326 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[0C3T. 24, 1896. 
kill snipe. The books preacribe that the shooter should 
walk down wind, so that when the snipe rises it will 
come toward the shooter, and the zigzag is dwelt upon as 
a thing to make much of. As a matter of fact, the true 
snipe shooter walks in any direction which seems favor- 
able to find snipe, regardless of the wind, and he shoots 
with no more heed of the zigzag than that it is but a 
momentary flurry of the bird in starting its flight, and if 
it zigs too long he just snaps it in its zigging. On the 
raw, windy days, particularly when the snipe are lean 
and wild, and flush at long ranges, it is then hard shoot- 
ing, and success is, as it may happen, regardless of rule 
or no rule, though a smaU matter of skill is much more 
successful than is a large matter of rule. 
The best gun for snipe shooting one day with another 
is one that is moderately choked or one which is a true 
cylinder bore, though, as it is all open shooting, and there- 
fore not so difficult as shooting in the covert, good work 
may be done with a full choke, since the shooter can pick 
his distance to shoot his birds. However, it is not every 
man who can wait on his bird or estimate distances at a 
glance, so that it is better to have a gun which will be 
available for instant use when the bird rises if one can 
have it. A 13 bore is roost commonly used, and as for 
the size of shot, No. 8s or 93 or lOs are good, the latter 
being quite large enough when the birds are fat and lazy. 
As snipe shooting is open shooting, the length of the bar- 
rels is of no importance in the manner in which it is im- 
portant in shooting in covert. 
As a bird to shoot over dogs the snipe is inferior; decid- 
edly so. Sometimes it is in such abundance that a dog is 
unnecessary. At other times it is so wild that it will not 
Ke to the dog at all; or being fat and tame, it may lie too 
welL Again it wiU be in marshes so wet, cold and rank 
with marsh grasses that it is impossible for a dog to do 
satisfactory work, however good his intention may be and 
however good his ability. Very few dogs have a natural 
fondness for work on snipe. It is acquired in most in- 
stances, and some dogs, good on upland game birds, so 
thoroughly detest the snipe that they will refuse to 
recognize it. On the other hand, some dogs like the 
snipe very much as a bird to work on, though such are 
the exception. 
Considered strictly as a bird of the open, the snipe af- 
fords the best of all open shooting, since there is some- 
thing to test the sportsman's skill in it at times, though 
there is never the weird uncertainty about it that some 
writers have discovered in its shooting; no doubt an 
easy and safe explanation of the difficult shooting being 
found in the manner in which the shooter handles his 
gun rather that in the manner of the bird's flight. 
When the birds are in such great abundance and can 
be bagged with little effort by walking them up and 
shooting them, the sportsman soon tires of it. It is too 
easy and certain to be a sport. On the other hand, when 
they are scarce and wild, and the weather is windy and 
the birds will not lie to a dog, it is too difficult and uncer- 
tain. The dog is eliminated \ then as a factor, and the 
shooting is largely a matter of taking chances. When 
the happy medium is found, the birds not too plentiful, 
neither too wild nor too tame, lying fairly well to the 
dog, it is excellent sport indeed, though in Louisiana I 
noted it as a remarkable fact that where there were an 
abtmdance of both snipe and quail, the sportsmen tired 
soon of snipe shooting and gave the quail the preference. 
Yet all sections are not so fortunate, for all the game 
birds combined afford but a moderate opportunity for 
sport in some sections. B. Watbes. 
Game in Central New York. 
Ithaca, N. Y. — Prime ruffed grouse shooting may be 
had in this part of central New York at the following 
points: Peruville, West Grroton, East Homer, Freeville, 
Harford Mills, Danby, Enfield, Hector, and along the east 
side of Cayuga Lake between Lake Ridge and say Union 
Springs. 
The sky is now of the deepest blue, the landscape in its 
loveliest attire, the atmosphere is softly tempered with 
influences which make men healthy and happy, and 
every condition is perfect for the enjoyment of ideal 
sportsmanship. And the grouse, ah me ! how like a thun- 
derbolt in gray do they flash across one's vision. Unfor- 
tunate indeed is the man who never goes afield in quest 
of the intrepid grouse. 
