May 23, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
416 
ADIRONDACK DEER. ' 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Jack Hunter's line of reasoning may be all right, but if 
I had set out to defend the practice I don't imagine that 
telling how easy it is to kill deer that way would be one 
of the theories advanced, even if the tale of easy shoot- 
ing was of a thirty-five years old event. It is no harder 
to kill a deer now by jack hunting than it was thirty-five 
years ago, considering t;he number of deer there are left. 
The glare of a jack light is just as stupefying, and one 
can approach just as close to a deer as he could in the 
old days, and with just as crude materials as in the past 
one can kill a deer. 
If Jack Hunter considers shooting deer at a time when 
the sights of his rifle cannot be seen, at a range so close 
as to make a miss almost impossible, yet an instant kill 
almost improbable, a sport for a real man, it looks as if 
somebody's mind "must be badly distorted," if I may use 
his own phrase. 
One of the most potent arguments that work against 
still-hunting is that it takes a hunter to get a deer that 
way. Few deer are killed in the Adirondacks by hunters 
these days. They are killed by men to whom the head is 
a great deal and the flow of blood more. They do not 
enjoy waiting on the runwayB. It is not for the pleasure 
of watching nature that they are there. The sigh of 
branches and the splash of muskrats at night means noth- 
ing to the average jack hunter. He is strictly a meat and 
skin hunter, and the trip that fails to give him a deer 
head is a failure absolutely. These men are not sports- 
men and they have not the skill of hunters. 
I would rejoice to see deer hunting absolutely forbidden 
in the Adirondacks for a term of years, but stop the jack 
hunter and his partner, the hounder, and the deer will in- 
crease. There is a wholesome fear of the law among the 
woodsmen, and although I agree with Jack Hunter that 
the game laws could be better enforced, a non-hounding, 
non-jacking law, as well observed as the close season is 
now, would give sport a-plenty for sportsmen, till the 
Adirondack forests are gone. 
Jack Hunter need not trouble himself to hide me behind 
an alias. I have no use for any such subterfuge, although 
I fully appreciate his kindness and thank him for it. 
Raymond S. Spears. 
Brooklyn, N. T. 
A DAY WITH THE GROUSE. 
The country in this vicinity is a region of high hills 
and deep ravines. It is thickly wooded and well watered. 
Nearly every farm has its bush of sugar maples with one 
or more small streams meandering through it. Thickly 
associated with the maple is the beech, while here and 
there a birch, a basswood or an elm may be seen, the 
whole frequently interspersed with clumps of evergreens 
consisting of spruce or hemlock, presenting in the au- 
tumnal months veritable islands of green amid a sea of 
color. 
The ravines are almost invariably margined with a 
thick growth of evergreens, while the lowlands, cradled 
in among the hills, are blanketed with cedar and tam- 
arack and with a fair sprinkling of ash. It is pre-em- 
inently the home of the ruffed grouse. The beech up- 
lands, the scrubby hillsides, the evergreen thickets and 
water- worn ravines, with their trickling streams, combine 
to form a suitable haunt for this wary bird. 
If perchance you should meet with her in the more 
open wood, or even outside its margin, at the least sign of 
alarm she is off with a rush and a whir, winging her way 
to the densest cover. Should you seek her here, you 
will find her ever ready and alert. It is only the quick- 
est shot and he who has educated the eye and finger to 
work together at an instant's warning that can hope to 
bag her now. 
On the morning of Oct. 5 my friend C. and myself 
drove some three miles into the country to what is 
known as the Lewis place, where we had heard there 
were one or more broods of grouse still undisturbed. 
Our conveyance was a not over roomy top buggy, and 
with Dan curled up on a blanket in the back end, which 
inconvenience he cheerfully submitted to, no doubt in 
anticipation of the good time coming, and with Trim be- 
tween our knees in front, whose philosophy, from youth- 
ful inexperience, did not quite equal Dan's —constantly 
endeavoring to get along .faster by climbing upon the 
dash— and with the rest of the impedimenta tucked in 
here and there, it was well loaded, and so the single horse 
that hauled us up the long hills seemed to think, for we 
were over an hour in reaching our destination. We took 
possession of an unused barn, and having cared for the 
horse, we donned our hunting outfits and set forth toward 
the wood, some 200yds. distant. 
