122 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tpEB. 12, iM- 
Camp Talla-Qttit, 
• New Orleans. — Editor Forest and Stream: It is so 
rare to find a contribution to your interesting journal 
from the far South that I am constrained to monopolize 
a portion of your valuable space with an account 
of a recent outing in north Mississippi, ■ in which 
the late yellow fever epidemic in this city enabled me to 
participate. By way of parenthesis, however, I wish 
to add that it is remarkably strange that our Southern 
sportsmen are so lax in advertising to our Northern 
brethren, through such an excellent medium as the 
Forest and Stream, the rare sport to be had in South- 
ern waters, fields and forests during the fall and winter. 
I am not willing to believe we are selfish, for we are 
not built that way. I prefer to feel that our timidity and 
bashfulness prevent us from rushing into print to vaunt 
our advarrtages over other sections. 
On Sept. 2 last I ruffled my plumage and took flight 
from the city of Orleans to the little village of Jones- 
town, Coahoma countj--, northwest Mississippi, for a 
two weeks' visit to my family. On Sept. 6 thereafter 
the daily papers announced the first genuine case of 
yellow fever. Before the expiration of my leave the 
fever had gained considerable headway, and although im- 
portant official matters awaited my attention in the 
Crescent City I could not help feeling that I had a 
fifteen-year life insurance policy to outlive, to say noth- 
ing of a few suits of old clothes Avhich I had not worn 
quite threadbare. Consequently I communed with myself 
BLK IN JACKSOK'S HOLE, DECEMBER, 1896. 
Photo by S. N. Leek, 
and decided that inasmuch as I was away from my 
post and my official matters were in the hands of a jolly 
good soul by name of Fry (who didn't care a copper 
whether he had the fever or a lottery ticket), I would 
remain in the country and leave the other fellow to "hold 
the bag." The fever continued to rage in New Or- 
leans, and I continued to enjoy the rare sport to be 
had with rod and gun in northwest Mississippi. 
On Nov. IS of each year an annual bear hunt takes 
place from the little village of Jonestown. This is not 
a local affair, and the boys are always glad to entertain 
their visiting sportsmen. I was so fortunate as to be 
a member of this little party, and a jollier gathering 
could scarcely be found in the entire country. Our 
party consisted of ten gentlemen and four ladies, all 
of whom— except, possibly, the writer— are as true 
sportsmen and sportswomen as ever trod the soil of 
fair old Mississippi. On the night of Nov. 15 at 11 
o'clock we left civilization behind and became residents 
of the wilderness for about ten consecutive days. The 
weather was dark and threatening, and the temperature 
suggested snow, but I presume the weather prophet ef- 
fected some kind of a compromise with the elements 
whereby we were, furnished a cold rain during more 
than six hours of our journey. Our destination was 
the wilderness, Tallahatchie county, about forty-five 
miles from our starting point, and our camp was very 
appropriately designated "Talla-Quit" by Mr. M. R. 
Mitchell, who, among others, was taken m custody by 
the Quitman county officials and deprived of tlie fruits 
of his outing on the ground of trespass, the county of 
Quitman having passed laws prohibiting the hunting df 
game by non-residents. There being some doubt as to 
our exact location, Mr. Mitchell decided to "split the 
difference" between Tallahatchie and Quitman, and 
henceforth our camp was called "Talla-Quit." 
We reached Boyce Lake the following mornmg about 
10 o'clock, thoroughly drenched with the cold rain of 
the preceding night. Almost before one could realize 
it there were six tents pitched in cane such as I had not 
seen before. Needless to add, the ladies had everything 
shipshape in short order, and camp life didn't seem so 
bad after all. But it must not be supposed that the 
ladies are admitted on these occasions for convenience; 
on the contrary, they handle the rifle equally as well 
as they manipulate a venison steak, and are thorough 
woodswomen. I have reason to know that at least one 
of them is unexcelled, for on one occasion when I and 
my chum were hopelessly Jost she piloted us safely to 
camp after wandering several hours in heavy cane. We 
had quite an army of bearhounds, and the first three 
days were devoted exclusively to bruin; and needless 
to add, we rolled in bear meat for more than a week, 
for the' first day out crowned our outing a howling suc- 
cess. We succeeded in bringing to bay a fine, large 
black bear which was killed by Mr. Evans, one of the 
local sportsmen, through whose courtesy I secured the 
hide; and the yarns I have told since my return about 
how I killed it would fill a large, book. 