The black and gray squirrel, hare and rabbit season, 
' which opened to-day, the 15th, bids fair to nicely reward 
the sportsman who fancies this kind of shooting. Rabbits 
abound all around this city in covers easy to reach, and 
eight or ten miles out in almost any direction will dis- 
close them in plenty. Near White Church, and in cover 
not far south of Caroline Depot on the D., L. & W. R, R,, 
a good number of hares — ^big, white, bounding fellows — 
may be found. Gray squirrels have been unusually 
plentiful, but it is charged that a good deal of illegal 
shooting has been persisted in on this game, with the 
result that in some sections, notably near Genoa, eighteen 
or twenty miles north of here, the supply has been tre- 
mendously reduced. I have this on the authority of a 
well-known resident of that town. Other localities fur- 
nish reports of illegal shooting on both squirrels and rab- 
bits. Gray squirrels should be found near Caroline, 
SpeedsviUe, Etna, South and West Danby, in the vicinity 
of Mecklinburg, along through the western part of the 
town of Lansing and extending well into Cayuga county, 
parallel with the lake. Woodcock shooting has not been 
up to the average. M. Chill. 
The FoEEST AND Strbam ia put to press each week on Tuesday. 
CorrespondeiK^ intended for publication should reach us at the 
latest by Monday, aii-d as nmch earlier as practicable. 
SHOOTING PRAIRIE CHICKENS. 
From boyhood I have been a great sportsman, and have 
enjoyed many a pleasant trip through the West with rod 
and gun. Many a day I have tramped across the great stub- 
ble fields behind my well-trained dogs in search of a covey 
of chickens, or a stray one to knock down in front of my 
gun. I have also wandered through the wild forest lay- 
ing in the northern part of Minnesota, where the histori- 
cal Lake Itasca lies sleeping in its beauty, filled with fish 
of the choicest kind and swarming with wildfowl of all 
descriptions, and whose shores are alive with otter, musk- 
rat and mink. 
On Sept. 14, 1895, in company with my brother Bob, 
fully equipped with our hunting traps and two finely 
broken dogs, we left our city of St. Paul at 8:30 in 
the evening on the Great Northern train, and after a 
journey of eleven hours reached our station, Ada, Minn., 
a stop well known to the sportsmen of that State, as the 
country surrounding this town is said to be the best 
chicken fields now known on the continent. 
We were there provided with a team and wagon to 
haul us to our camping grounds, and soon had our outfit, 
consisting of a boat, tent, and a fair supply of provisions 
and other things necessary to the hunter, piled on the 
wagon, and in a few minutes later we were making our 
way along the road. An hour and a half of steady trav- 
eling along the muddy road brought us to the Marsh 
River, where we camped. 
After breakfast Bob suggested to paddle down the river 
and take a look at our neighborhood before tramping 
the fields for birds. I sat in the bow with the paddle, 
steering the boat as it cut down the current, while Bob 
was placed in the stern with his trolling, line. The boat 
went drifting along with the current, winding in and 
out between the narrow channels as smoothly as an 
arrow. 
Now and then from in front of us would jump from 
beneath the tall rushes that were thickly set around the 
shore a flock of jacksnipe and go darting away, sending 
out their little call, swack-swack, as they quickened their 
flight. Now and again in front of us would rise from 
the water a duck or two and go quacking away, fright- 
ened 'by the sight of the boat. Hundreds of large gray 
hawks went sailing over our heads, with their cruel, 
sparkling eyes flxed upon the water, and their curved 
bill pointing downward, searching for a wounded duck 
or a dead fish to make their prey. 
The everlasting cawing from the crows rang through 
the woods, and the humming of the partridge mingled 
with many other sounds that come upon the ear from 
the forests. 
After drifting down the river about six miles we turned 
and started back against the current, and after a long 
struggle landed our little boat in front of where our tent 
loomed up among the trees; it was about noon, and we had 
a handsome string of fish. Bob and I soon had a hot fire 
of dry pine, and in a few minutes there was ready a deli- 
cious meal of the fresh fish we had just drawn from the 
stream. 
