Feb. i8, 1899.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
127 
west and Southwest, having yielded results of great in- 
terest. 
The Field Columbian Museum is doing a great work, 
the importance of which is continually increasing. This 
handsome and beautifully illustrated report gives an in- 
teresting account of it. 
A Rabbit Frightened to Death. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 
In Mr. Fred Mather's article of last week he mentions 
the fact of rabbits dying from fright. My period of ex- 
perience has been but a drop in a bucket as compared 
with Mr. Mather's. However, upon two occasions I 
have known rabbits to die of fright. And while walking 
through the fields with a friend, armed with an old mus- 
ket, he had shot at a hawk and was reloading as we 
walked along. I had in my pocket a paper bag of shot. 
The powder was rammed home, and while fishing for 
the shot to expedite matters he fitted on the cap. At 
that moment a rabbit started out of a patch of high grass 
and briers in front of us. Jack raised the old musket, and 
not waiting for the shot, which I held in my hrfnd, took 
a snap shot at about 20yds., and the rabbit rolled over. 
We thought, of course, the wadding had been aimed, 
balled and struck the rabbit in the back of the neck. 
That was not possible, for we found the pieces of news- 
paper which comprised the wadding laying about near 
where we stood. Chas. G. Bt.andford. 
A Big Snake Killed in Manila. 
From the Manila American Soldier. 
In posting his relief the other morning, Corp. Walker 
came upon a large snake of the constrictor species in 
front of the officers' quarters on Calle de Palacin. Sur- 
prise was mutual. No command was given, but the fe- 
lief squad was instantaneously deployed as skirmishers 
and then scarcely in time to avoid the vicious strokes oE 
Br'er Snake, who would strike at a distance of 6 and 8ft. 
However, these islands are ours, and the enemy went 
where the good snakes go. On being measured, the 
snake was found to be gft. 7in. long and loin. around in 
the largest part, with fangs like a pantlier. 
mii^ ^Hg mtd ^nn. 
Red Letter Daysi) 
11. — Gfoase Shooting. 
"It's the unexpected that happens !" 
Who can adequately describe that queen of ^porl, ta 
be got in the mountain wilds and healthy moor of the 
British Isles — grouse shooting? It is at the disposal of 
the favored few, those who have inherited this not com- 
mon kind of territory from their forefathers, or those 
who can rent such lands from the poor, and not 
proud, landlords from well filled purses. The more there- 
fore do you appreciate, when you get it, the aiitumnal 
shoot, commencing the 20th of August on the grouse 
moor. 
The party, limited in numbers, consists of none but 
keen and skilled sportsmen, able to rough it in mountain 
hut, or on mountain side or moor. 
Red, Irish or Gordon setters (pointers are not suit- 
able) must be carefull}^ selected, for strength and train- 
ing, able, if possible, to beat the mountain from morn 
till eve. Failing which a waiting batch of setters have, as 
a rule, to be produced at midday to relieve those unfitted 
for a whole day's work. 
How refreshing the morning bath in cool mountain 
stream ! How enjoyable the early breakfast, and the 
chat with the keeper, as to the prospects of sport, the 
number of birds and their strength in the different packs, 
and as to the modus operandi of the day. Then the 
start. You climb the mountain with springy step, with- 
out the aid of Alpine stock, or without that hideous mod- 
ern invention — the funicular. How clear the air — the 
sanitation is perfect. How picturesque the view from 
each succeeding vantage point the higher you climb — if 
not fit and fresh in physical training the longer you 
pause, "merely to admire the view," the higher you climb. 
Beneath, at your feet, lies a vast belt of green, seen 
through clefts in rain clouds, spreading low along the 
pasture lands, above and around lies a broad waste of 
purple heather, interspersed with yellow gorse. At last 
the highest point of highest mount is reached. 
At this point we divide our force, two guns and two 
keepers, with batch of setters in each party. From this 
point each party takes the route previously decided upon, 
each gun, right or left, as decided. Onwards we move 
in solemn silence. It is a picture to watch the setters 
"quartering" the ground, brushing the dewdrops from 
the heather as they move cautiously to "get the wind" 
of the ground in front. At first they may be somewhat 
wild, but soon they settle down to steady work. A 
whistle sounds to attract their attention, and a wave of 
the hand points to the required direction of the beat. 
