — the dog went on and turned a 

 slight bend in the path ; there he stood like a statue. You 

 can see the picture. The recollection of that scene sends 

 a thrill through me, and I step back over the intervening 

 years and stand with ready gun waiting for that statue to 

 move. 



" 'Jim, go off to the right there a little. General, come 

 up a little closer and keep well over to the left." Loveman 

 walked up behind the dog, stamped his foot, the old dog 

 went on and up got the bevy, about ten in all. Loveman 

 killed with his right; then shifting his gun to the left 

 shoulder, brought down a left-quartering bird that I had 

 selected for my own. The reports were almost simultane- 

 ous, but not quite close enough together to justify my put- 

 ting in a claim. Jim got one, and after marking them 

 down in a little piece of swamp a short distance uway, 

 sent the old dog after the dead birds. Then a few allu- 

 sions were made about Loveman having 'wiped my eye,' 

 and we started for the swamp. Loveman went through, 

 while Jim and I took up a position where we thought we 

 could get a shot as the birds came out. "We did not have 

 long to wait before we heard the report of his gun, and 

 sure enough back came the birds toward the stubble. 

 Jim and I each got a brace, the three spared kept right on. 



"I had not done any quail shooting to speak of for a 

 year or more, and I was right glad to hear a proposition 

 from Jim to this effect: 'What do you say if we start 

 back toward the house? The days are short and we are 

 about five miles away, I know of one or two fields 

 where we are liable to find some birds on our way back, 

 and we'll take in the pines and may get a stray grouse.' 

 As you will imagine, I readily consented, and we started 

 on the back track for Maxom's. 



1 'Four grouse were added to our bag before we struck 

 the road. As we drew near the house, coming up on the 

 leeward side, we sniffed the odor of frying cod, and 

 although a little familiar, it seemed to sharpen the appe- 

 tite as it had on the evening of our arrival. 



" 'Well,' said Maxom. as we entered the extension, 'you 

 did get a few birds, didn't you?' 



" 'Is supper ready, Charley?' I asked. 



" 'Not yet, but it will be when you get washed up.' 



" 'Well, we can't wash up any too quick.' 'Me, too!' 

 quoth Jim. 



"After supper I skipped the extension and going to my 

 room took up the pipe — but too tired to enjoy it, I turned 

 in very quickly. Perhaps the bed would have been more 

 comfortable i? I had spread a blanket over the corn husk 

 mattress, but I fell asleep thinking about it. 



"We got out a little later in the morning and did just 

 as well without going so far from the house. The country 

 has changed since then, but I believe, if you should go 

 down there about the middle of January and get Johnnie 

 Loveman, that he would find some birds for you. I have 

 a hankering after the old stamping ground, but it is no 

 use thinking about it, still, I cannot help it, for all I know 

 so well that I will never be able to shoot over a dog again. 

 Oh, for a good pair of legs!" 



We had long since found the bottom of our tumblers. 

 The inane giggle of the kettle reminded us of its presence, 

 and as father with great care and nicety as to quantities 

 refilled the glasses with "lemonade," I could tell by the 

 moisture in his eyes that the memory of the dead days 

 had distilled the tears from his heart, which, like dew on 

 fading flowers, awakened for the moment the slumbering 

 life within. And so — good night. The General. 



"PODGERS'" COMMENTARIES. 



San Francisco, Jan. 26.— Why don't I write? Well, I 

 don't exactly know myself, unless it is because I am get- 

 ting torpid, or have nothing to write about that would in- 

 terest. You see, I have not been out after bears or game 

 of any kind, except quail on toast at a restaurant, hence 

 have no "wise saws or modern experiences" to quote; in 

 fact, I am ashamed to say that I have not wasted a car- 

 tridge in the pursuit of even a duck or a snipe, as plenti- 

 ful as they have been, and as exceptionably good as the 

 shooting has been this season. So much for a combina- 

 tion of laziness and the confinement of office work. The 

 nearest to indulgence I have come has been to furbish up 

 my guns occasionally and make a mental resolve to drop 

 business and go after canvasbacks that very week, but 

 there are no fewer of that species for all me. 



The winter shooting has been glorious, and the bags 

 made of mallards, sprigs, spoonbills and canvasbacks 

 have been heavy and most satisfactory. Quail, also, have 

 been abundant, so I have had no excuse. But, enire nous, 

 as one gets older and more indolent it requires more effort, 

 and then, his enthusiasm has in a measure toned down, 

 and on the whole he seems willing to let the boys have a 

 show. He don't want to be a pig and have all the fun. 



