March 16, 1895. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
205 
fail, has been given close attention and is thought to be 
absolutely life-like. 
We understand Mr. Rungius is at work on two other 
pictures of entire moose, which will soon be finished, and 
the exhibition of which will be looked for with interest 
by hunters. 
Animal Sense. 
That astute old woodsman, J, Gr. Rich, of Bethel, Me., 
says in Forest and Stream, March 2— "Whenever wild 
animals are suddenly startled by coming upon them un- 
expectedly, they rush away at fearful speed for a short 
distance, say one-fourth of a mile or less, then stop 
short, raise their heads high in air, and take a good look to 
see what frightened them; then they immediately con- 
tinue their flight. Whether or not it is the trait of 
curiosity same as we 'mortals possess, or to ascertain if 
they are pursued, or to make sure of their sense of smell, 
we cannot tell; but it is, nevertheless, a universal trait 
in all wild animals. " 
Just so! Likewise when a man stubs his toe as he walks 
he invariably turns round to notice the spot; not so much 
from curiosity to discover what tripped Mm, for he often 
knows without looking, but possibly to assure himself 
that he is in full possession of all his 'senses and faculties, 
else how would he have blundered? The trait seems com- 
mon to men as well as animals. C. Hallock. 
A White Coon. 
Point Pleasant, La.— I don't recollect a white coon 
killed or reported to you, and I never saw one before a 
few days since, although I have been a hunter for a 
good many years. I now have the skin of a white coon that 
was killed in Texas Parish, and if you wish it to add 
to your trophies I will send it to you. I wish I could send 
you a white bear skin of the black bear; but so far I have 
not been fortunate enough to find one. I think that a 
man who has killed as many as Mr. Bobo will certainly 
get a white one after a while, unless the bear become ex- 
tinct, which I think they will soon be at the rate that 
Mr. Bobo kills them. They are getting scarce with us. 
D. MuiR. 
An Albino Robin. 
Carrollton, O., March 4.— A few days ago I shot an 
albino robin. It was alone in our yard one of those cold 
days. The upper part of its body is pure white, the 
breast a very light brown. It was not damaged in the 
shooting, and I sent it to the taxidermist and had it 
mounted. It is an extremely fine specimen and greatly 
admired by all who see it. Large flocks of robins win- 
tered here in spite of the cold. It is feared that a large 
per cent, of the quail have been frozen. 
Chas. 0. Cameron. 
Tame Bohemian Waxvring. 
Mr. J. W. Schultz, writing in January from Kipp, 
Mont., on the flanks of the Rocky Mountains, says: "A 
Bohemian waxwing makes the porch of his store his head 
quarters and is very tame." 
mi\e j§ng m\d (§un. 
Sportsmen's Exposition. 
May 13 to 18. Madison Square Garden, Mew York,— First annual 
Sportsmen's Exposition. 
DOWN IN THE MARSH. 
AN OTTER STORY. 
Thpre are many exciting experiences written about the 
shooting and capturing of large game, which are all more 
or less interesting, but it is seldom we read an account of 
the shooting of an otter in this country, for I doubt if 
there is any animal in its native haunts wilder and shyer, 
and as they are seldom seen in the daytime, it is rarely 
that they are ever taken except by trapping, and even that 
is a difficult matter at times, even by an expert. Owing 
to the favorable situation of land and water in this vicin- 
ity, there have been quite a large number of otter taken 
in years back, but they are now nearly extinct in these 
parts, and I blush to relate that 1 helped to exterminate 
the last of them so far as known, and I doubt if ever 
there was a similar chain of circumstance connected with 
the capturing of a family of otter, but that was some 
time ago, and "Sorrow for past ills cloth restore frail man 
to his first innocence." 
The older I grow, the more repugnant does the taking 
the life of an animal seem to be, but underneath all this 
is an irresistible desire and love for the sports of field and 
forest, lake and stream, which will follow to the end. It 
was bred in the bone. 
It was about three years ago, while on a trout-fishing 
trip, I passed the night with some farmer friends whom 
I had known for years, and with whom I had stayed 
many times on my hunting and fishing excursions. 