A perfect picture, too, to watch them in their ap- 
proach to game. One setter backing the other, as, with 
extended head and neck, the least scent is floated toward 
them over the thick heather. How cautiously they move, 
step by step ! It is a study of animal life ! The gun- 
Tiers, too, eagerly follow every move. Suddenly up goes 
nose and head of the leading setter. Something is at 
fault. A cast is made by both dogs without wave of 
liand or sound of mouth. This is evidently a ruiming 
single bird, an old cock grouse — not a settled down pack. 
Soon fresh scent is found, succeeded by the careful fol- 
lowing up, with quickened pace, by dogs and men, and 
soon there is the well-known sound of the old cock a§ 
he rises from ambush, almost out of shot. No. 12 choke- 
bore, No. 5 shot, "normal powder," the gun held straight 
and the work is done. The first grouse of the season. 
The finest specimen of game that flies comes down with a 
"thud," and is picked up by the keeper. No noise or 
excitement on the part of men or dogs, the latter remain- 
ing at the "down charge," waiting the .order for the for- 
ward movement. 
This goes on, varied by the coming upon a pack of 
grouse inste;^4 pf a single bird, frptp t}rne to time^ until 
the general meet for lunch at the spot previously de- 
cided on, near cool spring, or on bank of mountain 
stream. Here a delightful half-hour for refreshment is 
spent, with the comparing of notes as to the extent of 
the bag, etc. The afternoon shoot, with perhaps a 
change of setters, is similar to that of the forenoon. 
The general gathering in the evening is a happy event. 
Landlord and tenants meet, as they should, on the best 
of terms. Host and guests meet for the evening meal 
and to talk over the doings of the day. Every detail of 
the day's sport is a topic of conversation. Plans for 
to-morrow are made before turning in to sleep the sleep 
of the wear.v. 
It was my good fortune in my early youth to be one of 
the party at the yearly shoot on a certain mountain prop- 
erty in the south of Ireland, rejoicing in the poetic name 
Tourinegrana. My education, ■ therefore, in the knowl- 
edge and practice of gtmning had not been quite neglected. 
Duty, howev^er, that stern disciplinarian, required my 
presence in distant lands; grouse and grouse shooting 
therefore were to mc things of the past, out of sight, 
though not out of mind, till the whirligig of time, with 
many a change and cliance, brought me back to scenes of 
my youth. Again I had a "bid" to form one of the party 
of four on the ancestral property, with grouse in pros- 
pect. The 20th of August the time, .Again there was the 
preparation for the start. The usual drive on Irish car 
to the distant mountain, far from the busy liaunts of 
men; again there was the usual forecast of the total bag, 
as well as of the result of the sktU of each individual of 
the party. 
All save myself being skilled gunners, each with afi en- 
viable record of his own in making a bag, 1 alone re- 
mained silent. I was quite "out of the betting." I had 
no record except of big game in forest or on prairie to 
boast of. My hand had sureb^ "lost its cunning" in small 
game shooting. 
However, "here we are" ! This is the old familiar 
mountain ! Here are the old familiar faces of keepers and 
tenants ! This man marked where fell my first— wounded 
— grouse. That man had shown me where to find my 
first woodcock. Another had taught me how to slip grey- 
hounds on the wild mountain hares. 
All welcome their old master, returned from distant 
lands. All look upon me with sympathy, as having lost 
so much .sport owing to absence from the yearly shoot, 
and in consequence as being an individual who "could not 
hit a haystack." 
Next morning there were the usual preparations for the 
start. Then the mountain climb. How pure the air. 
It is nectar! How delightful the feeling of freedom! 
There to shake off the cares of life in this work-a-day 
world! Here to feel once more "at home"! Yet not 
quite "at home" with these new surroundings. Irish set- 
ters, Irish keepers, with a keen and skilled gunner at one's 
elbow, ready, even without any jealous shooting, to "wipe 
your eye" on your even "miss." But, "what's this" ? The 
setters at a steady set! It's surely an old cock grouse, 
not a running bird. He gets up within range with notes 
of alarm, to warn his comrades far and near, and quite 
sufhcient to alarm and upset the nervous system of any 
novice. How well he flew round to my side; no doubt as 
to whose bird; I cut him down, to my surprise, with an 
inward feeling of "that's not too bad," and an outward 
feeling, among.st all, "The foreigner has been keeping 
his eye in somewhere." "This, however, may be a 
fluke." 
