482 
From Mr. H. S. Kinmonth, Asbury Park, Sept. • 2, 
1898: I have seen some of the old ones several times, 
but cannot say whether they have raised any young or 
not. _ 
From Mr. T. C. Shreve, Pemberton, Sept. 2, 1898: 
Two of the three pheasants have raised broods of young; 
J have lost trace of the other female. You would be sur- 
prised at the enthusiasm manifested by those who are 
not sportsmen over the liberation of these birds. 
From Mr. W. E. Young, Chester, Sept. 5. 1898: The 
ring-necked pheasants sent me last spring I turned out 
the first of April, and from what I can learn three of 
the hens have hatched and possibly the fourth. The 
broods were of about a dozen each. One brood had the 
misfortune to be run into by a mowing machine and 
about half of the young ones were killed. The mother 
bird, however, escaped with the balance of the brood, 
With that exception they are doing well. The people — 
both sportsmen and others— are taking a great interest 
ill the work of the Fish and Game Commission m trying 
to introduce these beautiful birds, and almost daily some 
one tells me of having seen some of the birds. All agree 
that it was unfortunate that the Legislature by an act 
did not protect the birds for at least three years. Never- 
theless the sportsmen have agreed not to kill any this 
fall, trusting that the next Legislature will afford the 
desired protection. Owing to the extreme heat, I have 
not looked around personally lately, but I am satisfied 
with what others tell me that the birds have done very 
well. If the birds do not leave their present location we 
intend to build booths of brush, etc., and feed them 
regularly through the winter. I fed the birds last spring 
after I had turned them out, and I find by so doing 
they will not scatter much. They all remained within a 
circle of one mile. 
From Assemblyman John J. Quaid, Sayreville, Sept. 
5, 1898: The ring-necked pheasants have done very 
well, but not as well in proportion as the quail. 
From Mr. William J. Husted, Mays Landing, Sept. 
6, 1898: The pheasants sent to me are doing nicely. 
The country down here is just to their liking. I have 
planted twenty-five acres of grain for the use of the quail 
and pheasants. I often see the old birds and their young 
out feeding in the afternoon. I am very proud of the 
birds, and will protect and do the best I can for them. 
From Mr, M. Warner Hargrove, Browns Mills, Sept. 
9, 1898: I have delayed an answer to your letter inquir- 
ing my experience with the ring-necked pheasants sent 
me in April, 1897, that I might give the matter more at- 
tention toward a satisfactory and truthful reply. At this 
date I am not able to report that the birds have been a 
success. I believe every hen or nearly so hatched out 
young, which appeared to thrive well during the sum- 
mer and fall of 1897. During the gunning season I made 
strenuous efforts to protect them, and with such suc- 
cess that I learned of only three birds being killed. _ A 
number were seen during the winter and early spring 
which had wintered over, but I have not heard of any 
being seen around for some time, while I hear of a 
number being seen further out in the country. Browns 
Mills is directly on the edge of the mammoth pine dis- 
trict of southern New Jersey, and from this I am led 
to believe that the ring-necked pheasants are not suited 
to forests, but that they will thrive better and spread in 
semi-open and farmed land. The effort on the part of 
the commissioners to introduce such a game bird is 
commendable. I might add that a gentleman who killed 
and ate one tells me the flesh was excellent eating. 
From Mr. Julius Munch, Preakness, Sept. 15, 1898: 
The half-dozen ring-necked pheasants sent me gave me 
a desire to attempt the raising of these birds on a 
more extensive scale, and I accordingly secured two 
dozen more, and I am glad to say that I am more than 
gratified with the result. I was wholly inexperienced, 
and to this I attribute the loss of many young birds. I 
first attempted to induce the hen pheasant to sit, but 
did not succeed. I watched the bird very closely and 
thought she showed a determination to sit, as she was 
most of the time crouched on the ground in a nest she 
had made in the sand. I permitted her to keep her own 
eggs, and added others to it, but the bird never sat more 
than five or ten minutes at a time, when she would get 
up and run away for several minutes, after which she re- 
turned to her eggs. I saw that she would not hatch, and 
so I took all but two of the eggs away from her, and 
she spoiled these two. 