A small creek wound about one corner of the wood 
and both sides of it were thickly grown with alders' 
covering perhaps an acre of ground. We ran the dogs 
through this first, as it is suitable ground for woodcock; 
in fact I had killed woodcock here in previous years, but 
they found no birds, nor did I see any borings. We then 
entered the wood proper, which here is on low ground and 
consists almost entirely of evergreens. 
C. kept just within the margin, while I held a parallel 
course, but deeper in the wood. We had not gone over 
100yds. when C. fired at a bird which flushed from a 
tree in a dense spruce thicket. She passed back of me 
going high above the trees. I fired both barrels, taking 
some painB, but without apparent effect. We decided not 
to turn back for her, as she seemed bent on taking a Ions 
flight. We continued our course around the margin and 
heard, close after one another, three or four birds take 
flight, but did not catch the glint of a feather. Our ex- 
perience now made us certain that these birds had been 
well hetcheled, and if we got any of them it would have 
to be by careful work and hard shooting. 
Our course now took us to higher ground. Here C. 
made a couple of shots at birds that rose wild and in- 
stantly lost themselves to sight among the light brown 
leaves of the scrubby beeches. I heard a bird flush at 
some distance to my left, instantly followed by the cry 
of "mark bird,", and facing at ready the only opening 
out of the dense evergreen thicket where I was, caught a 
snap shot as Bhe passed, but to no purpose. Her course 
led across the wood to the alder patch where we first be- 
gan our huut. Here Dan made a point and at the word 
"up bird" sprang forward, only to retrieve a dead bird, 
C. flushed a bird in the timber further to the right, mak- 
ing a snap shot, but missing, which he is inclined to think 
was the last one I fired at. If this is true, then the dead 
bird must be the one flushed at the beginning of the hunt. 
We knew the bird was hit, for C. feathered her well 
when she started. 
We now hunted O.'s bird, which led us along chase, 
quite to the opposite side of the wood. Here she rose 
without offering a shot, and making a somewhat erratic 
flight found cover in some underbrush growing in the 
highway, which here ran alongside of the wood. We 
had given up finding her, and were fairly caught napping; 
for we were in the road when she raised from its side, 
and spreading her tail almost in our faces, pitched over 
the fence back of the brush, and went skimming the 
ground over a hill to another wood, some 200yds. away. 
We now felt that our reputation was at stake, and dog- 
g ;dly continued the pursuit. 
I had gone but a short distance into this wood when 
C. from the outside called to me to bear to the right till 
I reached a maple which he pointed out. This would 
give me a commanding position of some thick cover in 
his front, since there was an open space both to the right 
and left of this point. I had barely reached the place 
pointed out when two birds rose together not 20ft. dis- 
tant, taking the opening to the right; Of course I fired 
the first barrel at the head bird, and at the shot a con- 
fused mass of feathers showed over the end of the gun, 
whirling downward, and was replaced the next instant 
by the other bird, which fell a little further on to the 
second barrel, the gun scarcely varying at all in its line 
of direction for both shots. 
While closing the breech after reloading, another bird 
shot almost vertically upward from the center of the 
clump. I fired a snap shot into the moving boughs that 
marked her course, missed, and as she broke cover close 
to my right and almost over me I turned my back upon 
her and faced the same opening the other birds had taken . 
down which this one now fairly hummed. I aimed care- 
fully, but waited a little too long, she being well away 
when I fired. Two or three little puffs of feathers started 
out at the shot, but I could Bee no decrease in her speed. 
The cover contained no more birds, and the two dead 
being retrieved, we hunted the course of the last one 
quite across the wood without meeting with a sign of her. 
O. then bore to the left, but I, not satisfied, quartered the 
ground back again, outside the wood among some small, 
scattered evergreen bunches I had noticed. Here Dan 
pointed, and at the word "up bird" drove her out. She 
rose with difficulty and was easily cut down with the 
first barrel. I now hunted a course parallel with C.'s 
and soon heard the report of his gun at my left. On 
coming up with him he said he had flushed a single bird 
and making a long shot had brought her to bag. We 
accounted this the bird that had given us such a long 
chase. 
In an adjoining wood we succeeded in routing two 
more birds; one of them I hit hard as she rose, but did not 
bag her. We chased them for some time, C. making a 
couple of ineffectual shots, and then we lost them alto- 
gether. We now returned by another route to the wood 
we first hunted. Two or three birds yet remained here. 
