Dec. 1, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
469 
You remember I wrote you lately that I had got six 
turkeys in south Missouri. Well, two more fine specimens 
came to hand before I left, which made eight out of the 
ten I shot at with the aforementioned load, and as a rule 
you know turkeys in the woods don't run up and lie down 
while you wring their necks. One of them dropped at 
sixty-four long steps, for my bifurcation is arranged for 
that style. Sometime, maybe, I'll tell how those two birds 
got away. Under the circumstances I can't lay their 
escape to either load or gun. 
Now if the loads mentioned will, under widely varying 
circumstances, almost uniformly prove satisfactory with 
me, presumably they will with others. And that leads 
me to say that I would like to know if any of your readers 
have used the shot spreaders that are on the market, or 
made anywhere, and if so which kind, and with what 
results? My gun needs something of the kind, as it shoots 
too close for brush uses. O. O. S. 
Fbkdonia, N. Y. 
THANKSGIVING IN THE WOODS. 
"Snowing, come." 
Our winter's hunt for 1893 had been planned many 
months previous and all preparations had been made for 
a hasty departure when our guides should summon us, 
and now in the latter part of November came over the 
wire the short but welcome message which appears above. 
Next moraing our party, made up of Dr. Heber Bishop, 
of Boston; Harry S. Seeley, of New York, and the writer, 
and generous supplies for such an expedition were being 
hastily transported toward the mountain fastness of 
northwestern Maine, where the beaver builds his dam 
and the lordly moose has still his home. 
For hours we had journeyed away from civilization, 
and late in the afternoon we arrived at the terminus of 
the l-egular gauge railway where transfer is made to the 
diminutive narrow gauge road, its rails being put two 
feet apart, and room for but a single passenger in each 
seat. 
We follow the devious pathway of winding stream, 
climb over mountain spurs and finally alight at the little 
station of Dead River, in the forest, where but a single 
house is the only habitation. And yet our journey is not 
ended, nor will it be until we have gone into the denser 
forest some fifty miles beyond, where the shriek of the 
locomotive is not heard and the dilletanti do not come. 
Here teams are taken for an eighteen mile drive over, a 
primitive road to our destination for the night. 
Before the sun appeared above Mount Bigelow the next 
morning a buckboard team with the party and supplies 
on board took its departure over the unequalled blue- 
ribbon corduroy, boulder and bog road of Maine for the 
camps of the Megantic Club, on the Chain of Ponds some 
twenty miles away. 
We had planned to reach these camps soon after mid- 
day and our permanent camp beyond Mount Pisgah, in 
the Moose Kiver Valley, the same night. 
But the weather grew sunny and warm with advancing 
day, and the melting snow and previous rains had so 
filled the bogs and worked such sad havoc with much of 
the corduroy that our progress was slow indeed. It was 
so late in the afternoon when we reached Shaw's farm- 
house, some seven or eight miles this side of the Megantic 
Camps, and as far as it is possible for the buckboard to 
go, that we decided to stay there over night and push on 
to our destination the next day. Shaw's farm is simply 
a clearing in the wilderness to grow hay to. feed the 
horses and oxen used in lumbering operations during the 
winter season, and it would be a very expensive luxury 
to transport it in from the settlements. 
As frequently happens in this northern country at this 
season, when the sun went down it grew intensely cold 
and next morning a sheet of solid ice covered the ponds. 
Our guides looked crestfallen. The ice was not thick 
enough to be safe, and to go around the shore to the 
other side of the pond to the trail was entirely out of the 
question, because of dense water brush, boulders, over- 
turned trees and trap rock rising sheer 50ft. and over out 
of the water. And besides, such crust had formed upon 
the snow that the most careful, stealthy footstep could be 
heard a hundred yards away, making successful still- 
hunting of big game absolutely impossible. 