The next day, bright and early, found me on a stand 
in a strange and secluded spot, and the dogs heading 
directly my way. Being somewhat of a tenderfoot, and 
never before having encountered quite so large and vi- 
cious an animal as a bear, I must confess that I felt 
"kinder curious" as the dogs came nearer and nearer, 
till I could hear the cane cracking itnder the awful tread 
of this huge beast, as he came through the wilderness. 
One of the party in close proximity to me claims to 
have seen me making earnest efforts to ascend the top- 
most height of a small tree near by, but I am confident 
he exaggerated the true situation to some extent, though 
had I then known that it was a panther mstcad of a 
bear I am not so sure but that I might have discovered 
this little tree to be most conveniently located. For- 
tunately, however, for the panther (or for me), he sud- 
denly changed his course and put back into the cane, 
just before reaching the open glade in which I was 
so anxiously waiting. 
We were unsuccessful in bringing to bay another bear, 
though we forced inore than one to protect his hide from 
the taxidermist by swimming the Tallahatchie River; so 
after the third daj' we unanimously decided to devote 
the remainder of our stay to stocking our larders with 
venison. It was an easy mark to start a deer within 
half a mile of our camp; but most of us preferred 
still-hunting. The weather was delightfully cool, and 
daybreak each morning found us scattered over the feed- 
ing grounds and anxiously awaiting the gay and festive 
buck. We were rarely disappointed on the evening's 
round-up, and each day brought fresh venison into camp. 
One^ bright morning just before breaking up camp I 
saw a monster panther, some 300yds. distant, endeavor- 
ing to capture a small doe which had been wounded a 
few moments before. In my anxiety to add this valuable 
rug to my parlor floor I overlooked the fact that I had 
in hand a .44 Marlin of the latest pattern, and instead 
of elevating the sights and taking chances on a long 
shot, I at once set forth at breakneck speed toward the 
spot. Of course the panther quietly slunk away into 
the heavy cane, and I was left to meditate on the science 
of running down large- game. On my relating this little 
experience on my return to camp that afternoon, some of 
the boj'^s were unkind enough to suggest that it was 
probably a large fox squirrel. I resented this insinuation 
most vigorously, on the ground that it would in the 
natural order of things have been absolutely impossible 
for my vision to have become so distorted and my im- 
agination so vivid as to manufacture a very large panther 
out of an ordinary old, everyday fox squirrel. 
Our record at the end of ten days stood i bear and 8 
deer, to say nothing of all kinds of smaller game, with 
which this country abounds. We were not without our 
little camera, and our friend Mr. A. V. Lane took some 
beautiful snap shots at different stages, but as they are 
still in process of development I am unable to inclose 
them with this. In our daily rambles we had the good 
fortune to meet quite a number of jolly sportsmen from 
various sections of the country, among whom were 
Mr. Oliver Clay and Capt. Ban McKee, of Mississippi. 
As bear hunters these two gentlemen are without a 
peer, unless it be the great and only Bob Bobo, whose 
reputation is so well known that comment is unnecessary. 
There were also the Messrs. Matthews and party, of 
Tennessee, whose camp was located on Tallahatchie 
River, about seven miles distant from us, and about the 
same distance in another direction was the camp of Mr. 
Joseph Aycock, a most charming conversationalist as 
well as an accomplished musician. And last, but by no 
means least, Capt, James L. Bradford, of New Orleans, 
was at the same time only about six miles listant. Capt. 
