Nov. 84, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
44B 
PLUCK AND GRIT. 
YotJE editorial notice of a plucky hunter, who went 
into camp on crutches, reminds me of a somewhat simi- 
lar case which I remember as having occurred many years 
ago, say away back in the forties, when most of the 
counties along the northern border of the State of Penn- 
sylvania were unbroken forests. Of these were Potter 
and McKean, which were very sparsely settled by a few 
hardy pioneers who had pushed their way up several of 
the small tributaries of the upper waters of the Allegheny. 
In this region there was supposed to be better deer hunt- 
ing grounds than in any other in the State, consequently 
it drew many hunters out of New York State, even from 
as far east as Rochester and intermediate towns. 
There was one man, a well-to-do farmer, who came 
over from his home near Rochester and hunted every fall 
for several years in succession from a camp located on a 
branch of the Tuna Creek. Two miles below this camp 
lived a permanent settler, Mr. Degoalier, with whom the 
old hunter stopped occasionally over night, receiving 
some camp supplies, such as loaves of corn bread, etc. 
Mr. Degoalier said that he generally went into camp the 
1st of November, and remained a month, more or less, 
until the first snows fell sufficient for good sleighing, 
like a storm and swept all over and around him) now 
return in singles, pairs and small flocks, and dart raver 
ously to the mud flats, succulent bulbs and quacking 
decoys, confusing the gunner by bold sweeps and inces- 
sant, greedy pitching in. Sharply now his little gun is 
ringing out the death note to lordly drakes and russet 
hen mallards, grassing 30 before 9 o'clock and 74 by 3 
o'clock, which were laid in his duck boat by the superb 
Bruno — smooth-coat Chesapeake Bay retriever. J. A. A. 
has the knack of natural blinds, live decoys and quick 
double shots. Crockett, his paddler, is named aright; he 
has genius in knowing where game is or is not, at differ- 
ent times of day, how to approach it and how to outwit 
nature's wariest sentinels. He walks the bogs like a 
spider, even with a backload of ducks, where the shooter 
dared not attempt to flounder and fails to retrieve. 
My own share was eighty- five game ducks, shot in the 
central stand of Little Lake, opposite Crossarms, all re- 
trieved by curly-coated Marengo. Reng (for short) is a 
prince of the house of Chesapeake, royal in looks, quick 
and tireless in work, a tiger to fight, allowing no one but 
the gunner to touch his pile of game, faithful unto death, 
he lives in the handsomest and best of sons and daughters. 
One of the happiest times in a man's life is when all 
gather in the evening around the glowing log fireside of 
ON WAPANOCCA 
when his son would come with a two -horse sleigh and 
load in the old man and his venison and return home. 
The average number for the season was from eight to ten 
deer; and Degoalier claimed that he was a skilled deer 
hunter and that he could easily have killed double that 
number had he made an effort to do so. 
All this while the old man had been slightly crippled 
with a bad fever sore on his leg, and the last year except 
one that he came there it had grown much worse, and he 
went into camp against the advice of his friend Degoalier. 
The old hunter did not come out at the end of the week 
as usual, neither did he come out at the end of the second 
week, whereupon Degoalier started for the camp, where 
he found him unable to get out of the shanty; so he re- 
turned home for a team and hauled the old man out on 
an ox-sled. A young doctor was sent for who lived in 
Smithport, some twenty miles distant, and it was decided 
to amputate the leg to save his life, and it was said that the 
old hunter endured the cutting, sawing and mangling 
with stoical indifference, without the use of opiates or 
r-hloroform, as the latter article was hardly known or 
thought of in those days. The young doctor's surgical 
skill was a question of very much doubt. However, the 
man got well, and that very rapidly, and was able to ride 
home in a sleigh with his son some time in February. 
But the most singular part of the story is that when the 
next November came around what should appear but a 
carriage drawn by a pair of horses and bringing the same 
old hunter, who went into the same old camp, wherewith 
the aid of a crutch he stumped in and around that shanty 
during the hunting season, which lasted three weeks or 
more, while his son hunted deer. Tliat was the last trip 
he made to that hunting ground, and I never heard from 
the old man again after his return. Antler. 
Grand View, Tenn., Nov. 13. 
Wapanocca Club house, with jests and wit and heartiest 
friendliness and fraternity, congratulating and nobly 
dividing with the men who beat us, with many a toast 
and never a boast, brothers all, while Miles of New 
Orleans, James and Waters of Chicago, Fagin of Kansas 
City, Maddin of Nashville, Bethell of Denver, Bonnie of 
Louisville, Scott and Sullivan of Mississippi and Woo^s of 
England, with thirty-five Memphians, form one happy 
and cosmopolitan union, served in the best and politest 
come-again-and-stay-longer fashion by that chief of chefs 
de cuisine and champion club keeper and coffee-distiller, 
Col. Philip Cwin d'Afrique, long may he wave — at our 
Chickasaw Indian lake, "Wau-ke-wau-kee." 
