Nov. 17, 1894.] 
423 
there that an old bachelor lives in. He's away loggin' 
now, but he told me where he leaves the key, and we 
can get some grub at the store." 
It was dark when we got there and we went to the 
company boarding house for supper. We went into the 
dining-room where nearly one hundred lumbermen were 
eating supper. As I still wore my "store clothes" I 
instantly became the observed of all observers, and one 
fellow yelled, "Take him out," at which some of them 
laughed. Then I turned toward the fellow and said. 
"Foreman, send that chap to the office for a cross haw," 
and the laugh turned the other way. There is no tool 
known as a "cross haw," and the usual way of suppress- 
ing a smart Aleck is to tell him to go to the office and 
get a cross haw. 
After supper it was very dark overhead and all around, 
and very muddy underfoot, as we floundered along to 
the house which was nearer a half mile than a quarter. 
When at last we got there, George could not find the key, 
but after a while managed to get in through a window, 
lighted a lamp and let me in. Except that it was not 
very clean it looked comfortable. A good stove stood in 
the center of the room with a pile of dry wood behind it, 
and at one side of the room was a spring lounge supplied 
with mattress and blankets and there was a sleeping bunk 
up-stairs. In the "linter" there was a good cooking out- 
fit, but no provisions. After making a fire and drying 
our feet, I retired to the lounge and George to the bunk 
up-stairs, taking Topsy with him, but Topsy refused to 
sleep up-stairs in a house not provided with fire escapes, 
and came down to my room, got under the lounge and 
spent the night scratching and biting by turns at fleas. 
I thought if he was as industrious at hunting partridges as 
he was after fleas, he must be a good one. At last, in 
spite of the novel surroundings and Topsy's noisy flea 
hunting I fell asleep, lulled by a pouring rain which 
began soon after we got into the house. 
In the morning I sent George to the store after coffee, 
sugar, butter, bread, bacon, eggs, and canned peaches; 
he got all except the eggs, and all were of excellent qual- 
ity. Both of us were fair cooks, and had good appetites, 
so we voted that it was a mighty good breakfast, after 
which we washed the dishes, put bacon sandwiches in 
some of our pockets and cartridges in others, shut up the 
house and went into the woods, which surrounded us for 
ten miles on every side. 
Considering his lack of legs, Topsy was a phenomenal 
goer. He went on a gallop, swinging his long tail with a 
peculiar rotary motion, as though he was trying to scull 
himself through the air. But the partridges were not 
there. We hunted them on the wet ground and on the 
dry; along the creeks and away from the creeks; in 
brushy grounds and where there was no brush. We 
hunted all day and found but four, two of which we 
bagged. Although not looking for squirrels, we saw 
twenty during the day and bagged nineteen of them, all 
gray and black ones, and the biggest, fattest ones I ever 
saw. They were actually too fat to exert themselves get- 
ting away from us. We came in at sundown; hungry? 
Well, I ate the backs and hams of two of those big 
squirrels, but George was too hungry to eat squirrel and 
stuck to bacon. Coffee disappeared to the extent of more 
than a quart, and bread and butter and canned peaches in 
proportion. Topsy may have scratched fleas that night, 
but I did not hear him. 
Next morning it was cloudy and very windy. Part- 
ridges were too scarce to be worth tramping after and it 
was a very poor day for squirrels, but we went into the 
woods and sat on logs and took it easy while Topsy ran 
about and occasionally treed a squirrel, and once in a 
while we would see one, so that when sunset came we 
had twenty-five. I had had enough of shooting, so next 
morning George was sent home with the squirrels, with 
orders to divide them among the poorer ones of his neigh- 
bors, and no doubt eight or ten families had a treat, for 
they were the fattest, tenderest, juiciest squirrels that ever 
were. 
We saw a number of porcupines, and out of curiosity I 
shot one, finding him the hardest animal to bring down 
that I ever shot at. He was barely fifty feet high, but it 
took four charges of No. 6 shot to get him down, and he 
was not near dead then. Many of my readers not 
acquainted with the animal will be interested in a brief 
account of it. They are some larger than a raccoon, 
and of similar shape, except that they are thicker-set in 
body. They are rodents, and in head and teeth resemble 
a muskrat. They are covered with quills that grow out 
of the skin just like the hair. These quills are two to 
three inches long and one-sixteenth thick, the tips being 
sharp-pointed and set with minute barbs that make them 
hard to pull out when they have penetrated the skin of a 
dog or other animal. Their manner of defense is to roll 
themselves into a ball and switch their tails. Their food 
is the bark of trees, and one will stay in the same tree for 
weeks, perhaps not coming down till the bark is exhausted 
or the tree dies. When not eating bark he sits on a big 
limb, day and night, summer and winter alike, seeking 
no shelter in the coldest of weather, although poorly pro- 
tected by the thin coat of hair which grows anions his 
numerous quills. He is neither handsome nor harmful 
and finds his chief safety in his utter worthlessness. What 
particular function he performs in the grand system of 
nature has never been determined. Perhaps the man 
who said the chief purpose of the dog was to breed fleas 
can tell us what a porcupine is good for. 
