April 27, 1895.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
325 
little duck, the canvas boat took a part in the game, and 
I fetchrd up standing on my head with not bin er left to 
tell the tale of my sad shipwreck but a pair of large-sized 
rubber boots waving frantically in the breeze. My head 
was buried to my shoulders in the mucl and slime in the 
bottom of the lake. In going overboard, the top of one 
of my boots obligingly caught fast in the oarlock and 
kept me in my reversed position for, as it seemed to me, 
several hours. When I finally did kick myself loose and 
got my head above the water, 1 was nearer dead than 
alive. My mouth and eyes, ears and nose, were full of 
that sweet-scented slime, and those unfeeling brutes 
lifted up their voices and yelled themselves hoarse over my 
misfortunes. When I finally regained my breath, and 
pried the accumulated mud out of my eyes sufficiently to 
see. little remained visible. All that was left to tell the 
sad tale of my sad shipwreck was a paddle. The clucks I 
had gathered together with so much care were floating 
idly on the water. And there I stood up to my armpits 
in mud and water, a sadder but a wiser man, my hat 
hanging limp and dripping over my eyes, and a piece of 
decayed vegetation looped gracefully over my off ear. 
Feeling around carefully," I discovered the boat on the 
bottom, and raised it to the surface, but as I was in so 
deep myself, I could not lift it sufficiently high to pour 
the water out. I did manage to empty enough out to 
make it float. Then came the task of finding my gun, the 
shell cases and other plunder. Feeling carefully with my 
foot, I succeeded at length in finding everything with 
the exception of one shell case. That with its contents 
of about a hundred and fifty good nitro shells is still there, 
and as far as I am concerned, will always remain there. 
By slow and painful degrees I gathered up the ducks 
again and started for the blind, pushing the boat with its 
contents afloat inside ahead of me, where with such as- 
sistance as George could render me for laughing, we 
emptied it of the water in it. 
It kept on snowing and turning colder all the time, and 
my clothes soon froze stiff on me. I at first made up my 
mind to stick it out, but as there were no ducks flying, I 
concluded to go to a farm house about a mile away 
and try to get dried out a little. So climbing into the 
boat I rowed ashore, and right there is where I got even 
with George. He had filled his pockets with shells, and 
I left him standing in the middle of the lake, promising 
to come back as soon as I got some dry clothes on. 
Eeaching the bouse, I found lots of sympathy, and 
such aid as they could render. They built a rousing hot 
fire, and made me drink a cupfui "of some hot patent 
medicine, the nauseous taste of which is still vivid in 
memory, but there the aid ended. The farmer himself 
was in town, and evidently had on the only suit he pos- 
sessed, and a search of our wagon revealed the pleasant 
fact that we had forgotten to put in the grip containing 
our spare clothing, so I was compelled to dry on me such 
clothes as modesty compelled me to retain. It was slow 
work drying out in that way, so I had to keep turning 
around before the fire like a roasting joint before the old 
fashioned fire place; but it felt comfortable, and I forgot 
all about George balancing on first one foot and then the 
other in the middle of the lake. After a while his shells 
gave out, but he had to stay there just the same, and the 
other boys were too far away to understand his repeated 
calls, or at least pretended so, and did not pick him up 
until it got too dark to shoot any longer. His troubles 
did not end with going ashore either, for he had to find 
the canvas boat which I had left in the rushes, and in his 
search tripped . and fell flat in the water. I could hear 
him long before he reached the house, for his voice was 
raised high in the railings against adverse fate. He was 
almost as wet as I had been earlier in the afternoon, ana 
it required considerable steaming before he was fit to 
travel. After a hearty supper of salt pork and potatoes, 
enough to give us in ordinary times a bad spell of indiges- 
tion, we started for town, not reaching there until after 
one o'clock in the.morning, and having faced the driving 
snow and cutting wind the entire way. Both George and 
I were wet still, and the trip was far from pleasant. 
Taking a drink of something hot and strong as well, we 
tumbled into bed in short order, and awoke in the morn- 
ing none the worse for our ducking. We took the train 
that morning for home, with the nice bag of ducks we 
had gone through so much to obtain, and brought our 
season's shooting to a conclusion, voting our last trip, 
though full of unpleasant surprises, none the less 
enoyable. W. R. H. 
A TURKEY HUNT IN FLORIDA. 
Whenever an article in Forest and Stream has a 
heading indicating that it concerns hunting turkeys, I 
am all attention. I read it slowly to enjoy it, as one eats 
a good dinner, leisurely, thoroughly masticating it, so to 
speak. 
