Nov. ip, 1898.} 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
407 
Island Cut, we faund the Water pretty fair, but my 
punter and.I.had to push hard with punt paddles all the 
way through Peach Island Cut. and upon turning into 
Channel No. 1 we found it nothing but a mud flat; so 
1 got out and waded in the soft mud, which was above 
my knees, and it was slow work, as 1 had to take hold 
of the tops of my rubber boots to keep them from 
coming off, first hold of one and then the other, and in 
the meantime both of us were dragging the boat through 
the mud as well. We finally got to a cut that runs be- 
tween Channel No. t and Channel No. 2, that has a 
dam on the Channel No. t end of it, and this keeps 
from draining out the water that is raised by our dam at 
Coon Creek. The Coon Creek dam raises the water on 
ahout 2,000 acres and insures good duck food 
;ill over this section. After getting our boat over the 
dam. we had good water, and we then went up Channel 
No. 2 to the upper end of it, and decided to blind. in 
a cane blind that had been built at that point early in 
the season, The wind was blowing very strong from the 
southwest, so putting our decoys to the northeast of our 
blind, we had the wind over our backs and the pond 
stretching off to the northeast in front of us. I had 
figured that the ducks in coming in would come right 
up this pond against the wind, but they swerved off to 
the right of me a little. 
To go back a little, when we came into the marshes 
it was a sight to see the ducks get up. There were 
thousands of them; they rose in flocks of all sizes and 
headed for Sandusky Bay. There were a great many 
long, yellow-legged plover all over the marshes, and 
the sandpipers had massed up ready to go South, There 
was one flock of sandpipers that flew by my blind in 
the middle of the day, and I asked my punter how many 
he thought there were in that flock, and he said that he 
thought there must be at least 5,000; it was like a small 
Hock of blackbirds. It is funny what different estimates 
different people will put on the number of birds in a 
large flock. Every evening the blackbirds will pass over 
our marshes in dense flocks, sometimes a half a mile 
long, and I have heard people make estimates of the 
number in a flock, running all the way from hundreds up 
to millions. I was on the marsh one November day 
four years ago, and I saw a square mile of marsh that 
was frozen over that seemed to be just black with 
black mallards; there must have been tens of thousands, 
but of course there was room enough in that space for 
a great many times that number. 
Well, to get back to my story, Scofield waded down 
through Channel No. 1 and located in a cane blind in a 
large open space south of that pond, and Mr. Laughlin 
located in another cane blind about 2,000ft. back of me 
in Mound Spring. It Avas about 9 o'clock when the 
.ditcks commenced to come back, and by that time I was 
ready for them. As Scofield and Laughlin were behind 
me and almost all the ducks passed either a little to the 
right or left of me, or right over me, I tried not to shoot 
at any ducks that were long range shots, as I did not 
w ant to spoil the others' shooting any more than I could 
help. I was right in the line of flight, and I had an 
awfully nice shoct. The pintails would come in very 
high, and some of them on seeing my decoys or hearing 
my call would circle once or twice and then would drop 
right down to my decoys. This was pretty shooting, and 
1 did pretty well on pintail. The widgeon would circle 
round and round, and did not seem to care to come 
down; my shots at widgeon were few. A few green- 
winged teal and one gadwall alighted among my decoys 
before we saw them, these I scared up and knocked 
down before they could get awa}'. The large flocks of 
mallards did not decoy very well, but every little while a 
lone mallard would come along and I called a good 
many of them close enough for good shooting; some I 
hit and a great many more I missed. By noon I had 
counted thirty that were down in sight, and my punter 
set them up on wires, which made my flock of decoys 
larger and more enticing. 
I carry steel wires in my boat about J^in. in diameter 
and about 2ft. long, and we put these down in the 
mud and run the wire up through the duck's neck and 
into its head, and push the wire into the mud just far 
enough to allow the duck to rest on the water as though 
it was swimming. For my live decoys I have a wire 
crate that- will hold six live ducks. On each duck's leg 
I sew a small band of light canvas that has a small 
ring attached to it; then I have a heavy piece of fish 
line, with a small snap on one end of it; then about ift. 
from the snap I put a small brass swivel; this keeps 
the line from getting tangled; then at the end of the 
line, which is about 8ft. long, I fasten about a pound 
weight. I take the duck out of the crate, snap the line to 
the ring on the duck's leg, throw the weight into the 
water and the duck after it. The water being anywhere 
from 6in. to 2ft. deep, this gives the duck a circle about 
16ft. in diameter to play around in, and by throwing in - 
a couple of handfuls of corn once in a while, it keeps 
them moving and makes a perfect decoy. I generally put 
out about two dozen Acme folding decoys with my six 
live decoys, as I consider them the next best decoy to a 
live duck. My live decoys I have raised at the marsh, 
using a small, gray duck without any white feathers 
in it. 
