58 8 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Deo. 22, 1894, 
"That reminds me." 
"Did I ever kill a grizzly bear?" said Oapt, S , of the 
— th U. S. Infantry, in answer to a question of mine, "no, 
but I once came very near it, I was then stationed in 
California, where game of almost any kind could be 
found within a few miles of the post. One morning I 
developed a keen appetite for trout, so rod in hand, I 
mounted my horse, and galloped off to a stream where 
they might be caught, I had fished down the current 
perhaps a mile and a half to a point where it took its 
course through a tangled network of willow; I did not 
like to go far into such a place, for I had no weapon of 
any kind about me. But a few yards below I saw a fine, 
deep pool, where I thought I could be sure of a good rise 
or two. The stream here narrowed rapidly, until it 
passed between two large rocks, just above the pool. 
There was only a strip of sand about a foot wide on 
which to pass the boulder. I stood and cast down into 
the pool two or three times, and then started on around 
the rock. Coming out on the other side, I found myself 
face to face with an enormous grizzly bear, which had 
evidently been asleep on the bank, for he was blinking in 
the sunshine; I had waked him up. I was frightened, for 
I hadn't lost any bear, and this one was a total stranger 
to me, besides, he was mad and ugly at having been dis- 
turbed. The old fellow sat up and sniffed once or twice, 
then heaved himself up to his feet, ready for business. 
He looked as big as the rock itself. There wasn't much 
time to deliberate. I couldn't run anywhere, and tho 
bear was too near, and the rock too high for me to climb. 
I just dropped my rod, waved my arms, yelled once at 
the top of my voice, and threw myself headlong into the 
pool! It was 4 to 5ft. deep, and I took mighty good care 
to get to the bottom of it. The water was cold, and the 
first shock nearly paralyzed me; but I grasped a stone 
and held on for dear life. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds I 
stayed down. My ears began to sing, and my strength to 
fail, yet I did not dare to rise for breath; for I knew that 
the moment I showed my head, bruin would be in after 
me. I could not swim a stroke, so crossing the pool under 
water was out of the question. I knew that I must soon 
come to the surface or drown, and I actuallly deliberated 
a few moments, whether it was not best to drown myself 
right there, or rise and be killed by the grizzly. Suddenly 
I swallowed a little water and then it was settled for me. 
I tried to gasp, and involuntarily straightened up, half- 
strangled. My head just rose above the surface, and for 
a second or two, as I coughed and wheezed in the struggle 
for breath, I suffered an agony of suspense, expecting to 
be instantly seized by the bear. But I wasn't seized. 
Slowly I recovered breath and sight, and then looked 
round for Bphraim. He was nowhere to be seen. I 
didn't do any more trout fishing that day, but got back 
to my horse and put for home, half -frozen," 
"But, captain," said I, "I thought you were going to tell 
me about — " 
"Yes, yes," said he, "that's the point I am coming to. 
My frightful yell, and sudden disappearance, had prob- 
ably scared the old fellow to death; and he doubtless was 
heeling it off through the chapparal as fast as his legs 
could carry him, all the time that I was down in the 
water, nearly drowned. That's the nearest that I ever 
came to killing a grizzly bear; and that's the nearest 
one ever came to killing me." D. F. Hall. 
Oswego, N. Y. 
MORE ABOUT FOXES IN TREES. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Having read with interest the several accounts of tree 
climbing by foxes, recently published in our family paper 
(and what a gentle family do the hunters and fishermen 
make), may I intrude upon your space to tell my little fox 
ory? 
While hunting for quail with several friends in Cali- 
fornia many years ago, I was following up a slight ridge 
while one of our party was on another about 200yds. dis- 
ant with an inclined flat between us with a few scatter- 
ing white oak trees, the last of their species; for I never 
saw a sprout from stump or acorn. Looking across to the 
chapparal-covered ridge on which my friend was, I saw a 
fox come out of the bushes and trot briskly toward me. 
