July 7, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Black and Gray Woodchucks. 
I see that one of your correspondents, under this cap- 
tion, speaks of those of different colors having different 
habits. Here in Maine we have but few woodchucks, but 
those we have are about equally divided between black 
and gray. Those of both colors vary considerably in indi- 
vidual cases, some being coal black, some a reddish black, 
almost brown: some are light gray and some a reddish 
gray. Whatever their color or shade may be, they are all 
alike in their habits. One sees both gray and black living 
in or by edges of fields, and one finds both colors a long 
way in the woods. They differ just as much as a black 
cat does from a gray one, and no more. I have seen 
prairie dogs near Abilene, Tex., which were very large 
and very red, perhaps owing to color of soil. In other 
places I have seen them much smaller and gray, and I 
remember seeing a large colony at the lower end of South 
Park which were nearly white, but I never heard any one 
claim that they were on account of size or color of differ- 
ent races. 
Regarding their tree-climbing habits, I once saw a large 
gray one sitting on the bent trunk of a large basswood tree 
some feet above the ground. This one had not been dis- 
turbed, and had cliaibed of his own accord, though the 
ascent was very easy. I was once where a dog drove 
another (a black one) up a small cedar. Till then I never 
believed that a woodchuck could climb, but I am con- 
vinced that when obliged to, they can climb quite a smooth 
tree. 
It may be news to some of your readers that foxes 
catch woodchucks, but I once came suddenly on a fox 
which had a large woodchuck in her mouth, which she 
dropped on seeing me. Examination showed that she 
had just killed it. M. Hardy. 
Muskoka, Canada. — Noticing several communications 
in recent issues under this head, I may mention that 
several years ago I was i>assing through a clearing sur- 
rounded by brush, and was attracted by the whistle of a 
ground hog. After looking about I at length discovered 
the source, about loft, up a maple sapling. The wee was 
about 7in, in diameter, and was without branches until it 
divided into a crotch, where the ground hog was perched. 
What puzzled me was the cause of its seeking so strange 
a reiugf-*, as I had not disturbed it previously, neither had 
I a dog with me at the time. J. H. Wilmott. 
Small Game in the National Park. 
Easton, Pa., June 13. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
It affords me gratification to note the interest you have 
taken in our Yellowstone National Park, and I trust it 
may be preserved to future generations in all its natural, 
rugged beauty, intact. I was in the Park not long since 
and I noticed an absence of small game. It became 
noticeable, because I expected to see much more. Un- 
doubtedly this is due in a great measure to the scarcity 
of nuts and the natural food of our small game. I would 
suggest that hardy nut-bearing trees be planted through- 
out the Park. It can be left to the Agricultural Depart- 
ment of the Government to select such as woul i ripen 
in that high altitude and climate. It is merelv a sugges- 
tion and may not be practicable. I would like to hear 
from somebody who has thought about it and if any 
observations have been made by others in the same direc- 
tion. J. S. Hunt. 
[There is no dearth of the small game peculiar to the 
high mountains in the National Park, and there is abun- 
dant food for the grouse, hares and squirrels. The seeds 
and nuts of pines and pinons, and other trees and shrubs 
probably furnish all the food required.] 
A Tame Partridge. 
Weedspokt, N. Y., June 22.— About two years ago a 
partridge (male) came into the village of Weedsport and 
went to the home of a German family. The door was 
open and it walked in as if it owned the place, and never 
offered to fly away. It strolled around the room for some 
time, when it was caught and put in a good sized cage. 
It seemed happy and would eat wheat out of any one's 
hand. It has been taken out of the cage several times 
and will stand on the owner's fore-finger, but never offers 
to leave. This spring it was given three young chickens 
and it is raising them the same as young partridges. If 
any one goes near the cage it will make a terrible fuss; 
,and if they get their hand inside they will lose a piece of 
skin. It is very cross since receiving the chickens. I 
believe the object in giving the chickens was to see if 
they could mate them another year. This bird seems to 
be just the same as all the other partridge iu this State; 
and the old saying that a partridge can't be tamed will 
have to be one of the past. J. H. L. 
