238 
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FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 21, 18V)6. 
A DAY WITH THE DUCKS ON THE 
UPPER POTOMAC. 
Having a standing engagement with Mr. J. L, Griffith, 
whom I regard as the best canoeist at this end of the 
Potomac, I was delighted one evening last spring to ar- 
range with him to start the next morning for a day's out- 
ing, provided that the weather should continue, as it 
promised at that hour to be, typical "duck weather." 
True to the evening's promise, the morning dawned 
boggy with a drizzling rain falling, when we met at the 
boat house, two eager souls with rather more than a single 
thought concerning the day's anticipated sport, for the 
one is an ardent canoeist, while the other is an enthusias- 
tic duck hunter. 
The canoeist gave the first order to me, to take my seat 
in the bow and "trim boat." He then adjusted his own 
seat, picked up the paddle — and his parr of the fun had 
already commenced. As for me, I loaded up and 
anxiously waited to get out of reach of the horde of 
"land" hunters that, on the slightest indication of ducks, 
will be found lining the banks of the river as far down as 
Wilev's Ford. 
"Keep your eye open for a mallard from this bank," 
was the canoeist's caution as we passed from the Virginia 
channel to the Maryland shore. 
Closely hugging the overhanging brush we were push- 
ing along as silently as possible, when, suddenly, a quack, 
quack, sounds about 30yds. in front of the bow as a pair 
of wood ducks take wing down the river. Instantly their 
graceful flight is cut short, as one bird falls to the crack 
of each barrel. The gunner pats himself on the back, 
"Good shot, old boy." The canoeist chimes in cheerfully 
with the remark, "Couldn't have done it better myself, 
you know!" 
The game is picked up and a sharp lookout is kept for 
any other stray pair that may try the same tactics, but no 
more reward our watchfulness until we reach the broad 
eddy at Taylor's Ford. Here about midway of the stream 
we come in sight of a flock of small black and white ducks. 
"Don't shoot too quick," suggests the canoeist, "I'll get 
you close enough for a shot." 
But there has been a mistake in his calculations; before 
we are near enough for a shot the ducks rise and are 
away down the river. But look 1 They have circled and 
are coming back. Stop paddling; sit perfectly still and 
maybe we shall get a chance at them yet. 
In the moment of beginning the descent to the river 
they perceive the boat, and rise again to go over us. Too 
late — for one of them. The left-hand choke barrel has 
been brought to bear on him, and leaving his late com- 
panions he joins the two summer ducks in the bottom of 
our canoe. After this event the flock continues its flight 
up stream, and all along the line you could hear the crack 
of sportsmen's guns until we passed out of hearing. 
We had now reached what is known as the Swan 
Ponds, on "Taylor's Bottoms," and decided to take a trip 
around them, remembering that there are always to be 
found a few ducks in there. Before we were within 
shooting distance a pair of beautiful mallards had heard 
us, and left their feeding grounds. Concluding that there 
were no more ducks at that point, we proceeded 
through the marsh in the hope of getting a few snipe. 
None too soon had we changed our loads, for almost from 
under our feet there sprang a pair screaming scape, 
scape. They are too late; the gun has leaped to the 
shoulder, and a beautiful double has been scored. Before 
we reach the boat five snipe and a pair of plover have 
been added to our bag. 
The next point of interest is at Mount's Falls, one of the 
heaviest falls on the river between Cumberland and South 
Branch. And now the canoeist is in his glory, for here is 
the chance to prove his skill. He has to dodge first a 
boulder on this side and then one on the other side. 
While he is thus engaged, in the heaviest part of the falls, 
a single mallard rises from the bank on the left of us. It 
is a long shot, but I try for him, missing with first barrel, 
but breaking his wing with the second. Now comes a 
ehase. He has fallen where the current is swiftest and 
starts for the great falls just this side of Washington. 
But he is not quick enough at dodging, and we add him 
to the number in the boat. 
From this point onward to Lapp's Run we have a quiet 
time, missing several shots. But as we approach the falls 
that end in a beautiful swirl under the willow branches, 
my partner directs, "Now keep a sharp lookout here, for 
I have never failed to raise ducks while passing this 
point." 