After traveling for some time, C. in making his way 
through a thick slash drove out two birds, one of which, 
going back of us, gave him a snap shot, and the other, 
taking an opposite course, passed in front of me. I feath- 
ered but did not stop her. A little later she was pointed 
by Trim, and making a vain effort to take wing, an ex- 
citing race occurred between them, the pup running full 
tilt against a stump, but finally retrieving her without in- 
juring her in the least. In this line Trim is an adept, and 
handles a bird as daintily as a lady does her fan. 
It was now a little past noon, and leaving the wood we 
crossed the field to the barn where we had put out the 
horse. Here we left our dead birds, and having; fed the 
horse we set out to our next hunting ground. From lack 
of suitable drinking water we had not yet lunched. A 
little run in the first wood we entered supplied us with 
this want, and here we ate our lunch and rested a bit. 
This wood was without underbrush, but in passing 
through it we flushed an old bird which rose far in ad- 
vance of us, and making a flight to its outermost limit 
sought cover under a small clump of evergreens which 
overhung the bank of a little ravine. Here Trim nosed 
her out, affording O. a fairly good shot. He cut her well 
with both barrels, but she held on, crossing an open lot and 
finally settling in a scrubby growth of young beeches. 
Here Dan routed her; I fired and missed as she dodged 
around a thicket, but the next instant O. sent her to 
ground with a thud. 
We expected to find a half dozen birds in this wood, as 
it was excellent cover, and in fact the birds had been 
seen there, but we met with only two. These we flushed 
twice without getting shots, there being such a thick can- 
opy of leaves to the underbrush. Finally I made a snap 
shot, missing, but the bird left the close cover and made 
a long flight through the more open timber, circling into 
a remote corner of the wood where there were a few 
bunches of alders and an occasional evergreen. The high- 
way bordered this corner of the wood, and here C, 
makmg a little detour, located. I advanced from the 
wooded side, Dan quartering in front of me. He soon 
lined her course, pointing where she struck the ground 
and moving his nose a trifle one way and another, and 
not finding her down, elowly led on. A little further and 
he seemed all at fault, running the cover over again and 
again, and showing no little anxiety at the turn the affair 
had taken. C. and I were facing each other a few yards 
apart and discussing the possible whereabouts of the bird, 
when suddenly from above and a little back of me came 
the peculiar drum-like whir which a grouse makes when 
she plunges outward and downward from a tree top. 
Turning instantly at the sound and dropping the muzzle 
a little below the line of flight, I cracked away and down 
she went, turning over and over in the air, striking 
the ground with great force and rebounding like a ball. 
We now turned our steps to the last wood we were to 
hunt, stopping en route at a neighboring house to in- 
dulge in a glass of cold well water. A few minutes walk, 
and we were again working good cover for birds. A little 
further ranging of the dogs, and whirl whir! four times, 
and not a feather exposed to sight, and even the course 
they took in doubt. 
However, we laid out a probable course and proceeded 
to hunt it out. One bird showed in front of O, offering 
an easy chance, but she got clean away. As he replaced 
the empty shells I hoard the breech close with a vicious 
snap, while he muttered, "I can't hit a barn to-day." I 
offered no sympathy, for I have been there myself and 
realized fully that it would not be appreciated. This bird 
we failed to put up a second time, so turning to the right 
we worked a parallel course back again, but flushed ho 
birds; bearing again to the right, we hunt ed another par 
allel strip. 
This time a bird rose to me, but a long shot in advance. 
I mi3sed with the first barrel, but quickly followed with 
the second as she buried herself among the leaves well up 
in the hranches of a beech. "Did you down her?" came 
from C at my left. "I guess not," was the doleful 
reply. But Dan soon showed himself with a large bird 
stone dead. C. had seen her fall and thought I was un- 
aware of the result, hence his question. 
For the third time we turned back, and while crossing 
low ground a bird rose to C. who knocked her down 
before she had gone 15ft., leaving a cloud of feathers in 
the air. Trim -was just reaching for her when she 
straightened up and again took flight. We now quartered 
her course with both dogs for 100yds. or more, when 
Trim, bearing to the left, pointed, and at the word re- 
trieved a dead bird. Twice had this occurred during the 
day. It shows that the shot kills many a bird that does 
not find its way into the game bag. 
Crossing to a part of the wood as yet untouched by us, 
we found it margined with evergreens, affording excel- 
lent cover. Dan at once showed sign and shortly pointed, 
but the bird flushed from a small evergreen on the oppo- 
site side of a thicket from me. C. made an ineffectual 
shot at her as she passed him. I now followed the mar- 
gin, keeping in the open outside, while C. remained in 
the timber, the dogs beating up the cover between us. 
