224 
FOREST ^AND STREAM, 
[^EPT. 19, 1898. 
it; but just then its other foot came back to life, and reach- 
ing up took me around the thumb, one claw going through 
the root of the nail. I dropped the gun out of my right 
hand and began to pull on its claws, but the hawk's other 
foot came to life, and it took all the attention of my right 
hand to take care of that foot; and there I was, holding 
one of its legs with my right hand and the hawk cUnging 
to the thumb on my other hand, the blood running from 
my thumb and nose, and I jumping up and down like a 
sandhill crane Oh I how I did want to let goof that 
hawk; but I coiildn'tlet go. I wished it back on the snow 
guard and to several other places both above and below 
the earth — but I couldn't let go. 
I don't know how I did get away from it, for after the 
curtain dropped no one could tell me and I could not 
remember, but all the time Mr. J. N. Hayden, who was 
going to Bear Lake with me. sat in the wagon laughing 
like a sixteen-year-old girl. I used fco call him Old Ike 
after that. My wife tied a rag around my thumb and 
fixed up my nose, and we drove to Soda Springs. That 
evening, after copying the "day book on to the ledger," 
I saw that I had lost the firing pin from the left barrel of 
the gun and a generous patch of hide from the right 
barrel of my nose and had accumulated a lame shoulder, 
an extremely sore and painful thumb, and as elegant a 
thimder cloud around my eye as ever graced the features 
of a Chicago alderman. I have picked up quite a few 
little things by experience, some of which I still cling to, 
others I let drop mighty sudden, while still others I have 
wanted to let drop awful bad and couldn't. All of which 
has taught me that when knocking around in a strange 
part of the country to keep an eye on my nose and be just 
a little shy as to what I poke my fingers into. But how 
can this be made to jibe with birds in central Iowa? 
In looking over the above I see that it might be sup- 
posed that Mr. A. K. Fisher liad said something that 
offended me, but such is not the case. 
Since writing the above I have s^pn the picture of the 
European starling in Fokest and Stkeam of July 25. The 
blackbirds that stayed with me last winter were marked 
the same, the top of their heads were brown. Were they 
the European starling and did not know about going 
South in the winter? As the warm days of spring came 
I thought I would kill a pair of them and have them 
mounted; but they having sung for me all winter, and 
seeming to be so glad that spring had come. I did not have 
the heart to do bo. Long may they live. Mo0NT Tom. 
[The blackbirds were perhaps rusty grackles. They were 
probably not starlings.] 
BIRD NOTES FROM NEW BRUNSWICK. 
Scotch Lase, N. B.— Editor Forest and Stream: The 
bobolmk arrives here (46° N,, 67° W.) the latter part of 
May. I cannot give the exact date, as the individuals 
which came under notice for a number of years were 
migrating and some miles from the lowlands, where they 
live in summer. They do not stay far from the river, but 
on the islands and intervales are abundant. 
They nest from June 10 until the last of July. By Aug. 
1 the males have nearly aU moulded and have the appear- 
ance of females. By this time they have congregated in 
goodly-sized flocks and it is difficult to distinguish the 
adult birds from the first hatched young. 
By Aug. 15 they are on the southward journey. At 
this time they visit grain fields on the highlands and are 
then seen where at other times of the year a bobolink is 
imknown. As to the bobolinks getting scarcer here, have 
only heard one man mention it. He said that for a good 
number of years the bobolinks had bred in a field near his 
house, but that the last two years there had only been an 
occasional straggler there. 
These last two summers have been very dry, and is it 
not possible that it may have been too dry for the birds, 
and they have been forced to the lowlands, where there is 
an abundance of water. This is the sort of country they 
seem to prefer. 
Their worst enemies here are hawks. The marsh har- 
rier feeds on them. They are not molested by man. 
Sportsmen seem to think that they are small game — in 
fact, do not consider them as game. 
I will also add a few notes on the snowbunting {Plectro- 
phenax nivalis). In Mi-, Chapman's book, entitled "Birds 
of Eastern North America," there is the sentence: "The 
snowflake is strictly a ground bird, never perching on a 
tree, though it often does so on a house or fence." 