O. H . Hampton. 
Stars and Gobblers. 
- Willow Springs, Mo.— I have had fair success with 
the turkeys, having bagged six, and am in hopes of do wn- 
mg a big gobbler to have mounted to keep company in 
my hall with the elk antlers, Mongolian pheasant and 
puma skin. We have been having the loveliest weather 
ever manufactured, and if it wasn't delicious to be in the 
forests in the "darksome woods" when the stars twinkled 
with undimmed brightness, and watch the beautiful un- 
folding of the day, and listen for the keouk of the noble 
bird, I don't want a cent. But now a cloud has appeared 
a big frown upon the face of nature, the winds sough sor- 
rowfully and fill the air and carpet the earth with faded 
rustling leaves, and Dr. Hicks of St. Louis says it is a 
"storm period." Just 's like 's not. O. O. S. 
The Forest and Stream is put to jjress each week on Tues 
day, Correspondejice intended for publication should reach 
as at th,* latest by Monday, and as much earlier as practicable 
THE LONG ISLAND DEER SEASON." 
The deer law for New York State in general practically 
closed Oct. 10, when the hounding season expired. A 
few deer were killed after that by still-hunting up to Nov. 
1 and by hounding in Sullivan county, but then the deer 
season closed for the entire State except in Long Island. 
On Long Island at that date the hunters were just begin- 
ning to make ready for their short season — the shortest 
by the way of any open season on the statute books of 
any State. 
The Long Island sportsmen may pride themselves that 
their season opens at a much more sensible time than that 
of the rest of the State, for from Nov. 10 to 16 the deer 
are at their prime. They are in good coat, sleek and well 
fed, and can stand a sharp run with the dogs. When 
killed they are as far removed from the poor, ill-f avoi ed 
specimens killed elsewhere in the State early in the sea- 
son as January is from June. 
The Long Island hunters have only* one objection to the 
season as it stands at present. That is, that the law per- 
mits the shooting of all other game after the first of 
November. 
This furnishes an excuse for evil-minded persons to 
be upon the grounds ten days before the deer season 
opens with gun and dog, and while ostensibly hunting 
rabbits or other game to pot a deer now and then. That 
this is occasionally done there seems to be little doubt, 
and every season one hears many rumors of illegal killing. 
This preliminary hunting, even though strictly honest, 
tends to frighten the deer and drive them into the neigh- 
boring club grounds where they cannot be shot, so it is 
naturally unpopular with most of the deer hunters. 
As told in the article printed in Forest and Stream 
Nov. 18, 1893, the Long Island deer grounds lie between 
Ronkonkoma on the east and Central Islip on the west and 
north of the South Side Sportsmen's Club to the farming 
lands about Smithtown. The railroad just outside the 
club property skirts the southern limit, and along it in 
former years many deer have been killed. This year, 
however, few deer seem to have reached it. They have 
either been killed before they got so far, or else the fence 
which has recently been put along the track has prevented 
their attempt to cross. It seems likely that the former 
supposition is the correct explanation, as the fence is 
scarcely high enough to prove an obstacle to a deer in a 
hurry. The best known crossings are mostly on or near 
the railroad. Beginning from the east, perhaps the most 
celebrated is Oxhead Crossing, near which most of the 
deer have been killed in the last few years. North from 
the railroad runs a road skirting a low chain of hills 
known as the Pond Hills, and this road for half a mile or 
more is always lined with hunters during the season. 
Further west is the Connetquot River, the famous trout 
stream of the South Side Club, which above the railroad 
flows through a marsh 60 rods or more in width. 
On both sides of this marsh are good crossings where 
the deer may be stopped on their flight southward. Sooner 
or later if not killed they always take that direction, 
which brings them to final safety in the grounds of the 
South Side Club. The river is the reason for this, for 
their natural instinct tells them that it will furnish them 
a means of throwing off their canine pursuers. West of 
the river is the "Whistling Post" where the deer have 
been accustomed to cross the railroad on account of the 
fact that the level of the track is nearly that of the coun- 
try on both sides. Half a mile further is Foote's Crossing, 
which is near the western range of the deer at present. 
