April 14, 1894.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



818 



"Give the devil that which is due him," and therefore I 

 ask Mr. Weinhart to "bring back my smoke." That, how- 

 ever, is neither here nor there; the main object of my 

 communication is to call your attention, and that of 

 sportsmen in general throughout the United States, to the 

 universal outrage of spring shooting, by citing this forc- 

 . ible argument in favor of its abolition. Bluebill. 



Apropos of this is this vigorous expression of opinion by 

 , Mr. G. R. Peck, printed by him as an editorial in his 

 paper, the Auburn, N. Y., Advertiser: "Thirty years ago 

 the wild pigeon was so common around Auburn as to be 

 an easy mark for even a flint lock. To-day there is not 

 one left to tell the story and in fact there were not any 

 left to speak of in 1870, ten years after 1860. Reason: No 

 I protection, robbery of nests and butchery of squabs to 

 I enrich marketmen. 



"It will be the same way with ducks if they are to be 

 killed for the market. Years ago battery shooting came 

 near killing all the ducks. That was checked and pro- 

 J hibited and now ducks are quite common again and 

 to-day are mating and nesting in the Seneca River, 

 tame and at peace because the shooting season was 

 shortened to March 1. The effort to lengthen it again 

 to May 1 means death and destruction. Ducks do not wait 

 until May 1 to pair. They pair earlier than that. But 

 does not the continual chasing of them and shooting at 

 j them retard development of young? Certainl . A prom- 

 inent politician of this city informed us the other day of 

 the fact that his fowls which were laying 20 eggs a day 

 dropped to 4 and 5 a day in one day, caused by fright at 

 a couple of fox-terriers which broke into the coops one 

 night and killeJ 4 or 5 of them. If that will disturb egg 

 I laying in fowls, what will a continual chasing of ducks 

 [ with shotguns do in their mating season? Why, retard 

 f the production of ducks, of course. Some sportsmen act 

 like a pack of wild pigs or ignorant boors in regard to the 

 protection of fish and game." 



The Washington Post, in a paragraph about spring 

 snipe shooting, says: 



A word of advice right here should be remembered. Let every gun- 

 ner after snipe make up his mind that he would as soon shoot his best 

 friend as a woodcock at this time of the year. The finest birds thnt. 

 fly are now mating, and one killed now means two or threo less in 

 August. You are liable to flush them any time along the edges of th 

 marshes, where the underbrush and thickets begin, and when you se e 

 them rise and flutter in the air and drop almost immediately, you wir 3 

 be a brute to raise your gun and give it to them, for they are either 1 

 [ with young when they take flight as described, or are about to become 

 i proud parents. Don't forget this warning if you have a drop of 

 I sporting blood in your veins. 



What is the difference between woodcock shooting in 

 spring and snipe shooting in spring? Both "are about to 

 become proud parents." Why should the "drop of sport- 

 ing blood" be the salvation of one any more than of the 

 other? 



A VIRGINIA WILD TURKEY HUNT. 



Leaving home before daybreak I was soon at E. T. Y. 

 & G. R.R. depot with faithful Max and my little hammer- 

 less and a few shells loaded with No. 6 shot, and also some 

 with No. 8, besides a couple of buckshot shells. 



Just at daybreak I leave the cars, deposit my overcoat 

 and gun case at a house and hasten toward the turkey 

 range two miles away. On my way Max points a bevy of 

 quail scarcely moved from their last night's roosting 

 place, and I tarry long enough to bag a brace. Moving 

 on I cover a large area and find turkey signs very scarce, 

 more so than ever before in my acquaintance with those 

 woods. I decide that the turkeys are in the pine thickets. 

 So I leave the woods and soon Max shows signs of game. 

 I judge that they are quail, exchange 8s for 6s, follow 

 him till he crosses a large gully, and when I get over miss 

 him, but he soon comes back to me. I go forward and 

 finally decide that it must be a cold trail for turkeys. Re- 

 placing a shell of 6s I notice that Max quickens his gait; 

 I do the same, and soon he is out of sight, when his rapid 

 barking tells the tale. I hasten noiselessly forward as 

 one large old gobbler has flown up into a pine tree. Get- 

 ting about 35yds. from- the tree I search for, locate him, 

 step aside to get a better view of him, he sees me and. is 

 about to take wing when I quickly raise my gun and 

 down he comes, killed outright. Max is on to him before 

 I can reach him, and how he enjoys it. 



Waiting thirty minutes or so I begin to call, but the 

 wary old gobbler will not reply, and though I have waited 

 an hour and a half no response to my yelping cheers me. 