We move on. Soon there's another steady set, then the 
usual working ;ip to the supreme moment of the "rise 
and fall" of grouse. This time we're in a pack of grouse. 
Again I'm in luck, the birds fly round to my side. I ac- 
count for "right and left" shots. My "pal" gets bitt one 
bird. So far there is a "balance credit" to my account. 
This success — or luck— goes on till lunch, when we com- 
pare notes with all gunners. To my joy, I. the "dark 
horse," the "wanderer from the fold," top the score ; I 
am congratulated on all sides. 
This, however, is but a temporary success. After iunch 
we move on. This sort of thing cannot long continue. 
All are now "on their metal. "My "balance credit" must 
be cut down, and yet we had not gone far before I ob- 
serve a bit of ground, which, in my feeble judgment, the 
dogs had not quartered. I walk it up, when, lo ! an out- 
lying old cock grouse tries to "sneak off" without any 
warning notes. I quickly cut short hi.s concern : he falls 
to the ground with a "thud" ; I reload, with a look of 
serene indifference, but with indescribable joy at heart. 
This is followed by a series of successes, with the result 
that, at the evening gathering and comparing of notes, I 
"take the palm," and am looked upon as "the hero of 
the hour." I may add that on the following day my 
hand and eye are again "in"^ — fortune again smiles — and 
on the return to "the settlements" — to the house and 
liome of the landlord — I, "the alien," "the foreigner," 
have "scored," and have thus unexpectedly and unac- 
countably added to my stock of "red letter days." 
Truly, " 'Tis the unexpected that happens." 
Mtc-Mac. 
Fkedericton. 
Another Remarkable Shot. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Mr. Peter Flint's story, "Shots that Happened So," in 
Feb. 4 number reminded me of a remarkable shot, which 
probably never happened with any other person. Two 
days before I started on my hunt with Gen. Brooke, de- 
scribed a few weeks ago in these columns, I went out on 
a good tracking snow to replenish the larder. I started 
up Beaver Creek early in the morning, where' I was 
generally sure of finding deer on the early tracking 
snows. After going about three miles. I found the trail 
of eight deer, made the day before. Following rapidly 
for an hour, T found where they had taken up their 
abode for some time along the side of the mountain, judg- 
ing from their beds in the snow, and the territory over 
which they had pawed the snow for feed. Circling around 
their feeding ground. I soon found their trail, which had 
been made that riiorning, leading toward the creek. , I 
kept on at a good gait, until I found the trail getting 
fresh, then slowed up and followed cautiously where 
they had been feeding. 
"rhe trail finally led across the creek, where I fdund I 
w^as only a very few minutes behind them. 
Moving but a few steps up the creek, I saw a part of 
one body through some alder bushes. The next rcpoi't 
was that of the .45-90, I could see the deer make one 
jump, and it was out of sight. They knew not where 
the disturbance came from; one came dashing out past 
me and stopped at short range. I shot, and it was out of 
sight after making a few jumps. By this time another 
one, which had run away some distance, came back 
straight toward me, and stopped at a good distance, with 
its breast directly toward me. I fired at it and it never 
moved. I fired again, and it just did the same thing as 
before. I "pumped" for the third cartridge, and it wasn't 
there ; the magazine was empty. Taking a cartridge out 
of my belt I shoved it into the barrel just as the deer 
disappeared in the woods. Just let me pause here to 
say that such moments as that when the hunter stands 
alone in the wild evergreen woods with no one nearer 
than several miles, the ground well covered with snow 
and the beautiful gray-coated deer scurrying here and 
there over the white surface, now in sight and then gone 
into the friendly shelter of the woods, are moments of 
supreme delight, which linger long, and fondly in the 
memory, and are pleasant to recall. 
Finding they had all deserted me, I .went first where I 
had shot at the first one, and found it a few yards 
from where I had shot it. I dressed it and went after the 
one I had shot at short range, and found it near by. 
