FOREST AND STREAM, 
[Jan. I, 1898. 
The Red SquirreL 
Charlestown, N. H., Dec. 17. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Thanks to Mr. Arthur F. Rice for his defense 
of this merry little fellow, whom he well designates as 
"the Puck of the Woods," instead of the "devil incar- 
nate," as some people have been disposed to classify him. 
When I was a boy I used to shoot him, and eat him, too; 
for although rather small game, three or four fat ones 
helped to fill up the gaps in a squirrel pie if the requisite 
number of gray ones were not forthcoming. 
Some of your correspondents write of a squirrel "mud- 
dle," which may be very good, and probably is; but I 
never happened to eat one. A "squirrel pie" is made just 
like a chicken pie, and is full as good, "only more so." 
Skin and dress your squirrels, quarter them nicely, sav- 
ing the hearts, livers and kidneys, parboil them properly, 
season with pepper and salt, a little onion, a little salt 
pork, and a dash of sweet herbs; put them in a deep bak- 
ing pan, with both bottom and top crust, and bake till the 
top is well browned; and the dish is equal to the famed 
venison pastries of the days of Robin Hood! I will not 
insult it bj' comparing it to the productions of a famed 
New York caterer, of whom hundreds write who never 
entered his doors. 
I admit that the red squirrel sometimes robs birds' 
nests, so do the crow and bluejay and various other 
birds, but I do not believe that he ever acts as a veteri- 
nary surgeon for the gray ones, though he is a pugna- 
cious little fellow and will claim and hold "the right of 
■way" from the bigger graj' one in the woods any day. 
That he is a good proi'ider I well know, for I have 
often seen him hiding nuts, and if it had not been for 
Stanstead's letter in this week's Forest and Stream, I 
would have sworn to one of them having hidden a half- 
peck of shelled beech-nuts, which a companion and I once 
found in a hollow hemlock, more than sixty j^ears ago. 
I am inclined to believe yet that it was a squirrel's 
store, for it was at the base of a steep, rocky knoll of 
some forty or fifty acres extent, with a fringe of tall 
pines and hemlocks around its base, while the higher 
ground was covered with oaks, beeches and chestnuts. 
It was a great haunt for squirrels of both kinds, and was 
one of my favorite "happy hunting grounds" in my 
younger days, as it was only about a mile from the 
village, though that mile was straight up hill. I used to 
get lots of gray squirrels there, and one morning shot 
five before breakfast. After I got to be sufficient)}^ ex- 
pert to feel sure of getting as many gray ones as 1 
wanted, if it was a good place for them, I let the red 
ones alone, for I love to see them prank and frolic on 
the oa:ks, and hear the saucy chickaree. I cannot hear 
it now, but I can see them quiver, from the end of the 
nose to the tip of the tail, and know that the music-box 
is in operation. They are favored inhabitants of our 
village street, where they race around among the tall 
elms and maples, mostly living in some hollow butternut, 
of which there are many standing back from the street 
among the houses and barns. 
There was a family of them, half a dozen years ago, 
in an old butternut close to the house in which I then 
lived, and from which I was turned out in a snow-storm 
one winter morning; and they used to amuse us very 
much with their antics. A big elm made a conA^enient 
tramway from the butternut to the roof of the house, 
where there was a hole somewhere by which they got 
in among the rafters, and they used to bring their nuts 
in there, and the people who slept in the upper chambers 
complained bitterly of the racket they made at night. 
One year one of them got very tame, and when I sat 
on the doorstep, smoking, would come within a few 
feet of me to hide nuts under the plank walk which led 
from the doorsteps leading down to the gate. _ 
Another year my wife called me to the window one 
morning to look at one which was stamping and quiver- 
ing and apparently scolding at a great rate at the mouth 
of their hole. This kept up for some minutes, when there 
appeared the head, and then the body, of a very wee one. 
and at last it came out and joined its mother, who w^as 
evidently calling it out for its first lesson in outdoor 
exercise, and it was not many days before they were 
racing about in the trees together. You may think this 
"a. great boo for such a small colt," but I love to see 
the little scamps about, and would not have them exter- 
minated for anything. 
Those letters from "that boy," which Mr. Raymond S. 
