22 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 12, 1895. 
THE TURKEY I DIDN'T GET. 
It was 3.30 o'clock in the morning in the fall. I had 
not been brought up standing in bed with every hair on 
eud and gooseflesh all over me by an alarm clock going 
off with clangor of four pair of cymbals and a triangle, 
because there wasn't any alarm clock on the premises. 
I have an alarm clock in my head when I am going 
hunting. The only objection I have to my clock is that 
it sometimes wakes me up two or three times before the 
appointed horn", so as to be sure IJdon't get left. Better 
that than the store affairs that slip a cog now and then 
and keep quiet, allowing the sleeper to do likewise until 
broad daylight, when he should have been in the woods 
an hour before. 
On that patricular morning when I had jumped out of 
bed and consulted my watch, I slipped into my hunting 
togs and opened the door of my cabin to see how the 
weather fitted me. To my delight there wasn't a tremor 
of a leaf in the oaks that spread their broad arms above 
me. Not a pianissimo zephyr kissed my modest cheek, 
much as I like to be kissed. All the stars twinkled 
cheerfully in a sky as clear as a baby's conscience, and, 
altogether, it was a morning calculated to make the 
mountains hop like rams, and the little hills skip like 
lambs. At any rate, I hopped — into the house, after 
abluting, and prepared my frugal meal. ' ' A short horse 
is soon curried. " There wasn't much to get, and it 
didn't take long to get it. That safely stowed away, I 
took my gun from its case and, locking the door behind 
me, strode into the morning, 
I was going after turkeys. I had shot several near 
home, but had heard of a larger gang about four miles 
away that had not been so much molested, and that 
would probably afford more sport. Something just 
ahead in new territory attracts the sportsmen as much 
as it does people in other pursuits; 
It was pretty dark. In going across the corn field my 
toes found a good many stones they had never met 
before, and some of them came perilously near giving 
pride a fall, but I got into the road all right and opened 
the throttle, for I had but an hour to make the distance, 
and before it was light I must be sitting in the shadowy 
wood, quietly listening. So I paddled along with heart 
so light I could scarcely keep it down, until I came to 
a trail leading through a large piece of woods, which I 
entered. Here it was darker than ever, and the trail 
was partly obliterated by fallen leaves, so that two or 
three times I ran off at a tangent, losing the trail 
entirely, but I managed to pick it up again, and so, in 
alternate clearing and woods, awaking the bark of the 
watchful dog that had heard the rapid footsteps along 
the road, skirting thickets where the momentary rustle 
of the leaves betrayed the scampering rabbit, in a road 
for a bit and out of it, again descending into hollows 
where the air was damp and cool, crossing little streams 
and mounting the ridges again, following which the 
trail led deviously through the silent forest, I came at 
last, just as the dash lamps of Phoebus' turnout had 
projected the first faint flush upon the dark curtains of 
the east, to the fence bordering the isolated clearing of 
a farmer, near which the turkeys had been repeatedly 
seen during the summer and early fall, and where, 
among the springing wheat, shocked corn and uncut 
buckwheat, they ventured occasionally to watchfully 
glean in the early .morning hours. 
I had been out one morning previously and had heard 
some turkeys fly down from their roost in some trees 
that stood a few rods from the_edge of the woods, and 
hoping that they might be therefor thereabout, I tiptoed 
down the fence until opposite the spot, when I crept in 
among the shadows, choosing each step carefully, and 
when I judged I had gone far enough I sat down with 
my back to a tree and awaited developments. 
Silently the forest awaited the coming of the day. 
Half an hour passed without a sound. Slowly the gray 
of the morning rose in the east, permeated the darkness 
and revealed bit byjbit the recesses of the wood. 
Then I heard the farmer bang the door behind him a 
hundred rods away as he came forth from sleep to feed 
his stock, while a chanticleer from his harem sung out 
lustily. 
In my front the east reddened perceptibly through the 
branches, for the ground fell away in that direction for 
a half mile toward a creek in the valley, and only the 
nearer trees obstructed my view. I searched the trees 
carefully near by and farther and farther as the light 
increased for dark feathered forms, but in vain. A 
chipmunk came out of his hole near the foot of a tree 
and made his toilet, with interruptions of vigorous 
scratching, and suddenly, seeing me wink or catching 
some motion from me, sat upright, drooping his little 
paws and endeavoring to satisfy himself as to this 
unwonted appearance. I made a quick motion with my 
foot, and the way he dove into his hole was laughable. 