After eating m}' lunch at noon, during which I had to 
drop my lunch once or twice to get a shot, I had good 
shooting almost all the afternoon. Sometimes there 
would be quite a wait between shots, but by dusk we 
counted up and I had fifty-five ducks ; and take it all in 
all, I considered it one of the nicest duck shoots I had 
ever had. In looking over my shells, I found that I 
had shot about 150 shells of No. 5 shot, and my punter 
had used about fifty shells of No. 8 shot on cripples. I 
find that I generally shoot from three to five shells for 
every duck I get over decoys, and from five to ten 
shells for every duck I get in point shooting. 
As I found after picking up our ducks and decoys I 
had a pretty fair load, I decided not to go to the chjb 
house that night, but pulled into John Thompson's farm- 
house on the lower end of our marshes, that we use for 
a club house when it is too stormy or too hard to get 
up to the upper club house. 
The next morning I went back into a Tjiallard hole in 
the heavy flag, and got seventeen nice big mallards by 
noon. That was fine shooting; they wanted to come 
down there to feed, and they dropped in like bees. I 
missed a good many as usual; but kept a few from get- 
ting away. As the indications were that there would be 
no ducks flying in the afternoon, as the wind had died 
away, and as we had about all the ducks we could carry 
in the boat with the other truck, we loaded up after eat- 
ing our lunch and started for the" upper club house, where 
we arrived at just 6 o'clock P. M., in time for a good 
dinner, I tell you it gives one a great appetite to be 
out in the marsh all day, with just a light lunch at noon, 
and you can generally do justice to a good dinner. 
After dinner, by comparing notes, I found that Sco- 
field had got forty ducks the day before, and Mr. Laugh- 
lin seventeen. I noticed that the ducks did not come 
very close to Mr. Laughlin; the shots he got were al- 
most all very long ones, and he did some fine shooting. 
He was stationed out of the line of flight of the ducks. 
The game register showed that the seven shooters had 
killed between 450 and 500 ducks during the week, not all 
the scores having been entered when I looked over it. 
This is getting back to old-time shooting, We have 
not had as good shooting as this for about three years. As 
the water was so low : in the marshes there was but very 
little duck food, and the ducks on their way South would 
soon eat what food there was, and would then leave 
for the better feeding grounds further south. The game 
register up to last Saturday showed about 1,200 ducks 
killed since Sept. 1, 1898. 
From present indications this number will be about 
doubled before it freezes up. Frank B. Many. 
Coon History. 
As your contributors occasionally allude to coons, they 
remind me of things that I have known to occur. Coons 
occur, as it were, quite generally throughout all that 
part of this land with which I am acquainted. 
One time, or that is to say, many times, I have aspired 
to coons and have acquired them now and again, some- 
times with considerable difficulty and other trouble. 
Some of them that I have endeavored to attain escaped, 
and in that manner got away. 
I am of the opinion, together with other persons of 
enlightenment, that most dogs who have not confined 
themselves to any special pedigree, or to collegiate edu- 
cation, enjoy the pursuit of coons. I have known many 
dogs who would work harder, run faster and ki-yi 
louder, and bark longer, in essaying coons, than they 
would in any other event of their mortal career. I be- 
lieve a dog is happier of a cold night, when the moon- 
light glistens over frozen and frosted ground, barking 
himself hoarse at a coon tree or a treed coon, four 
miles from everywhere 'else, than he ever is upon any 
oilier occasion. 
With this much for my private opinions, 1 shall cease 
to speculate and proceed to record a fragment of the 
true history of our commonwealth, which, by the way, is 
not as common to the general, according to socialistic 
ethics, as well as to apparentness, as might possibb r 
be. 