Again the bird rose, and attempting to run the gauntlet 
of C.'s fire a second time, got in the way of the shot 
and was brought to bag. Further on and a shot came to 
me, the bird bursting out of the cover, and turning 
offered a straightaway shot and was quickly sent to 
grass. This concluded the day's hunt. Three birds yet 
remained, but they had found safe hiding places, and the 
afternoon being well spent we were satisfied to leave 
them. The bag on examination showed twelve grouse, 
six killed during each half day. Ambulator. 
A MORNING'S FROGGING. 
Wal and I had just finished a score up in the gallery 
when the former remarked: 
"Art. I want to get out in the open air and try this 
new Winchester on something alive. What is there, 
and where is it?" 
"How would frogs go?" I answered. 
"Frogs? Shoot them with a rifle? Why, what a snap," 
replied he. "I know where there are plenty; up at the 
Nursery. Any quantity of them in the pond hole and 
along the river. I have seen them many a time while 
fishing; but say, are you fooling? It's kind of baby sport 
to shoot at such stupid things with a rifle when, we have 
been priding ourselves on being cracks here in the gal- 
lery." 
"Well," I remarked, "we'll go out some morning and 
try, and if you don't have some sport and rid yourself of 
the idea that they are easy game, I'll pay for the shells. 
You can hit them easy enough, but the rub is to see them 
before they get tired of waiting for you." 
Consequently the other morning I mounted the bike as 
the sun was slowly climbing above the horizon, stopped 
for Wal, and together we wheeled out into the country. 
"Have you everything?" asked W., who is a very care- 
ful^and thoughtful companion for a rattle-brain like my- 
"Yes, everything." 
"How many cartridges will we need, do you suppose?" 
Cartridges! I had come away without mine! I had 
everything else, even to rags for cleaning the rifle, but 
cartridges, nary a one had I. 
"Well, I brought along two boxes," was W.'s assuring 
remark; to which I added, "And I will use one of them." 
Storing the wheels and rifle cases in the woodshed of 
W.'s accommodating brother, we walked through the 
wet grass toward the pond hole and, arriving at the edge, 
began a careful search for our game. Presently W. re- 
marked : 
"I think I see one, or is it a stick. I'll be hanged if I 
can tell," 
"It's a frog all right, let him have a taste." 
W. brought the little Winchester to shoulder, there 
was a spiteful crack, a commotion in the water and Mr. 
Frog turned belly up. Reaching out with the rod, to 
which was lashed a large fish hook, we soon had him 
ashore. 
4 'Hit him in the head, W. ," I remarked. < 'Hold a little 
low at such short range, or you may overshoot with the 
open sights." 
Keeping along the bank, W. soon spied another brown 
head and big, bulging eyes, the owner of which was soon 
deposited alongside the first victim. 
"There are two, W.," I whispered. "Take the one on 
the right and we'll both let drive together. Two sharp 
reports rang out and two more plump pairs of muscular 
limbs were added to the bag. 
"Well, this is rather a novelty, isn't it?" said W. "It 
takes more than one would think to get a glimpse of 
those chaps; but say, don't the .22s bore them though? 
But say, there's a big one," and before he finished speak- 
ing the ball hit the water and the green fellow lay stiff. 
As he laid him on the bank W. remarked in surprise, 
"Where in the dickens did I hit that fellow? There is no 
mark on him." 
"Didn't hit him at all. You shot over, but near 
enough to stun him, so we will just carve his backbone, or 
he tvill jump the claim and clear." 
"I think that is a more scientific way of killing them 
anyway," was W.'s rejoinder; it leaves no mark; re- 
minds one of barking squirrels." 
"It is well enough, but take my word and hit them," I 
replied, "or you won't. always put them to sleep as you 
did this one." 
Going around the bank "a couple of times more resulted 
in a few small frogs, and W. suggested that we go down 
to the river. Down we went and soon came back with a 
half dozen good ones, and then set to work to deprive 
them of their trousers. . 
"How do you like it?" I asked W. 
"Great stuff. Didn't believe there was so much fun. 
This is only a starter. We will come out here some day 
when we can spend plenty of time and get a good mess." 
To which I readily acquiesced. 
So back home we went, washed up, had breakfast and 
then went down to the office and told frog stories to the 
boys. 
