4 04 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Not. 10, 1894. 
BOSTON AND MAINE. 
Not all of the hunters who go to Maine are successful, 
and it is refreshing to find one with the courage to say so, 
if he has nut taken a moose, a deer or a bear. Mr. Geo. 
H. Lanphier, well known to the newspaper fraternity, is 
just back from his annual hunting trip. Last fall he 
went to Maine, and the ffrst or second day of hunting he 
shot a moose, and also obtained a deer or two, early in 
the trip. This year his hunting trip has been counted on 
with a good deal of pleasure. He corresponded with Mr. 
Edward Jack, well known to the readers of the Forest 
and Stream, and decided from that gentleman's represen- 
tations, to visit New Brunswick. He wanted moose, cari- 
bou and bear. Each of these noble game animals is well 
represented in the Canaan River country that Mr. Lan- 
phier visited. He went to Salsbury, on the Intercolonial 
Railway, and from that point to the Canaan River. But 
neither moose, caribou or bear did he get. He was often 
near moose, judging from their tracks, but he did not 
succeed in approaching them near enough for a shot. 
He is satified that moose are plenty in that country; but 
next year ho will wait for snow. He had to pay no license 
to hunt in that country — a great relief to sportsmen — and 
the matter of duty on his guns was easily adjusted. 
Sportsmen from the States are desired, and sensible cus- 
toms officials are willing to do all in their power to 
relieve the burdens that the government imposes. Mr. 
Lanphier says that it is a wonderful game country. 
Mr. Claud H. Tarbox, with his friend Bailey, has been 
out after the birds at By field another day. This time 
they were accompanied by a crack shot; a man who 
hunts the most of the time when the law is off. They 
got five partridges and one duck. The crack shot made a 
couple of real good misses with both barrels; one when 
the partridge was flying dead ahead. This much surprised 
him, as well as his friends. They started a large number 
of birds, but they would not lie to the dog. Their dog 
came to a point near the edge of a pondhole in a swamp, 
where the reeds and underbrush were very dense and 
high. Mr. Tarbox ordered him forward to flush the game, 
when the shooter was ready. The dog made a bound for- 
ward and landed in the middle of the pondhole, in the 
mud and water. But the bird came up in good style, and 
fell to one of the guns, a few rods away. The dog got 
out of his plight in the mudhole and retrieved the bird in 
good shape. It proved to be a bluewinged teal; and good 
sense of the dog was proven. He had carefully nosed the 
bird in the swamp, and come to a point at the right time, 
though his flushing was rather disastrous. 
Mr. L. W. DePass and Mr. E. M. Gillam are planning 
for a partridge hunting trip to South Acton. Mr. DePass, 
speaking of coot shooting, mentions a gunner he came 
across on his gunning trip down on the Cape recently, 
who had an 8-bore. The usual charge for the weapon is 
about 5£drs. of powder and a couple of ounces of shot. 
In one day he got over thirty coot with his gun. His 
method is to find where they are bedded for the night if 
possible. Then he gives them his tremendous loads of 
lea J, There is a man down there who pays fifteen cents 
for all the coot the gunners will bring him. The birds he 
peddles out through the country at twenty-fi-we cents 
each, after he has sent all to the Boston market be can 
dispose of there. He is represented to handle a great 
many coot in a season. Even the poor coot are destined 
to fall before the market-hunters. 
Among the hunters who have been to Maine for deer, 
who are willing to speak the truth, there is a complaint 
that the great majority of deer being killed in that State 
this year are does. It sounds better among one's friends 
to mention the "pronged buck" shot, but, alas, the truth 
told is compelling the hunters this year to say "doe." Out 
of seven deer seen hung up in Faneuil Market on Satur- 
day not a single buck was to be s^en, and I learn that out 
of something like a dozen received here this fall only one or 
two bucks have been counted. Of course the marketmen 
do not admit that the deer they are handling are Maine 
deer at all, though one did tell me yesterday that "Almost 
any of the hunters that come back from Maine will sell 
their deer, especially if the game happens to be of the 
female persuasion." The unwillingness to sell a buck, if 
there is really any such unwillingness, may account in 
part for the great majority of does that appear in the 
markets here. But the expression of hunters concerning 
the great majority of does being killed is not explained 
by that theory. 
The attempt is likely to be made in the Maine Legisla- 
ture this winter to get the beginning of the open season 
on partridges put forward to Oct, 1 instead of Sept. 1, as 
the present law stands. The best interests of game in that 
State believe that the ruffed grouse is doomed if the pres- 
ent early shooting is continued. As has so often been ex- 
plained, the chicks are in flocks on the first of September, 
and it is easy for anybody to destroy the whole brood. 