After stretching out on the grass and finishing our 
smoke, we loosened the two setters and started through 
the woods for the stubble fields, making our way stum- 
bling over fallen trees and winding in and out through 
the thick underbrush untU we finally reached the edge of 
a big wheat field, where we set the dogs working, much 
to their delight. Old Cap, a big, staunch English setter, 
was soon on his old natural run, backed up by my fine 
little Le welly n bitch Qaail, searching for the scent that 
seems so pleasing to a good dog; they soon separated and 
began covering more ground, with their noses trailing 
and their tails waving like the wind to see who could 
strike the first stand. 
Bob and I spread apart, and tramped along with our 
guns ready to bring to the shoulder at the sight of the 
first bird. After walking about a mile over the prairie, 
we came to a road which led along through the field; this 
we followed up while the dogs covered the stubble beside 
us. 
Just as Quail was moving off of the wheat on to a strip 
of flax she suddenly stopped with the scent of game, 
and old Cap, who was ranging a short distance off, caught 
sight of the crouching dog and came like a streak of 
lightning toward her till he finally slackened his pace, 
lifted his left front leg from the ground, and stretching 
his long nose forward proudly backed up the little bitch. 
Bob and I were soon behind the dogs ready to try the 
first bird. I spoke to Quail to go forward and she rose 
from her crouching position and worked nervously on 
about 4yds. and started a/big bird that rose wild and flew 
straight away, giving us both a good shot. Crack 1 went 
my gun, knocking out a few tail feathers, but failing to 
bring her down. Then Bob's gun spoke twice and with 
the second shot sent her spinning to the ground. 
The dogs then moved up again and flnally flushed three 
more that jumped up wild and started in different direc- 
tions, one coming my way and two going Bob's. I sighted 
mine as it screwed its tail sideways and sent the left load 
after her, which failed to score, but as the right barrel 
was discharged she let go and cut her way head over heels 
to the groimd. I quickly whirled around and saw Bob 
drop one bird, but miss the other clean. We then marked 
her down about 200yds. off, and after failing to start 
more and finding our three dead birds after considerable 
skirmishing around in the stubble. Bob called Cap with 
him and I took Quail, and we started with both dogs 
searching far and near for the scent of the stray chicken 
which we had marked down. 
We were watching the setters work some little distance 
off until they finally drew near the spot set for the bird. 
Suddenly the little bitch whirled around, pricked up her 
ears, and straightening out her wavy tail placed the bird 
in a small bunch of willow bushes growing on the side 
of a little stream that went rippling through a deep 
ditch. 
We backed up the dogs, and soon the bird started 
from under Quail's nose, giving an elegant shot; I sighted 
it, but to no use, as it fell to Bob's shot before I could pull 
my trigger. 
After we found the bird we started down the little 
stream to find out where it went to and see if we could 
bag a duck or two on our way. 
The dogs were hunting nicely on the field, hunting 
gayly to strike another covey of chickens, while we con- 
tinued our tramp along the bank of the stream. We 
had gone scarcely a half mile when the little river be- 
gan to widen and flow more freely, This brightened up 
our thoughts and encouraged us on our way, and after 
three or four miles of hard trudging we came to a 
marshy piece of ground filled with tall rushes. Thinking 
a lake or pond must be near, we pushed eagerly on, with 
the dogs close at our heels, for about eight rods, and 
gazing out through the tall, thick reeds we beheld a fine 
little pond, covering about an acre of ground and an ideal 
place for ducks. Nor was it long thereafter that the dogs 
had occasion to retrieve four large fat mallards, increas- 
ing our string to eight birds, 
As we were about to turn to leave we heard the call 
quack-quack, and looking around saw two pintails headed 
lor the pond. "Mark!" said Bob, as he drew back the 
hammers of his gun. In less than a second the ducks 
were overhead and the guns cracked four times, but 
only bringing one to the ground. 
We now started through the reeds to gain the prairie 
and move back toward camp, as we only had an hour's 
shooting before sundown, and were over six miles from 
our starting point. We put the dogs working on the field 
and started back over the same ground we had came. 
The Sim was just setting in the western sky, throwing out 
its crimson light, which met the top of the stubble, giv- 
ing a beautiful look to the great field which stretched 
away for miles. 
We tramped ahead earnestly for the big woods where 
our tent was placed, hoping to gain the edge before the 
dark night set in. 
The dogs ranged freely on in front searching for birds, 
our eyes following them closely all the time, hoping to see 
them make one more stand while it was still light enough 
to shoot. 