When a correspondent, in a late issue, wrote in regard 
to a projected hunt after Meleagris gallopavo, that he 
" had rather shoot a wild turkey than an elephant," he 
was the one man in the world that I would like to have 
in camp with me at the old stamping ground, on the 
headwaters of the Anclote River, in this land of frozen 
orange trees. 
I started out to give the Guild a little modest expe- 
rience of mine, hoping that it might do some other fel- 
low craftsmen as much good as their records do me. 
Suffice it to say, that this trip being from necessity a 
short one, was taken alone with my guide Johnny B. 
as a companion, than whom a more expert turkey caller 
does not exist, that's my notion, in this vast land of ours. 
We started out from Tarpon Springs, and reached our 
old camp occupied by us before, many preceding seasons, 
at Cross Cypress, about three o'clock one fine February 
afternoon. 
This camp is about twelve miles by road through the 
pines, up the river from Tarpon Springs, and is so named 
because a Cypress "branch" comes in at this point at 
right angles to the line of the river. As the wind, after 
blowing several days from the southwest, had veered 
into the northwest, we had reasonable hopes of quiet 
mornings and evenings, for some time at least, but the 
sequel proved otherwise. 
Our tent was soon pitched near the river, which here is 
what is locally known as a "branch," a narrow water- 
course surrounded by cypress trees and good spring water 
withal, not an ounce of malaria in the whole stream. 
Where it widens into pools it is filled with trout, or 
what we in "York State" would call big-mouth black 
bass {Micropterus salmoides), who in their feedings morn- 
ings and evenings would strike at minnows and frogs, 
the sound of which we could plainly hear in the tent, 
forty yards away, sounding as when one hollows the 
hands and brings them quickly together. 
By quietly approaching one of these pools, old-timers 
could be seen in the clear water slowly swimming around. 
These pools have always been full of fish since I have 
camped there for the past ten years, and why they 
should be I cannot understand, as otters are also very 
numerous in them and often seen, their trail a regular 
beaten path ; besides, old alligators, which when the 
weather is about to change, bellow like a Durham bull 
when he is angry, pawing the dirt and chasing one off 
from some pet trout stream that runs through his preserve, 
the meadow. As both the otters and alligators (the na- 
tives accent the third syllable) are sworn enemies to the 
"trout" for "divers reasons," how the latter survive as 
they do, is past my knowledge, as the pools are compara- 
tively small and in the dry season have little streams as 
inlet or outlet. 
But we are after turkeys, not fish, so when everything 
is made snug in camp, palmetto leaves cut for beds, in 
place of the old-time balsam boughs, to spread our blank- 
ets on, Trailer, the deer dog, a hound of quite respectable 
parentage, securely tied so as not to interfere with our 
plans, and Dexter, who whinneys at all times and places, 
made secure, with a liberal allowance of hay to quiet 
him, we eat a snack as quickly as possible, for it is getting 
time to cross the branch and see if some turkey's appetite 
has not drawn him to the fresh burn to feed. 
This season the severe freezes of December and Feb- 
ruary killed the grass that had started, and the cattlemen 
as a consequence had fired everything to keep their stock 
from starving, as the new grass comes up and at that time 
is most nutritious. These fresh burns the turkeys love to 
frequent. 
This new burn is directly across the branch from camp 
and not one hundred yards distant, being open pine 
woods with an occasional small patch of saw palmetto. 
Nothing appeared in sight as we carefully scanned the 
woods before entirely emerging from the palmetto 
bordering the branch, so we started out into the pine 
woods, trusting to run up on some stray turkey. We had 
gone about two hundred yards out toward a ridge away 
from the river when Johnny, whose eagle eye will see 
further than any eagle or Indian ever born, stopped 
suddenly with, " There is a turkey coming right toward 
us !" Luckily we were but a few yards from a small 
palmetto clump, and the way we got down and crawled 
till it screened us, was a caution. My hat fell off but 
stayed where it fell. Evidently the turkey had not seen 
us, as he continued his feeding. And now comes the skill 
of man pitted against the wariest bird we have in this 
country. 
If as Franklin wished, we had him for our national 
bird, instead of the chicken thief that we have, and 
resembled him in the least, we would be a match for the 
world in diplomacy, for his wariness and cunning are 
past belief. For a short distance he can outrun a deer and 
when he flies a quail can make no race with him. 