At.a tavern where I sojourned for a time there were, 
among other things, a native of California of the ab- 
original tribes (so far as we know), erroneously called 
Indians by those not overly choice in the phraseology 
of the times; and some four several dogs, no two of them 
being alike in size, color, style of locomotion, tone of 
ki-yi, or indeed in any particular or general attribute. In 
the comparative wilderness that surrounded the tavern 
there were, among other natural provisions, some coons. 
Now, notwithstanding the diverse characteristics of 
the four dogs, they affiliated into Unanimity almost as 
cohesive as the partisan press attains about the time of a 
general election, but instead of votes the' dogs com- 
bined for coons; instead of barking up all trees but the 
right tree, the dogs also differed from the others by 
usually barking up the right tree. The difference in 
methods is creditable. 
And so, one night when it was about as cold and dark 
as it gets, the dogs set up a remarkably unanimous pow- 
wow about a mile down the creek. After listening intent- 
ly — as people are frequently reported doing — I was con- 
vinced that they were sincere, and that in all probability 
they had something up a tree. I summoned the ab- 
original American, whose name was never Richard, but 
always Dick, and asked his opinion. 
Dick said: "They're about a mile down the creek. 
Got something sure." 
"All right; get a lantern and I'll get the shotgun." 
With the faithfulness they are not always credited 
with, the red man was promptly prepared, and we set 
off in the plutonian darkness into the cold, frost-covered 
willows and undergrov&*>. Half an hour's walk with 
numerous stumbles brought us to the dogs that were 
clambering about the trunk of a large live oak, and 
sending up an assortment of yips, ki-yis and howls that 
made ©ne of the most unmelodious aggregations of dis- 
cords that I ever heard, for the number engaged — and 
I have attended camp meetings and operas. 
The tree in the darkness, by the indifferent illumina- 
tion of the farm lantern, seemed a few shades darker 
than a black cat, and the foliage was like a huge pyramid 
lost in eternal gloom. We walked around it many 
times, Dick holding the lantern and endeavoring to 
"shine the eyes" of whatever the dogs were so confident 
they had up the tree, and I following with the blunder- 
buss of a shotgun that was a relic of overland emigra- 
tion. 
It was no use, W"e built a brush fire and it went out 
without effect in illuminating the tree. Dick said: 
"They's something up there sure. Dogs too crazy to 
be fooled. I'll climb the tree and you can shoot when 
I'll hold the lantern." 
This was a brave proposition for a man red or white 
to make. Dick had prospered, physically, in his con- 
nection with civilization, for he weighed ahout 200,. arid 
was not as nimble as others of his tribe; besides, he knew 
the shotgun, and that I would hit the tree— prohably all 
of it. Nevertheless, after a great deal of clambering and 
puffing he reached the first branches, and I handed up 
the lantern. 
After much struggling and crashing of small branches 
Dick got about two-thirds of the way up the tree. The * 
lantern went out, and he was a long time in getting it 
relighted with his numb fingers. Meantime I was try- 
ing to keep my own from freezing to the combination of 
pot metal that was loaded from the top, and shot back- 
ward as well as in the other direction, whenever it was 
exploded. 
The lantern having been relighted, Dick got up a few 
branches higher and shouted: "I see him! You see? 
It's a coon, a big fellow. Shoot when you see him — 
shoot high, shoot pretty high, he's in top of the tree — 
right in the top! You see me, don't you?" 
The dogs became more animated and tried to increase 
the noise they had been making all the time. Four 
ambitious dogs of the kind, thinking of nothing else 
in the world, and executing all the phonetics they have, 
are about as audible as anything you want. I pulled up 
the hammer of the old gun carefully, to be sure that it 
stayed set, and shouted to Dick that I could see its eyes. 
"All right," he shouted, "shoot pretty high!" 
The noble but fat red man held up the lantern steadily 
without a ^remor. I took aim at the two shining spots 
high up the tree, and amidst the loudest effort the dogs 
had yet achieved I pulled the 2olb. pull necessary to 
discharge the uncertain quantity of thunder and light- 
ning that was reasonably certain to follow — or rather 
proceed. 