Now in this locality it is not uncommon to see them fly 
up from where they have been feeding and alight on trees 
near by. I have also noticed them perched on trees not 
near to their feeding ground. They are expert fly- 
catchers. In the early spring when the snow begins to 
get soft there is a fly called here the sap fly that is in cer- 
tain places very abundant, and it is on these insects that 
they feed. They run swiftly along, catching these insects 
on the snow or on the bare ground. 
WlLOE H. MOOKE. 
Deer and Lilypads. 
Township No. 2, Me., Aug. 21.— I have noticed in 
former numbers of your paper articles to the effect that 
deer do not eat lilypads. Yesterday I paddled about six 
miles down stream and saw two fawns, five bucks and 
nine does. One of the does was snow white. They were 
on the bogs and along the edges of the stream feeding. 
The wind was toward me, and by keeping in line with 
bushes I was able to approach within a few feet (a canoe 
length in one instance). One of the fawns was feeding 
in the water and had a pad hanging from his mouth. 
I watched a doe for some time. She was standing 
among the pads and would bury her head in the water up 
to the ears, bringing up each time a mouthful of stems. 
I have often seen deer feeding in this manner, but never 
until yesterday tried to find out what they were feeding 
on, W. L. S. 
Birdis as Farmers' Friends. 
BROWNSVILLE, Tenn., Aug. 25.— Editor Forest and 
stream: From this end of the vineyard we send over 
greeting as well as thanks for the many good things in 
our journal, chiefest being the series of articles by 
Florence A. Merriam. I have read aloud to my family 
and made them a text for a series of lectures to my 
younger friends, and deem them of inestimable value to 
the bird interest in all our country and the farmers aa 
well. May she continue the good work and reap from it 
the reward so justly deserved^ For some ^ears I obperved 
the food and feeding habits of the birds she mentions, 
only a few of which I am not familiar with, and found 
them all insect destroyers, all of benefit to mankind, and 
while reading her last was watching a family of Balti- 
more orioles as they fed on the caterpillars infesting my 
cedar trees. We have had fewer birds this year than I 
ev«r saw and more insects, a striking contrast t,o the year 
1895. Have not seen a bluebird this year, and after ex- 
tensive inquiry only heard reliably of one pair in the 
county. Bbnj. C. Miles. 
Nature at Home. 
Okanogan County, Wash.— While after cattle a few 
days ago I saw four young calves running, and one was 
bleating. Two coyotes were trying to catch one of them; 
and had the little fellows not kept together they would 
probably have done so. As soon as the calf hollered the 
band of cattle which were near by took after the coyotes 
and ran them away. I watched the performance imtU it 
closed. 
A short distance beyond was a small pond of not more 
than three acres, in which were two broods of teal. The 
young could not fly, yet they could swim faster than my 
dog Dick, who thought it great fun following them. 
While returning from Oroville Saturday I noticed Dick 
acting rather suspicious. I kept a close lookout when I 
got near the place, but the team shied oil and began 
snorting. I pulled them to a stand and looked very care- 
fully for quite a while, but the horses did not want to 
stand. Finally I saw quite a big rattler coiled up in the 
grass. I took a shot at it with my .22 and cut it nearly 
in two. This one was the highest on the mountain of 
any I have ever seen. Lew Wilmot. 
B^g ^ttd §tm 
Our readers are invited to send us for these columns 
notes of the game supply, shooting resorts, and their 
experience in the field. 
PRAIRIE CHICKENS. 
CHICKEN SHOOTINa. 
The glorious weather of September, The vast ocean 
of prairie, dotted with a few islands of yellow stubble 
and green corn. The movements of the dog, as with 
high head and waving tail he breasts the grass; throws 
his nose up in the wind, stops just a moment, then with 
slow and careful walk goes forward just a little way; 
stops, slowly turns his head to make sure the guns are 
coming; then, when the guns are come, he moves with 
stealthy steps and straight extended tail. Slowly: slower; 
slower still. He stops. The sportsman holds his breath, 
and feels his heart beat with excitement. A moment's 
waiting. Then with sudden beating of strong wings and 
cackling tuk! uk! uk! uk! the big bird bursts from the 
grass and is off. Steady now; throw the gun to the 
shoulder, exactly in the right position; cover the bird 
quickly. Now, just an instant to make sure. The ex- 
plosion, the recoil, the little cloud of floating feathers, 
the thump of the dead bird striking the ground and 
bouncing clear above the grass. See it? 