As he now appears to be feeding away from us, Johnny 
gets out his call, simply a piece of very elastic thin 
rubber, and placing it between his lips, stretching it 
by drawing it tight and blowing, he imitates a turkey hen 
to perfection. 
This rubber call is a new scheme, as on our previous 
trips he has used the young and tender h-af of the bay 
tree or a species of oak leaf, while I have used the 
regular horn turkey call whenever I have been out alone, 
and although I have outwitted a few turkeys they have 
been mostly hens, which are not as suspicious as the male 
bird. 
' ' Tuck— tuck— tuck— tuck — tuck— put — put— tuck- 
tuck— tuck !" sounds the call starting low and increas- 
ing in volume gradually toward the end. The "put" is 
in most cases a danger signal of the bird, and unless fol- 
lowed by more "tucks" will surely scare him into the 
next county, but given between them it seems to be irre- 
sistible. 
At any rate our turkey, who is at least a quarter of a 
mile away, but hears the call in the still evening air, 
stops feeding, throws up his head and looks about. Now 
is the time for the "statue act," for I verily believe he 
could see one wink one's eye a mile away. 
Everything seems to his majesty to be all right, for so 
it proved to be, and he resumes feeding, but gradually 
working our way. Again the call, again he stops and 
looks up, and comes nearer. He does not stop to feed so 
often. Now he is within a hundred yards, but concludes 
that he wants to reconnoitre, so he edges away and be- 
hind a large patch of palmetto, trying evidently to make 
a flank movement and get in our rear, but the call now 
given is too seductive for his amatory nature, and he 
finally concludes to risk it, for although he does not gob- 
ble, as but few turkeys ever do at night, except when 
they fly up to roost, and then seldom but once or twice 
yet he thinks he will roost in a tree convenient to his 
lady love, and have his courtship in the early morning- 
hours, when the red bird is whistling his first song. Poor 
old chap ! Now he is but sixty yards away, and jumping 
up suddenly I have him in my power. There is no need 
to hurry, for my sudden appearance has completely para- 
lyzed him, and for a couple of seconds he stands motion- 
less, not even smoothing down his feathers— the gun 
cracks and he is our prize. 
It is always best when the game is near enough for a 
shot, to rise quickly and shoot standing up. I have seen 
more than one turkey missed by the hunter being slow in 
getting a shooting position, for in so doing the bird col- 
lects his wits and puts a tree between himself and the 
gun in short order, and after he has disappeared you 
wonder how he did it. 
Not until just before shooting were we sure that it was 
a gobbler and not a hen turkey, for he kept his head 
down almost continually, feeding, and did not strut. But 
now we have him, and one look at his glossy, iridescent 
plumage, with his beard hanging down nearly a foot and 
the spurs over an inch long, sharp as a stiletto, tell the 
story. He belongs to a different species from the Northern 
turkey, as discovered by my friend, Prof. W. E. D.. Scott 
and is known as Meleagris gaUipavofloridana, the plumage 
being mora glossy and radically different in some ways 
from any species hitherto reported. 
"He is the most perfect bird I have ever called up," says 
Johnny, as we look him over and admire his points. 
One of the shot has gone through the upper part of the 
head and another through the body, yet the plumage i a 
scarcely ruffled. It is too early in the season for them to 
have strutted much, besides the spring here is late this 
year, so that his wing coverts are not worn, nor has 
he been at war with other suitors, the result a perfec 
plumaged bird. Johnny, who has killed hundreds o 
them, says he will weigh a good twenty pounds. 
Now, to kill this bird took less time than it does to tell 
it, for we are back in camp at six o'clock, as we expect to 
try them again in the morning. 
How many times I look at my watch before half-past 
four the next morning, at which time we hope to be a 
mile away from camp in another direction, I could not 
say; at any rate, it was more than was consistent with a 
perfect night's rest. 
Always the first night in camp is a restless one. But 
there is going to be no oversleeping with consequent loss 
of a day's sport, as all is over generally by 7 A. M., if we 
can help it, and so break of day finds us, after partaking 
of a hasty cup of coffee and the remnants of last night's 
squirrel stew, in the range Johnny had chosen for our 
next attempt. 
