AfcRlL 1§, 18^ 
FOREST AMD STREAM. 
had left the river and started over the mountains, making 
inquiries as we went (and how many times have I in- 
quired of myself since why I did not have sense enough 
at that time to burn just one of those candles at a time)* 
The ascent grew sharper and the lights dimmer until 
the summit is reached and the descent begun, but in the 
dark those lights had burned out. 
The clear conscience New England farmer is not the 
easiest thing on earth to awake before midnight; he 
comes much easier after four in the morning. (How dif- 
ferent from our city farmers,) All thi3 I found out that 
night after feeling for front gates, finding big dogs and 
yelling myself hoarse. Borrow a lantern? Not one. I 
came to the conclusion that there was but one lantern in 
that county, and some one had borrowed that to sit up 
with a sick friend. While I was making one last appeal 
at a gate, a brute of ^a dog and a sleepy native, the 
heavens suddenly became illuminated by the burning of 
a barn in the distance, and fortunately in Bartiett's direc- 
tion, and with "first road to the right, second to the 
left," etc., many thanks, good night, and a vigorous 
kick at my friend's dog, we drove on. I am sorry the 
man lost his barn, very sorry, but mighty glad of the 
light it gave, being it had to go. As the old town clock 
told of the midnight hour I rapped at the door of a 
friend's house indeed. 
I value too highly the space in Forest and Stream to 
tell in detail of those three well- remembered days in PeJ- 
ham. Months dark and cold have passed since then, yet 
some of Jennette's exceedingly clever work still fingers 
in my memory, I will venture some of it. 
As the sun came creeping up over the hills that morn- 
ing we were out to meet it. The vapor arising from the 
drying autumn leaves was sweet smelling extract to the 
sportsman. Jennette seemed to imbibe the spirit of the 
morning and occasion, and proved much faster than wes 
desirable. These hills and swales were smooth and vastly 
different from the rocks of Pike county, and more than 
one "pa'tridge" got under way out of reach. However, 
by carefully getting their line of flight and introducing 
vigorously a birch switch, we finally got down to busi- 
ness. She makes a point, but the bird flushes badly, yet 
a glimpse is secured just between a big chestnut and its 
little family of suckers. Instinctively the gun is up and 
off. A flying vision, a crack and nothing is seen. All is 
still. Jenn retrieves a dead bird — a chance shot that was 
successful. Another point, but the breaking of a twig 
under my boot puts this fellow on wing. We get his line, 
but not a shot, and press on. Jenn finds where he struck, 
takes the ground scent of this running bird and follows 
in a pace. Finally she stops; so do I, want of breath 
alone demands it. The silence is too much, another 
whir and away it goes, Bartlett trying to tame it with 
two badly aimed barrels, and again we follow on. Surely 
we are far enough; in fact we are nearly out of the 
woods; something must happen here, and it did. 
Jennette swings swiftly to the left and is off. We wait. 
Those fine nostrils are full, but the location is incomplete. 
See this dumb brute work out this problem in her own 
way and raise your hat to an intelligence ofttimes unap- 
preciated, but to the true sportsman alwavs delightful 
and refreshing. I see that streak of mottled animation 
passing swiftly into the wind near the open country. 
She bears off a point toward me, strikes a careful trot, 
slackens to a measured walk and stops, lays the head 
around nearly on the left flank, raises a front paw and 
becomes motionless. I step ahead in the direction indi- 
cated by the position of that head, the stillness is broken 
by the roar of the mighty wings as the bird starts on his 
last flight. The underbrush was scant. Under the spread- 
ing branches of an oak he fell. Jenn sees it all— the 
flight, the kill, the fall; yet stands firm until the word is 
given to fetch, which she does with alacrity. 
Shortly after Bartlett walks one up and nearly scared 
it to death "by turnirjg loose" both barrels again. I tried 
to stop it by firing as it crossed my bows, and questioned 
for the time being my success. I see it strike an em- 
bankment 100yds. away as though it was hunting cover. 
We climb the hill and Jenn passes along the ridge at the 
edge of Laurel's. Like a flash she swings and comes to a 
full point. I close in and call "Steady!" Instantly she 
disappears into the bushes and is gone. I yell at her 
and at the same time make ready to fire. No need ; 30y ds. 
away I hear a flutter, see a commotion in the bushes 
and she returns with a wing tipped grouse. I have been 
asked why she did not hold the point. Because she knew 
more about it than you or I. 
