A£ril 25,. 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
sai 
she is getting old. I meet people sometimes who ask me 
where my great deer dog is, and when I show them they 
say, 'That ugly old thing?' and it makes me both sorry 
and ashamed." 
We rode toward the St. John's River, six or seven 
miles, to where we approached near the prairie. 
You know the country between the Indian and St. 
John's rivers is ordinarily open, flat pine land, the under* 
growth mainly of saw palmetto in beds, ranging in height 
from the waist to the head, sometimes higher. There 
are sloughs jutting in covered with grasses, ponds usually 
circular, and both sloughs and ponds are in many places 
boggy. I had never seen or been in such a country, and 
every time my pony would get into these places I thought 
maybe I would land through to China. I would get 
hurt every turn I made; the thornB and briers would 
stick me; the Mexican bayonet would prod me; the pal- 
metto would saw my hands. Noon came withodt finding 
a track in this, to me, aimless hunt, and finding a place 
elevated above the standing water, we lunched and fed 
our horses. Soon after starting old Lady struck a tradk 
and began following it noiselessly. Then my comrades 
became quiet and serious, following her silently, their 
guns ready for use. Around and around this relentless 
old hound followed the course of these feeding deer, now 
stopping to scent this sprig, of grass, or this bush; now 
holding her nose strongly to the ground, ever cautious, 
but tager; now trotting, wading and swimming the 
grassy sloughs and ponds— we always close at her heels. 
Presently Beal stopped her by signal and said, "Gentle- 
men, our horses are making so much fuss in the water 
we had better dismount, and I'll put a Btring on Lady." 
I had not at that time gone to Florida to wade water, 
although I have long since taken to it, so I aBked 
to be allowed to stay on my pony and keep in the 
rear, to see how this strange deer hunt would end. My 
comrades dismounted and tied their horses, and Beal put 
a cord about 10ft. long on Lady, and held one end of it. Si- 
lently they went along, and as silently my little pony, who 
knew more than I about that kind of hunting, followed, 
stepping as lightly as a cat. Directly they turned back 
toward me, for you know the mystic tricks of deer before 
lying down. As they did so I stopped, as it happened, by 
the side of a palmetto bed, more elevated than the sur- 
rounding land, of an area of not more than an eighth of 
an acre. As Beal approached me holding Lady by the 
string, I forgot myself and said: "If you hunt deer in 
water like this why don't you have a fish gig?" "Hush," 
said he in a suppressed voice, "the deer are right in 
there," and he hadn't more than spoken when Lady raised 
her head and ears, gave a yell, and out right in front of 
me, not ten steps, jumped a large doe. While I could not 
believe my eyes, I involuntarily put my gun to my shoul- 
der and shot, and as suddenly the deer dropped, I could 
see that it was shot about the Bide and neck. It kept 
floundering about and I raised my gun to shoot again, but 
Beal told me not to do it, that he would go and cut its 
throat. Being entangled in the brush with the string on 
Lady, before he reached the deer it had struggled behind 
a clump of cabbage palms, rose and ran off, so that I could 
not shoot it. 
Another deer then "ripped" from same cover some dis- 
tance in front and out of gunshot; still another on the 
side next my friend Balton, who wounded it badly, and 
search was made for more than an hour to find it; but 
Lady had seen and scented the blood of the one I 
wounded and refused to follow the other, when finally 
we turned to search for the one I had shot. She f olio we i 
this one readily, trailing it to a slough difficult to travel, 
and it being late, we had to abandon the trail and start 
for home, for when dark comes in Florida, night comes. 
There is no twilight, but snap out the light of a candle in 
a dungeon and almost so suddenly does the blackness 
come in that weird land. From that day have I treasured 
with miserly care the beautiful surprises and sights I be- 
held. Riding along where the timber yields to the prairie, 
the latter spreads out away to the west— to the St. John's 
and on the other side. The sun literally disappears in the 
grass. The little cattle were in groups, lowing like bugles, 
to whose call the sly and eager calves were slipping from 
the coverts. Yonder in the prairie arose the circular wall 
of low palmetto, around a pond; still further a solitary 
cabbage palm. Just in the timber fine is a little hum- 
mock, oblong, dense in growth from the standing water 
and fertile soil. No forester or gardener could supply this 
art of artless nature, nor its profuse variety. Dark, dense 
and green were mixed the silken foliage of the low pine, 
twined in the serpentine arms of the laurel; the um- 
brageous spread of the live oak, clad in its somber robe 
of hanging moss; the artistic fan of the short palmetto, 
standing out, quivering, always quivering; the red bud, 
luminous as fire in the dark; and, as if for show, alone 
above them all arose the stately palm, proud aristocrat of 
the forest, content with moderate stature when standing 
without a rival, but tower it will above them all when 
pressed! There too was the magnolia, queen of the 
jungle, superb in her green, glistening robe, her mossy 
footstool bedecked with verbenas. The sense of loneli- 
ness never possesses you. 