O. H. Hampton. 
SOOTH DAKOTA PRAIRIE CHICKENS. 
Lincoln, Neb., Sept. 9. — I had a pleasant little surprise 
the other day: I ran across an old-time acquaintance I had 
begun to believe was no more, no less a personage than 
my old friend the prairie chicken. For a couple of years 
or more I have searched for him in vain throughout the 
length and breadth of the land that he once called home, 
but with the exception of a few discouraged representa- 
tives of his once numerous family I saw little to convince 
me that he had not joined the great majority. 
Once in a while I would hear that he had been seen in 
certain localities and would journey considerable dis- 
tances to renew our old acquaintance, but only in the end 
to meet with disappointment, so that this year when 
George wrote me that a man had told him a fairy tale 
about somebody else hearing of another man who knew 
where our pinnated friend was to be found, I just wrote 
back "you're another." But as George with his usual faith 
in mankind insisted that it must be so, and that he felt 
sure that we would find our feathered friend cavorting 
around in his old-time sporty way, seeking whom he 
might devour, I concluded to go along. This time the 
scene of his depredations was in central South Dakota, 
and with much misgiving on my part I packed my gun 
and corduroys for the trip of 300 miles or more. 
George met me at Sioux City, and together we traveled 
for the best part of the next day, arriving at our destina- 
tion hot, tired and exceedingly dry and dusty. It was the 
eve of the open season. We were told by every sports- 
man in town (and that means every one able to bear arms) 
that the birds were exceedingly plentiful, but that as some 
of the boys had been shooting for three weeks, we might 
find it a little hard picking. We also heard the welcome 
news that over 3,000 chickens had been killed before the 
season opened. This was not calculated to arouse much 
enthusiasm, but we are used to hearing this, and as long as 
we were there we determined to investigate a little anyhow. 
Accordingly the next morning we started out and found 
our first birds at precisely 6 P. M., and got the large num- 
ber of six. That's all we had to show for our first day. 
The next morning, however, we started at 2 A. M. and 
did not put the dogs out until we were about twenty-five 
miles from town, and it was not long before we knew 
that we had gotten beyond the range of the "sooners." 
The country we hunted over was a wide valley, every 
acre of which was under cultivation and settled by a class 
of foreigners, who neither hunted or owned a dog or gun. 
Best of all, they did not care a rap how much we hunted. 
This may sound very pleasant to lots of the brethren who, 
Jike ourselves, have been all too familiar with the pretty 
iittle signs that read, "No hunting allowed," Jt was a 
truly ideal state of affairs, and every field with one lone 
exception contained one or more coveys of birds. 
The only drawback was the ever-present Russian thistle, 
South Dakota's never-failing crop and a torture to man 
and beast. The poor dogs suffered horribly, and notwith- 
standing the fact that we put thick boots on them came 
in at night with their willing legs badly lacerated. And 
as tor George and me, our muscles ached for many a day 
from forcing our way through the luxuriant growth of 
those fiendish prickly pests. But we found chickens 
galore, and that is what we went there for. 
I don't like to state just how many birds we got; some- 
body would probably jump up and call us game hogs, etc. 
But I will say this much, we got in our four days' hunt all 
we wanted to send, a nice mess, to each of our friends and 
acquaintances, and we could have killed four times as 
many if we had been so inclined. 
This to be or not to be a game hog is a curious questiott 
anyhow. If some of us Western hunters tell about killing 
forty or fifty birds in a day, when perhaps we could have 
killed three times as many had we wanted to, some 
Eastern brother is sure to rap u^ over the knuckles and 
say all sorts of unpleasant things about us. Yet this same 
sportsman, when writing about his own outings, tells us 
about tramping all day and seeing six or seven birds, and 
winds up stating that he killed five or six of them, and 
may be all that he saw. Now, we never have any trouble 
in disposing of our game, and could give away more and 
also kill lots more if we wanted to; but we generally quit 
when there are plenty more to kill. So, as I said before, 
this game hog question is a funny thing anyhow, 
Since Mr. Hough's experience with the bears, I don't 
believe it is good policy to state the location of this chicken 
country. Still, if some right good fellow comes along and 
would like to know all about it, you can give him my ad- 
dress and I will tell him just where it is and how to reach 
it. He doesn't want to wait too long or the chickens will 
all be in the cornfields, and corn is about 12 to 15ft. high 
in this year of plenty. W. R, Hall. 