They ranged steadily for nearly an hour, not getting a 
whiff of a bird; but as old Cap was just advancing on a 
bunch of bushes he suddenly dropped like a shot, while the 
little bitch backed him closely up. 
We advanced. Bob on one side and I on the other; two 
birds started from under the dogs and sailed away at an 
exceedingly rapid gait for a pair of chickens. Bob's gun 
rang out twice and killed them both, but by as fine a shot 
as I ever had the pleasure of seeing a sportsman make. 
Then four flushed wild and spread apart. I sighted one, 
fired, alnd had the satisfaction of seeing her fall to the last 
shot. Bob killed one of his, and we marked the others 
down a good way off. 
As the sun was now sinking rapidly behind the hills, we 
decided not to follow them, as we might happen to lose 
our way by the extra turns across the fields, and had three 
long miles before us to reach om* tent. 
We soon found our birds, and struck up a rapid walk 
for camp. After tramping along the prairie a short dis- 
tance the sun slowly disappeared, and we were left to 
make the remainder of our journey by the misty darkness 
which comes between sundown and moonlight. 
After a long walk through the cool evening air our path 
was lighted by the moon as it stole from beneath the 
clouds and rode calmly across the sky. 
A long walk across the fields brought us to the edge 
of the woods, and we started through them for the 
tent. 
The moon's refiection spread down beneath the trees 
and guided us as we picked our way through the tall, 
thick brubh, 
After succeeding in getting many a hard fall over 
stumps and other things in our path, we reached the tent 
thoroughly bruised, but with eight chickens and five 
ducks — not a large string by any means, but enough to 
satisfy a sportsman's gun for an afternoon hunt. 
P. C. Heard. 
TWO WEEKS AT BIG MOOSE LAKE. 
At promptly 6 A. M. , Sept. 4, the train pulled out from 
the New York Central station with our party on board, 
consisting of Dr. and Mrs. W. J. Leake, Mr. and Mrs. B. 
V. Covert, with guns, ammunition, fishiiig tackle and my 
pointer Sank. 
We had planned for weeks previous for a trip to the 
Adirondacks, and a look of delightful anticipation shone 
on each face as in fancy we seemed to see Club Camp on 
Big Moose Lake, our destination, welcoming us. At 4:15 
we reached the station, and after loading our belongings 
on the buckboard that was in waiting we started on foot 
to the lake, a distance of about two miles. As this was 
the first experience any of our party had ever had in the 
woods everything was enjoyable. Now and then a chip- 
munk or a squirrel would dart across our path, and in the 
distance the song of some wild bird would break the still- 
ness. 
As we reached the little lake the sight that met our 
eyes was beyond description. There was not a ripple to 
disturb the surface of the water, and the huge mountains 
surrounding it all lighted by the sun as it was disappear- 
ing over the western hills, there came to each one a feel- 
ing of awe and admiration. j 
We were quickly taken to our camp by our guide, who 
had met us at the landing, and there settled ourselves for 
the two weeks of solid comfort. 
The following morning at about 9 o'clock the Doctor and 
the guide started out for a little tramp, saying they would 
be back at noon, while I took the dog with me for a go at 
the partridges, etc. , which we had been informed could 
be found in plenty here, but I was disappointed, and I 
may here add that we never saw a game bird while there 
except some ducks in the distance. You may imagine our 
surprise when at about 1 o'clock we beheld our Doctor 
coming into camp with a nice big deer on his back. It 
had been feeding about half a mile back of our camp 
when he shot it with his rifle. The writer then decided 
that if deer were so plentiful he would not go out to get 
his deer until a day or so before breaking camp, as we 
wished to take one home with us, so for the next few 
days we contented ourselves with sight-seeing and shoot- 
ing red squirrels (the only game we could find), for 
even the fish refused to bite the tempting bait we offered 
them. 
By this time we heard of many who were out jacking 
night after night and were not very successful, so I 
decided I had better take a deer any time I could get one; 
and nearly every night after this found us floating for 
deer. Although we frequently heard them, we were not 
destined to see one. We spent two days on Sister Lakes, 
a distance of seven miles from camp, hoping to find there 
some less wise, but were disappointed again. On Monday 
night previous to our departure we started for West Pond 
"to do or die," as the floating season only lasted another, 
night. On a previous trip to this little lake we had heard 