Bradford is the envied possessor of Buck Ranche, and 
therefore needs no introduction to the readers of 
Forest and Stream, as mention has frequently ap- 
peared in these columns of the genuine hospitality with 
which the Captain's g-uests are always greeted, and he 
who has not had the good fortune to visit Buck Ranche 
and its surroundings knows not the pleasure of a "touch 
of real high life" in a Mississippi wilderness. AH the 
aforesaid gentlemen broke camp and joined our little 
party except Capt. Bradford, and our misfortune in not 
securing him, too, was due to no lack of effort on our 
part, but failure of our emissary to deliver our invita- 
tion. , , , 
To make a long story short, we broke camp about 
Nov. 25, after having consumed so much venison and 
bear meat that we were locking horns and climbmg 
trees till civilization was again sighted. Every one 
was happy" and glad he went, and I am very much m 
hope that something may happen to detain me m Missis- 
sippi again about the same time next November. In 
drawing the curtain on this camp hunt, I wish to add 
that I have never seen duck shooting quite so good 
as we found it in iiorthwest Mississippi during Novem- 
ber and December, It was an easy mark to bag more 
than wc could carry of those large mallards in a very 
short time. The feeding grounds were excellent and 
the ducks abundant, and the largs Consignments which 
"Brother" Lane and I made to our friends in Chicago 
and New Orleans were distinct evidences of the rare 
sport furnished us on the many lakes to be found 
throughout that part of the State. 
Walter S. Ganong. 
Podgers^s Commentaries. 
San Francisco, 'Jan. 10.— I have just finished reading 
the last number of the Forest and Stream, and as 1 
laid it down and relit my pipe I fell into a fit of moral- 
izing, and asked myself whether the natural instincts of 
man are not savage, as illustrated by the apparent delight 
taken in the stories of your contributors in recounting 
the number of deer and birds that have fallen to their 
guns. I can never bring my mind to shooting a deer. 
I once owned a pair, which were caught young and do- 
mesticated, and were the pets of my childhood — affection- 
ate little things that were my playfellows, and trotted 
after me to the schoolliouse door and came regularly 
to meet me when school was over. As we grew up to- 
gether their devotion and affection never wavered, until 
one day, when taking their usual run in the woods clos° 
to the village, a man calling himself a sportsman shofi: 
them both, giving as an excuse that he supposed them 
wild, although both were provided with collars and bellS* 
From that day to this I have never but once essayed 
to shoot a deer. 
But what a bundle of inconsistencies is man! All my 
sympathies end with the gun. The weakness for the rod 
remains as devotedly as ever. I have read somewhere 
the assertion of a scientist that fish are insensible to 
pain, and have hugged that flattering unction to my soul; 
and there would seem to be some truth in the theory, 
for do we not experience cases often where the fish 
ELK IN Jackson's hole, December, 1S96, 
Photo by S. N. Leek. 
has first parted the line, and with the hook still in his 
mouth essays another bite? And I have seen a shark 
after beiiig caught and, his belly ripped open, thrown 
back again, swim alongside the boat and grab at a 
piece of flesh thrown over, with his entrails trailing be- 
hind. So my conscience smites me not, and especially 
when I am landing a big trout or trying conclusions 
with a 2olb. salmon. 
I confess that I do occasionally take a day off with 
the mallards and canvasbacks; but therein comes a con- 
cession to the epicurean weakness and appetite. But I 
do not go in for extended slaughter. 1 never shoot 
more than I want, and generally not so many, and not 
always from choice. The birds themselves have views 
of their own on that question, all of which inconsisten- 
cies, I fear, utterly destroy my character as a philanthro- 
pist and a sympathizer with the birds and animals. I 
draw the line at the birds and animals named, but 1 do 
not include all. There are exceptions, and my sports- 
men friends may whang away at such table delicacies 
as wildcats and skunks without incurring remonstrance 
from me; and I shall continue to read the stories of fish 
and fishing in the Forest and' Stream with unabated 
interest. Friends can borrow my guns, as I do not take 
them to bed with me now as I once did (metaphorically), 
but no man can touch my fishing rods, not even "mine 
uncle" in my direst straits, who so kindly takes con- 
tracts to keep the months out of our winter overcoats 
during the heated term. 
I call guns and fishing rods ray jewelry, and I never 
M.M IN JACKSON'S' HOLE, DECEMBER, 1897. 
Photo by S. N. Leek. See page 127. 