Through the meadow in front of their place ran a small 
stream, which a few miles below became lost in a large 
slough, which wound its way through the bottom land or 
marsh, which has been one of my stamping grounds for 
years. At the head of this stream, about one-half mile 
above the house, was a large spring, nearly surrounded by 
a high bank covered with brush, and here, the farmer's 
boys told me, with a great deal of secrecy, that they dis- 
covered four otters, three of which were young ones 
born there that spring, and here dwelt the family. The 
boys saw them while haying during the summer, and not 
being molested they became comparatively tame; but I 
learned later that as fall came on. they were seldom seen 
and finally disappeared, much to the sorrow of my friends 
who made the discovery, as they intended to capture 
them after the^, fur became prime when cold weather 
came on. 
it was about the first of November, following the event 
just narrated, that I was camped on the slough near the 
mouth of the stream spoken of, having as a companion 
my friend Van, who has camped with me for many years, 
and who was one of the best men in camp or in the woods 
that I ever saw. 
It was getting rather late for duck shooting, as there 
had been considerable ice, but it had melted, and the 
sloughs were all open, and the mallards had come back in 
considerable numbers. I had justreturned from a morn- 
ing hunt, and was hanging up a big bunch of greenheads 
on a tree, when happening to glance up, I saw Van com- 
ing on a run through the woods. He had been up the 
slough fishing, and had taken no gun. As soon as I saw 
him I knew something was up, for it is an actual fact 
that he will see more'game when he has no gun than any 
man I ever saw. 
The first thing I heard was: "Harry get your gun and 
come quick." I did not need a second call. Grabbing 
my little Scott Premier ejector, I started after him. On 
the way he explained that, while fishing, he had seen four 
otter cross a sand bar and go under a high bank where 
there was a small pool of water nearly surrounded by 
land, and his idea was to drive them out. When we ar- 
rived at the spot, 1 must say that I had not much faith in 
trying to dislodge them, but Van had, and he proved to 
be right. 
He took a long pole and commenced ramming up under 
the bank while I stood ready with the gun. Directly I 
heard a commotion, and a long, dark object glided out 
under the water beneath me. He came to the surface in 
a drift of bark, which covered the water close to the bank 
about ten feet below, and I gave him a load of sixes in 
the nose, killing him instantly. Then stepping down to 
the water and noticing that his struggles had ceased, I 
reached out and, taking him by the tail, it was about all 
I could do with one hand to throw him up on the bank. 
The load had torn off the front of his skull and nose, not 
hurting the fur a particle. I could not help admiring his 
glossy coat, and was gloating over my prize when Van 
sung out, "Look out! there are more here." 
Hardly had he spoken when another one broke water 
and made an attempt to cross the sand bar below. I gave 
him two loads and knocked him over on the sand. I had 
hardly done this when another made the attempt to cross 
the bar much farther down, and, although I hit him with 
both loads and knocked him over, he managed to recover 
and get away among the logs and we lost him. The 
fourth one either escaped unseen, or did not come out 
from the bank at all, as we did not get sight of him. 
The fur was nearly prime, and we felt pretty well as we 
lugged our game to camp. That night, two farmer boys, 
who lived near by, came to camp to visit us and brought 
us a quantity of honey. They were viewing the otter and 
speculating as to the value of the fur, etc., when I asked 
them if it had been a good year for honey, and the older 
one who stuttered a little said, "W-w-well! dad's pretty 
sharp. He's been t-t-t-trappin for them there a week or 
t-t-two, but he couldn't mate it go, b-b-but when it comes 
to honey h-h-he's all right, for he c-c-c-crossed his bees 
with lightning bugs so they c-c-c-could see to work 
nights. ' ' 
J ust then one of my owls gave a war whnop, a dead tree 
out in the woods fell with a crash, and the boys went 
cooning over a log across the slough towards home. 
A few weeks later I was talking with an old trapper, 
who had a camp near where the above events occurred, 
and he informed me that he had caught two otter, one of 
which had several 6-shot in its side, just under the skin. 
Thus perished the last of the otter family from the farm. 
That they were the same there is no reasonable doubt. 
Wabasha, Minn. Wapahasa. 
THE SUNNY SOUTH.-V. 
STILL AFTER BEAR. 
Chicago, 111., Feb. 5.— The bear hunting business 
at the Bobo timber camp might now be said to be look- 
ing up. Our dogs were getting in better shape every 
day, and we were learning where the bear were using. 
It was with extreme regret that I felt obliged to tell Mr. 