It was time for turkeys to leave their roosts. The 
sun would soon appear, and they would be on the move. 
While I debated what move I ought to make, I heard, 
away on my right, the sound of wings, then another 
and another, and another and another, and the debate 
was closed. Of course I did not know they would feed 
in my direction, but I hoped they would, and determined 
to meet them at least half way, and if they did not I 
should be that far on my stalk, so, stooping low, I 
trotted down into a little ravine, one of several running 
at right angles to my course and which united to form a 
large ravine below. Then I crawled cautiously up to 
the top of the little rise and carefully peered over. 
Nothing in sight and no sound. As noiselessly and as 
rapidly as possible I crawled down into the next hollow, 
took a breath, and with my hat in my pocket crept up 
the slope and inch by inch let my eye uncover the terri- 
tory beyond. There were some scattered low bushes in 
my front, and looking long enough to satisfy myself that 
there was nothing moving in sight, I made another 
spurt into the cover of the next hollow. I saw that a, 
I had gone far enough then to be near a meeting point, 
if those turkeys had fed my way, and so my move- 
ments up the next rise were made with redoubled cau- 
tion, but nothing rewarded my search. Slowly, almost 
imperceptibly, I rose on my knees, gun at a ready, and 
looked over into the next hollow as far as I could 
Nothing there. ThenJI slowly turned my head to the 
right and searched inl that direction up the slope. 
Nothing there. But just as I turned my head to look 
to the left down the hill my eye caught a movement 
among some low bushes, and in a second I saw a number 
of heads] appear near the ground whose owners were 
feeding along unconscious of danger about fifty yards 
away. 
I raised my gun very slowly'so as to be ready for the 
most opportune moment, but the ever watchful eye of a 
young gobbler caught the slight movement, and as my 
gun touched my shoulder stretched his neck inquiringly 
and alarniedly, and by a queer coincidence just at that 
moment the gun went off just as it covered that out- 
stretched neck. The smoke hung heavy in the damp air 
and the other turkeys went off down hill on the wing, 
thus gaining quick headway, while my gobbler was 
making a big noise with his powerful wings as he beat 
the earth in his death struggles, but soon lay quietly, a 
fine last year's bird in fine feather. 
Inserting another shell I picked him up, noting that 
he was heavy and very fat and hoping that his com- 
panions would get scattered and would want to get 
together again. I went down the hill into the large 
ravine, and seeing a large tree blown over about thirty 
yards up one side from the bottom, I sat down beside it 
took out my call, and waiting about fifteen minutes 
tuned up gently, but got no response. In a moment or 
two I tried again and a welcome "kronk" came down 
from the top of the hill on my side, but the bird was out 
of sight. Then I called again, and this time in addition 
to the first call which was made by a bird of that season, 
an old gobbler with a voice like a fog horn tuned up. 
"Aha," said I to myself, "the racket thickens. Oh! ye 
brave come down and see me and I'll save — one or two 
of .you for the pot. ' ' Cautiously I kept their interest and 
anxiety alive, and for quite a while my calls went up 
and theirs came down, but their bodies did not, when 
all at once I saw in the air far above me two turkeys 
flying across to the hilltop on the other side, to see 
what they could see from that point of vantage. As I 
turned my head to watch their fight, one of them 
alighted on the dead top of a big oak, but his sharp eye, 
even as he flew, had caught the movement of my head, 
and he was off like a shot again. The other alighted in 
the leafy tops of a smaller tree and failed to see me. 
The big gobbler had not moved and kept calling 
anxiousy, but would not come down. 
' I soon started a conversation with the newcomer, and 
we had quite a dialogue, during which or just previous 
to which it flew to the ground, though I did not hear it, 
but though I did my best to convince it that there was 
an awfully lonesome turkey down my way, I could not 
coax it any nearer. 
Finally the old gobbler drew out of the conversation 
and either wandered off to find some more sociably in- 
clined turkey or was stealthily picking his way down 
towards me. I shall never know which (for turkeys 
often cease calling when they begiu to approach), for 
just about that time, as I had begun to think I was 
going to lose both, I heard from the other side the 
ravine under cover of the bushes and limbs a pat, pat, 
pat, that told me my persuaded turkey was coming 
down the hill, betraying its whereabouts at every step 
by the rustling of the leaves. Then it stopped, but a 
faint call from me started it again, and I pocketed my 
call and pointed my gun about where I thought the bird 
would appear. 