Again a bright morning breal s into view, and the tried 
hunter Page is to guide me. Jennette is left at home to 
nurse sore feet, and I am out for shooting purposes only, 
Old Sport, who has tracked many a grouse to its doom, is 
put down. I can hear Page now as he calls in that pecu- 
liar tone: "Woah, Sport! Steady, Sport, get into that 
clearing! Lookout! There she goes !" 
Bang! bang! And in many cases that bang settled it. 
Some however reached the clearings, heard the vicious 
crack, crack of my gun and passed on, and are flying yet 
for all I know, for aside from nervous shock their health 
seemed good where they left me. If there is a harder 
shot in the world than a grouse crossing an old woods 
road or a 10yds. barren knoll under full wing, I in my 
hunting experience have failed to find it. Yet by- 
chance perhaps I did stop a few. 
We start down through an old woods and find Sport 
making game. A wild flush follows, which is repeated 
four times, until my patience is nearly exhausted, and so 
is that piece of woods, and still again that bird takes him- 
self off prematurely for us, and makes for a long birch 
swamp extending an eighth of a mile to the left, dividing 
an immense meadow into nearly two equal parts; but 
away out it drop3 to cover. I am directed to take up a 
position by an old stump about the middle of the left 
clearing, and I regret seriously that I could not be in 
both meadows at the same time. Page entered from the 
right side, opposite me, and called "Look out!" The high 
wind soon brought to my hearing "Woah, Sport. Look 
out, Sport, there she goes." I turn all eyes, but to no 
avail; it didn't come my way. Page appears and says 
she has gone out to the point and he will send that bird 
back my way. I wait, that meadow becomes a whole 
county in size, seems as though a whole flock of grouse 
could cross a thousand places out of range of my gun, and 
my gun is no slouch either. I tried to see in every direc- 
tion at once. The sun went under a cloud and every- 
thing seemed dark and tangled up; my coat got too 
small, I open and shut the safety of my gun, and sight it; 
the stock has grown 3in, since I stood there. At last the 
spell is broken. An echo, not a voice, is heard. It comes 
down the wind. She goes. My eyes are glued on that 
point of swamp; as the ball pitcher delivers the ball, so 
did that grouse appear, with me in the position of catcher. 
Coming down that meadow 3ft. from the ground, it trav- 
eled faster than the sound of its beating winga and in- 
creased to the size of a cannon ball. How far away it 
was when I had dropped to one knee (to keep me from 
JEANNETTE AND THE BIRDS. 
jumping out of its way) I will never know, nor the dis- 
tance from me when I pulled the trigger, or whether I 
had one eye open or both shut. The noise of my gun 
brought me to my feet and senses with a bound. I saw 
bounding toward me a dead bird that I would rather have 
had than the farm on which it was killed. 
That day was full of exciting sport and some good 
shots (time has erased from my memory the bad misses); 
and again the shadows in the woods told of the late after- 
noon, and night was on when we lowered the string in the 
woodshed and added our birds to the successes of the day 
before. Then behind some more curly wreaths we go 
over the day's sport. Another day, and the farewell is 
said — only three short days, but how full of freedom and 
life! The return home is made, flavored with a sweet 
remembrance. Thomas Elmer. 
Elizabeth, N. J. 
QUAIL SHOOTING IN FLORIDA. 
It was on Feb. 10 last that, pursuaded by a keen native 
of the languid State of Florida, I drove over a very sandy 
road a distance of twelve miles from the sleepy village of 
Arcedonda. We had with us three dogs, Don', Dora and 
Juno, the first two being well-built English pointers and 
the last a thoroughbred Irish setter. On reaching our 
shooting ground we found a succession of cotton fields', 
varied here and there by scrub, sand and an endless 
variety of semi-tropical vegetation. The country was flat 
and uninteresting and everywhere free from moisture, 
and the temperature at 9 o'clock in the morning recalled 
an early summer's day in Michigan. We both wore flan- 
nel jackets, shirts and trousers, with stout laced boots and 
canvas leggings, and I really felt tired, in the way one 
can only feel in the sunny South, before I had pulled a 
■trigger. 