The mode of deer hunting in Florida, with which I am 
acquainted, is unique. In the mountains, you know, the 
deer stalker must be cunning and noiseless, with wind 
and weather in his favor, or he will never approach his 
game. If the hunt is with hounds it is a chase and the 
capturing is done on "Btands." In Florida hunting is 
done with a slow dog and on horseback, the game being 
shot as it rises from its cover, and if missed (as you will 
more often do than hit) the chase is ended. It takes a 
steady horse, a cool head and a quick eye to bring down 
the deer. Its habits are to hide, generally in thick scrub 
palmetto, and to lie close to elude its pursuer. I have 
seen the dog locate their lair and make more than one 
noisy bound at them before they would rise, but when 
they do they rise flying. First, may be, a long high leap 
to locate the surroundings, then a spreading crouch below 
the brush, this way and that, curving, twisting; then 
when they reach the open, a high kangaroo jump, your 
shot striking above them, below or behind, anywhere but 
in the vital place. 
Last winter Balton, B al and myself hunted a day next 
to the St. John's. We trailed a young doe round and 
round, and as usual, before lying down it went into a 
large pond. Time and again old Lady would go into the 
pond, find the trail, follow it to the brink and fail to find 
the deer's bed. It had taken a long leap out of the water 
into the brush on to the brink. Finally she struck the 
right place and put it up and Balton killed it. We had 
passed and the dog had gone half a dozen times within 
10ft. of it. Winter before last we three were trailing an 
old doe and her yearling and Lady was unusually eager, 
occasionally giving tongue, when we saw the old doe get 
up a long distance off and begin to sneak out of the pal- 
metto, head and tail down. We shot several times at her, 
but missed, when Beal, who had galloped off to catch his 
dog, told me to ride in where the deer had gotten up, that 
the yearling was still in there. Having great confidence 
in his knowledge as a hunter, I rode in and found the bed 
of the one we shot at, but rode all over the ground, I 
thought, without getting the other up, when 1 turned my 
horse's head toward my comrades and spoke to them 
loudly, when up right behind me "ripped" this little 
deer, affording me a difficult shot, but I knocked it down 
dead. 
Again, Mr. Capert and myself were hunting a young 
and inexperienced dog and had trailed two deer long and 
patiently, t was following the dog along the edge of a 
slough in the water and Capert rode out into the low pal- 
metto, when within 20yds. of him up jumped a deer, 
which, after giving a bound or two, stood until he shot it 
in the head; then within 10ft. of him another got up, and 
this one he killed too. 
There cannot be more intensely exciting sport than 
hunting deer in this manner. You seldom know where 
they will rise, or how; whether before or behind you, or 
where. You are sometimes in a slow walk, sometimes in 
a trot— oftener in a gallop, here, there, anywhere; and 
five escape where one is bagged. They are never followed 
unless crippled, and are seldom badly enough crippled to 
die, and escape. It takes a hardy and zealous hunter to 
endure these chases. You must be every inch a horse- 
man. You will be in water, in brush, then in a bog, un- 
less you know the grasses and shrubs that warn you of 
these treacherous spots. You stand a chance of riding on 
an alligator; then you and your horse will have a "rucus," 
and unless your girth is strong you may measure lengths 
with the 'gator. These elements of daredeviltry, how- 
ever, only give greater zest to the chase. Did you ever 
camp out in Florida? If not you have never been in an 
ideal camp. No snows to tramp in; no chilling sleets to 
freeze your courage; no mud to soil the clean carpet of 
palmetto fans within your tent. The most beautiful 
camp-fires that ever glowed are those made of Florida's 
resinous pine. You sleep the sleep of the just and eat the 
hearty meal of the hunter. 
None the less pleasant were our short sojourns at the 
hospitable lodge of our warm-hearted and chivalrous host, 
where the fair and accomplished ladies composing the 
families and friends of my comrades made their home for 
a season. There, with comfort and pleasure, we would 
doff the hunter's garb for the habiliments of polite life. 
"The hairbreadth 'scapes by field and flood" gave us sen- 
timent for the song and wit and smiles that awaited us. 
Lounging about the piazza, the full Southern moon would 
thrust its rays from the other shore of that placid river, 
and the pardonable "gush" of some fair one would bring 
out the bronzed hunters. The silhouette of the dark hum- 
mock on the other side stood out like a mountain, and the 
rolling clouds from the Atlantic, with their moonlit 
whiteness, loomed up like peaks of snow. Slowly the 
pale light would'cross the river, so distinct that the mov- 
ing craft, both great and small, could be seen crossing the 
track from shore to shore. 