Then I went where the last one had stood while I shot at 
it. There I found great quantities of hair on the snow, 
which suggested to me that I had shot close enough to 
shave the hair off without doing it any injury, since it 
had not moved when I shot. I started on its trail and 
followed but a short distance till the tracks of another 
one joined it. The two traveled together for half a 
mile, then separated. There was no way of distinguishing 
between the tracks of the two deer. One went directly 
toward home, and, of course. I followed it, for it was 
getting well along in the evening. Finding it going into 
a dense growth of spruce along the edge of some old 
beaver dams, and winding about in an aimless sort of 
way, I l<ept a sharp lookout and saw it standing about 
75yds. away, wHere it had been lying down. 1 took a 
quick shot, believing it had seen me, and saw it run, then 
stagger and fall. On coming to it I found my shot had 
gone through its heart. 
Then it was that I discovered the remarkable shot — 
the shot that "happened" so. • 
It was the deer I had been shooting at. The hide was 
cut open on the back from the top of the shoulders to 
the rump, fully 2ft. in length, as clean as could have 
been done with a knife; not a shred of the hide remain- 
ing uncut, and the flesh had not a scratch, and there was 
no blood drawn. The skin had spread open fully 6in. 
on the back, leaving that much of it bare of skin. Of 
course I felt grateful at being thus fortunate in finding 
and killing it after learning of its condition. This was 
the queerest shot of my experience, and what seems so 
strange to me is that it stood still while getting such a 
"ripping up the back." Emerson Carney. 
MORGANTOWN, W. Va, ' 
The Lacey Game Bird Bill. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It occurs to me that gentlemen who believe game birds 
cannot be propagated under human supervision, and 
therefore that measures like the Lacey bill, now before 
Congress, are useless, would do well to study a little the 
historj- of other parts of the world beside their own 
miserable little corner. 
In everything pertaining to bird-shooting for purely 
sporting purposes, the people of the United States, how- 
ever much they may think they know, are comparatively 
in tlieir infancy. Splendid sport with the birds is en- 
tirely consistent with the highest state of cultivation and 
quite dense population, if tlie thing is considered worth 
while. The farming regions of New England and New 
York, where there is a very high per cent, of the acreage 
under cultivation, might yield birds in thousands where 
there now are scarcely any. If you ride from Washing- 
ton in any direction into Marjdand or Virginia, in the 
spring, you are amazed to see the countless thousands of 
young domestic poidtry. They crowd the mother instinct 
of the hen very hard in this region, and often give one 
broad-breasted old clucker thirtj^-five or forty chickens 
to hover and rear. I believe it wottld be easy, in time, to 
have the country swarm with game birds to nearly the 
same degree. People do not shoot the chickens they see 
on a country road. If there was anything like a similar 
common consent about partridges and quail (the "pheas- 
ants and "partridges" of Virginia), the first great point 
would be secured. 
But the thing I. started to say was that in England, 
where they have forgotten more about game birds than 
we shall know for a hundred years yet, as well as about 
how to live your life and have some fun in it, the re- 
stocking of covers with birds is a recognized, common, 
perfectly successful industry. If you will pick up at ran- 
dom a copy of the London Field, or any English sporting 
paper, you will find column after column of advertise- 
ments like these: 
THE PLAS CLOUGH GAME FARM. NEAR 
Denbigh, North Wales, Proprietor, Alfred Jones.- — Pheas- 
ant eggs booked, fresh and fertile, guaranteed 90 per cent., 
but not only to guarantee the fertility, but produce strong, 
healthy, and easy to rear chicks. I have excellent stock 
of fine healthy birds, and every bird fresh; no old stock. 
Thirty-five j'ears' experience in breeding and rearing 
thousands of birds. The old dark ringless breed, 100 
pens; a new cross, 150 pens. 100 cocks of cross for sale 
for pens, and some hens; also wild duck eggs. 
PHEASANTS FOR SHOOTING! PHEASANTS 
for stock! — Large quantity of this and last season's pheas- 
ants for sale, cheap, supplied in large or small quantities. 
— Darvill. The Game Farm, Chartridge, near Chesham, 
Bucks. 
10,000 BRACE HUNGARIAN PARTRIDGES, 
from October to March; 1,000 Elliott versicolor, reeves, 
pheasants and foreign waterfowl. — William Jamrach, 
Stoke Newington, London. 
PHEASANTS' EGGS.— ORDERS NO W BOOKED 
for the coming season. Warranted fresh laid .'■'om the 
