428 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June 3, 1899. 
ingj atid the party started for the fields, but a!i in strong 
doubt as to the weather, the sky frowning threateningly 
upon us when wc made onr first venture into the cover, 
The landlord, thinking his chance among so many guns 
but a slim one, concluded to stroll on ahead to some 
woods on our course, in hope that he might pick up a 
stray gray squirrel ; as his claim for marksmanship on 
the' wing he positively declared to he but second to his 
efforts at a "squirrel perehed on a limb anywhere within 
35yds. 
The party had picked up some five or six woodcock, and 
were neari^fe the landlord's field, when the sonnd of his 
giixi was heard to ring out hut a little ahead; and the 
verdict of ^ the part}^ was vinaiiimous that he had found 
his squirrel. In a short time we came Upon him busy in 
the brush doing both the work of dog and hunter, -with a 
partridge sticking out of his pocket, which was pro- 
nounced the largest ever seen by any one of the pari*-. 
"Then, this is your trick!" says the Colonel. "You had 
an engagement wdth that bird," says another. But upon 
assurance that it had been entirely an accident, and he 
believed he had shot with both eyes shut, we willingly 
pardoned him and commenced a search for tlie other 
bird, which he assured us had risen at the same time. 
After spending much time going over all the grounds for 
acres around, we left for the road some eighth of a mile 
ahead, where, by appointment, we were to be met by the 
wagons for lunch. It w'as punctually on hand ; lunch 
was served, the wagons were dispatched ahead to join us 
some three miles from there. Accordingly, we took to the 
woods and were profitably in-iproving the afternoon 
when the rain began to come down, and we had to seek 
shelter itnder the trees. As soon as it let up a little we 
set out on our homeward tramp, occasionally diverging 
to an alder swale, and bagging a woodcock. _We joined 
the ladies, who had been nicely sheltered in a farm- 
house, and our outing was over. Nothing now remained 
but to pack up, go home, and live over its pleasures. 
Sid Bromley. 
Among the Grays. 
"Day befoi'e yesterday went to. Bee Hollow; killed nine. 
Yesterday went out on Buck Run; killed fourteen. All 
on the hickories. Good time to come now. Yours truly, 
— George H." 
That is the way the card read, and it told the whole 
story. Monday morning earlj^ I caught the train, and at 
9 o'clock was talking it all over with George. After a 
chat with all the family we went early to bed, for Bee 
Hollow was three miles a\vaJ^ and the gray squirrel is an 
earljf riser. After a nap of what I thought about three 
minutes, I heard a voice saj% "I thought you were going 
with me this morning." Soon we were off. Swiftly 
we walk half an hour, when we stop at the foot 
of Locust Knob, a famous place for squirrels and the 
highest point anywhere around. George, a prince of good 
fellows, tells me, "Go tip to the top of this knob and fol- 
low the ridge around. T will go up this other side and 
meet you at the head of the hollow." T obey and slowly 
start up the steep hillside. It is a long, hard, climb and 
I am about out of breath Avhen I gain the top and sink 
down on a nearby log to rest and see what T can see. 
The early birds are just beginning to wake up; day is 
rapidly breaking: not a breath of air is stirring and si 
lence is the order, ss,ve for the song of birds. Sitting 
-there I watch the cast grow red and light up with the 
rising sun. Suddenly the stillness is broken by tl»e 
roar of George's Remington with 35^drs. of good old 
black powder. How it startled me and what a noise it 
did make in the oppressive stillness. I hear a slight sound 
off to my left and quickly turn, to sec a gray seated on a 
limb about 253'-ds awajr. a nut in his mouth. He has been 
watching me all this time and is now ready to vanish at 
the least move. Slowly I raise the gun; it comes into 
line, there is a sniteful crack of the nitro and down he 
drops. Quickly T go to him and admire his sleek coat, 
i' am sure I am even, unless George killed two at his 
shot, which is not likely. ! sit on a root and watch when 
pL sunbeam shoots bv and lights up the whole knob and 
I see the shadows fall down the steep hillsides. O, w^hat 
a picture nature paints for us out in the wood in the early 
morning, and in fact at all times of the day, if we are 
only there to see and enjoy them. 
I am about lo forget I am out squirrel linnting, when 
the rustle of a b'ough causes me to look quickly around 
and T spy one coming my way. He comes fast; now he is 
near enough and I put him in the pocket for companv 
with, the other one. George has fired three times and I 
feel that I am one behind; but I fail to get sight of any 
more, so start slowly along the ridge. T^ooking about 
300yds. ahead. I see the top of a tree shaking, and know 
at once that I have a piece of stalking on hand. .As eas- 
ily as possible I go for 25yds. Here is a strip of corn. 