By Oct. 1 the condition of the young birds has greatly im- 
proved, and they have learned better how to take care of 
themselves. Two well known and very responsible Bos- 
ton gentlemen, who annually spend a great deal of money 
in land and water sporting in Maine, have called on me 
with the urgent request that the Forest and Stream advo- 
cate this change in the law upon ruffed grouse in Maine. 
The gentlemen are Mr. D. H. Blanchard, who did the 
noble work for the suppression of salmon netting a couple 
of years ago, and Mr. Harry B. Moore, whose moose and 
deer stories are familiar to the readers of this paper. I 
also learn that the Maine Game Protective Association 
will urge this change in the laws of that State. 
D. B. Farewell is back from a Maine hunting trip with 
two deer. He is also leader in the Press Rifle Team, hav- 
ing made the highest score at one of their recent shoots. 
It should have been mentioned in my account of the 
coot shooting of Mr. G. T. Freeman and Mr. O. W. Whitte- 
more the other day, that they were accompanied by a boy, 
and one who is very fond of shooting. It was Mr. War- 
ren Hapgood, the founder, of the Monomoy Brant Club, 
and a gentleman who has always had a great love for 
sporting with rifle and rod when it can be done in a fair 
manner. Mr. Hapgood is now 83 years old, but he was 
called the "boy" of the cooting party at Anisquam, 
Big bears from Maine are the order of the day now. 
One was shown in Faneuil Hall Market the other day 
weighing nenrly 4001bs. It was shot by a Mr. R. G. Wil- 
son, of Cherryfield, in Beech Ridges township, at thehead 
of the Narragaugus River. 
The taking of a ,big bear when jacking deer was the 
good fortune of a member of the Charlestown Club the 
other day at Arnold Lake, on the preserve of the Megan- 
tic Club. Mr. W. R. Dickey, the crack clay pigeon shot, 
was the lucky man. The guide was paddling the boat 
very softly, when he heard some animal out in the lake, 
so he thought that he could head him off from the shore. 
He proceeded to do so, telling Mr. Dickey to look out for 
a deer. Mr. Dickey, as soon as near enough , emptied a 
couple of charges of buckshot at the head of the bear, as 
it proved, without the least effect, except to anger him and 
send him madly after the boat. But he swerved out into 
the lake, so as to get by the boat, as soon as he saw that 
he was at a disadvantage in the water. The guide called 
to Mr. Dickey to use the rifle, which fortunately was in 
the boat. The bear got by the boat and started for the 
shore. In attempting to get over an old log, partly in the 
water, he exposed his body, and one bullet was all that 
was required. 
The Charlestown party was remarkably successful other- 
wise. They took nine deer in all, though the first week 
of their stay was rough and stormy. But the second was 
fine enough to bring the deer down to the water. Mr. J. 
W, Hoffman got a buck estimated to have weighed over 
3001bs. Mr. Hoffman says that it was as large as a small 
caribou. Dr. Heber Bishop is repirted to have killed two 
deer with one bullet; the one standing just beyond the 
other. 
Game Warden Harriman, of Bangor, lias made several 
arrests for hunting deer with dogs, and one Boston party 
is reported to have paid fines and settled, though the 
hound used was furnished by a guide. The Boston hun- 
ters are much afraid that their names will get into the 
papers. 
Mr. S. B. AVoodman is back from his hunting trip in 
Maine. He is very much pleased, and well he may be. 
With his friend Bessee-and the captain, he enjoyed a 
most successful trip and several deer were taken, and a 
bear. 
Mr. J. F. Dwinell is one of the most successful part- 
ridge hunters that ever visits the Maine woods. He has 
been to Upton for several seasons. He is just out of the 
woods with a record of sixty-five birds. He has had 
Loom in Sargent for guide for many seasons, bub this 
year Mr. Sargent and Steve Morse are trapping, and so 
Mr. Dwinell took Eldana Brooks, one of the best of the 
Upton guides. They found the birds more wild and 
better able to take care of themselves than on former 
seasons, 
It seems that the case of the fining of the Eastport far- 
mers for having parts of a moose in possession in close 
time has been carried up to the full bench. The case, I 
understand, was that of the body of a moose lately killed 
being found in the river. The men prosecuted drew the 
meat and hide to their homes, and were brought into 
court for having the same in possession. They swore 
that they did not kill the animal, and now are anxious to 
find the man who did. Unless they find this man, the 
case is likely to cost them something like $100 each, 
besides the cost of prosecution. Special, 
Jackmanton, Me. — Messrs. G. E. Greely, O. B. Leport, 
B. F. Welch and L. W. Johnson killed eleven deer in a 
week's stay at Penobscot Lake. F. E, 
DOWN IN MAINE. 