NEWS FROM THE CHICKEN FIELDS. 
Minneapolis, Minn., Sept. 3. — ^The season on prairie 
chickens has but just opened for Minnesota, but already 
enough actual information is at hand to make it positive 
that there are more chickens in Minnesota this year than 
at any time for the past ten years. Various causes are 
assigned for this sudden and mysterious abundance of the 
prairie fowl, and climatic reasons have a high place in 
those given. The year of 1896 has been favorable for 
breeding, not too wet and not too dry. The lakes of the 
State, some of which have been quite dry, have had more 
water in them, and so have the sloughs. Chickens must 
have water, but not too much water, to hold them on a 
country. It is thought also that the game laws have been 
better observed of late, and that this has produced good 
results. It is also possible that the last few years' rush of 
travel to the Dakotas has left Minnesota with a chance to 
rest. From this time on the State enters into the second 
stage of the chicken situation. The old days of wild 
prairie and abundant birds are gone forever. The corn- 
fields take the place of grass, and the habits of the birds 
change very much. The shooter must labor among fences 
and irate farmers, and hunt far and wide over large wheat 
fields and cornfields. His bag will not often approach 
those of the old days, and soon, if not now, he must learn 
to be content with a dozen birds to the gun where once he 
could have killed fifty. 
In these later days of chicken shooting the birds become 
rapidly wilder and more alert than in the old days. A 
friend who once lived at Morris in this State says that he 
has known chickens when much hunted to change their 
habits entirely, feeding almost altogether at night upon 
the stubbles, and living during the day in sloughs grown 
up with heavy weeds, out of which it was next to impos- 
sible to start them, as they would run instead of flying. 
Any chicken hunter can say that this is precisely the safest 
way for a bird to escape. 
In many villages about the railroads the game laws 
have been well enforced this year, and the birds have been 
watched closely by local shooters of the better class. It 
would seem that a better sentiment obtains than was the 
case a few years ago, although, of course, there will al- 
ways be some men who will shoot ahead of season. 
Information carefully collected from shooters who 
know what they are talking about is offered below, in the 
hope that it may be useful to sportsmen who want a day 
with the big grouse. 
Hallock, Minn., has good country near, and it has never 
been shot to death, though it has had better years than 
this. It is in Kittson county, and near Kennedy, where 
the field trials are run this fall. 
Pembina, N. D., is up in that same region, and is called 
good by many who have had a line on the birds there this 
season. That is a grand natural chicken country, and I 
would advise a try there in spite of the reports that the 
season has been too wet there this past spring. The local 
information is not always disinteresied. 
Ada, N. D., is said to have a good supply of chickens 
this fall, and is worth trying. 
Hope, N. D., is another point well mentioned by several 
shooters acquainted there, 
Larimore, N. D., has long been known as a fine place 
for chickens, and many friends of mine have had good 
sport there and say it will be good this season, 
Benson, Minn., is perhaps one of the safest places in 
Minnesota to try this fall. It is spoken very highly of by 
a number of well-posted friends of mine. 
Windom, Minn., is a safe place to visit, and is in a good 
country, from which the birds have never been shot out. 
Tracy, Minn., is mentioned highly by several shooters, 
and is well to keep in mind. 
Ortonville, Minn., has been much visited in the past by 
Eastern parties, but it is said to be unusually good this 
season. ^ ' . ^ ' 
Atwater, Minn., is well mentioned for this season. 
Morris, Minn., is in the heart of a splendid chicken 
region, and there are birds there to-day in greater num- 
bers than for years. This point should be kept in view. 
Glencoe, Minn., and Hutchinson, near by on the same 
line of railroad (C, M. & St. Paul), are both in good 
chicken country. These points are not so very far from 
St. Paul. 
Ottertail couaty, Minn., is a famous one for game, and 
is a land of lakes. Many who have once visited it will 
be glad to h§ar it is filling up again with the prairie 
chickens. 