 About that time some hounds on the creek below me are 

 making the woods ring, and soon a beautiful doe passes 

 100yds. below me. I quickly exchange buckshot for 6s 

 and step up to see if she will come my way, but she is out 

 of reacn and I am disappointed. 



My turkey hunt is broken up, so I return to the railroad 

 station and await a way freight train which is four hours 

 delayed. The deer, hunters in the meantime have gone 

 three miles below on Savage Creek, jump a two-prong 

 buck and run him up the creek. I hear the dogs as they 

 near the station, but did not dream they would come near 

 to me. My gun was taken apart, put in its case and lying 

 on a bench near me. A negro boy steps up on the porch 

 near by and listens to the dogs. Suddenly he cries, 

 "Look at that deer! Look at that deer 1" In a few mo- 

 ments the buck leaps the fence around the park, runs a 

 few yards, suddenly stops and wheels to his right. The 

 boys and Max take after him, while Col. G. , of Macon, who 

 is awaiting the train like myself, slips in a shell of small 

 shot and fires at him, only to accelerate his speed. Oh, 

 how I wished my gun had been ready, then I would have 

 had both turkey and venison to carry home. 



Deer are accumulating rapidly, the game law for the 

 last few years being favorable; the open season Sept. 1 to 

 Jan. 1, but was very recently changed Oct. 1 to Jan. 1. 

 So ended my turkey hunt and we had two Christmas 

 turkeys. 



Birds were plentiful last season and we made some nice 

 bags, Old Subscriber. 



The Mt. Vernon Deer. 



Washington, D. C— The quail shooting of 1893 across 

 the Potomac in Virginia was fair, but not anywhere near 

 as good as it was last year. It is all on account of the 

 bad laws, and moreover because the few good laws are 

 not enforced. ' 



Out at Gen. Washington's old home, Mt. Vernon, there 

 is a herd of fine Virginia deer, there are twelve in num- 

 ber; last year there were twice that number, but the other 

 half were sent up to John Wanamaker'g place up in, 

 Pennsylvania, Vtbgini.a, 



BUFFALO SLAUGHTER IN THE PARK. 



In a private letter from Mr. Hough, now with the 

 Forest and Stream's Yellowstone Park Game Explora- 

 tion, comes this story of the raid by the head hunters on 

 the buffalo of the Park. Fuller details will be given in 

 the report of the expedition. The letter was written on 

 March 29: 



I am afraid you are all wrong in your belief that there 

 are now 500 buffalo in the Park. Capt. Anderson ad- 

 mitted last night that he feared 200 would cover it now. 

 I do not believe there are over 200 or 250 buffalo left 

 alive. There may be a large band up at the head of the 

 Pelican Creek hot country, but unless this is so the herd 

 is not half as large to-day as it was last year reported. 

 The hay was largely cut on the Hayden and other valleys 

 two years ago and also last year. Unquestionably this 

 sent the elk out of the Hayden Valley, and it is to be 

 hoped it also sent the buffalo, though the latter have not 

 yet been located elsewhere. Capt. Anderson thinks the elk 

 are in large bands on the upper Pelican, and argues that 

 the buffalo must be in there, too. The man Howell had 

 been camped in that country since September, and I do 

 not be.Ueve he ever stopped at eleven head, 



We counted 75 to 85 head of buffalo in Hayden this 

 trip. Hofer was surprised at the scarcity of buffalo and 

 elk. Sergt. Parker makes the Hayden and Nez Perce 

 district buffalo 81 head. Capt. Scott counted 103 head in 

 Hayden Valley one day three weeks ago. One band of 6 

 and another of 7 head were seen in the Pelican country, 

 20 miles, say. from Hayden Valley. This comprises the 

 total winter report of buffalo seen. We saw three head 

 in Nez Perce Valley. 



The worst of it all is, Hofer and I found where a killing 

 had been made on Trout Creek, in the Hayden Valley. 

 The carcasses were under four to five feet of snow and 

 the animals may have been killed in January. We 

 noticed the unusual number of coyotes, and found at 

 length a hillside covered with coyote and fox tracks. We 

 saw also tracks of a mountain lion, a wolverine, a lynx 

 and a large bear. We then found six deep pits in the 

 snow, which we investigated, and I saw two others which 

 I did not go to. From the bits of hair, the bones, con- 

 tents of intestines, etc., we knew there was buffalo at 

 the bottom of each hole dug by the animals that were 

 feeding there. The bodies were all on a quarter of mile 

 of ground and it looks like a killing, of course. The snow 

 was packed and icy and we had no way of digging down, 

 so we could not tell whether or not the heads had been 

 taken, though we thought the skins were. We could 

 only see a little of the stripped bones and the fresh meat 

 torn by the feeding animals. We reported this to Capt. 