The morning was calm with a cloudless sky. A nigger 
followed closely in my tracks and my companion had 
with him a hoy, both these adherents being liberally sup- 
plied with cartridges. The average native of the South 
suffers from a chronic lassitude. He is tired all day, goes 
to bed tired and wakes up irresolutely in the same con- 
dition. 
My friend, late a captain of Southern cavalry named 
Steele, was a shining exception to this rule, and the easy 
way in which he carried his gun told of long experience, 
while his light, springy step gave promise of good staying 
p_>wers. 
We had got about a couple of hundred yards from the 
horses when Don and Dora suddenly pointed and Juno 
backed, though quite 30yds. in rear. 
In a moment I lost that tired feeling and made a slight 
detour to the left so as to bring my companion in a posi- 
tion to shoot parallel with my own. 
As I did this I almost stepped on three quail, and a hur- 
ried double shot checked a fast flyer, which seemed to 
have got in very quick time a long distance off. Not a 
dog moved. All three were steady as rocks and already 
we were both within 10yds. of the two pointerp. A 
moment later a bevy of fifteen or sixteen birds rose with 
a rush and four reports rang out sweetly on the still air. 
We had each killed clean with both barrels and had also 
the satisfaction of seeing the remaining birds scatter and 
gradually drop 200yds. ahead. Here too the ground 
broke into gentle ridges, with just enough cover to make 
the quail lie close. Altogether the prospect looked pleas- 
ant, but the silence was broken a moment later by the 
sudden jumps of a large hare, which was neatly killed by 
my companion in the act of nimbly clearing some fallen 
trees. 
The dogs were now ranging some 40yds. ahead and a 
light breeze from the west had sprung up and was blow- 
ing gratefully in our faces, while we still had 100yds. to 
traverse before we reached the spot where we had marked 
down the birds. Suddenly all three dogs turned to the 
right, and you could have covered them with a blanket as 
they stealthily drew toward some low scrub and at its 
very edge became rigid in points which there was no mis- 
understanding. 
We had found a fresh covey, and they were without 
doubt within a few yards of the noses of our trusty dogs. 
This time the birds rose irregularly, and my companion got 
rid of three cartridges with marvelous quickness to the 
tune of as many dead birds. He certainly was a lovely 
shot, and I missed one chance in pure admiration of the 
deft way in which he handled his shooting-iron. I did. 
however, get in both barrels, killing clean with the first 
and hitting the second bird so hard that we picked him 
up dead 50yds. further on. 
Those of the bevy which got away we marked down 
not far from the undulating ground where we knew the 
others were lying, and the pleasant feeling of having 
plenty of work on hand was strong upon usi 
I cannot conceive anything prettier than the shooting 
which followed a few minutes later, when point succeeded 
point and birds continued to rise singly for quite half an 
hour. At one time we had seven birds dead while scarcely 
moving out of our tracks, and the still drawing dogs told 
us that there were more to come. 
I never saw birds lie so c'osely. Every now and then 
one would have to be kicked up out of the tangled vines, 
and the manner in which he got through space when 
once on the wing amply atoned for his previous lethargy. 
Shortly after noon we t*at down to a modest lutcheon 
composed of bread and butter and potted meat. We were 
then close to a spring, the water of which was as clear as 
crystal and as cold as ice. 
My colored friend informed me that despite its attract- 
ive appearance this water was a deadly poiBon, and I have 
since learned that in Florida it is not an uncommon thing 
to find water which is beautiful to the eye, but far frcm 
suitable to the stomach. 
The women drink tea and rain-water csught in cisterns. 
The men are not partial to these innocent beverages and 
are not averse to the fire-water of the North. 
Twenty -four quail, four pigeons and two r ares lay dead 
beside us on the sand. These of your readers who have 
shot in Floiida need not be told that grass is there a lux- 
ury, and can only be artificially produced. I have often 
pitied the poor attenuated cows, who here grow tired in 
walking from one blade of graes to another. 