_ And he had chosen wisely. For just as the sun was 
rising and the birds Were singing their sweetest songs, 
we get the answer to our call by a gobble that sets our 
blood coursing. It is a repetition of last night's work, 
except that this gentleman i? more coy and hard to 
please; there are two different turkeys gobbling at first, 
and we have, hopes of a double, but one of them has his 
market already made, doubtless, as he turns to the left 
and goes behind a cypress pond, but the other comes 
nearer. He in vain struts and spreads his tail, rolling it 
from side to side, endeavoring to entice his would-be 
fiance i to a tryst in his vicinity; but seeing that it is use- 
less, and hearing her call in such enticing tones, he starts 
in a quick trot directly toward us. He stops again, and 
evidently thinks that Mrs. Turkey should meet him half- 
way; but a call from Johnny at this moment, with an 
extra " put" thrown in, is too much for his weak charac- 
ter, and on he comes to within forty yards of the palmetto 
clump in which we are hidden. The bird was now in 
such a demoralized condition that there is no telling how 
near we might have got to him, but he is near enough. 
Crack— bang— dead turkey. A perfect match to the 
bird we have in camp, although perhaps a pound lighter 
in weight. When I look at him, I am almost sorry that 
I didn't miss him, for now all sport with this bird is over, 
and there are none too many of these regal fellows; but 
the spasm of sentiment passes off, as possession gives one 
that satisfied feeling, and as he has been fairly outwitted, 
I am satisfied. 
Let no one think that the gradual approach of a wild 
turkey gobbler is unattended with excitement, nor that 
there is not such a disease as " turkey fever, " for there 
is, to my certain knowledge. My first gobbler shot here 
some seven years ago now hangs in my dining room, to 
remind me that my friend K, who was with me at the 
time, said that he thought I was about to faint, having 
turned quite a few shades whiter, but not till after the 
bird was dead. I remember distinctly that a near-by 
pine tree seemed a very good support for a short time. 
One morning, in company with Johnny and O,, as 
good a deer shot as I know, either with rifle or shotgun, 
and who would laugh at the idea of missing a deer, 
whether in front of a " jack" in the Adirondacks or be- 
fore the dogs on horseback here, he missed clean three 
gobblers in succession which were called up separately to 
within thirty yards of him, and one of them was within 
twenty steps. He had ridiculed the idea of being rattled 
over such a thing as a turkey, but he was, badly. There 
are many other ca^es of a similar kind that Johnny tells 
of— clean misses hy men that are good shots at deer— and 
all with the game at close range. After one has killed 
his first bird the disease seems to abate. 
It is still early enough to try for another turkey in some 
other range, but we have had enough, and the deluge 
will not immediately follow us. 
The remaining two days spent in camp are windy and 
we do not hear nor see more turkeys but pass the time in 
catching some of those large bats and shooting fox 
squirrels which here are twice the size of our northern 
gray squirrels. In this sport Trailer does his part in. tree- 
ing them, and as they seldom hole and are so large, are 
usually easily found in the top of some pine tree, lying 
full length close to a limb. When they go into a cypress 
tree it takes a sharp eye to detect them in the Spanish 
moss with which the tree is draped. 
The squirrel makes a welcome addition to camp fare 
when first parboiled in a little water and then fried brown 
with a liberal allowance of bacon. 
The nights spent in this camp are always to be re- 
membered. Just at dusk the owls get lively and the 
woods seem to be full of them, and as this is the mating 
season, one can hear all their notes, some of which are so 
demoniacal that they would make a tenderfoot's flesh 
creep were he not acquainted with the cause. 
It was over our camp-fire after everything was made 
snug for the night thart we discussed mostly such things 
as Johnny was past-master of— those pertaining to wood- 
craft and the habits of game, Sometimes our talk took 
an astronomical turn as it did one night when Johnny 
surprised me by saying, "Do you know that I've made 
up my mind that it is all humbug about the earth moving 
around the sun, and there are lots of people in our settle^ 
ment who are getting to think the same as I do." 
" Why bow is that, Johnny, has the colored preacher 
who said, ' the sun do move,' converted you? " 
"No! but I've watched it and those fellows who took 
me down the coast a year ago last winter as guide, tried 
to beat it into me that the stars didn't move nor the sun 
but they can't fool me — I know." ' 
Trying to reason him out of his belief that the sun 
revolved about the earth ended in failure, as his was 
founded m the faith. 
When asked how he accounted for the change in 
seasons his answer was, "God made it so and that's 
enough for me.'' Still this difference between us did not 
aiiect his calling turkeys. 
I have camped in these parts with "Nessmuk," with 
his knowledge of woodcraft and wonderful memory, 
which enabled him to repeat whole pages of Shakespeare 
Byron, Milton, and nearly all of the standard English 
authors without a break and with no apparent effort, as 
we sat around our camp-fire on Lake Butler. Peace to 
his ashes. 
He lived up to the teachings conveyed in "Woodcraft." 