 Anderson. He sends out a party to-morrow to investi- 

 gate. I think he will find' that 6 or 8 head of buffalo 

 were killed here. This is 15 miles from the Howell 

 killing. 



I think forty buffalo have been killed this fall and 

 winter, and no one knows how many more. While 

 exactness is impossible, and while I am still new in the 

 Park, I do not feel as though there were over 200 or 250 

 head left alive. I could have killed 60 head one day. 

 Any man could do that in the snow. It is a big country. 

 You are right in saying that ten troops could not protect 

 the buffalo. The Park can be patrolled, but until there is 

 a penalty established, how can the poachers be stopped 

 from taking the 1,000 to 1 odds? Howell boasted to me 

 that all he could lose was $26.75 (the cost of his outfit), 

 and said that if he had been left alone he would have 

 cleaned up $2,000. I do not believe the extent of this 

 year's killing has been learned as yet. That it is 20 head, 

 at least, is sure. I would not want to be an alarmist, but 

 there are no 500, or 400, or 300 head of buffalo in the Park 

 alive to-day. Congress will delay making a law until 

 there are not a score left. The present system puts a 

 premium on their heads, and invites their destruction. 

 Capt. Anderson knows this Park thoroughly, I am sure, 

 and he is energetic and positive to a delightful extent, but 

 either or any other man is working against awful odds 

 when he has the short end of 1,000 to 1. 



I hope that a later and better count will show up the 

 rest of the herd elsewhere, but Captain Anderson tells 

 me this moment that we may emote him as saying that 

 without further information he will not report over 200 

 or 250 buffalo in the Park in his next annual report. 



JACKSNIPE SHOOTING. 



In my opinion, of all the game birds of America, there 

 is none which affords more genuine sport to the gunner 

 than the Wilson snipe, more commonly called jacksnipe. 



Here in California, or at least in this section of the State, 

 some snipe can be found almost any time during the open 

 season (Sept. 15— March 15), but I have always found them 

 in greater numbers during the last month of the open sea- 

 son. In fact, the open season should extend to April 1. at 

 least, as none of the birds breed here, and the season closes 

 just as it is at its best. 



I enjoyed exceptionally fine sport with the snipe at the 

 last of the past season. The preserve which I shot over 

 was a cattle pasture, of about four or five hundred acres 

 in extent, devoid of all cover save a small growth of wiry 

 grass and a few patches of cockle burrs here and there, 

 and with just enough water in it to afford a splendid feed- 

 ing ground for the jacks, but not sufficient to make it 

 tiresome walking; in fact, it was an ideal snipe ground. 

 It was to this meadow that I came one day in the latter 

 part of the season in quest of snipe. 



In hunting snipe, it is better not to commence shooting 

 until about 10 o'clock, as the birds will rise closer after the 

 sun has warmed things up a little than earlier in the day. 

 But on the day in question I had been hunting duck all 

 morning on a nearby lake, and had bagged a few brace of 

 those showy birds, cinnamon teal. 



So, changing my No. 6 shot for No. 9, I walked on over 

 to the meadow. I had not walked far, after arriving at 

 their feeding grounds, when three of the long-billed gen- 

 tlemen got up with their peculiar, quavering cry, and I 

 threw up the gun, only to miss with both barrels. But 

 that did not phase me, for as every one knows they are 

 very hard birds to hit. 



On the next rise, however, I did better, and had the 

 satisfaction of doubling up a single in great style. I 

 always make it a rule, in snipe shooting especially, to load 

 my gun immediately after shooting, keeping my eye on 

 the fallen bird, if any, because it is a very easy matter to 

 lose snipe, as they are almost exactly the color of the 

 grass in which they hide. 



It is well I did so in this case, for as I stooped to pick up 

 my bird, another rose almost under my nose, and I 

 promptly knocked him down. Walking on a, little way, 

 I found myself in the thick of them, with birds popping 

 up from the grass on all sides, most of them beyond range, 

 however. They would only circle about for a short time, 

 and then suddenly pitch into the grass again. 



I only took the most promising shots, and managed to 

 tumble them over with pretty fair regularity after having 

 gotten warmed to the work. 



At one time I was in a predicament: I had brought 

 down three successive snipe without moving from my 

 tracks, and as the birds had all fallen some distance apart, 

 and added to that, there was a provoking sameness about 

 the ground, I knew that if I moved to retrieve the first, 

 I would stand but a slim chance of finding the other two. 