A council of deliberation was convened, when the 
guides suggested that the trip be abandoned or postponed 
to a more favorable season. It was announced to them 
that we were out for big game, that we had proceeded 
too far to back out, that the weather bureau probably had 
some more snow to distribute, that we would await its 
arrival with becoming complacency, and that the problem 
now pressing for immediate solution was how best to 
get an early view of Camp Taylor over in the valley be- 
yond the mountain. 
Our guide of endless resource, Herb Heal, child of the 
forest, lithe and sinewy, as willing as strong, and whose 
burden never tires, skilled with rifle and rod, grand 
master of paddle and. frying pan, clear of eye and steady 
of nerve, and whose footprint in the pathless forest 
makes a bee-line to destination, proposed that he and 
Jack Boyle, a fellow guide well schooled in woodcraft, 
make an opening for a canoe, and then proceed to chop a 
canal through the ice, and for the rest of the party to 
follow after the lapse of a couple of hours. This plan 
being the only way out of the dilemma, was adopted, and 
at once put into execution. We returned to the warm 
farmhouse and whiled away a generous two hours and 
then embarked in frail canoes and followed in then- 
wake. 
The ice was so thick it could not be broken with a pole, 
and with an axe only a narrow channel could be cut, so 
that our heavily laden canoes had to be paddled with the 
utmost caution to prevent the sharp, jutting corners of 
ice from penetrating their thin sides and giving us an icy 
bath, and possibly sending us to the bottom. 
Going around a bend about a mile from the landing we 
see the ice choppers still at work, and a very considerable 
part of the task yet to be accomplished. We overtake 
them and are chilled to the bones before reaching the 
shore, an hour and a half later. Packs are shouldered 
and the trail taken along Clear Water stream for Camp 
Taylor, some ten miles beyond. Ascending the stream to 
its source, we reach the summit of the Boundary Moun- 
tains between Maine and the Province of Quebec, over- 
looking Spider and Megantic lakes in Canada, and many 
miles of beautiful mountain scenery in Maine. 
Our trail follows the crest of these mountains for several 
miles, and furnishes such wealth of panoramic splendor 
as might well enlist the pencil of artist and pen of poet. 
But to human mind and human skill it is not given to 
portray adequately such beauty and loveliness, and for- 
tunate indeed is he whose privilege it is to gaze upon the 
fascinating scene. 
To some the journey may seem long and rough, and 
that fatigue would dull the edge of romance, but he 
whose ear is attuned to nature's symphonies and whose 
eye appreciates the beautiful and grand, has a thousand 
compensations, and the trip ends all too soon. 
Going over a ravine we encounter an enormous track 
of a bear, around which we gather and note that it must 
belong to an animal of huge proportions, and all resolve 
to go in pursuit the next day. The shadows are length- 
ening and we hurry on. Fatigue says tarry, but enthu- 
siasm prevails, and soon we are on the downward slope 
toward Moose River. 
Another mile and a half and we are crossing the beaver 
dam now in possession of a colony of these interesting 
quadrupeds, a few rods beyond which is Camp Taylor, 
our haven of rest and abode for the next few weeks, 
hidden away in the forest and unknown to all save its 
very few. owners and some trusty guides. 
A roaring fire is soon giving needed warmth, and a cup 
of bouillon paves the way to a well earned and bountiful 
supper. Far away as it is from sources of supply, Camp 
Taylor is not without most of the necessities and many of 
the luxuries of civilized life, and the spring mattrasses 
and soft wool blankets were not among the least highly 
prized. 
The fatigue resulting from the unusual experience of 
the past few days was so great that an adjournment was 
made from the supper table to bed, nor was any practical 
joker inclined to indulge in levity. Political ambition, 
financial depression, professional obligations or business 
cares troubled not the dreams of the sleepers. The 
weather had moderated during the afternoon and night, 
and with the break of day the camp resounded with the 
enthusiasm that greeted the announcement that six 
inches of snow had fallen during the night and that it 
was still snowing. This prevented following Brum's trail, 
for which, no doubt, he was thankful, but all started out 
in pursuit of moose, caribou and deer, the three members 
of the [party, each with a guide, taking different direc- 
tions. 