Boston, Mass., Nov. 1. — It has been so long since I have 
had occasion to use my Forest and Stream pen that I 
find it has become pretty rusty. 
In the "good old days" when the "Nessmuks" were 
able to get together and out into the country every few 
weeks, news was quite plentiful, but for a year or two 
our outings have been few and far between, and this fall 
when the time for my vacation came around the other 
members of our party were unable, to get away, and I was 
forced to join in with a new party, and strike into a new 
country. 
I started with no great expectations as to fish and game, 
but was thoroughly played out and knew that the location 
selected would offer ample opportunity for rest. 
We left Boston one evening, the latter part of Septem- 
ber and arrived at Rockland, Me., early the next morning. 
Here began our trip proper. The morning was perfect, 
just enough wind to make the sail pleasant and a bright 
September sun to bring out the vivid green of the thickly 
wooded shores, dashed with an occasional patch of red 
and brown or yellow, for the deciduous trees were just 
beginning to take on their brilliant autumn coloring. 
Doubtless many readers of Forest and Stream have 
taken that sail from Rockland to Bar Harbor, and to those 
I need say no more, but to those unfortunates who have 
never had that experience let me say that it was one of 
the most delightful sails I ever took. 
From Rockland to Bar Harbor the boat follows the shore 
line quite closely, threading in and out among the numer- 
ous islands, and stopping at a number of such clear, rest- 
ful, inviting little towns, that one naturally gets to 
anticipating something quite irresistible when far-famed 
Bar Harbor shall be reached; for of course Bar Harbor 
must be the most charming place on the entire coast to 
draw its lion's share of the summer visitors. 
Bar Harbor, as seen from the boat and during a short 
walk, was the Btuffiest-looking place we touched at, 
though friends tell me its chief beauty lies in the drives 
leading out into the country. It was the first distinct dis- 
appointment of the trip; but then I maybe prejudiced. I 
am not much on resorts any way. 
About dusk we arrived at the end of our boat's journey, 
not at all sorry to land, for the trip beyond Bar Harbor is 
tiresome, the boat taking more of an outside course. The 
islands passed are more barren than those we passed 
earlier in the day. 
A stage ride of nine miles took us to the end of trans- 
portation except as specially arranged for, and to' the 
town where we were to stop over night. We had letters 
of introduction to people here who treated us in the kind- 
est manner imaginable, having our supplies all arranged 
for, also a guide and team to take us into the woods. 
Early next morning a buckboard drew up in front of the 
house to take our traps and ourselves, when the road per- 
mitted, thirty-five miles further into the bush. The load 
was packed and strapped securely down and we were off, 
our host and his son following later in a light hitch and 
towing the boat. We enjoyed every rmle of the trip, 
though the blueberry plains did get monotonous, and 
when we pulled up beside a dancing trout stream for din- 
ner, and had the tea boiler steaming, it did seem that we 
were getting into the woods sure enough. Arrived at 
camp just before sundown, Ed. and Billy not getting in 
until long after dark. 
The first few days we put in prospecting for deer signs 
and whipping over the lilypads for trout. Of the signs we 
found a fair number, and of the trout took enough to 
keep the spider from growing rusty. We took a number 
of half and three quarter-pounders and saw other parties 
take several that would go 2lbs. and better, but we failed 
to raise any of the big fellows. Sunday we climbed Pleas- 
ant Mountain to get the lay of the country. The climb 
was a "teaser," but the view from the top was well worth 
the price. We could see a 'stretch of country extending 
for miles in every direction, every acre of which appeared 
to be woodland, dotted with numerous lakes, large and 
small, from First Lake on the south to where Nicatous 
stretched its snake-like length away to the north. 
What a tremendous stretch of country it was, the field 
glasses showing no sign of human habitation except our 
little camp and the Jock Darling camp3 on Nicatous. 
Monday morning the "fine was off" and most of the 
party tried the burns for deer, but were unsuccessful, 
although starting a few and getting one or two snap 
shots. Later we had better luck with them. Partridges 
were quite plenty, and some one picked up one or two 
pair about every day while following the old twitch roads 
to and from the burns. Scarcely a day but we had a 
fricasee of these plump fellows, though no special effort 
was made to hunt them; in fact, no especial exertion was 
made to do anything, our heaviest work being done at the 
table and behind the old deacon block. From 7 P. M. to 
7 A. M. was about the average night's rest, and this was 
frequently supplemented by a nap after dinner. 