The old gun shot forth a stream of fire that seemed to 
light up things like a battleship's searchlight for a 
single instant. I heard it boom above the yells of the 
dogs, and I knew also when it went off by the way it 
came back. There was then an instant of total darkness 
and silence, and then a commotion as though the tree 
itself was crashing to the earth.. I never brought so 
much out of a tree at one shot, or otherwise, in my life 
before, and everything seemed to reach the earth ex- 
actly on time, or a trifle earlier. The dogs were game — 
they might have wavered an instant — but they jumped 
into the arena, and piled into whatever had come down. 
Then there was an unmistakable grunt and a formid- 
able protest in the tones of Dick. He proved more 
thoroughly civilized by his fluency of speech, in some of 
our obscure phrases, than I ever dreamed he would. 
Amidst the jingle of the glass and tin of the smashed 
lantern, the yelps of the dogs, and the departure of two 
dogs and an object that reached the creek and plunged 
into it with a splash, I was still overjoyed to think that 
some of the charge had missed Dick, or he would die 
quicker. 
In* the total darkness what was presumably Dick 
floundered near, and asked for matches and a fire. For- 
tunately I found some dry leaves and soon started a 
Maze, and with some driftwood made a good fire. 
An inventory of casualties then ensued, showing Dick 
to be alive, but bleeding. He didn't know how bad he 
was shot, and limped around, looking for the coon. He 
was quite certain the coon must be dead, for it came 
down with him, he said. Further investigation disclosed 
no coon, but all the dogs vainly swimming in the ice-cold 
creek and snarling their disappointment among them- 
selves. 
After warming at the fire, and an examination of 
Dick's head and neck, which were badly scratched, T 
concluded he was able to walk home, and he did so, 
somewhat sullenly. 
"You must have put all of it in me," he said, "and I 
told you to shoot pretty high up in the tree." 
On the day following Dick had to admit that he 
-could find no shot in his personality anywhere The 
coon had dropped or jumped on him at the firing of the 
gun, and had scratched him. Thinking he was shot, he 
let go, and fell 20ft. without other injury than some 
trifling bruises. And the coon was one that escaped by 
getting away — as far as the four dogs, Dick and myself 
could ascertain. Ransacker. 
California. 
A Tough Fox* 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In my time I have killed a good many foxes in our 
New England manner of hunting them — something over 
200 in all — and almost invariably have found them 
easy to kill. Three and one-eighth drams nitro and 
iJ4oz. No. 1 chilled shot in my 12-gauge gun stops the 
average fox at quite long distances when I get a side 
shot. 
A day or two since I ran across a fox having more 
vitality than I ever found in one. My hound had been 
running a fox for about half an hour, and I was slowly 
walking along a ridge in an open pasture, when I thought 
I saw something move slightly on a small knoll about 
100yds. away. I stopped at once, and carefully watched 
for some time, but failing to see anything concluded 
it was only a yellow leaf, as the leaves were constantly 
falling from a maple near by. I was on the point of 
moving, when I saw a fox raise its head from the spot 
I was looking at. The fox looked around: in fact, looked 
straight at me. as I stood in plain sight, but like other 
wild animals, seeing no movement on my part, he did 
not notice me, and lay down again. I bent slowly 
down and got behind a bunch of ferns and began calling 
him. It was very evident that that particular fox was not 
just then much interested in a mouse, and I worked 
the best I could for some time. Finally I induced him 
to raise his head, and then he sat up and yawned and 
stretched himself, just like a dog, and started toward me. 
When I thought him near enough I shot, and down he 
went, but was up in an instant, and ran past me about 
45yds. away. I was surprised at not killing him the first 
shot, but shot a second time, rolling him up in a heap. 
Again he jumped up, and was out of my sight before I 
could get in another cartridge. I felt sure of finding him 
dead just over the ridge, but didn't see any signs of him. 
Just then my dpg crossed one end of the pasture on the 
Jrail.of the fox die. was after, and I made out to head 
''him, "and" slipping. :a cord on him Jed - hitii to where I 
had, shot at the' fox, and in les^s that "five" minutes-" "he 
caught the fox in a thick swamp; the fox was by' no 
means dead, .and the old dog had quite a time finishing 
him. I took off the pelt at once, 'carefully noting the 
effect of my two shots. The first struck him with four 
pellets; one in the corner of one eye, one broke a leg 
and two in neck and chest. The second put ten No. I 
pellets straight through him, seven going through his 
shoulders and neck. 