Spears sends, are capital, and although I have seldom 
fired twice at a squirrel, I can appreciate the efforts of a 
beginner, as I have had much the same experience. _ I 
began on squirrels with a rifled pistol, made by Robbins 
& Laurence, at Windsor, Vt., to which a country wheel- 
wright had fitted a light, crude stock, and although 
I got to be "sure death" on red squirrels and chipmunks 
with it, I did not attempt to try it on any bigger game. 
It is a number of years since I shot a squirrel now, 
and I never expect to shoot another, but I have had 
many a happy day in the woods with them, first with my 
brother, and then teaching my boys, and if I could only 
recall the details of the different tramps, I might make 
quite a chapter of experiences out of it; but the taste 
and inclination for the sport have gone with the ability 
to climb the rocky hillsides. In fact, I think they began 
to go earlier, for almost the last gray squirrel I saw in 
the woods came up within loft. of me as I sat on a 
rock, under a young oak in its fall color, which just 
matched my duck coat, and, keeping one eye on me, 
ransacked the leaves for nuts till I happened to move, 
when lie was off like a bullet. I had been so interested 
in his motions that I did not send a charge of shot after 
him, nor have I pulled trigger on a squirrel since. 
Von W. 
Foxes Of Birds ? 
^ Madison County, N. Y. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your issue for Dec. 4, Mr. Willard H. Sullivan, of 
Clinton, TVIe., thinks it is too bad to countenance the trap- 
ping of foxes. Does he view the subject from all sides? 
Has he an over supply of grouse in his neighborhood, 
enough for the hunters and the foxes too? It seems to 
me we must choose between the birds and rabbits and 
the foxes, and I believe the majority of sportsmen would 
prefer the birds and rabbits. Foxes are protected during 
the autumn months in this and. a few other counties of 
this State. If the object of this protection is economy 
for the farmers in destruction of mice, etc., perhaps it is 
right; but if it is in the interest of the few fox hunters 
as against the many bird Inmters, I, for one, protest. 
Mr. Sullivan thinks the foxes will be gone in twenty-five 
years. I doubt it. They hold their own only too well 
here. Stephen R. Leonard, 
mq^ ^ug mid ^tin. 
A Nebraska Day. 
Wymore, Neb., Dec. 10. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
T take pleasure in reporting the fact that my old friend 
Dr. H. A. Given has got his second sight. And as this 
subject nnist interest all sportsmen, I am going to tell 
the story as it was told to me by the Doctor, and as cor- 
rected and vouched for by disinterested witnesses. 
When I got home from court last Saturday evening I 
found the following note from the Doctor, which had 
just arrived: 
"Dear Mac: Now that you are too old to shoot game 
for yourself, I know you will appreciate having a friend 
who can shoot it for you. I was out hunting to-day and 
got thirty-eight quail, forty-six cottontails and one jack 
rabbit. You and Aunty come down in the morning and 
stay all day and we will have a feast, and I will tell you 
all about it. — Doc." 
Now I had planned to spend that particular Sunday 
with Nessmuk and Kego-e-kay. Besides, I felt a little 
hurt because Doc had gone hunting without me. But 
I remembered that he always liked best to go hunting 
with some one that he could beat shooting, and that 
made me feel a little better; and I could not have gone if 
he had invited me, because I was in court defending a 
young man who had promised to marry a young lady 
on the first Monday after Lent and then had changed 
his mind. Ordinarily a man who never changes his 
mind is a fool. But a man who promises to marry a 
young woman on the first Monday after Lent, and then 
changes his mind, is a fool, too. And then I thought of 
the dinner, and then that I should hear Doc tell how it 
was done. That settled it; we would go. 
Sunday came, and this is the story: We had a week 
of unusually rough weather, anti the groiuid was covered 
with 5 or 6in. of snow; but on Fridaj' the weather had 
begun to moderate, and the prospect was good for a fine 
day on Saturday. On Friday afternoon Ben Skinner, a 
young farmer living about four miles from town, had 
called at the Doctor's office with a box of loaded .shells, 
and it had been arranged that Doc and his son Fred 
should drive out in the morning and hunt on Ben's 
farm. They reached the farm about 9 o'clock the next 
morning. Ben had put the wagon box on the bobsled 
and had fiUed the box with hay, and Doc mounted on 
top. Now, as Doc is about the size and shape of Col. 