Hardly are the words spoken when a very large drake 
mallard appears in the air in testimony to the correctness 
of the statement of the canoeist. Hurriedly I said: 
"Steady her for a minute, Lou;" and in a flash he had re- 
versed motion, bringing the canoe almost to a standstill, 
and I then made what I have always since regarded as 
the most difficult shot of my life. What a beauty he was, 
with his bronze head and wings, fully as large as any 
tame duck of the same kind that I have ever seen. This 
shot alone would have been compensation ample for the 
trip, the rest of which proved uneventful. At the mouth 
of the South Branch we disembarked, carrying our canoe 
to the railroad station to be loaded on the train for home, 
where we ourselves arrived at about 4 o'clock, having 
spent a day memorable as one of the most delightful of 
my life. Zack Laney. 
Unexpected Luck. 
As I perused the columns of this week's Forest and 
Stream I read at the bottom of one of the columns "Re- 
port your luck with rod and gun to Forest and Stream," 
and reflecting for a moment, an incident that happened 
last fall while out hunting partridges with friend Ike and 
brother Jim came to mind. 
We had driven out some six miles from town and had 
nearly spent one of those red-letter days, each of us hav- 
ing a-f ew birds to our credit, and had started back to the 
old barn and were passing through a scattered piece of 
timber with thick brush on the edge, when right in front 
of us a partridge got up and flew toward the thicket. I 
pulled up and fired and so did Ike, and as the bird came 
down amid a shower of feathers Jim shouted, "She's 
down." 
Our two dogs, Josh and Don, began to circle to find the 
bird, and Josh, who belongs to Ike, was the lucky dog 
and "retrieved him in good style. 
But Don, who belongs to me, and is of course the -'best 
dog on earthy kept busily at work, as he always expects 
to find a bird every time the gun is fired. However, we 
paid no attention to him, but were giving Josh his de- 
served praise, when Jim exclaimed, "Look here!" and 
there to our great astonishment came Don, as proud as a 
lord, with a bird in his mouth. We felt of the bird and 
found he was warm and had just been killed. 
We had seen only one bird fly and only one fall. What 
we want to find out is where did Don's bird come from? 
Did any of the readers of Forest and Stream ever have 
a like experience? J. E. B. 
Oswkgo_Falls, N. Y. 
ANGLING NOTES. 
SOME EXPERIENCES DOWN CELLAR. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have had it on my mind for a long time to write you, 
and lo! another has put the identical question which I 
most heartily second, to wit, whether some of our mighty 
men at the light and festive trigger of the bobtailed gat- 
ling will not please tell us humble oneB just how they do 
it that we may go and do likewise. Revolver shooting 
always had a fascination for me — on paper — and I have 
even tried my hand at it in a desultory way, just enough 
to let me find out what a lot there is in it that I don't 
know. 
My essays were strictly practical. I then owned a 
handy S. & W. officer's holster affair, with octagon bar- 
rel, and that 5in. long for a guess, cal. 32. (Can't give 
closer details, for the weapon is now some lOft.under ashes, 
burnt brick, molten glass, etc., of my homestead, which 
has just got done smoking). But with an eye to burglars 
I used to practice in my cellar, just to get a "dim reli- 
gious light," you know. At 40ft. off, shooting left-handed 
at a 6in. patch of newspaper, arm bent, sight fairly rapid, 
both eyes open and with specs on, a point 6in. to the right 
and 4 or 5 below generally fetched up a little above left 
cfenter. So much for heavy pull, weak wrist and ocular 
variation. But by placing my right hand on my noble 
breast and using that elbow as a rest — a matter of half a 
second's time in striking an attitude — I could approximate 
a center about every time. I now recall blowing a hole 
through a red squirrel in that way one morning, far up 
the Magalloway. My conscience smote me afterward for 
useless slaughter, ana as a penance I tried to eat him; but 
my! wasn't he tough? I haven't shot one since. 
Just a word to chaps who may be inspired by my ex- 
ample in the choice of a pistol gallery. I quit rather sud- 
denly, because a bullet went through the plank, glanced 
from the stone work behind, boomeranged backward, 
caromed off a rafter right over my head, and tried to bore 
a hole in the cement close to my feet. It was very pretty 
to see for once, like a game of billiards with Pluto. But 
as P. had everything to gain and nothing to lose, and my 
case was vice versa (apply to Dick of Connecticut for 
translation), I proclaimed to my spouse that my education 
was completed and she now might bring on her burglars; 
whereat she has slept sweetly every night since 
in calm and perfect confidence of my protectionary abili- 
ties. Bequiescat in pace. (Apply to Dick some more.) 