Why, is not this curious and narrow strip of land, this 
peninsula of Florida, the climax of gentle beauty and sen- 
timent anyway? Created, they tell us, by the toil of the 
silent mites of the briny deep, it is by nature a land of 
repose, destined to be the asylum of the restless and worn 
toiler of this nation. From the Atlantic come the trade 
winds, as buoyant to the inland sojourner as to the sailor. 
On the west, somewhere about that great gulf, is the source 
of that mysterious stream of life which finds its way over 
this globe, where the rays of the sun themselves have no 
power. You sniff the ozone right from the fountain head 
of this mystic river. Could it have been that this was the 
spring, fabled to preserve eternal youth, which inspired 
the quest of Ponce de Leon when he discovered his 
"island of Florida"? This quixotic navigator did not find 
the spring, but he did discover a land of eternal youth and 
beauty. Samuel Cecil Graham. 
VrRGINIA. 
TELLTALE TRACKS. 
And it didn't snow the day after, but the day before, 
the first of the month, when March came in like a lion, 
with a gale from the north before which the firs on the 
hilltops swayed and writhed, tossing their long arms 
wildly; a dead or insecurely rooted monarch here and 
there, whose top was among the clouds, crashed to earth 
with reports like those of big pieces of artillery; the 
crests of wintry looking waves in the Sound, driving in 
fleets before the blast, broke into foam and spume that 
went flying; and whirling, scurrying, eddying masses of 
snowflakes — do you hear what I'm saying? Eddying 
flakes, dry snow, which is as rare here as would be eddy- 
ing raindrops, chased each other in open order, careening 
across the open water, swooping down from the hill 
crests, searching out every nook and cranny in the deep 
gorges, and sifting lightly through the broad arms of 
firs stretched out to detain them, or coming in solid bat- 
talions, a dense wall of surging whiteness, massed for the 
charge that blotted out the farther shores already blurred, 
obscured the roaring waves that leaped to swallow the 
stragglers, crossed the hither beach at a bound, and came 
driving onward in magnificent array, shrouding noise- 
lessly the intervening landscape, and passing by in a wild 
tumult of jostling flakes that, spent and breathless, found 
a resting place in the hollows and along the rapidly whit- 
ening hillsides. 
It was the day after, when it didn't snow, as I said, 
though the wind was still in good lung power, that I 
wandered abroad gunlees in an inch or so of dry snow to 
amuBe myself studying the vagaries of the four-footed 
tribes as they had zigzagged along the hillsides and 
among the thickets bordering the winding stream that 
babbled loudly of the cold winds and belated snows which 
chilled the hitherto rapidly opening buds or lengthening 
leaves of certain bushes that bent over the limpid current 
or greened the transparent depths of some placid pool. 
I wanted, too, to locate the houses of certain coons, 
whose tracks I had occasionally seen in the fringing sand 
or mud along the stream, if perchance they had ventured 
abroad in the chilly night, and to see if the meandering 
mink had left evidences of his foraging for trout, 
The coons had left no tracks. They had been content 
with the warm hollow in the heart of some gigantic 
cedar, where, after sniffing the temperature from the 
lofty opening when the moon rose, they might cover 
their noses with their banded tails, and, forgetting the 
call of hunger, snore away the long night while the owl 
hooted in the complaining wind. When the weather 
moderates though, you may hear in the thickening dusk 
their tremolo whistle answering others across the valley 
as they emerge from their safe retreat and set out in a 
warm drizzle along the oreek and marsh in search of 
shell and other fish, frogs, mice and other dainties where- 
with to satisfy their omnivorous appetites. But you 
needn't expect to set a trap on some discovered runway 
in the woods, or at the foot of their home tree, and have 
them tumble into it the very first night. Some young 
and confident and wise-in-his-own-estimation coon may 
indeed do it, but the chances are that they won't. They'll 
go clear around that trap, although covered up with half 
an hour's cunning and care, or what passes for such 
among smart men, and blaze out another trail, and when 
you get tired of going to that unsprung trap you can 
move it somewhere else and likely repeat the operation. 
Or if you set the trap just where they descend from the 
tree and conceal it never so cunningly, they'll either 
dodge it when they come down or come down the other 
side. It don't matter to them. Or you may bait a crev- 
ice between the roots of a tree with some tempting mor- 
sel of fish or carcass of wild duck, setting the trap nicely 
concealed just outside, and they'll avoid that place as you 
would the plague; but remove the trap some day, leaving 
the bait, and the next morning or very soon thereafter it 
is conspicuous by its absence. Sly old coons t Their 
powers of scent and sight, like those of other wild ani- 
mals, are as far beyond the ken of man as can well be 
imagined. 