As the day advanced the snow fell thicker and faster, 
until the great, soft snowflakes filled the air so full as to 
limit the vision in the mountain defiles to a few yards, 
and at midday it seemed as if night was at hand. 
It was a slavish day to be out and all made an early re- 
turn to camp, three deer having been seen but none were 
killed. The storm grew in volume during the night, and 
it was snowing in such abundance as to shut out the view 
of a neighboring peak not a mile away. It seemed as if 
a large snowball might be made by simply clasping the 
hands together in the air. 
But venison was wanted for the camp and all sallied 
forth, Dr. Bishop and Herb, Harry and Latty, and the 
writer and Jack. 
Well, perhaps it is not best to tell all the happenings of 
that day. Some things are too sacred to tell and should 
be kept as family secrets, and so I believe my readers will 
pardon me if I respect this custom that boasts a venerable 
antiquity, and give but a mere outline of this day's doings. 
I had tramped up and down the mountainside, and 
wallowed and floundered about in soft snow two feet deep 
and over, until after midday, and was thoroughly fatigued 
with the exertion and wet with sweat and the vast quan- 
tity of snow dislodged from the spruce and fir trees, now 
bending under its weight and looking like huge ghostly 
pyramids, without getting a shot or seeing anything to 
shoot at, and so I informed Jack that I was going to give 
it up and go back to camp. 
Now, if there is any one thing that Jack likes to do 
better than another, after pleasing his employer, it is to 
bring in his share of game to camp. Admiring his 
ambition and desire in this, and telling him I could cer- 
tainly follow my tracks back to camp, we parted, Jack 
carrying the compass and I without one. 
For a time everything went well with me, but I observed 
that the tracks were rapidly growing indistinct, the snow 
was falling so fast, and so dense was the snow cloud that 
no familiar peak or mountain top was discernible to aid 
in locating myself. 
Hurrying along as fast as my weary legs would carry 
me, I soon arrived at a place where other tracks inter- 
THANKSGIVING 
DINNER. 
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THANKSGIVING DINNER IN TBS WOODS. 
sected, and making a close examination I was puzzled to 
know which were mine, all being well filled with snow. 
Discovering what seemed to me satisfactory evidence, I 
again took the trail and hurried on. Feeling entirely 
confident I journeyed on and on, until I encountered a 
great windfall, around which the trail deflected, when it 
dawned upon me that I had not been that way before, 
and that I was upon the wrong trail, and that when I 
returned to the place where I took it all tracks would be 
bo obliterated that it would be impossible to tell one track 
frorn another. 
Like a flash it passed through my mind that I would 
probably have to pass the night upon the trail, and I felt 
in every pocket for matches. Not being a user oTtobacco 
I found none. 
Thinking whoever made the trail which I was follow- 
ing might still be within hearing distance, I fired the 
signal shots agreed upon for "help wanted," but got no 
answer. 
Gathering myself together I started back. Hurrying 
along with anything but welcome thoughts passing 
through my mind, I had covered about three-fourths 
the distance, when I saw the welcome form of Jack com- 
ing along the trail. He had heard my signal shots and 
answered them, but the wind being unfavorable for me 
and his rifle of smaller caliber than mine I did not hear 
them. J ack understands human nature too well and is 
too astute a diplomat always to say what he thinks, and 
so his innocent query now was: "What did you shoot at?" 
Eather an awkward question to be sure, but well cal- 
culated to let me down easily. 
We hurried back, and when nearing the intersection 
of the trails we met Herb who hurriedly asked, "Have 
you seen the Doctor?" 
Well, perhaps the rest hadn't better be told here, but 
after a time we got together and struck a beeline to camp 
by compass, where we brought up at dark with out any 
desire for more exercise that day. 