Stepping behind a tree I waited till I supposed he had 
approached within gunshot, when I stepped out, and as 
the fox squared away at right angles from the course he 
had been coming I gave him a charge of No. 8 shot. He 
made one long jump and striking the ground kicked and 
pawed a little and then lay quiet. My friend came out in 
sight on the other ridge and asked what I had shot at. I 
told him a fox, and held it up by the brush so that he 
might see it. My friend passed on out of sight and I let 
the fox drop, and he struck the ground as limp as a dish 
rag, and without any other post mortem examination I 
would have sworn he was dead. 
Now, I don't think dead foxes often climb trees, but 
this one did. I began loading my gun, which was a 
muzzleloader, and had got the powder in and wadded, 
and discovering something wrong with my shot-pouch 
I took off the game bag, powder flask and shot-pouch to 
adjust the last. I had been fussing with it but a few 
minutes, when I discovered the fox about 20ft. away 
from me, running at a lively gait; of course I joined in 
the race, he for life and I for the fox. I could keep very 
near him, but not near enough to kick or strike him; 
after running about 200yds., he went into a clump of 
bushes perhaps 20ft. in diameter with a buckeye tree in 
the middle of it; I ran around the bushes to head the fox 
off or take up the chase on the opposite side, but he did 
not come out. Peering into the bushes gave me no sight 
of him, and I began thiuking he had gone into the 
ground. Straightening up I happened to glance at the 
buckeye tree, and there loft, up was my fox quietly rest- 
ing in a crotch of the tree. As I had yelled like an In- 
dian in my race, my friend came running down to see 
what was the matter and reshot my fox so he did not 
climb any more trees. I have seen possums play dead, 
but this was the only fox I ever saw "play possum" and 
afterward climb a tree. A, 
The Ways of Birds of Prey. 
Here in the Arkansas Valley, 100 miles from the moun- 
tains, bird life in the winter is not plentiful. Meadow 
larks, sparrows and hawks are the only birds whose com- 
pany we can rely on during the winter. A pair of fly- 
catchers that raised two broods in the protection of our 
porch both this season and last are still with us, but their 
trunks are packed ready for the Southern flight. Red 
ants destroyed their last brood, when nearly ready to fly. 
As everything is created for a beneficent purpose, I 
would like to know the mission upon earth of the great 
variety of hawks. When the grain is ripened and the 
bobolinks have flocked, the hawk picnic begins. Darting 
among the myriads of young birds they select whatever 
comes within the line of their flight. Often in terror a 
poor bird is impaled upon the barbs of a wire fence. 
A few days since I saw a hawk pursuing a meadow 
lark, which seemed to realize that his safety lay in keep- 
ing above his pursuer. Steadily in his ungraceful flight 
the meadow lark ascended the heavens, the two birds 
holding about the same relative position until lost to 
view. 
The other day I watched a curious performance by a 
bald-headed eagle and two hawks, The eagle was mak- 
ing a meal upon a jack-rabbit, but was annoyed by the 
presence of the hawks. Becoming exasperated at the 
near approach of the hawks, he would pursue one, while 
the other stepped up and helped himself to rabbit. On 
returning the eagle would pursue this one while the other 
took its place. Finally, becoming tired or disgusted, the 
eagle continued his meal with the hawks as interested 
spectators. F. T. Webber. 
Colorado, Dec. 15. 
Another Tame Caribou. 
Boston, Mass. — I have read the accounts of tame cari- 
bou in past issues of the Forest and Stream, and I think 
I can add to those stories by relating an experience of 
mine while summering in Labrador. 
We were lying off the settlement of Hopedale, one of 
the most northerly parts of that dreary country. We had 
had great sport at deep-sea fishing, otter and walrus 
hunting. One morning we sighted at the extreme end of 
the bight an immense caribou quietly grazing on the herbs 
THIEF RIVER FiLLS MOOSE. 
One one year old; the others five months. 
In the possession of the Minnesota Fish and Gam e Commission. 
and grass. We determined to bag him for dinner and 
accordingly put off a boat and pulled in his direction. 