A. G. Courtney, this way of hunting just suited him, and 
away they went for the fields. Then the fun commenced. 
They first struck a little patch of iinmowed land in a 
draw, and it was alive with rabbits. 
Fred walked to handle the dog Tommy. Ben drove 
the team. Doc got on his knees so as to handle the gun 
to advantage, and commenced operations, and in a few 
minutes twelve rabbits were retrieved and in the sled, 
Doc allowed his gun to cool; then the team followed a 
flock of quail that had flushed and scattered in the snow, 
Tonnny worked them up, and Doc saved thirteen of 
them. Then he rested and let his gun cool again, and 
they started for another rabbit patch. And to make a 
long stoi-y short, these performances were repeated un- 
til the hundred shells that Doc had taken and Ben's 
twenty-five were exhausted, and Doc was just getting 
Avarm'ed up to his work. They had thirty-eight quail, 
forty-six rabbits and one jack rabbit. The ammunition 
being gone, there was nothing left to do but retreat in 
good order. 
Ben announced that he had killed his winter's pork a 
couple of days before, and that they would go to the 
house and have dinner. And as they drove along Doc 
was heard humming an old darky song which sounded 
something like this: 
"You can talk about yer walitermelon, red as any rose. 
With the black seeds a-stickin' in the sides like crows, 
With the core a-comin' clean out to de rine, 
But oh, I'm longin' for de liog-kiUin' time. 
When they arrived at the house dinner was read}^ and 
in the center of the table was a large platter well filled 
with pork spare ribs and backbone, Mrs. Skinner told 
them that the one that coitld eat the most backbone 
should have a piece of pumpkin pie, and Ben says Doc 
ate so much backbone that he didn't want any pie, 
Two or three times during the story Doc had said, 
"I thought of you every minute, Mac, and would have 
given a dollar if you had been along;" and I said as 
calmly as I could, "Don't mention it; go on with the 
story." • 
When dinner was over they hitched up and drove 
home. The rabbits and quail were all skinned and 
dressed, and hung in the smokehouse to freeze over 
night. 
Now I- hope no one will get the idea that Doc is a 
game hog, just because he got a well-filled game bag or 
bobsled; for he is not, and those rabbits anct quail, with 
the exception of enough for our dinner, were all tied up 
in little bundles and sent where they would do the most 
good and be appreciated. 
A man who will get up at all hours of the night and 
visit the sick, and furnish the medicine to those not able 
to buy it, without any prospect or hope of ever being re- 
paid, will never be a game hog nor any other kind of a 
hog. 
The story had been told, and the Doctor's wife called 
us to dinner. I will not attempt to describe the dinner 
in detail, but to give a general idea of it may note that 
we had celery, pickles and cold slaw, quail and rabbits 
and rabbits and quail in all the latest styles, from raw on 
the half-shell to the common every-day fry, and we had 
mashed potatoes, milk gravy, sweet corn, and cofifee and 
cake and pumpkin pie. There is no other country on 
earth where the pumpkin pie grows to the size or has 
the fine flavor that it does in Nebraska. 
After dinner we had the story with variations and 
more in detail; how sometimes he got two qttail at one 
shot and then one quail at two shots; and how the quail 
looked as large as turkeys to him, and how all his misses 
.were due to Ben's careless driving, or his gun having a 
bunch of hay on the end of it, or the quail getting up at 
the wrong time and the gun shooting too close; how 
many somersaults some of the rabbits turned when the 
gun cracked, and how some of the jack rabbits that he 
did not get ran so fast that the shot just played along be- 
hind them; and how in one or two instances he could 
hear them whiz long after they were out of sight. 
Just before starting for home I said to Doc: "I sup- 
pose, now that you have your eye again, that you will 
take part in the Grand American Handicap next 
spring?" 
But Doc said: "No, I will not put my skill against 
brute force. I saw that shell, 3}4in- long, that the U. 
M. C. Co. sent you as a sample of the shell used by Tom 
Marshall when he won the championship last spring. 
That shell is the outgrowth of the rule that allows the 
shooter to put his gun to his eye before he calls 'pull.' 