But though the coons had left no telltale tracks, the 
minks had been abroad, and I shortly came across a track 
leading from the creek straight back across the little 
wooded, brushy valley toward the hillside. Where he 
came from, up or down stream, I cared not; where he 
was going interested me more. And, come to think of it, 
there is considerable Americanism in that idea. Ameri- 
cans are more apt to say, "Where is he? Where is he 
going?" than "Where did he come from?" which is the 
burden of inquiry among the aristocratic cultivators of 
family trees in other lands, who may indeed make reply, 
"Well started is halfway there;" but I'm on a mink trail 
now, and we'll let the other trail go. 
He started off kind of moderate, but he's going on the 
full jump, 3ft. at a clip. Must be on urgent business. 
His is no slovenly jump like that of Br'er Rabbit, but neat 
and clean, the hindfeet alighting in the tracks of the fore. 
Alongside a long prostrate fir he goes a ways, then creep- 
ing under, bothers me under cover of an old rotten tree- 
top. But going around this, I find his track again, slower 
now, dodging here and there, and finally going up the 
side hill through a tangle of brush and down timber. 
What does he want up there ? He's following his nose 
under promise of something good for the inner mink 
probably, but after a few yards makes up his mind that 
this is the wrong hill; so he turns and, reaching the flat 
again, after some seeming aimless wandering, abandons 
his track at the upward roots of a big tree, and I join him 
in the abandon. But I'll remember that spot. There's 
been snow enough for the purposes of myself and that 
mink. Now let's go back to the creek again. See the 
bird tracks, how fine and dainty they are where the 
feathered beauties have hopped about, garnering seeds, I 
suppose, though my gross eyes see naught to produce 
seeds or any other kind of food in this thicket of vine- 
maple and alder. If I could only drop the salt of Latin 
nomenclature on the tails of these birds, everybody would 
at once catch on to the identity of the birds, if not to 
the birds themselves; but I didn't bring along my Latin 
to-day, so we'll just call them black caps and blue jays, 
and let it go at that. Quite a number of the thrush and 
sparrow families, as well as robins and bluebirds, have 
already arrived, and — hello! here's an exclamation point 
of another sort right here, where a grouse has alighted 
this morning when he flew down from his breakfast and 
ramble. See his mincing little short steps. Wonder 
where he went. Let's follow him just for fun and see. 
Aha! here's another track. He wasn't going to ramble 
around here alone. Wonder if they have paired so early. 
Perhaps, for there has been a spell of very pleasant, 
warm weather lately, which may have hurried house- 
keeping along. Well, two's company, three isn't; so I'll 
have to be slow and careful if I see them and — wh-r-r-r, 
gracious! that came pretty near startling me. Where's 
the other? Can't see her any where. She's probably this 
minute, as rigid as death, watching me and ready to 
burst away. B-r-r-r! There she goes up the hill to join 
her lord, and I might have seen her any moment if I had 
looked in the right place. It's curious we never can or 
do though, or at least very seldom. This sudden explo- 
sion and ^goneness when a grouse goes somewhere re- 
minds me of a day in '64 when we had got the Johnnies 
on the run off east of Atlanta, and from an eminence we 
could see evidences of them in a piece of woods about a 
mile away. A 10-lb. Parrott gun was run up on to the 
hill, and I sat on my horse and watched those shells in 
transit. Did you ever do it? Well, opportunity may 
present itself during the next war, if you are patient. 
Of course, we didn't watch each shell very Ions:, neither 
do we watch a grouse any length of time in a thicket; but 
there was just glimpse enough to make affidavit to, as 
though you bad caught the line of a bee a few yards 
away bound for home late in the afternoon. There is 
this difference, though, between the grouse explosion and 
that of the gun*: you generally know when the cannon is 
to be fired; not so with the grouse. Otherwise the com- 
parison is tolerably apt, for the discharge of the cannon 
is generally followed by the explosion of the shell, which 
sometimes makes trouble and often doesn't. Same in the 
case of the grouse. 
But let us make and follow tracks again. There may 
have been a wildcat abroad last night. His vanishing 
track was visible some mornings since after a warm wet; 
snow, which melted all too soon for definite conclusions. 
The nimble and saucy red squirrel hag been widely 
abroad, as usual, and here has gnawed his fir cone into 
bits and added them to the already large pile on this log, 
or there has sat with the spray of cedar buds and ex- 
tracted the tiny tender heart with which to vary his. 
standby of fir seeds, or yonder has dug holes in the 
ground for some other delicacy. He is a chunky, inquisi? 