Bobo that I thought it my duty to spend only one more 
day with him, taking the train south that night. In 
this he acquiesced under protest, and it was decided we 
should make a morning hunt and then ride back home 
to Mr. Bobo's plantation, about 19 or 20 miles, taking 
the 9. 20 train south at the Bobo station. We therefore 
made our hunt up toward the ford of the Sunflower in 
order to lose no distance. 
We kept in a little closer to the river than before 
between the river and what was called the "old river, " 
a deep, dry channel. Skirting the edge of a little pool 
among the cypress knees in the heart of a heavy swamp 
of cane through which a faint path had been cut, we 
almost at once came upon the tracks of a bear, sunk 
deep into the mud, and plain, though not so very fresh. 
By this time I had learned that the place to hunt bear 
was in the heaviest cane and densest swamps that could 
be found. All about us was a very large and very rank 
brake of big cane, through which no progress could be 
made except by use of the cane knife— though Mr. Bobo 
could ride along and cut cane ahead of his horse, reach- 
ing over in front of the horse's head as fast as the horse 
would want to walk. A tenderfoot in the brake coun- 
try could not do this. One must know the angle for the 
knife blade. At the right slant the heavy blade of the 
knife falls through the cane and the severed stalk drops 
straight down and does not cross the ' ' hock. ' ' The 
Northern woodsman is at sea in this country. 
As we paused by the water hole the dogs cast around, 
and all at once broke into cry and made off, though 
split into two packs. Mr. Bobo declared that it was 
bear and that he knew where it would cross. So back 
we went and took stands and spread out in an open glade 
along the edge of the heavy cane. 
And now ensued another one of the puzzling waits 
which are a part of this business. The ignorant might 
suppose that the dogs would find a trail, line out at once, 
run straight on it, bag the bear and get it killed, all in 
one, two, three order. But this is not the way a bear 
chase goes. Some of the dogs take the back track in 
their ignorance. Some of the puppies switch off after 
coons, deer, cat, no one knows what all. Some of the 
best ones lose the trail, over-run or lose it in the dry, 
moving leaves. Then they circle back after it, com- 
plaining. Meantime plenty of the pack are just holler- 
ing for luck, whether they smell anything or not, and 
they, too, are swinging and circling and barking at each 
other. There seem to be a dozen hunts up, and the 
inexperienced hunter looks for a dozen bear to come 
bursting out ahead of the dogs. Not so with the old 
bear hunter. He sits calmly on his horse, knowing all 
the time what dogs are wrong and what are right, and 
what the right dogs are doing, whether they are run- 
ning or puzzling. Some dogs cease running and begin 
to bay not far away. "It's only a coon, ' 1 he says, ' ' the 
bear has gone the other way." Then some one goes 
and thrashes the dogs away from the coon tree. _ ( Once 
I shot a coon out of the tree, not knowing what it was. 
Both Mr. Payne and I thought it looked too black for a 
coon, and so I violated the first fixed law of the hunt, 
which is not to shoot anything but bear when the dogs 
are out. ) Thus the hunt goes on, sometimes, by wait- 
ing or listening, and the riding does not begin till the 
chase is lined out and leading away hot. 
We had a long wait at the glade, but the dogs turned 
back again. "I'll just go over and see which way they 
turn," said Mr. Bobo. So he disappeared in the cane. 
Here was where I made another mistake. Thinking Mr. 
Bobo was coming back, I stayed with Mi - . Payne, violat- 
ing my original instructions to stick as close as I could 
to Mr. Bobo. The day before Mr. Payne would have 
been the one to stick to, but to-day he he wasn't. We 
thought we heard Mr. Bobo calling to us, and thought 
he said, "Ride over to the Old River!" though what he 
really said was, "I think they're gone over to the old 
river." Acting on what we took to be instructions, 
Mr. Payne headed back for the Old River, hot haste, 
and there he and I had a wait of an hour, only a few 
times hearing the faint note of a dog in the distance. 
We waited in confidence that the chase had not passed 
that point and gone back of us, and Horace and Frank, 
who rode further over in that direction, came back and 
reported nothing. Once more silence set in, and the 
presence of the chase was a matter of conjecture. We 
were afraid to go back to the glade where we first took 
stands, lest the bear might cross where we were. At 
last we all rounded up except Mr. Bobo, and the two 
lucky nigger bear hunters, Tom and Pete, who were 
somewhere in the dense cane over toward the Sunflower. 