 As I stood there trying vainly to find some mark by which 

 I could find the second and third, suddenly a brilliant idea 

 suggested itself; I laid the gun on a convenient tussock, 

 with its muzzle pointed toward jack No. 3, and while I 

 made a mental calculation of the relative position of No. 

 2, I walked over and picked up No. 1. In this way I 

 found all three. 



It certainly was delightful sport. The day was a perfect 

 one, with not a cloud in the sky, and just warm enough 

 to make one feel lazy. Presently a bird rose about 10yds. 

 ahead of me, and commenced tacking lazily across the 

 meadow. Bang! bang! Seaipe! scaipe! and not even 

 a feather to show- for my burnt powder. He kept 

 on his erratic flight until he was a mere speck outlined 

 against the deep blue of the sky, at intervals uttering his 

 squeaking cry, which seemed very much like a derisive 

 laugh at my expense, and finally pitched down beside a 

 rail fence. 



I decided that I would have that snipe or burn some 

 more powder in the attempt, at least. So I lined him by 

 a distant windmill , and walked on over to the spot where 

 he had lit. I followed^the fence along knowing that often 

 the snipe run for quite a distance after alighting, but this 

 one did not materialize. Becoming impatient I uttered a 

 sharp "Get out of here," and sure enough he rose some 

 distance ahead of me, and as luck would have it, on the 

 opposite side of the fence. He skimmed along quite near 

 the ground, and I caught only a glimpse of him over the 

 rib of the barrel as he appeared for an instant between 

 two fence rails, but as I pulled the trigger I felt that he 

 was my bird. Nor was I disappointed, for there he lay 

 on his breast, with his wings spread as if in flight. 



After a few more turns around the meadow, knocking 

 down a snipe now and then, my supply of No. 9's gave 

 out, and I was compelled to stop, although the birds were 

 still plentiful. 



On my way to the buggy I made a handsome double on 

 two mallards which rose squawking from a pond ahead 

 of me. 



When I straightened out the contents of the capacious 

 pockets of my shooting jacket, I counted just one more 

 snipe than an even two dozen, which, with the cinnamon 

 teal and brace of mallards, made a very fair showing. 



Culpepper. 



The Yellowstone National Park. 



(From Garden and Forest^ 

 Much indignation has naturally been kindled by the 

 stories recently published of the slaughter of the few buffalo 

 which were nominally under Government protection in the 

 Yellowstone Park. A late number of Forest and Stream 

 contained a circumstantial account of the capture of one mis- 

 creant in the very act of skinning one of the five buffaloes 

 which lay dead about him, and there were evidences that he 

 had been quite as successful in his murderous work on for- 

 mer days. The situation is made more depressing by the 

 knowledge that this is probably a representative case, and 

 that other poachers are engaged in the work of exterminat- 

 ing the few surviving individuals of the countless herds 

 which once ranged over the plains. More aggravating still 

 is the reflection that no law exists for the punishment of such 

 crimes. The fact that Yellowstone Park and the adjacent 

 reservation have been set apart for the use and enjoyment 

 of the people forever, is really no protection to its forests or 

 its game, but rather an advertisement to every outlaw that 

 he can steal the timber, or set the woods on fire, or slaughter 

 the game, without fear of punishment. Obviously the first 

 duty of Congress in this mutter is to pass laws for the gov- 

 ernment of all our parks and reservations and then 

 administer them in such a way that they will command re- 

 spect. It is a national disgrace that property which belongs 

 | to all the people should be more unsafe than prorprty that 

 ' belongs to any $ne of fchg popple, 



A Bewildered Wild Swan. 



While Mr. E. G. Pendleton, of Washington, D. C, 

 was hunting wild turkey in the mountains of Virginia, 

 2,500ft. above tide mark, he saw a large white swan 

 stumbling along over the rocky ridges nearing the sum- 

 mit of one of the highest peaks. The day was extremely 

 foggy, and the swan evidently desired to get above the 

 heavy mist before starting off in its flight. When within 

 35yds. the hunter fired, only intending to wound the bird 

 if possible. As luck would have it, only a few shot took 

 effect in the neck, and running forward he caught the 

 swan up in his arms and carried him to the foot of the 

 mountain, placing him with a tame goose in his pond on 

 his beautiful preserve there. The wounded neck soon 

 healed up and the swan seemed quite contented with his 

 lot. He became perfectly tame, in a short time answer- 

 ing to the call of the keeper and running along with the 

 tame goose to be fed. Wm. W. Hart. 



New York Grouse. 



Lester, N. .Y. — Grouse have wintered splendidly and 

 are more plenty than for years at this season, H. W. R, 