As to writing, it is about the same thing again. There 

 are so many aspirants for literary fame, and who like to 

 record their doings, that it is mean in us old stagers to 

 occupy the space that they might otherwise have to air 

 their bear stories and experiences. To give the boys a 

 show is no more than fair. Besides, readers get very tired 

 of too much of one sort and kind. "Variety is the spice 

 of life," as the chap said who kissed the cook — and: of 

 course, with that retributive fatality that accompanies 

 evil deeds, was caught at it by his wife, the moral being 

 that a. man should not kiss cooks, or if so inclined, should 

 have no wife, as the combination don't work well, ending, 

 as it universally does, in the discharge of the cook, as all 

 of the readers of the Forest and Stream who have 

 tried the experiment know. In extenuation, it may be 

 said that there is now and then a mighty good looking 

 cook. I don't know that this digression can be said to 

 come under the head of legiti mate sports that are the 

 proper calling of the Forest and Stream unless it is 

 admitted that there is some fun in it. We might take a 

 vote on it from your readers. 



I have read some very good articles in the recent num- 

 bers of the Forest and Stream from new contributors. 



Mr. Perry's trip down the Patuca is very interesting and 

 has the merit of a new field, and of being instructive as 

 well, for we know very little of the country he described. 

 And what a paradise it must be for the impecunious in 

 these hard times, where a cotton handkerchief will pay 

 board for a month and a string of beads win bright 

 smiles from the belle of the village. Think of that, ye 

 Benedicts, who cannot reconcile madam after a little 

 domestic difference under a sealskin or one of these new 

 "humpers," that spread a woman out to such dimensions 

 as would astonish nature and discourage her from ever 

 again undertaking to create another "female form divine," 

 if her work is to be so caricatured. The fashions of the 

 belles that Mr. Perry described down on the Patuca have 

 the merit of simplicity at least, and on the principle of 

 beauty unadorned should meet the requirements of the 

 climate, at least. 



I see the Cata wampus Club scribe continues to record 

 the doings of that enterprising institution. Somehow it 

 does not appear to strike the best field for its operations, 

 the • record of game and fishing is meager. Why not 

 light out for a better location? I know of places that will 

 discount that one all hollow and are easier to reach. To 

 think of a whole day resulting in one or two ducks, when 

 here, for instance, if a shooter does not bring home a 

 couple of dozen mallards and a half-dozen canvasbacks 

 he is ridiculed. But then this is a civilized country 

 where the geese fly low and I suppose we should sympa- 

 thize with you poor benighted folks who know no better 

 than to live where you do. 



I take off my hat in humble deference to Mrs. Lucy J. 

 Tomlin for her advocacy of giving women a chance to 

 enjoy some of the sports that men so selfishly monopo- 

 lize. Why should they not accompany their husbands 

 and brothers in their expeditions, and have a taste of 

 camp life? What could be pleasanter than on returning 

 from a long tramp to be greeted with the bright cheery 

 smile and welcome, to say nothing of the chances of a 

 smoking repast having the merit of a degree of cleanli- 

 ness that the average man cook considers quite a secondary 

 matter, and not in keeping with camp theories, which 

 include the acquisition of the proverbial peck of dirt the 

 first few days. I suppose some woman in reading my 

 argument will say, "That's just like a man; he only 

 thinks of a woman as a cook, and see how his selfish 

 nature crops out." I deny the charge in toto, for I am 

 not a believer that a woman should be a good cook to be 

 a treasure. Callow editors of country newspapers dwell 

 on that sort of rot, just for buncombe, but there is 

 not a man of any degree of decency who wants to 

 be met on his return home by a red-faced dishevelled ob- 

 ject, redolent of fried ham. It takes away all the senti- 

 ment, but in camp "things is different;" there she takes 

 to it for fun. I am supposing of course that there is a 

 man-of -all-work to do the chores and general skirmish- 

 ing; but she can oversee and boss the business. And what 

 a difference! Your coffee will have the genuine flavor. 