It was a very interesting moment, and if that turkey 
had known what was waiting for it up there on the 
hillside, the interest wouldn't have been confined to me. 
But down the hill those steps continued to come, and I 
said to myself, ' ' two turkeys will make a pretty good 
load to back four miles, ' 'when the glossy, black-breasted 
creature came into view, but not exactly in line with 
my gun. I had to swing the muzzle some six or seven 
inches to cover it, but that was enough to catch the eye 
of the wondrously wary bird, and it stopped instanter, 
with its head and neck covered by a little brush. A 
few feet in my front stood a sapling and almost in line 
of aim. I leaned over to the left the better to cover the 
bird and pulled quickly, the turkey standing as it 
stopped broadside to me, a very bad position for a shot, 
being protected by the heavy wing, but I was as certain 
of that turkey as though I had it under my arm, for the 
distance was not over thirty yards. The roar of the 
gun rolled from side to side of the ravine, and away 
down into the bottom and up the other side, as I jumped, 
to my feet to see the turkey — not in its death flurry, as 
I fully expected, but after a few preliminary flaps set 
its wings and sail away, away down the ravine just as 
easy as though there had not been a gun within forty 
miles. 
At first I thought there had been another turkey near- 
by, and looked closely to see if my bird wasn't lying 
dead, but there was no bird that I could with any 
degree of confidence or propriety call mine anywhere 
around. To say that I was surprised wouldn't be telling 
anything about it. I was simply dumfounded. To have 
a great big turkey as big as a calf, pretty near, get 
away like that was just dazing. 
I walked down the hill and up the other side to where 
the bird stood and couldn't find a single shot mark on 
stone or bush, nor a single feather, and stood there apos- 
trophizing the shooter and the situation in divers and 
sundry ways, endeavoring to work out a solution of this 
extraordinary puzzle, but it wouldn't work worth a 
cent. It was one more of the unfathomable mysteries 
connected with turkey hunting, to lay away and harrow 
a man's feelings as long as he lives. There was just 
one thing I could understand, viz., the turkey was 
gone, but it was surely hard hit and must be that 
moment lying wounded or dead down the ravine — of 
course it must, and I would find it. So I hung my 
dead turkey in the dead limbs of a tree and went down 
to where I last saw the turkey and searched the side hill 
up and down, back and forth among the bushes, round 
and round, down into the creek bottom and back again, 
but to no purpose, except to make me leg-weary, and 
as I finally stood revolving things in my mind, like a 
flash the solution of the matter was revealed to me, and 
I coidd have propeled myself with severe rearward casti- 
gations all over that region. 
During the fall I had carried turkey cartridges in my 
right coat pocket, and small shot cartridges for quail 
and rabbits in my left. A week previous to this hunt I 
used the last of the small cartridges and couldn't con- 
veniently get more, so I carried turkey cartridges in 
both pockets to balance. The day previous I got some 
small shot cartridges and put them in my left pocket as 
of yore, and when I shot the gobbler I hastily shoved a 
cartridge from that left pocket into the gun as I ran up 
to the bird, and now I had been trying to kill the king 
of American game birds with quail shot, and through 
its wing, too. What woidd you do with such a man as 
that? Why didn't I shoot the other barrel that had No. 
l's in it? Well, somebody guess. 
The idea of that turkey lying around there wounded 
or dead suddenly became very, very ludicrous, and I 
ascended the hill, seized my gobbler and before noon 
laid it down at my domicile with a sigh of relief that 
it wasn't two. O. O. S. 
"Scantogrease" 
I am very glad that my friend Judge Greene gave us 
that etymological treatise on Scantogrease, for that 
word bothered me a heap, and I feared I should have to 
tackle it myself. I thought it was some Molalla or 
Crockami lk Indian word signifying "plenty rain" or 
' ' heap fish, ' ' that the Judge or Billy had run across in 
the brush somewhere in some of their fishing trips. I 
would rather choose that derivation than that from the 
Piker. The Judge has got off easily on this, but when 
he hitches on to words like Squawlickitawiekyup or 
Smilkamooleyakuni he'll get into trouble. 