We were much surprised not to find Harry and Latty 
in, and knowing our experience, I proposed to fire the 
signal shots. In this I was overruled on the ground that 
Latty was at home on every foot of this territory, and 
that he couldn't be lost. Darkness soon setting in, and 
knowing Harry would not stay out until that hour 
whether successful or not, if everything was all right, I 
stepped out and fired the signal shots. No answer was 
returned. After ten or fifteen minutes more Herb fired 
another volley, and was answered from afar off. Later 
another signal brought answer from near by and soon 
two forms, nearly resembling animate piles of snow, 
came tumbling into camp the very personification of de- 
spondency and fatigue. 
Latty being asked where he had been all day non- 
chalantly replied, "Oh, just up there in the edge of the 
woods." 
This answer was so transparent and evasive that it be- 
came a standing jest during the remainder of the trip, 
and it found a place on our Thanksgiving bill of fare, by 
way of embellishment. 
Tending to mitigate the misadventure of the day, Harry 
made the best shot of the trip. Locating a deer far up on 
the mountain side, looking directly at him, he took hasty 
aim and planted his bullet exactly in the median line 
where the neck joins the body. The bullet passed 
directly through the heart and out under the tail, the deer 
falling dead in its tracks. They attempted to bring the 
quarry to camp, but had to abandon it because of the 
severity of the storm. 
Herb and Latty went out next morning and brought it 
in, Latty finding a stream that was turned around the 
wrong way "up in the edge of the woods." 
It was still snowing, but with abated fury, and the 
hunters were content to spend the morning hours in camp, 
enjoying much needed rest; but two more deer fell to dif- 
ferent rifles before night. 
The succeeding day broke clear and cold, the curling 
smoke from our cozy camp was soon lost to view, the bark 
on the trees snapped with the keen frost, the forest 
seemed dressed as a bride in costliest laces, which the ris- 
ing sun decked out with gorgeous, sparkling gems, and all 
were enraptured with beauty, stillness and grandeur of 
the scene. 
Much as summer camps may be enjoyed and praised, 
he has missed much novel and pleasant experience who 
has never had the pleasure of a sojourn in the^wilderness 
when the snows of winter still the footfall and nature 
sleeps. 
As the day wore on one hunter and a guide, then 
another pair took their departure, and lastly the writer 
and Jack sallied forth. 
Going but a short distance from camp, following the 
course of a mountain brook, we came upon a birch tree 
nine incheB through and some sixty-five feet long, that 
had been cut down the night before by beavers. We had 
encountered many beaver cuttings almost every day, but 
had never before seen any tree so large as this felled by 
these diminutive rodents. Human skill could not better 
plan to fell the tree, nor to fell just where it was wanted. 
The principal gash had been cut more than half way 
through the trunk upon the side on which it was to fall, 
and upon the opposite side a smaller gash higher up, fell- 
ing the tree directly between two other large trees, into 
one of which it must have lodged had it varied but a few 
feet either way in its descent. 
After duly admiring for some time the patience and 
skill manifested here, Jack at my suggestion returned to 
camp and procured the saw, and sawed out a section, 
showing the cutting, and it has now a conspicuous place 
in my valued collection of trophies of the trip. 
The others of the party returned to camp with two 
magnificent bucks and a splendid bull caribou, when 
hilarity and good cheer reigned supreme. 
Thanksgiving was drawing near, and our chef was 
instructed to do the occasion honor, and to tax to their 
utmost the resources of the camp. Whether or not he 
succeeded we will leave our readers to decide when they 
have read the menu, which was emblazoned upon birch 
bark, and which is reproduced here. With but a single 
exception, every dish and article thereon was served, and 
all received due attention. 
But why recount here in detail all the fun and frolic of 
the trip? Every incident had an individuality and pleas- 
ure all its own, but to enumerate them here would extend 
this article to undue length, and overtax the patience of 
my readers. 
To sum up briefly, our two weeka of camp life in the 
deep snows and cold of winter was made up of fun, frolic 