I found that I had the best success with game and 
bantam hens, the only objection to the latter being that 
they cannot cover more than eight eggs. I hatched 
out nearly every egg in this way. 
At first I started near my house in small boxes, with a 
little runway for the chicks, keeping the hen shut up in 
the box. Rainstorms -killed from thirty to fifty chicks 
a day, and so I abandoned this method and placed the 
hens and chicks in the woods, where I gave the little 
ones more runway. I think this obviated the difficulty, 
lor after that I did not lose more than one or two 
chicks a day, and some days none at all. It is my 
opinion that most of the losses were due to the fact that 
the chicks did not have enough exercise to keep the 
body heat while I had them near the house. 
I think the birds have locality very well developed, and 
do not believe that they will wander far from any place 
where there is food and shelter. Even the chicks showed 
this to a remarkable extent, and it was amusing to 
watch them at feeding time. At one time I had as 
many as two dozen broods in the woods, each brood 
with its own enclosure and feeding box. The chicks 
wandered at will in the woods, but when feeding time 
came they each repaired to its own box and never have I 
seen a chick from one brood eat out of a box placed for 
another brood. It was very amusing to see them scur- 
rying about looking for their own particular feed box 
and paying no attention to the boxes used by the others. 
I had the woods fenced in with wire netting, but occa- 
sionally some little fellow developed sufficient strength 
of wing to get over the fence without having sagacity 
sufficient to find its way back. When we opened the 
fence sufficiently to permit it to come back, it made a 
direct line for its own feeding box, passing others by 
on the way. 
Of course a number escaped, and others I liberated 
purposely. I should suppose that over 100 thus got 
away from my enclosures, and these are in the woods or 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
fields adjoining, excepting, of course, such as were de- 
stroyed by hawks. I have over 200 of the birds, either 
old or half-grown, now in my enclosures. 
The Vermont Deer Protected. 
[Dec, 3, 1898. 
m 4t\d ffit er ^isfyng. 
Proprietors of fishing and hunting resorts will find it profitable 
to advertise them in Forest and Stream. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The Vermont Legislature, although it did a bad thing 
in cutting down the amount of the fish commission ap- 
propriation, passed two measures of great value to the 
cause of game protection. One was a measure to pro- 
hibit the sale at any time of the ruffed grouse, commonly 
called partridge. The other prohibits the killing of 
deer and their kind for the next four years. The deer 
law comes just in time, as this year many more deer were 
killed than last, and the measure will at least preserve 
the survivors for purposes of propagation, It seems very 
strange that a Legislature that had in years past so 
carefidly fostered the few deer we had in Vermont should 
allow an open season as was voted four years since. 
That enabled hunters to kill the semi-domesticated ani- 
mals, and to place the numbers of deer back to where 
they were a quarter of a century ago, when the deer 
protection legislation was first inaugurated, but as the 
sagacity of Green Mountain Solons has become prover- 
bial, especially in game law matters, the fact is not to be 
wondered at. Kenewah. 
Diagnosed the Dog's Trouble Wrongly. 
Camden, N. J., Nov. 19. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
The abundance of quail seemingly everywhere is grati- 
fying to any lover of this sport. Yesterday with all the 
unfavorable conditions I was tempted to take my gun 
and dog through the misty rain and drove to Haddan 
Heights, only six miles from here, thinking it would be 
amusement to me, if only to give my dog a run. In 
making my way to the woods where they naturally 
abound for shelter in wet weather, I was compelled to 
hurry to relieve my dog of being fastened in what I 
thought a barbed wire fence. He looked to me as if 
he were in great agony. I had not quite reached him, 
when to my surprise a covey of a dozen or more birds 
arose, and he quickly fell, seemingly exhausted. You 
can imagine the rest. G. E. Rhedemeyer. 
South-Bound Geese. 