The caution is not needless. A friend of mine tried the 
same game with his Flobert rifle and his first shot plunked 
a hole through the gas meter 45 degrees away. He stopped 
work and scooted for a gas man. That remedied, he 
began again, and his second shot played follow-my -leader 
about Sin. from the other hole. That gas man told him 
he hoped he would keep it up, for it would give him lots 
of steady employment. 
My compliments to Dick of Connecticut; I've greatly 
enjoyed his letters. May eheu as closely to the line, 
always, as in his last. J. P. T. 
Blue Mountain Park Notes. 
Mr. Austin Corbin is having a piece of land just out- 
side the southern boundary line of Blue Mountain Park 
inclosed with a fence of Page woven wire four and a half 
miles in length. The inclosure includes a small lake and 
will be used for fox-hunting with horse and hounds. The 
fence is 9ft. high and has 8in. meshes extending from the 
bottom up to a height of 4ft., and from its construction 
will effectually prevent the foxes from escaping. 
In another inclosure a fence of the same material 
separates the cow buffalo from the bulls, and in the last 
year has suffered no other damage than the breaking of 
three small tie wires that can be repaired in ten minutes. 
B. 
Maryland Jacksnipe. 
Stockton, Worcester County, Md., March 6.— The jack- 
snipe are coming in now. I was out to-day with my 
young dog, but found them. too wild to work the pup on. 
Out of nine birds found not one flushed closer than 40yds. 
I have noticed in shooting here that these early birds are 
always shy. None of these birds were in the open meadows, 
but were in twos and threes at sheltered springy places 
close to thickets with southern exposure. There are quite 
a number of redheads on the shoals, but we have fewer 
geese than is.usual this time of the year, no brant at all. 
O. D. Foulks. 
North Carolina Fish and Game. 
New Berne, N. C, March 11.— Fresh shad are already 
selling for 20 cents and 40 cents a pair, according to sex, 
and we are getting tired of them. The fish markets here 
are a sight to behold. Bait-fishing has scarcely begun, but 
will be good next month. 
Quail are becoming scarce, and ducks have departed 
from the creeks and rivers, but English snipe are plentiful 
and fat. J, L. K. 
A Stray Shinplaster 
Comes to us once in a while for a copy 
of "Game Laws in, Brief;" but shin= 
plasters nowadays are scarcer than Moose 
in New York; and 25 cents in postage 
stamps will do just as weH. 
Oldest American Angling Book. 
I AM under the impression that the late Charles Lanman 
is generally credited with being the author of the first 
book published in this country upon the. subject of fishing 
as a pastime; if not "generally credited" he certainly has 
been named in this connection by a well-known writer. 
On the other hand, no less a,n authority than Mr. Dean 
Sage, I believe, who is the owner of one of the finest 
angling libraries in this country, ascribes to John J. 
Brown the authorship of the first American angling 
book. The first edition of Brown's "American Anglers' 
Guide, Being a Compilation from the Works of Popular 
English Writers from Walton to the Present Time, to- 
gether with the Opinions and Practices of the best Amer- 
ican Anglers," etc., was published by Burgess, Stringer & 
Co. in New York city in 1845. The earliest work of 
Lanman's mentioned in the "Piscatoria" is "Summer in 
the Wilderness, embracing a Canoe Voyage up the Mis- 
sissippi and around Lake Superior," which was published 
in New York in 1847. "Adventures of an Angler in 
Canada, Nova Scotia and the United States," by the 
same author, was published in 1848, and it is this book, I 
believe, to which credit is given for being the first 
angling work published in this country. The first 
American edition of Walton, by Rev. George W. Beth- 
une, was published in 1847, and it would really seem that 
Brown's 1845 edition was the first to be published in 
America upon the subject of angling. 
It was only very recently that I was able to find and 
purchase a copy of this first edition of Brown's "Angler's 
Guide." and a quaint little book it is, 18mo in size, although 
it contains many errors in the light of more modern days. 