But in the riot of our joy we Lave run away from boon 
companions and must hark back to the foxy and alert 
champion of the day, lawyer U. W. M., whose sharp eyes 
had seen afar off the clouds of green wing teal rushing 
into Walker's Cove, where he dropped anchor in grass and 
"billows, 5in. of water and 8ft. of muck. Perpetually his 
louble shots rang out from the spitfire until 110 plump 
ieal loaded his boat like a tarpon. He was two hours 
then in a furious flight of swirling teal without a shell, 
studying their ways and means for future use. From 
Lond Pond stand came many twin electric shocks from 
the deadly tubes of the tall, genial Prof. J. G. H., who 
counts only what he bags, and honors the post of club 
secretary; his score was eighty-one, all retrieved by his 
crested Irish water spaniel Frank, who would dive out 
of sight for a crippled duck, and at command would 
bring in the decoys. 
From far away "Willow Poles Crossing came faintly the 
reports of Uncle George's new gun, and although the 
mallards fairly pelted him, one barrel of his gun proved 
useless and the mire and grass cut down his score to 89 
ducks and a goose. The keenest gunner in Wapanocca 
Club probably is the silver-haired Vice-President A. C. T. , 
whose 65 years have not dimmed the fire in his eyes nor 
paled his ruddy cheeks kept aglow by sports afield; he 
stood at the junction of Cross Arms and Big Lake, and 
although one of our deadliest shots with his ejector ham- 
merless, he was out flight line and tied Uncle George. 
His retriever Topsy, wavy coated and strong, is the model 
form, size, coat, head and color, of all our Chesapeakes, 
and a most gallant and eager workman. 
Heartfelt congratulations, and felicitations preceded 
supper. Never was mallard roasted nor teal broiled more 
daintily. A total of 430 ducks was the score of six men one 
day. Each gunner took five ducks; an express wagon divi- 
ded 400 ducks among the five asylums and Young "Woman's 
Boarding Home of Memphis. The limit now is fifty 
ducks per gun per day, and for every duck over this, the 
sportsman must drop a dollar in the slot of Wapanocca's 
treasury. But it is still the unwritten law and custom to 
give the bulk of the game to those who need it. Guipo. 
Buffalo Shooting Ground. 
Buffalo, Nov. 17. — Sportsmen who have been out dur- 
ing the past four weeks say that jacksnipe and partridges 
were never scarcer in this vicinity than they were this 
fall. A few snipe were shot in the marshes down the 
river, but where a man might have counted on a large 
bag last season there was not a sign of a bird this year. 
Rabbits are more numerous. During the first fall of snow 
last week a large number were shot. Many of the shoot- 
ers expect to go out for rabbit Thanksgiving Day. 
Fred Gerot has had a taxidermist at work on the peli- 
can shot recently by "Jake" Koch, and the stransce bird 
now peeps out of Fred's window at the passers by. Stuffed, 
he is a magnificent specimen. 
John O'Brian, of the Surrogate's office, and a party of 
local sportsmen went up into the interior of Canada this 
week duck hunting. They intended to visit Chatham 
where Ed. Bishop, former secretary of the Board of Pub- 
lic Works, has a berth as Consul. Ed is as nimble when 
out for duck as he is with his pen, and the boys under his 
tutorship ought to bring home plenty of duck and a batch 
of ghost stories. John promised that he would bring the 
Surrogate a squirrel if no ducks were sighted. H. J. B. 
Mr. Burrell has Bogs for Bear. 
The celebrated vermint dogs which Mr. Walter F. Bur- 
rel bought from an old hunter up the valley a short time 
since, have not had so much hunting of late as they have 
been accustomed to, and are getting sharp-set for bear or 
anything of that kind. Hearing that a bear was "using" 
out at the head of the Cornell road, Mr. Burrell went out 
there a few days since to give his dogs a little exercise. 
They soon picked up the trail of the bear and away they 
went after it. Mr. Burrell followed after, at the top of 
his speed and, in about half an hour, came up with the 
dogs, which had killed the bear outright and were sitting 
around when their master arrived, with a sort of give-us- 
something-harder expression on their countenance. From 
the marks on the tree at the foot of which the bear lay, 
it was evident that, being hard pressed he had tried to 
climb the tree; but the dogs had pulled him down and 
done for him on the spot. The dogcatchers will do well 
to look for the license tags on the collars of these dogs 
with a binocular before they undertake to catch them. 
— Portland Oregonian. 
DUCK SHOOTING AT WAPANOCCA. 
One November morning six members of the Wapa- 
nocca Outing Club in Crittenden county, Ark., partook 
of a most savory and excellent 6 o'clock breakfast in 
their pretty cottage club house, where 45 booths or 
lockers bear the names of their owners, who constitute 
the club. The season for duck shooting was at its zenith 
and the sport was royal, for in November clouds and 
myriads of ducks and some geese and swan are drifting 
toward the Gulf, with the Mississippi River as guide, and 
lakes near its banks and brakes furnish abundant food 
and rest. Between 7 and 8 A. M. the wildfowl were 
settling, circling, streaming in from roosting to feeding 
grounds, almost literally grounds, as marsh ducks love 
the shallows and mud puddles where smartweed and 
peppergrass, moss and coltsfoot, snails, larvae and chinqua- 
pin acorns are knee deep in water, and where the ducks 
noisily and greedily feed. Bright nights make poor 
shooting next day because ducks have fed chock full by 
the light of the moon, and frolic or doze in the day in 
sequestered pools. 
But hark I. the ball has opened hot! J. A. A. in Price's 
Lagoon threw out 12 cedar and 4 live decoys, and mallards 
(that he wisely refrained from firing at when theyiarose 
WHAT WE GO FOR. 