First came the rule, then the recoil pad, and then the 
long shell, and skill don't count for anything now. It is 
no wonder they find it hard to keep up the interest in 
trap-shooting. Then, how would I look with my gun to 
my eye and trying to twist myself up like Fred Gilbert 
or make a face such as Frank Parmelee makes? No, I 
shall buy me a new gun with rifle sights, and content 
myself shooting game for my friends who are too old to 
shoot it themselves. Take two or three of these tablets 
with you, in case you should have a touch of indigestion 
to-night." 
And so we said good-night, and noted another red- 
letter day in memory's calendar. 
A, D. McCandless. 
Reminiscences of an Old 
Sportsman* — VIII* 
{Contitvued frotn Vol. XLIX.^jiage 486.) 
Mk. Allin once told us tjf a woodcock that he had 
seen walk out of the cover to a board that lay on the 
ground near the edge, when the bird deliberately 
mounted upon it and strutted just like a gobbler, even 
making the same hissing noise at the finish; and in a 
few minutes this was repeated, when the bird walked 
back into the cover. As this was entirely new to both of 
us, we chaffed him not a little about it, but he stuck 
to it and solemnly assured us that he had witnessed the 
performance just as he had described it to us. For my 
part, I thought that he paraded this woodcock before us 
as a very good match for the one that we had seen on the 
fence, but I took no stock in the strut, especially as all 
the books upon natural history with which I was ac- 
quainted were silent upon the subject. 
Time went on for a year and a half, and I had nearly 
forgotten all about Ethan's tale, when I was forcibly and 
very pleasantly reminded of it by the very same bird, for, 
OAving to the reasons given above, I have mj' doubts that 
more than one bird ever performed the feat. 
One warm, pleasant day in early April I took my rod 
and started for a favorite spring-hole at the head of a 
noted trout stream, thinking that perhaps I might coax 
a few of its winter residents to accompany me home. 
Arriving at the place of operation, I limbered up the 
rod and very carefully crawled to my favorite stump, 
within easy distance of the pool, where I took my seat 
and quietly waited until the fish should be over their 
fright, in case I had disturbed them while picking my 
way over the shaky bog. I had sat there perhaps ten 
minutes, when from behind a bog some Soft, in front of 
me Ethan's woodcock proudly stepped out on the strip 
of wood that bordered a small pool, and marching broad- 
side toward me, with head thrown proudly back, droop- 
ing wings and expanded tail, he actually strutted for all 
the world like a turkey cock. Then he stood still for a 
few seconds, when he again moved forward and disap- 
peared behind a bog. I was too far away to hear the 
hissing sound mentioned by Mr. Allin, but I have no 
doubt that it has been heard by him, as in every other 
respect the performance was just as he described it. I 
was deeply interested — in fact, so absorbed was I that I 
left my rod and went to the spot, approaching it very 
carefully, hoping to obtain a sight of the bird and again 
witness the performance, but I failed to find him. 
Before glancing at the tracks of the bird in the mud 
I saw that he had, during the latter part of his parade, 
scraped the surface of the mud Avith his drooping wings, 
for there was a distinctly drawn line in the mud on each 
side of the footprints more than a foot in length. Now 
I do not wish it understood that I make any claim of 
any nature in connection with this matter. I merely de- 
scribe the occurrence just as I saw it, and as this and 
the one described by Mr. Allin are the only ones that I 
have ever seen or heard of, notwithstanding patient 
search and persistent inquiry, I do not feel like taking 
the responsibility of stating as a fact that this a habit or 
instinct of the entire family, nor will I even guess at it, for 
we already have far too much guesswork in matters of 
this kind, so I just jot down a description of something 
that greatly interested me, hoping that some more for- 
tunate observer may be able to penetrate the mystery 
that surrounds the life of this royal bird and give us the 
facts in the case without any scientific guesswork. 
I was once shooting in the "tan yard" cover in Bland- 
ford, Mass., when my dog pointed a woodcock which I 
flushed, and as I fired it tumbled near a thick-topped 
pine tree that was about loft. in height. Just at this 
instant a grouse rose near me and started to fly back, 
but I whirled and had the satisfaction of seeing it strike 
the ground some 25yds. distant; and I started for it first, 
as it was not quite dead, and I did not wish to haye_ the 
dog retrieve it. While gathering the bird I was joined 
by a farmer friend, a thorough sportsman so far as 
trout were concerned, but not a hunter, although he had 
been my companion upon several occasions and appeared 
to enjoy the sport immensely, although he never Q^r- 