Brown was a tackle dealer in New York city at 122 Fulton 
street, as his advertisement in the back of the book bears 
evidence. The advertisement concludes with the infor- 
mation that "Anglers will bear in mind that the present 
postage law admits of the transportation of many light 
articles of tackle at very small expense. Flies, hooks on 
gut, and light lines, can be sent in considerable quantities 
at the five and ten cent rates." 
Preceding the title-page are some verses and above 
these the head of a fish under the work "The," and the 
volume concludes with the tail of a fish under the word 
"The." The book has a "Preface," an "Introduction" 
and "Introductory Remarks on Angling." In the preface 
the author says: "Having been situated for a number of 
years where the necessity of some general information on 
the subject of the art of Angling was daily seen, the 
author at first conceived the idea of publishing an Amer- 
ican edition of 'Walton's Compleat Angler;' but on a 
later and more careful perusal of its pages and that of 
other writers, it was found that but little, comparatively, 
real practical knowledge could be given of the large variety 
of the fishes of our own country; he therefore concluded to 
publish, in a small form, the opinions and practice of the 
various English authors, with remarks thereon, and such 
information as could be gathered from American books 
and American sportsmen." The author admits that few 
American books could be obtained and intimates that the 
few were "magazines and philosophical works." If 
Brown could have known~ that between the date of his 
guide and the year 1896 fifty-three new editions of 
"Walton's Compleat Angler" would be published, and 
that two more would be issued in 1896, he might have 
considered it a good thing to edit an American edition of 
Walton even if it did not contain practical knowledge 
concerning our fishes. The introduction to the Guide states 
that "Linnseus has defined nearly 400 species of fishes of 
the Old World, while our own country, possessing as it 
does great advantages over any other, cannot boast of a 
single treatise on a subject so fraught with interest to the 
admirer of nature." The author objects, very properly, 
to the remark of Buff on, "that in America animated 
nature is weaker, less active, and more circumscribed in 
the variety of its productions than in the Old World." We 
must have in the waters of North America something like 
2,000 species of fishes, with several back precincts to hear 
from, as I believe J ordan defined about 1,800 species ten 
years ago, and Linnaeus with his Old World 400 species is 
of the back number species, although I say it with proper 
respect. 
As to the fishes described in the "Guide" I will refer 
only to the black bass, as it is distinctively an American 
fish. The author says: "The Oswego basse and black 
basse bear so strong a resemblance to each other that not 
one fisherman in ten knows them as distinct entities. In 
form, color, weight and habits the two are almost per- 
fectly identical; and yet their differences, though minute, 
are striking and essential. An Oswego basse, when 
placed by a black basse of the same size, is readily dis- 
tinguished by his more forked tail, his greater thickness 
of shoulder, his coarser scales, and above all, by his 
mouth, which when open is nearly twice as large aB that 
of the black basse." 
How is that for a description, fifty years old, of a fish 
discovered within the past fifteen years? 
I do object, however, when the author catches "03wego 
basse" in Lake George, N. Y., for there were none there 
at the time, and there are none now, and never have 
been. 
Champion Fly-Casters. 
For a number of years I have each year compiled the 
fly-casting records of the world for a number of news- 
paper almanacs and handbooks, but not until last year 
was I obliged to write figures to be put into cold type 
recording that England held the world's amateur record 
for salmon casting. Until 1895 Mr. H. W. Hawes held 
the record with 138ft., made at Central Park, in 1888, at 
a tournament of the National Rod and Reel Association. 
Last season Mr. J. J. Hardy, at a tournament at Scarboro, 
Eng., won with a cast of 140ft. 3in., and Mr. John En- 
right, the Irish champion from Castle Connell, made an 
exhibition cast of 143ft. previous to the tournament. 
This at least was as I have given it. I have just re- 
ceived a letter from Mr. Enright, written from Castle 
Connell, Feb. 29, in which he says: "I wonder if you are 
aware that the fly-casting tournament in which Mr. Hardy 
and myself competed in Scarboro in August, 1895, 
was held on grass. He beat me in the 18ft. rod competi- 
tions by, it appears, 20in., though when telegraphing the 