**A Man from Corpus Christi." 
"A Man FttOM Corpus Christi," by Dr. A. C. Pierce; Forest and 
Stream Publishing Company, New York. This is the story of the ad 
ventures of two bird hunters and a dog in Texas bogs. It is simply 
the narrative of outdoor life in west Texas, but it is so well written 
that interest does not flag from beginning to end. Dr. Pierce writes 
delightfully, aud had he labeled his book "An Admirable Character 
Skeicb,' 1 he would have hit upon its proper title. Mr. Priour, his com- 
panion, is a professional hunter who is a constant source of amuse- 
ment to tbe reader. He does nothing absolutely absurd or ridiculous 
but his actions and his conversations as described by the Doctor are 
so true to life and so natural— that is, natural for that sort of person— 
that one absolutely smiles in anticipation when it becomes evident 
from the text that Mr. Priour is going to say or do something. The 
bird-huuting expeditions sink into insignificance when compared with 
the aajings and doings of the assistant bird hunter. One of the fea- 
tures of Mr. Priour , s character is, that while he is one of the greatest 
prevaricn tors that ever walked, if so harsh a term may be applied to 
Bucb innocent deception as he is guilty of, not from the moment of his 
appearance on the stage to his departure from it is he detected He 
knows everything is going to turn out just as it does beforehand, and 
when it does go against him, he coolly changes sides and is still right 
He can't be downed. Dr. Pierce has written a very pleasant story 
indeed, and proves himself to be not only a good judge of character 
but what is much rarer, an able exponent of it. He has a keen sense 
of the humorous and ridiculous, and has caught every weak and sali- 
ent point in Mr. Priour's makeup. The description of Texas scenery 
etc., are true to life, and one has only to glance through the pages of 
'•A Man from Corpus Christi" to see that itis an accurate and reliable 
record taken from actual experience.— Galveston News. 
The FOREST and Stream is put to press each week on Tues- 
day. Correspondence intended for publication should reach 
U8 at the latest by Monday, mi W nwh mnwr as practicable 
" That reminds me." 
STORIES OF EZRA— V. 
Winston Harris was a friend of Ezra and myself, and 
his big stories afforded us much amusement. One may 
get some idea of his character from the following true 
story of his boyhood: When he was about twelve years 
old his father gave him permission to go squirrel shooting, 
but told him he must not go beyond the creek, but he did 
start to cross it on a log, and slipping off, got himself and 
the gun thoroughly wet. When he got home he was 
asked to explain. This he did by saying that he had shot 
at a crow that was directly over him, and shot a hole 2ft. 
across right through a cloud, letting the water run out of 
it so fast that he had a very narrow escape from drowning. 
His mother said, "Winston, haven't you read about 
Ananias and his wife, who were struck dead for lying?" 
Looking his mother straight in the eye, he answered, "No, 
I never read about it, but I was there and saw them carried 
in after they fell." 
One cold November day Winston came to town so 
hoarse, he could barely speak above a whisper. Asking 
how he caught such a cold, he said, "Night before last I 
heard a fuss among the chickens, so I got up and peeped 
out, and there, in the old locust tree, was the biggest owl 
I ever see. I just stepped back to the bedroom and got 
the old shotgun and cut loose at him. He fell, but picked 
himself up and flew away across the pasture, and I heard 
him fall way down toward the woods. Then I cut out 
after him with nothing on me but my shirt, and tramped 
round in the frosty grass till I was about froze, but I 
couldn't find him, though I know he's dead down there 
somewhere." 
The next day I told the story to Ezra and he said: "I'll 
make Winston believe that he never shot at that owl." 
Hunting up an old brown hat Ezra fired a charge of shot 
through it and put it in his shooting coat. We went 
quail shooting that day, and about 11 o'clock came to 
Winston's place, finding him out in the field husking 
corn. He told us to go up to th» house and tell Martha 
we would be there for dinner. Before going in the house 
Ezra laid the old hat under the locust tree. When Win- 
ston came in half an hour later he raked the coals and 
the remaining backlog to the front of the fireplace, got us 
to help him carry in a new backlog, and after carefully 
adjusting it piled smaller wood in front of it, drew up a 
chair, sat down and then told Ezra about the owl. 
"Shouldn't a thought he'd light in the locust tree when 
that old hat was hanging in it," said Ezra. 
"Ain't no old hat hanging in it," said Winston. 
"Yes, there is," said Ezra, "I threw it up there a year 
ago and I saw it there not ten days ago." 
"We can soon settle that," said Winston, going to the 
door and looking. "No hat there, that settles it." 
"That's queer," said Ezra, and walking under the tree 
presently found the hat. "Here it is,! and [looking at it 
closely] if it ain't full of shot holes, too. Here's the owl 
you sh®t at." 