Speaking of fish, though, prompts me to say that 
there have been some pretty tough fish and other stories 
in The Forest and Stream during the past few years, 
stories hard to swallow even with all the accompanying 
lubricants, but what are they all to that story of the 
Judge's about Billy and the club and bull dog catching 
more salmon than a horse could pull. Why, that's a 
huckleberry above the Keosu bull head story. I have 
read stories about men killing cougars and bears with a 
club, and they seemed reasonable enough, yet the 
authors where hooted down the ages so far, but this 
story is swallowed as slick as though none of the readers 
were Scantogrease. Not a choke or a protest. I tell you, 
that great West is a terror of a country. 
I see friend Belnap is somewhat exercised about the 
tales of "derring do" that he has read in your paper. I 
should hardly have expected this of him, living as he does 
in the State of wondrous possibilities. I'm sorry I stimu- 
lated his salivary glands and envy to such a degree in 
the relation of the pawpaw incident, but I couldn't 
help it. I don't blame him a bit for longing for "the 
fleshpots of Egypt. ' ' He ought to live in a State where 
delicious fruit grows. And as far as the cougar is con- 
cerned, if the cougar could only have had ju. 5 'c one ripe 
pawpaw to hold under the animal's nose his fangs 
would have been drawn that instant, so to speak, and 
he would have followed the hunter like a lamb. There 
would have been no need of a club. If friend B. will 
live in Washington his penchant. for horticultural deli- 
cacies will have to be gratified through correspondence, 
but he'll never suffer as long as he reads Forest and 
Stream. O. O. S. 
ROUND ABOUT NEW ORLEANS; 
[From a Staff Correspondent.] 
New Okleans, Jan. 4. — Christmas day in New Orleans 
was of the summer time in respect to weather, delightfully 
warm and clear. There was no jingle of sleigh bells, crisp 
air and muffled figures striding swiftly and vigorously 
about to keep warm, all of which give so pleasant a 
surface aspect to a Northern Christmas time, though 
underlying it all is the suffering of the poor, for weather 
which is simply bracing to the well fed and clothed is a 
pain to the poverty stricken. 
Heavy rains set in on Christmas night, followed by a 
severe cold snap, some of the overflow from the great 
cold wave of the North, that is, it was cold for this soc- 
tion, the thermometer on Friday night last indicating 
28 degrees above zero, an extraordinary low temperature 
for this section, cold enough to kill many of the tenderer 
forms of vegetation. While the cold is more favorable 
to general shooting, the dry marshes and low water still 
remain and are unfavorable conditions. 
While calling recently on Mr. R. W. Foster, a sports- 
man who has been for many years actively interested in 
promoting field trial matters, and who is connected with 
the firm of J. U. Payne & Co. , I had the pleasure of an 
introduction to Mr. Payne. Of course, the conversation 
turned soon on matters of shootiug. Mr. Payne referred 
pleasantly to some business trip he made years ago in 
the North and West. He mentioned particularly the 
vast herds of deer and prairie chickens innumerable, 
which he had seen many years ago in Illinois and 
Indiana, also of the abundance of game in Missouri and 
Nebraska. Apparently Mr. Payne was a hale man of 
about 65 years, vigorous and clear in intellect, with a 
wonderfully retentive memory, for he would give 
the dates of circumstances which happened in the 
dim past, as if they were of yesterday. He mentioned 
a trip he took in 1835. I must have unconsciously 
betrayed some wonderment, for Mr. Foster remarked : 
' ' You must consider that yon are talking to a gentleman 
who is 93 years old, and who therefore was born near 
the year 1800. ' ' In the North such an advanced age, 
with clear-cut thought, clear-cut memory and vigorous 
.powers accompanying it, would be extraordinary, but 
here it is not at all uncommon. This section contains a 
greater number of aged people in ratio to the popidation 
than does the colder climates — aged, too, without the 
infirmities of age which obtain in the colder climates. 
They ride horseback, attend to business, go shooting, 
enjoy life ; in short, while their physical powers may 
be somewhat diminished as compared with those of 
youth, their intellect remains clear and active, with the 
improvement which comes from broad experience and 
accumulated knowledge. Aged men in active business 
life are numerous. Longevity in the South is far greater 
than it is in the North. 
In this connection it may not be amiss to correct some 
prevalent errors of belief concerning the climate and 
healthfulness of this section, and which are quite com- 
mon in the North It is generally supposed that 