Essex. N. Y., Nov. 23. — Editor Forest and Stream: A 
great flight of wild geese, estimated to number 4,000, 
passed over this place to-day going south. They were 
flying low, and the noise made by their wings was 
sufficient to attract people living near the line of flight 
to doors and windows, and even in some instances to 
scare horses into running away. 
The symmetrical, harrow-shaped formation was pre- 
served, though the flock was separated into some twenty 
divisions. This is the largest flight of geese seen in this 
neighborhood for years. B. 
The Kentucky "Swamp Hen." 
Somerset, Ky., Nov. 23. — A pot-hunter came in to- 
day with a dozen quail and one woodcock. On a pur- 
chaser buying the quail, he said, "T will throw in the 
swamp hen," so you can see in what high regard this fine 
bird is held by our country people. J. M. R. 
PRIZES FOR AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHS, 
The Forest and Stream offers prizes for meritorious 
work with the camera, under conditions which follow: 
The prizes will be divided into three series: (1) for 
live wild game; (2) for game in parks; (3) for other sub- 
jects relating to shooting and fishing. 
(1) For live game photographs three prizes are of- 
fered, the first of $50, the second of $25, and the third of 
$10. 
(2) For live game in parks, for the best picture, a 
prize of $10. 
(3) For the best pictures relating to Forest and 
Stream's field — shooting and fishing, the camp, camp- 
ers and camp life, sportsman travel by land and water, 
incidents of field and stream — a first prize of $20, a sec- 
ond of $15, a third of $10, and for fourth place two prizes 
of $5 each. 
There is no restriction as to the time nor as to where 
the pictures have been made or may be made. 
Pictures will be received up to Dec. 31 this year. 
All work must be original; that is to say, it must not 
have been submitted to any other competition or have 
been published. 
There are no restrictions as to the make or style of 
camera, nor as to size of plate. 
A competitor need not be a subscriber to the Forest 
and Stream. 
All work must be that of amateurs. 
The photographs will be submitted to a committee, 
who, in making their award, will be instructed to take 
into consideration the technical merits of the work as 
a photograph, its artistic qualities and other things be- 
ing equal, the unique and difficult nature of the subject. 
Photographs should be marked for identification with 
initials or a pseudonym only, and with each photograph 
should be given, answering to the initials, the name of 
sender, title of view, locality, date and names of camera, 
and plate or film. 
Marked Zero. — Teacher: "What does the word mar- 
supial mean?" Tommy: "Carrying a oouch." 
Teacher: "Give an example of a marsupial." Tommy: 
"A tobacao smoker."— Chicago Tribune, 
A Summer at Clearwater. 
Clearwater, Fla., twenty-five miles north of Tampa 
Bay, though set down as inland on some of the maps, 
lies on a sheet of water that is separated from the Gulf 
only by small islands and narrow sand keys. My visit 
there was from May to October, a season when many 
kinds of fish were away in deeper water, but my experi- 
ence even at that time may be of use to readers of your 
paper who come South in winter. 
We arrived at the above town about midday, after 
making a trip that lay throiigh pine barrens nearly all 
the way from St. Petersburg, and saw both the "harbor" 
and the Gulf of Mexico for the first time through an 
opening beneath live oaks at the end of the street leading 
from the station. The view was a pleasing one. The 
outer limits of the "harbor," or bay, were marked several 
miles from shore by palmetto islands and two narrow 
sand keys, the latter separated nearly off the street by a 
"pass." The water thus enclosed was composed largely 
of grassy shoals, submerged at the time by a half-tide 
that colored the surface with as many tints as there are 
in a shell. Innumerable channels like blue ribbon drop- 
ped at random wound through the flats. Far out the 
Gulf lay, a dark contrast between the white surf at the 
keys and the distant horizon. To us the sparkling scene 
beyond the shady street was a glimpse of a strange world. 
Our first afternoon was spent on a pavilion at the end 
of a pier that extended 600ft. out from shore. The air 
was delightful after sandhill blasts of the interior. We 
reveled in the extent of our new horizon, after six - 
months inland, where pine trees cut the vision to short 
range. The bay was a lively scene. The change indeed 
was in every way agreeable to us. 