Years ago the deer ranged on both sides of Central Islip, and 
were more abundant west of Foote's Crossing than east. 
A forest fire, how*ever, destroyed their cover, and now 
very few are found on that side. Saxon's Swamp, south 
of Brentwood, used to be an infallible point to start a 
deer, and the old Suffolk Road and the road from Islip to 
Central Islip were then the best stands. Report has it that 
deer are again straying back into these old-time haunts 
and that numerous tracks have been seen crossing both 
these roads. ■ 
From Foote's Crossing to Oxhead is probably about two 
miles along the railroad track. In this stretch many deer 
have been killed in recent years and tons of venison car- 
ried away. Along this stretch also deer are occasionally 
killed by passing trains. Two such cases have been re- 
ported in the last two years. 
There are many other crossings or stands both east and 
west of the club grounds and north of the railroad. A 
well-known one is the "head of the brook," where the 
Connetquot rises. 
The Long Island deer hunting is unique in many ways, 
but in none more so than the hour of starting for the 
chase. When other honest men have long hours of sleep 
ahead, these island hunters are afoot. The tracks of their 
game are found by lantern light, and often the game is 
afoot and flying for its life before the sun has gilded the 
tops of the hiUs. 
Last Saturday, the first day of the season, a Forest 
and Stream representative found himself upon the road 
at 4 A. M. He had been roused from a comfortable bed 
an hour before, and his companions — John Trainor, pro- 
prietor of Trainor's Hotel, and Messrs. Burr and Lamb, of 
King's Park— had not been to bed at all, but had whiled 
away the hours previous to the hunt with games of crib- 
bage. The night was dark as Pharaoh's Egypt and damp 
as the vault of a crypt. The horse that drew the party 
seemed to push his way through a tangible wall of watery 
darkness. The heavy atmosphere was saturated to over- 
flowing, and every now and then gave up a little of its 
water in the form of fine rain. 
To assist us in making way through the blackness, we 
carried a lantern that shed a faint light on the road, and 
occasionally during the drive we saw other lights ahead 
or behind, that indicated other par tiesMikewise bound for 
the hunting grounds. It was a dismal night, and the 
prospects for a clear day were very slight. 
We reached a group of pines near the Oxhead Crossing 
just as it was beginning to pale a little in the east prepar- 
atory to a cold gray dawn. Already a deer was afoot and 
the dogs in hot cry. The horse was hastily driven in 
among a number of wagons drawn up between the trees 
"camp meeting style," tied and blanketed, and seizing 
our guns we hastened to points where we hoped to inter- 
cept the quarry. 
But early as we were, the ground was well occupied. 
Everywhere in the darkness were hunters, some hurrying 
like ourselves, others content to wait where they were on 
the chance that the deer would cross the road in their 
neighborhood. For a quarter of a mile or more, the 
road was guarded by a cordon of hunters. 
Before we had fairly gotten our positions the chase was 
upon us and had passed— two frightened deer bounding 
through the scrub oaks as if on springs, closely followed 
by the eager hounds. 
From my position on a hill I had an excellent oppor- 
tunity to overlook the chase, though it was too dark to 
see to shoot with any certainty. The deer looked like big 
"cotton-tails," and their white sterns made them easily 
- recognized, though the dogs could not be seen. Around 
the base of the hill they swung in hot flight, and from the 
hill a broadside of shots was given, but the deer were too 
far off to be hurt. Presently one veered its course 'and 
made a dash for the Oxhead road. Out of the darkness 
directly ahead shot a flame of vivid fire, and the first 
deer of the day had fallen to the gun of George Thompson. 
It began to grow lighter rapidly, and the hunt waxed 
fast and furious. North and south the dogs were driving, 
and the shooting was nearly continuous. It resembled 
the cannonading that goes on during the morning flight 
on a ducking marsh or at high tide during the rail and 
reed bird season. Far away to the east a chase would 
start. First the dogs could be heard voicing their uncer- 
tainty as they untangled the nocturnal wanderings of the 
deer. Faint distant and disjointed baying, gradually 
growing more nervous and excited and surer as they 
solved one puzzle after another. Then the wild burst of 
melody as the deer was jumped, and the continuous strain 
as they brought him hurrying along. A short period of 
expectancy would be followed by sudden, shai-p reports 
that smote upon the chill, thin air viciously. Then a 
momentary calm — soon to be broken by other chases and 
other shooting. 