Our intention was to get as near as possible and bring 
him down with our rifles. Somehow or other I told the 
others not to shoot till we were quite near. 
When within about 100ft. of the animal we stopped 
rowing. The animal looked at us, and strange to say it 
did not seem in the least alarmed but kept grazing and 
gazing at us alternately. I had never seen a caribou so 
fearless before and I was curious to know if the beast was 
tame. 
We got quite close to the animal, not ten feet from 
him; our keel almost touched the rocks. The animal 
gazed at us for a moment and slowly waded up to our 
boat. It thrust its nose into our "punt" and allowed us 
to pat it and fondle it. The caribou seemed as tame as 
any cow we had seen at home. I was loth to kill the 
animal and was considering the project of taking him to 
St. Johns when Bill raised his weapon and when not 
more than five feet from the caribou fired. The beast 
dropped like a log, shot through the heart. I was wroth 
at what I considered a most cowardly deed, but my 
words had no effect on the unfeeling slayer, and the only 
thing for us to do was to carry the caribou on board, 
which we did with much dispatch. M. W. Dooley. 
That Florida Rookery For Sale. 
To all lovers of pretty plumed birds the almost total 
extinction of feathered beauties on the peninsula of 
Florida is a matter of deep regret; however, there is one 
true lover of nature left, a man who has a homestead near 
Citronelle, in Citrus county, on the Withlacoochee River, 
where he has a rookery which he has defended from the 
impious invasions of vandals. To that rookery thous- 
ands of birds go to roost every night during the season 
and are thus protected from so-called sportsmen. If 
Forest and Stream would interest itself in this matter it 
might induce some wealthy ornithologist to purchase the 
place and thus help to perpetuate the several varieties of 
plumed birds for which Florida was famous. — Tampa 
Times. 
Elk in Harness. 
Exeter, Ont. — Mr. E. H. Fish of this town, has a novel 
team of drivers. " They are a pair of elk, male and fe- 
male. The female is now past two years and the male 
past one. The parents were captured near Brandon, 
Manitoba, and were shown throughout Ontario. The 
present team were bred in captivity. They are splendidly 
mated, equal in size and shapeliness. Both in good, 
fat condition. They are kept loose in a stable and are 
perfect pets. They are driven double and make a splen- 
did team. They are becoming quite a pair of trotters, 
with light harness and a light cart fitting them perfectly. 
Our streets are now accustomed to them gliding by 
almost daily. J. A. R. 
Wild Pigeons. 
Gravesend Beach. — Reading in your paper several 
items about wild pigeons I write you. In traveling on 
Long Island about four miles inland from Port Jefferson 
last September I saw twelve wild pigeons fly from feed- 
ing on the grounds into the trees. I observed them very 
closely, as they alighted, close to me. They were not 
doves, but the genuine wild pigeons, so plentiful years 
back. J. B. 
M\& 
AN ANTLERED 
MONARCH'S 
END. 
IGNOBLE 
Lansing, Dec. 20.— The largest buck that I had seen in 
many years was strung up by the hindlegs in front of 
one of our meat markets early in November. When I 
looked at him and admired his great, big, glossy body, 
and his splendid developments and the best set of horns 
that I had laid my eyes on in many years, I could but 
regret his death, and think that such a noble fellow 
ought to have been spared. But we are all human, and 
I must confess that I would have gone a thousand miles 
— five hundred over the roughest corduroy in America, 
three hundred pretty nearly all the way up-hill, and two 
hundred on foot — and I would gladly have turned my 
pockets inside out when I got to my journey's end to 
have shot that fellow. His horns would have hung in 
my library as long as I had a library. He was a monarch 
of the woods, worth your life almost to look at when 
dead, and what a sight he must have been when he was 
himself and roaming in his native wilds. He was no 
more fit to eat than any strong musky old bull would 
have been, and he was so swelled up about the head and 
neck as to make those parts almost useless for mounting, 
but he was yet a beauty. 