"Honestly, now, I did think I'd shot an owl, but I 
reckon it must 'a' been that hat," said Ezra, "but if you 
will bring up a pitcher of cider we will keep still about it,"' 
and the cider was brought. O. H. Hampton. 
imtp B^s dt id B m + 
IN TERRITORIAL DAYS. 
We were camped for the night, my eldest son and I, on 
the shore of a small lake which was but an enlargement 
of the outlet of Liberty Lake, a beautiful sheet of water 
tucked away under the shadow of the mountain border- 
ing the plain through which flowed the charming Spo- 
kane River, and but a few miles east of the then thriving 
village of that name. 
It was a great resort for waterfowl in the old days, and 
during the afternoon of our short stay we had enjoyed 
fine shooting at the passing ducks, and now as the dark- 
ness came on, and the light of the camp-fire illuminated 
a wide circle around the wagon containing the camp 
equipage, near which the hobbled horses grazed peace- 
fully, a faint honk far to the northeast gave note of the 
coming of a flock of geese in search of a resting place for 
the night. 
An occasional call coming on in the darkness notified 
us of their swift approach, and, finally, of the change of 
direction of their line of flight as the light of our camp- 
fire warned them of possible danger. 
Swinging far around to the northwest their final notes 
told us that they had alighted at the further end of the 
lake on which we were camped, a quarter of a mile or 
more away. I wanted a goose or two to complete the bag 
of game we were to carry home in the morning, and the 
question of how to get a fair shot at the watchful creatures 
became for the moment an absorbing one. 
Finally I concluded to try and steal a march upon them 
with the aid of the brown pony. 
I had a 10-gauge Parker which had on many occasions 
given a good account of itself, and although I had noth- 
ing in the way of ammunition but a few shells loaded 
with No. 6 shot, I slipped a couple of them into the big 
barrels, and loosening the hobbles from the legs of the 
pony, and putting a bridle on him, I took him by the 
bit with my left hand, and stooping my head down be- 
hind his neck and keeping my arm extended so that he 
would be made to walk slightly in front and with my own 
legs kept alongside his forelegs I took my silent course 
around the east shore of the lake, along the sandy beach, 
and in the shadow of the low hills bordering it, which 
materially assisted in hiding me from the watchful eyes 
far in front. An occasional low muttered call warned me 
that our approach was carefully noted, but as my mocca- 
sined feet gave no sound and only the footfalls of the 
pony could be heard along the silent shore, I trusted that 
the darkness would shield me from their vigilant eyes, 
and that the innocent looking pony would be permitted 
to wander slowly along shore within easy range of the 
coveted feather bed grouped on the sandbar in front. 
The light in the western sky had now faded to a faint 
glow xmt the horizon, and as tiie low occasional calls of 
the wary waterfowl grew fainter as we approached, and 
nnally ceased altogether, it became a question whether 
we might not after all walk right past in the darkness 
without a glimpse of them. 
How often in the hunter's life does some apparently 
trifling circumstance turn to failure the most cunning 
stratagem, or change apparent defeat into bright success"! 
The same faint, rosy glow above the western horizon 
now enabled me to note a hazy something clouding 
a dark point where the shore in front seemed to bend 
outward into the lake, and I paused and peered eagerly 
through tbe gloom to study the dark problem in front, 
where the after glow of the sunset on the water made just 
the faintest outline or frame for the sable picture. 
For a minute or so I stood beside the silent pony looking 
from beneath his outstretched neck for any indication of 
life in the gloom in front. Neither sound nor movement 
gave the faintest token of life beyond. Still a something 
of irregularity of outline on the shadowy point in front 
finally decided me in the conviction that this was really 
the group of mystified geese, silent as statues, watching 
the motionless pony on the shore. Carefully cocking both 
barrels, and with my left hand slipped through the loop 
of the bridle rein, I sank gently upon one knee, and aim- 
ing under the neck of the sleepy pony at the center of the 
dark mass in front, pulled both triggers. As the lOdrs. of 
powder blazed out into the darkness and roared its small 
earthquake under his nose, the snorting pony reared, and 
whether the terrific kick of the overloaded gun hurt worse 
than the sudden yank at the bridle rein, which threatened 
to dislocate a shoulder for me (and possibly saved the crazy 
pony from breaking his back on the sand behind him), I 
shall never know — nor did I at the time very much care — 
for a honking, fluttering commotion on the sandbar 40yds. 
in front, quickly followed by the echoes shottted back at 
us in quick succession from the hills across the lake; and. 
these in their turn succeeded by the fainter echoing pro- 
tests against this mighty slaughter of the innocents and 
the peace of the lonely lake shore, coming slowly back to 
us from the great mountain walls far to the southeast, ab- 
sorbed all my attention just then, and proved the best of 
all liniments for this kind of hurt. 