Luncheon over, we again settled down to steady work 
and were not long in finding fresh bevies. In spite of 
sand-burs, heat and drought, the dogs seemed tireless, and 
until we ceased shooting at 5 o'clock in the afternoon 
there was no pottering or false points, and no matter how 
heavy the firing these staunch brutes never lost their 
steadiness. 
The writer has shot in Michigan, Wisconsin, western 
Canada and Indiana, but has never before encountered 
quail which for close lying and fast flying could compare 
with those Florida birds. 
I am sorry to say that toward the end of the afternoon 
I missed a bird with both barrels which rose within a few 
inches of my feet. 
My companion, with the true courtesy of his race 
toward a stranger, never pulled a trigger when he could 
give me the shot, and at 5 o'clock our bag numbered forty- 
four quail, six pigeons and three hares. 
Tired, but contented with our pleasant day's outing, we 
turned our faces homeward, and my last act before seek- 
ing my welcome bed was to see that our three matchless 
dogs got the good supper they so well deserved. 
Rideatj, 
Ottawa, Canada, 
MONGOLIAN VS. ENGLISH PHEASANTS. 
Winchester, Mass.— Editor Forest and Stream: When 
the Legislature of Massachusetts instructed the Commis- 
sion on Inland Fisheries and Game to introduce the pheas- 
ant into the State if possible, we opened correspondence 
with every one we could find who had any experience in 
breeding and rearing them. This correspondence 
amounted to nearly 100 letters. The testimony from all, 
except two or three who had the English pheasant for sale, 
was in favor of the Mongolian as being superior as a game 
bird. It is well known that the English is a nmngrel bird 
and semi- domesticated. One of the dissenters was Mr. 
De Guise, who then as now lauded the English pheasant 
and offered to supply us with them at $36 per dozen. 
When informed that we did not want them, preferring 
the Mongolian, he replied that he would furnish Chinese 
pheasants at $60 per dozen. Just what he meant we were 
unable to say, as there are thirteen varieties of pheasants 
in China, but we would have been willing to pay his price 
had we been sure of obtaining pure Mongolian stock. We 
sent a man who was familiar with the birds to Mr. De 
Guise's place, and he reported that he did not find any 
Mongolian pheasants, and from what he learned of his 
method of feeding the young birds, he could not have 
been successful in rearing them, for the Mongolian requires 
a very different treatment. Whether this report was cor- 
rect or not, the Commission cannot have any controversy 
with Mr. De Guise, as we are not breeding pheasants for 
sale. He is breeding them for market, and however suc- 
cessful he may be in raising English pheasants, he has 
much to learn about our New England climate. 
Finding that all attempts (and they cover a period of 
several years) to introduce the English pheasant into this 
State had failed, we turned our attention to the Mongo- 
lian. Learning that they had been phenomenally success- 
ful in Oregon, we opened correspondence with Judge 
Denny, who introduced them there. Judge Denny was 
Consul-General at Shanghai for seven years, and in the 
employ of the King of Corea for eight years. During his 
stay there he had nine of the thirteen varieties and selected 
the Mongolian as being the best all round game bird. In 
1881 he brought eighteen of these birds to Oregon, and so 
rapid was their increase that in 1894 the State game war- 
den, Mr. Maguire, estimated that last year in Linn county 
alone, during the open season of three months, there were 
about 13,000 killed, and the year before, when the snow 
and bleet were on, 1,200 dozen, were sent to one dealer in 
San Francisco. Correspondence from others confirms 
these statements. 
There is no man in this country who so thoroughly 
understands the character and habits of pheasants as 
Judge Denny. In speaking of the Mongolian he says, 
"They are not only a first-class game bird, but a delicious 
morsel of food. They are hardy and clearly 'the survival 
of the fittest.'" 
From our own experience with both varieties, we fully 
indorse all that he says. I have been a sportsman for 
more than fifty years, and so well satisfied am I of the 
superiority of the Mongolian that I gave away all of my 
English, and am breeding only from the Oregon pheasant. 
I have neither the desire nor the time to enter a contro- 
versy on this subject. In my note to you I said that it 
would be a mistake to introduce the English pheasant 
into the New England States; I now go a step further and 
say that wherever the Mongolian can be had it would be 
a blunder to introduce the English into any of our States. 
No true sportsman, who understands the habits and char- 