It was past noon, and as that was the time we had 
agreed upon to start for the plantation, Mr. Payne and 
I at length reluctantly decided that we would have to 
pull out for home and leave Mr. Bobo. This I disliked 
to do, and certainly hated the thought of leaving the 
bear country without getting a shot at a bear, though 
I had come to think less and less of the killing of the 
bear, and more and more of the consummate skill of the 
chase which is the main feature of this sort of sport. 
' ' The killing is the least part of the whole business, ' ' Mr. 
Bobo said to me time and again. Sighing, therefore, and 
overcoming my desire to pot a bear over the dogs, I 
turned my face toward the railroad, not altogether 
happy, as who can be who is traveling toward a railroad 
and not away from it? 
Mr. Payne led the way along one of the many mys- 
terious winding "hacks" cut through the cane, and I 
followed, hoping he wouldn't get lost, but willing to 
bet he would, for never was there on earth an easier or 
more desperate country to get lost in. But Mr. Payne 
is something of a bear hunter himself, and didn't get 
lost. In half an hour we were at the ford of the 
Sunflower. 
' ' This is our post-office, ' ' said he, ' ' and many a note 
have Miv Bobo and I left here for each other. " So he 
cut a cane and stuck it up near the ford, putting in its 
split top a note naming all who were in our party, say- 
ing that had 19 dogs with us, and that we had gone on 
home at 1. 30 p. m. Then we forded the Sunflower and 
plodded along on our long ride home, getting to the 
Bobo plantation about a hour or so before sundown. So 
I had to say good bye to Mr. Payne, as pleasant and 
courteous a huuting companion as one ever met in any 
country. 
Safe up at the Bobo plantation house, after dinner 
and after dark, we were sitting about the fire when we 
heard Mr. Bobo's horn, about half a mile away down 
the road, at which all the tired dogs jumped up and 
began to sing a welcome home. Soon Mr. Bobo came in. 
BEAR NUMBER THREE. 
"You missed it by not staying with me to-day, young 
man, ' ' said he, the first thing after he saw me. And I 
suppose I had, though I explained to him that I found it 
pretty hard to tell where was the best place to stay in a 
bear hunt. 
"I went back in the thick cane, and had riding 
harder by a good deal than you had yesterday. At last 
the dogs broke back and headed for the open glade where 
I left you all stationed. I rode hard along that little 
narrow hack through the thick cane there, and at last 
heard the bear breaking cane about 200 yards ahead of 
the dogs. He came up near the hock, and heard or 
smelled me, for he turned back and stopped. He wasn't 
thirty yards from me then, and I dropped off the horse 
and crept into the cane. He was half standing up when 
I saw him, about 10 or 12 yards from me, and I killed 
him — shot him just back of the ear. " 
So this was bear No. 3, and once more I had been in 
the wrong place. ' ' If you and Mr. Payne had stayed 
right there in that open place, where I had left you, 
you'd have got that bear. I killed it not 100 yards from 
where you were. " I explained how we had misunder- 
stood his call to us. And then I asked him where was 
his bear skin and how big was his bear. 
"Skin," said Mr. Bobo, contemptuously, "I didn't 
bring his skin. It was too heavy, and I just threw it 
over the limb of a tree, leaving it for Tom or Pete to 
take into camp. Then I rode on over to the trail, and 
went to the ford. When I got your note it was about 3 
o'clock " 
I have been mourning over that fine bear skin that I 
didn't get— which Mr. Bobo said was bigger than either 
of the other — ever since that. It seems a shame that it 
should be left to waste out in the woods nailed up on a 
shanty wall, when I could have made such a good rug 
out of it for my office floor ! I only had two bear skins 
already. 
But maybe by this time readers of Forest and Stream 
will begin to believe that this was in a bear country 
and where there were really bear. Mr. Bobo grieved 
over stopping the hunt when we did. ' ' We found a 
little lake back in that thick cane, " said, he, "after we 
left you, and the bears are using in it like hogs. They've 
got mud splashed clear up the Dank to the trees, ten 
yards from the water. We've just got the bear looated 
now, and have dona the hard part of the hunt. We 
could kill a bear or two now every day very easy, 