 The meat won't be burned to a crisp, and the roast 

 duck won't need to be sent to the barber's shop to 

 get shaved, the slap-jacks won't taste of the last bacon 

 fry. Then again, how nice to have them around. They 

 make the camp sunny and cheerful, and moreover, keep 

 the man animal on his good behavior. He washes him- 

 self and combs his hair. But aside from all these disad- 

 vantages to the man, there is to be considered the real 

 pleasure it is to the woman, and surely she should be 

 gratified. When I see a woman showing any taste for 

 boating and outdoor sports (I don't call baseball a legiti- 

 mate evidence, that is only an opportunity to "mash") I 

 want to take off my hat to her. There is at once a bond 

 of sympathy between us, although she may not be aware 

 of that fact, but she could have my corner seat in the 

 street car with pleasure. So I say, there should be a gen- 

 eral uprising of women who can or would enjoy camp- 

 life if they had the chance. Let them rise in their might 

 and strength and insist on being recognized, and we all 

 know what the result would be. The man would give in, 

 surrender, for he is as we know at heart an arrant coward 

 where women are concerned; and all she has to do is to 

 say, "The next time you go to camp I am going;" and 

 you can hazard your best patent leather she will go. I 

 would suggest to the madam that next Christmas a gentle 

 hint that instead of a sealskin this year it would suit bet- 

 ter to have a nice little 16-gauge hammerless and a split- 

 bamboo. You will be surprised and edified to see with 

 what alacrity "hubby" will take to the idea, for there is 

 novelty in it. He is so tired of that same old gag of a 

 sealskin every year (last year's one having gone out of 

 fashion) that the new departure will strike him favorably. 

 Again the cost of the gun and rods will not amount to 

 half the cost of the garment, over which fact he will 

 chuckle, and say to himself, "got off easy this year." 



Now that Mrs. Tomlin has started the ball, I hope other 

 ladies who have similar tastes (or would have if they had 

 a show) will not allow the idea to rest, but will keep up 

 the agitation. Let every woman disposed to favor this 

 new departurture come out squarely and give her views. 

 The editor of the Forest and Stream won't dare to refuse 

 to print anything you send. He knows better than to do 

 otherwise, for he has had experience no doubt and knows 

 the folly of attempting to oppose the will of the gentler 

 sex that can be muchly otherwise than gentle if irritated 

 (bet ye). Let us hear from the supporters of Mrs. Tom- 

 lin's suggestion. 



I see that the Broome comity (N. Y.) supervisors have 

 passed an edict to protect all fur-bearing animals, which, 

 as you say, extends immunity to cats, dogs, coons, skunks, 

 etc. It is fortunate for the industries of Connecticut that 

 its officials have not the same views as to what constitutes 

 legitimate protection, as a similar one would give the 

 death blow to what at this time constitutes a thriving and 

 profitable business in that State, which, in the vernacular 

 of the gentlemen pursuing it, it is called "skunkinV On 

 one occasion as I was out after chestnuts, in the vicinity 

 of East Lime with a party of ladies, our sense of smell was 

 suddenly outraged by an all too familiar odor, and the 

 ladies applied their handkerchiefs and were irresolute as 

 to which way to run, so we pursued a path we were on, 

 but the odor grew stronger as we proceeded. A halt was 

 called, and I was detailed to go ahead and spy out the 

 ground, and the safety of going on. Presently I struck it 

 heavy, and at the same time an old chap with a bag over 

 bis shoulder, and two measly mangy dogs following. At 

 t his point the odor was almost overpowering* and I hailed 



my neighbor and remarked, "Some danger around here, I 

 reckon, We must be close aboard the essence peddler." 

 Whereat the old chap chuckled, and remarked, "Ain't no 

 skunks around; it's me and the dogs you smell." I said, 

 "For Heaven's sake, have you had an encounter with one? 

 Again the old fellow chuckled and answered, "A counter 

 with em? well I guess so. That's my business, I am what 

 we tarm up here a 'skunker.' Me and Gineral Grant, and 

 Gineral Lee have it hot and heavy with 'em every day. I 

 ain't had no luck yet to-day, but I guess we will have 'em 

 fore night, won't we, Gineral?" addressing his remark to 

 one of the dogs, who rolled up a pair of inflamed eyes, 

 and wagged a mangy tail faintly. 



I said, "How came you to name your dogs after such 

 distinguished men, for such a business? It is not very 

 complimentary." "Wall!" said he, "some folks might 

 say so, but them are dogs is such fighters, I had to name 

 em arter them kind of fellers." During the talk I had 

 edged around to windward. I said, "What do you do 

 with your game when you get it?" "What do I do with 

 em? Skin em of course, and sell the skins for 50 cents 

 apiece, and make right smart of money at it too. I made 

 $3 last week." Who buys your skins?" "Peddlers from 

 the city." "And what is made of them?" The old party 

 laughed long and loud at my ignorance. "What do they 

 dew with em? Why, make up for the wimmen to wear, 

 and sell 'em to 'em, and call 'em Connecticut sables, or 

 someother way-back name; andthey ain'tnonethe wiser." 