You could not do anything up there any more than you 
can down South. Everything was against it. The old 
bunk, filled with fresh-cut fir spills, was so soft and fra- 
grant that it was next to impossible to leave it in the 
morning. Then the coffee was always just the flavor that 
enticed one to linger for a second or even a third cup, and 
when jovl stepped out of doors and looked across the lake 
to the mountains, growing each day more brilliant as the 
greens gave way to the brighter tints of red and yellow 
which the maples and birches weTe taking on, and drew 
in long, intoxicating draughts of the balsam-laden air, 
there was an indescribable something in the ether that 
softened the savage desire to spill blood, and we would 
put off till to-morrow the "big hunt." 
To-morrow we would get an early start and "soak 'em." 
But to-day, well, to-day we would smoke. So we lingered 
longer and slept, and ate, and smoked, and loafed in a 
way that was good for the soul. And the sun and frost 
painted daily new landscapes for us to admire. 
But one morning we did get started — breakfast at 2 
A. M. , and up at the inlet before it was light enough to 
see the landing, a rousing fire to take the chill out of our 
marrow, a tramp of a mile up to the big burn, and at 
daylight we were right after them. How we did scour 
the swamps that morning, drenched to the skin as soon 
as the sun came up and melted the frost on the grass 
and brakes, and hungry as bears at our regular breakfast 
hour, but we were out for horns that day and would not 
be denied. 
By 10 o'clock some of the party had enough and were 
for looking up the lunchbox, but about that time the 
Nimrod of the party spied a yearling buck that was top- 
ping off a late breakfast just on the edge of the swamp 
we were preparing to drive, and pulling down on him 
sent a ball through his hip, but a little too low to break 
the backbone. He was off like a flash, but with his flag 
down, and then and there the bail was opened. Talk 
about deploying as skirmishers. Our column of four 
executed movements never dreamed of at West Point. 
We charged that burn with a|jreckless desperation worthy 
of a better cause. 
Over the rocks and stumps, through the brush, every 
atom of the old "redskin taint," now nearly extinct 
through generations of civilization's eradicating influence, 
was aroused, and no aborigine ever bent himself to the 
chase, with keener impulse than did we as we tore across 
the burn after that hapless buck. And at last we had 
him, and the excitement of that one chase repaid us for 
the whole trip. It lasted probably ten minutes, during 
which time he had covered a quarter of a mile in his devi- 
ous course, and when he was bled and hung up to dry out 
we took account of stock and found ourselves just twenty- 
one shells short. And all that buck had to show for it 
was three bullet holes, any one of them a fatal shot. He 
was not the largest buck we brought out, but he certainly 
afforded us more hunting than usually accompanies the 
capture of one deer. 
After thoroughly drying him out, packing him two 
miles to the inlet, paddling four more to camp, and feast- 
ing on heart and liver fried in salt pork fat, garnished 
with baked potatoes, hot biscuit, fried onions, cranberry 
sauce and accompanied with a cup of Down East tea, We 
called the "big hunt" over and dropped back into our old 
habits of loafing and growing fat. 
Not that we literally did nothing, for several trips were 
made to Cranberry Lake for a sack of the crisp fruit 
which has made Cape Cod famous the world over, and we 
"cruised round" in some direction everyday. But we 
were not a hunting crowd, some of us having never been 
into the woods before; and—well, you all know how it ia 
trying to hunt with people who are not accustomed to the 
woods. No matter how hard they try to keep "in the 
hunt," half the time they are lost, and a the other half are 
in no position to get a shot if game is found. When a 
man has to work his mental motor 30 seconds to decide 
whether it's a doe or a kangaroo that you have just driven 
out on to him, and that hesitation costs him an open shot 
at 20 paces at a doe and fawn on the walk, it is discour- 
aging, yet that was an actual occurrence. 
But then, I did not go in any great expectations as to 
game, and was neither greatly surprised nor chagrined 
at these "episodes," as "Kingfisher" would say. 
All too soon .came the day when we must pack up for 
an early start the next morning, and on getting in one 
night we found our good old friend Haycock with Ben 
and the buckboard, ready to take us back to civilization, 
so called. That last night in camp we made memorable 
with a mammoth camp-fire, and in the morning Jet and I 
paddled the canoe down the lake a piece and hid her in 
the brush, made everything tight about camp, took a 
farewell look at the mountains, now fairly ablaze with 
color, and shouldering our guns started on a nine mile 
tramp over the mountain to where the team picked us up. 
While, at dinner it set in to rain and continued with in- 
creasing severity the whole afternoon. About 5 P. M. we 
arrived, soaked, saturated and nearly frozen, but were 
soon put to rights by the kind friends who set us up on 