When I saw the buck I wanted to know something 
about him, and where he came from, and who was the 
lucky man who shot him. The butcher simply knew that 
he came by express, that "he weighed something over 
2001bs. when dressed, and that he had a market value of 
about $80 net. The head and horns had been reserved, 
but he would cut up the body on Saturday and offer the 
venison for sale. Such an ignoble ending of life, for such 
a buck, was indeed a pity. He ought to have been 
mounted entire, when he would have been worth half a 
thousand dollars in gold and have been an ornament to 
any collection in this country. Failing to get from the 
butcher any trace of the man who shot the buck, I ga^e 
up the search. But constant visions of the big fellow and 
his elegant horns would come before me and I took the 
somewhat cold trail again. 
At the post office I could get no clue of the hunter who 
had killed the deer. The city directory was way off, but 
finally through the efforts of Mr. Walker, of our carrier 
force, he located him, and in response to my letter of in- 
vitation he called at my office. I gave him a warm re- 
ception. He introduced himself as David Ayres, and 
kindly told me something of himself and of his hunting 
experience. He is an exceedingly pleasant gentleman of 
about thirty-five, slight built but nervous and cordy from 
head to foot. He is a born hunter, as was his father 
before him. He is a first-class rifle shot, and with his 
.38-38-180 Winchester has no trouble in bringing down 
anything that he can find in the woods. He has camped 
out for nine seasons and has killed a great many deer. 
This season he went out to trap, but he did not get located 
to suit and so gave up trapping and took in a few deer. 
The big buck was the cream of the lot, but a bigger buck 
with larger horns got away with a broken leg owing to a 
fall of snow which made it impossible to track it. 
Mr. Alfred Bonner was his hunting companion. They 
had 40 traps and one huge trap of 241bs. weight, especially 
for bear. Wolves and bobtail cats were reported quite 
plenty, but when he got where they were, they were not 
there. He left part of his traps with an old hunter up 
north, and will try his luck after bear again in the latter 
part of the winter, when the fur is long and fine and 
more valuable than early in the season. Three does, a 
couple of fawns and the big buck completed his bag of 
game killed. He reports that other hunters were killing 
about the same proportion of does and bucks, and that 
when a doe was shot, usually a fawn and a yearling were 
shot at the same time, as they 'most always remained 
together during the winter, and offered easy shots. In 
that way a whole family would be wiped out. 
Hundreds of does and fawns were killed in northern 
Michigan before the season opened, and at any time dur- 
ing the year when a settler or a lumber camp wanted 
meat. It is one of the unwritten laws of that country, 
that no man squeals on his neighbor, and all take their 
meat from the same barrel. Trout are taken at any time 
and in any way that they can be got hold of. Las. week 
I heard of a big basket of trout being sent to our city 
from one of the up-country towns, supposably blown out 
of the water with a bomb, 
I regretted to learn from Mr. Ayres that he had dis- 
posed of the big horns and head of tbe old buck to the 
butcher for a song almost and that he did not appreciate 
what a prize he had really lost. There were a great 
many partridge hunters in the section where he camped, 
professionals, and one man had shipped out about fifty 
dozen birds. The birds were getting scarce compared 
with what there were three or four yeara ago, and deer 
were disappearing rapidly from the section where he used 
to find them plenty. 
The experience of Mr. Ayres adds one more evidence to 
the importance of preserving the does and fawns and 
prohibiting the sale of game. Most of the men who hunt 
deer do so for the money that they can make out of it 
and the pleasure that they can find in hunting. Very 
few deer hunters but expect to sell enough deer to pay 
expenses. It seems to be considered among the hunters 
a perfectly legitimate way of doing. A few years ago I 
knew af several pair of horns in the hands of butchers, 
who had them hung up in the barn or some out of the 
way place and would be glad to dispose of them at a 
nominal price. If any reader of Forest and Stre am 
would like a pair and will send me his address I will try 
to get him what he wants and all it will cost him on my 
part is the trouble of writing. 
Last week I had a very pleasant visit with Mr. C. H. 