I went back and told the ladies that the trouble could 

 be laid at then* door, as the cause of all our woes was a 

 missionary in quest of tribute to their decorations, whose 

 labors would probably materialize in the shape of a 

 Christmas sealskin. There was an indignant protest from 

 the whole bevy. The best of it was, however, that one 

 lady of an inquiring mind on arriving home learned to 

 her horror that she was wearing a Connecticut sable her- 

 self, and had been since her last birthday. 



It is evident that the Supervisors of Broome county, 

 New York, are stupidly ignorant of an industry that they 

 could turn to great profit individually and at the same 

 time relieve their neighbors of unpleasant nocturnal visi- 

 tors to their hen roosts. Three dollars a week is not to be 

 despised, to say nothing of the odd (s)cents to be added, 

 and how welcome the industrious supervisor will be when 

 he comes home to the bosom of his family after a hard 

 day's "skunkin'." It is a bare possibility that the super- 

 visors of Broome county may discover their mistake and 

 rescind the "taboo," so far as relates to Connecticut 

 sables, and turn their attention seriously to the industry. 



PODGERS. 



■ — — 



BREEDING QUAIL. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The recent communications on the hatching of quail 

 (Forest and Stream, Jan. 13 and 27) are very readable 

 and interesting, but, if the writers will pardon me, they 

 present nothing that is especially new. It is not an un- 

 usual or difficult thing to hatch the Virginia quail under 

 a bantam hen and to bring them to maturity. It is not 

 quite so easy, but still not to be regarded as difficult, to 

 hatch them under the parent bird from eggs laid in con- 

 finement. Some of my own quail hatched in this way 

 about 1885 lived in my coops for more than two years, and 

 were always bright and healthy. 



But the singular fact in all these experiments, and I 

 have known of them' in some form for at least thirty 

 years, is that so far as I have been able to learn, we have 

 never succeeded in breeding beyond the first generation 

 reared in confinement. Just why this is true, it would be 

 hard to say. There is no trouble in inducing birds that 

 have been reared in a coop to mate and lay, and the eggs 

 are all of them fertile — at least they were in the case of 

 the pair of quail which I mated, both of which had been 

 raised in the coop, and which were not related. But the 

 hen refused to sit, and from what I can gather this will 

 be the case with a majority of the birds so reared. 



Here is another obstacle to the extended rearing of 

 quail in confinement which many of those who plan to 

 enlarge their operations do not seem to take into account. 

 Quail are not polygamous as are the grouse, but pair off 

 like our song birds. Hence to secure successful breeding 

 each pair of birds must have a separate inclosure. A male 

 quail caged with two hens during the breeding season will 

 mate with one and fight the other, and in time will kill 

 her if she is not removed. With half a dozen or so in one 

 inclosure you will get a number of eggs, and they will be 

 fertile, but none of the female birds so situated will sit. 

 Bantams are poor mothers for young quail compared with 

 the true mother. Lastly, there is no good reason why 

 young quail hatched in confinement should not come to 

 full maturity, provided always they are hatched early 

 enough in the season to become well feathered before the 

 nights grow chilly, and given proper food while they are 

 chicks. Jay Beebe. 



Toledo, O., Feb. 3. 



Surmises that it was a Lynx. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



A correspondent in the current issue describes the 

 tracks and voice of an animal and desires its identifica- 

 tion. I have an opinion that the animal is a lynx. 



Pine Tree. 



" That reminds me. 1 ' 



The anecdote told by the Rev. G. W. Brown in Camp- 

 Fire Flickerings of Feb. 3 reminds me of some snake 

 stories I heard last summer while waiting for my train at 

 Gunpowder Station, P. W. & B. E. E. I was entertained 

 by several of the boatmen and fishermen who live near 

 there relating to snake stories. Each vied with the other 

 in telling the biggest snake lies, all of which I took in as 

 though I believed them, leading them on by remarks and 

 questions. After several rather mild anecdotes, one of 

 the men said: "You know that burnt-out tree that stands 

 along the railroad near Magnolia? Well, me and my boy 

 was hunting pa'tridges up there one day when one got up 

 between me and the boy, and I hollered for him to lay 

 down go I could shoot; but he said, 'Not much, pap; there 