Off to the south at one time during the early morning 
the shooting was incessant for peveral minutes. It could 
be compared to nothing more fittingly than the noise of 
a pack of firecrackers going off. Some shots lapped over 
on others, and there was no break. Shooting was done 
by the O'Berry party, of Stony Brook, who later were 
credited with five deer. 
About seven it began to rain. For some time a thunder 
storm had been approaching from the west, and it now 
vented its fury on the unsheltered hunters. The wind 
rose and carried with it a dense pall of black clouds that 
shut in the nether world with impenetrable gloom. Tor- 
rents of rain fell, varied occasionally by volleys of sting- 
ing hail. Silence again brooded over the land". The bay- 
ing of the hounds was hushed, and for the best part of an 
hour no shooting was heard. Then the rain gradually 
ceased and the storm had blown over. Thereafter the 
weather was good and the pursuit of the deer began again. 
Previous to the rain I had seen five running deer. 
During the day the usual quota of deer were killed — 
about fifteen. Besides those mentioned, Luther Hallock, 
of Smithtown, killed one. a Terryville party got another, 
Fred Nichols, of Hauppauge, shot two, but another party 
got one of these in a wagon and carried it off. A Patch- 
ogue party in camp in the woods just east of the Connet- 
quot River had one hanging up, and Ed. Randall, of 
Echo, also got one. A Greenpoint party were credited 
with one, and other parties from Say ville, Islip and Baby- 
lon no doubt got others. 
There was a good deal of hard feeling during the day 
owing to disputes over the possession of deer. It fre- 
quently happens that deer are shot at by more than one 
party, and in certain cases it would tax a Solomon to de- 
cide to whom it finally belonged. At other times the 
party which has started a deer and whose dog3 are on it 
when it is killed will fail to get the share of the venison 
to which they are entitled by the unwritten law of the 
woods. 
A case of the latter kind occurred early in the day. An 
old gentleman from Babylon named Munsey, had ridden 
out on horseback with two hounds and started a deer. 
This he followed by hard riding for an hour and a half 
before it was killed. He carried no gun and was out 
merely for the sport of the chase. Just before the deer 
was shot he had lost his hat and spent some time in re- 
covering it. When he got to the spot where the deer had 
ended its race the party that had killed it refused to give 
him any share of the venison. A war of words was the 
result between some hunters who espoused the old man's 
cause and the erring party. Hen Smith of Smithtown 
told them in plain and naked terms what he thought of 
them, and when they finally refused to make reparation, 
he offered to add to his verbal "dressing off" a good phys- 
ical thrashing, but none of the guilty party accepted his 
challenge. The old gentleman had meanwhile stood by a 
quiet spectator. 
Such scenes, and the crowding of the hunters, tend to 
take away much of the pleasure of the hunt; but there 
does not seem to be any way of getting rid of them. In 
some localities there is considerable danger to human life 
from reckless shooting, but a merciful Providence has 
so ordered that in recent years no serious accidents have 
been recorded. 
I left at 8 o'clock, before the hunt was over, Joe Harris 
of the Branch Hotel, kindly consenting to carry me over 
to Smithtown. Just as we were starting the news spread 
like wildfire through the group of 30 or 40 hunters that 
had collected by the wagons near the Oxhead Crossing 
that a deer was coming. They scattered in a twinkling 
to head it off if possible, and this was my last glimpse of 
the hunt. Away we bowled at a good speed, and soon 
my experience of the '94 deer season was a thing of the 
past; but the memory of that sage-green pine-clad plain 
with its border of low brown scrub oak hills, and in its 
heart a clear, rushing stream, will long remain a bright 
and cheering picture. J. B. Burnham. 
New York, Nov. JO. 
Long Island Ducks. 
Brooklyn, Nov. 8.— Noticing your little sign, "Report 
your Luck with Gun and Rod," I take pleasure in giving 
my report for near at home shooting on the Great South 
Bay, which I think will be of service to some of your 
readers. Instead of traveling hundreds of miles at great 
expense, a friend and I went down to Lindenhurst Sunday 
night, ready for Monday morning's shooting. We stayed 
there Monday and up till Tuesdav noon of Election Day, 
when we came home to vote. We killed 22 birds, com- 
prising broadbills, sheldrakes, but mostly black ducks. 
Now that is not bad for a little sport within 90 minutes of 
New York. Our guide was Mr. Chas. Robinson, who has 
a boat large and roomy and well heated, and understands 
his business. Any one of your readers going out with 
him will get the full benefit of a good day's sport. 
C. A. B. 