Schools of fish leaped as if they entered into our ex- 
hilaration. Porpoises that rolled by with heart-racking 
heaves had evidently labored a great distance. Peli- 
cans, cormorants, and other strange birds, on stakes and 
frying about, croaked incessantly, pleased with their ser- 
enade. Sailboats, large and small, surely in numbers un- 
usual, nested in foam, tacked about^fn hopeless confusion 
till eyes ached with watching. Soon the sun dropped 
from sight, with no preliminary change except a slight 
reddening of its face, with no afterglow, but as if a fire 
ball that extinguished in the Gulf. Stars appeared in- 
stantly overhead, and brighter ones back of town where 
night shot up. The bay glowed with phosphorescence 
where disturbed. The posts under the pier were circled 
with light. Leaping mullet made streaks and flashes. 
Every school of minnows was a milky way. Large fish 
shone according to size. Tt was all much as if we stood 
on our heads, and saw past our feet a sky luminous 
with shining fish. I retired that night haunted with what 
I had seen, to dream afterward of things besides ordinary 
sport. 
The next morning I went down town to buy tackle 
and learn about the fishing. Storekeepers are not always 
the most reliable informants when what they say affects 
the sale of goods, but often they drop useful remarks. 
"Yes, sir, I have plenty of tackle, the best in town too, 
and the cheapest. There is fine fishing about here; 
nothing like it any other place in Florida. Only the 
other day a boy caught a 3001b. jewfish off the public 
dock. I sold the line. And as for trout — I am tired of 
them. The old man that takes care of your pier does 
more fishing, and catches more too,, than any other per- 
son in town. He buys his stuff from me. Won't have 
anything but Limerick hooks, because they are Irish too. 
See him?" 
Dennis, the old caretaker, was willing to tell me more 
than he knew about the fishing. I remember distinctly 
part of his instructions: "Cut up some mate as fine as 
ivver you kin," he said, "thin ketched a minny and bait 
wid the same, and if the fish is feeding it won't be tin 
minutes maybe before the biggest trout thot ivver you 
seen grobs the minny, and if the fish ain't biting you 
might be sitting wid yoiir line up a tree for all of thim 
whicht you will .ivver ketched. Fish from the south ind 
of the pavilion." 
And I tried right where he told me a week for trout 
and did not get even a nibble. 
It became my turn to coach when another victim set- 
tled next door, by showing him how scarce the fish were 
about the piers. I even went out in his boat with him a 
number of times without changing the luck. We knew 
every house along shore after awhile, and every craft on 
the bay, but caught few fish. Scorching sun blistered 
patterns on our faces and about our shirt collars. At 
times we were driven to shelter. While cooling off under 
a pier on one occasion, we discovered good sheepshead 
fishing among the piles. These fish are worthy of notice, 
for they know how to utilize their surroundings, and a 
5-pounder can make half an hour of saving tackle from 
piles and sharp barnacles very interesting. As they 
seemed to be nearly the only fish around the piers, we 
spent much of our time during the very hot weather 
in catching them. And we enjoyed it. The landing of 
a troublesome large one meant a smoke, and sometimes 
a song, for John could sing, and at such moments of 
exhilaration gave his favorite, "You shan't play in my 
back yard," to an accompaniment of bumping boat and 
flopping fish; music indeed, I thought, only equaled by 
running hounds. 
The sheepshead were caught with sand-fiddlers. When 
we walked along shore these small one-clawed crabs 
formed wheat-colored waves that swung to and fro be- 
tween holes above the highest tide and water to points 
far ahead, till our near approach caused them to hunt 
their dens. When we stopped, however, the ones that 
had vanished down holes near by appeared again and 
signaled with large claws to friends up the line. To do 
this, they scuttled to one side and waved, then to the 
other side and waved, rising to the tip of their hindlegs 
at each swing of a claw, till the same performance was 
going on as far up the beach as crabs were visible. They 
were like cadets at flag practice, or engineers at work, 