Hurriedly soothing the frightened animal at the other 
end of the taut bridle rein I towed the now reluctant 
brute across the sandbar and picked up four big Canada 
geese, and another was found next morning drifted up 
on the shore. Eegaining camp with my backload of dead 
geese the pony was again hobbled, and through the 
remainder of the glorious October night we slept the 
sleep known only to the lover of the open air. 
As the team was being hitched up next morning for 
the drive back to town, a flock of geese was observed sit- 
ting on the opposite shore of the outlet, a half-mile to the 
northwest of camp, and as it appeared that they would, 
if approached from the northwest, fly toward Liberty 
Lake to the southwest, I directed my son to drive the 
team as silently as possible around them and then to 
make them take wing, when I took the gun and following 
on close behind the wagon to a point where, a short dis- 
tance in front, a small ravine furrowed out by the spring 
rains offered a hiding-place, I dropped from sight behind 
its banks. 
The detour was skillfully made by the careful youth, 
and as the geese passed me some 60yds. distant I suc- 
ceeded by the use of both barrels in wing-tipping a big 
gander, and as he fluttered down to the shore secured 
him after a short chase. 
We now had a noble bag of geese and ducks, and with 
light hearts drove toward the road leading back to town, 
and just as we reached it and turned sharply toward the 
embryo metropolis of the Northwest a glance across the 
prairie detected an inquisitive coyote, which with elevated 
nose snuffled the southwest breeze, tainted with the load 
of waterfowl in our wagon. The scent was too enticing 
for resistance and he trotted briskly down the road 
after' us. 
A glance ahead showed that the road passed through a 
narrow gap a short distance in front between the low 
rocky bluff on the left and an isolated point of rocks 50 
or 75ft. in height, separated from it by a narrow pass 
about 50ft. in width. Seeing that the coyote was coming 
eagerly on, I slipped in my last two shells, and handing 
the lines to my son hurriedly directed him to drive steadily 
on down the road at an easy jog trot, and without pausing 
for an instant, to swing the team a trifle to the right just 
after he had passed the isolated rock, so that for an°instant 
we would be hidden from the sharp eyes of the watchful 
little coward behind. 
The instant the rocks hid me from the coyote's view I 
leaped from the wagon and ran around the rocky point to 
the northward, while the wagon rattled on down the 
road. Carefully creeping around the bluff of rocks and 
waiting to give him time to come on, I had almost com- 
pleted the circuit and regained the road when I came upon 
him, and as he turned to fly I gave him both barrels of 
No. 6 at 40yds. A more cunning brute than the red fox 
himself, that was the only coyote I ever fairly outwitted; 
a score or more of them I have killed while deer hunting. 
As the last shell was emptied we took the road home- 
ward, well pleased at having "got the scald" on the 
chicken thief. Orin Belknap. 
Wanton Shooters in Florida. 
Tarpon Springs, Fla., June 21.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: I heartily indorse your platform plank, "pro- 
hibition of game traffic." It is the right move in the right 
direction, but here in Florida there is something worse 
than market-hunting; I mean the wanton destruction of 
game by sportsmen. Very many of the men who come 
here for the winter seem to think they must kill every- 
thing that runs, flies or swims. 
I said sportsmen; they call themselves sportsmen; they 
are well dressed, gentlemanly, have fine guns and fishing 
tackle and generally pay their bills, but woe to the un- 
fortunate bird or beast that crosses their path. I have 
seen a few who would not shoot what they could not use, 
but I have seen more who would shoot anything. Seem- 
ingly their only desire is to kill. Fortunately we have 
some places yet left in Florida where the average tourist 
does not care to go, and there the game is still plenty. 
But it will not be so long. Soon the game will follow the 
plumed birds; and Florida's attraction gone, she will go 
back to her former wildness. 
Yuri, stop the sale of game, and also stop the murder of 
innopejit^ ,by an/ 009 wftp can fire a gun and wield a rod, 
Tarpon, 