I step into it and on the plowed ground make no noise 
at all and easily get within 25yds. of the tree, when I see 
that it is a small hickory and that there are four squirrels 
on, it, one near the base, one about half way up. the other 
two in the very top; and all cutting as hard as they can. 
I plan out how to get all of them. I watched them a 
moment, but the report of George's gun reminds me 
that i am surely behind. I take the one on the base and 
cfe-op him dead; the one about half way up starts down, 
but my aim is good, and down he falls nearly on top of 
the other one. As quickly as T can T open the gun, slip 
in fresh shells and am just in time to catch the third one 
on the end of a limb ready to jump, and catch the fourth 
one in the air as he leaps out far down the hill. I get all 
four of them now quicker than T write this, and T hugged 
itiyself with joy at the neatness, and dispatch with which 
the work was doUe. Then I sit down and enjoy the beau- 
tiful morning. I have six; thai is enough. It is not all of 
hunting to kill: but we must be at least partially success- 
ful to enjoy anything. So far I am out six shots and have 
got six squirrels — a good deal better ratio than I am 
used to. Finally I take the path to the place of meeting. 
Going slowly and silently along I see one, and it takes two 
shots to put him with the others. I see another one oit 
the root of a large tree, fire at it and never see hair nor 
hide of it again — a sudden and mysterious disappearance. 
The hour is getting late; they have quit cuttiiig. I hear 
George's "Whoo-e-e," and go to meet him. He has fired 
nine times, so I feel that he is ahead; but he did not have 
his shooting- cap on to-day,for he only had four to show. 
Taking it leisurely along, we get home at 10 o'clock. I 
am extren-iely well satisfied with my hunt. On stepping 
into the 3'ard a good, motherly woman hands me a glass 
of buttermilk, and behind her stands a lovely young wo- 
man who asks, "How many did you get?" George lays 
out on the grass his four; I lay out alongside of them my 
seven, whereupon that maiden says, "O, I am so glad!" a 
blush mantling cheek and brow. "You got enough to 
make a good squirrel pie," and turning fled into the house 
to hide that blushing face. Afterwards she confided to 
me that she had started to say, "I am so glad you beat 
pa." I was glad, for I learned a thing that I was not so 
fully posted on as I wished to be. 
I was so well acquainted with George that I did not 
boast of my success, a compliment he returned the next 
day, when he beat me two to one. 
Ten years have gone since this day's hunt was enjoyed, 
yet the memories of that week, its successful squirrel 
shooting, the delicious watermelons we ate, the compan- 
ionship of congenial spirits, all go to make it a red-letter 
week in my life. J. D. 
Ohio. ' 
Game, Forests and Indians. 
Toronto, May 23. — Editor Forest and Stream: When 
near the close of the present century, it may not be out of 
place to take a retrospective view of what has been ac- 
complished in game extermination in the United States 
and Canada during the last half of it. It may also be in 
order to alltide to the unwise methods indulged in that 
have produced such undesirable results. Within the rec- 
ollection of many of the readers of Forest .-vnd Stream 
game and fish were abundant all over North America. 
The woods were full or ruffed grouse, the prairies teemed 
with untold numbers of prairie fowd, the cultivated lands 
with quail, the swamps with woodcock and snipe; in many 
parts of the country wild turkeys were found in abun- 
dance, our lakes and marshes contained millions of ducks 
and other waterfowl. 
Referring to the game animals of the woods and prai- 
ries, we have an object lesson of what the greed and 
selfishness of men can accomplish in the extermination of 
the buffalo. This increasing greed and .selfishness is hav- 
ing similar effects on the game and fur-bearing animals 
still remaining. This is also applicable to the fish with 
which nature has so abundantly supplied our beautiful 
lakes and rivers. Nature never intended this grand her- 
itage of the woods and waters bequeathed to her chil- 
dren to be abused or even used for the exclusive benefit 
of combinations. Capital has its uses, but it should not 
lie used for the purpose of enriching a few, resulting as in 
the case of the buffalo in the practical extinction of both 
game and fish. Recent events in which wise restrictive 
provisions have been repealed should not pass unnoticed 
by the genuine .sportsmen, rich or poor, 'who delight in 
tlie pleasure derived from an outing in the woods and 
not from the amount of fish or game killed. They have 
the remedy in their own hands. County and State clubs 
should be formed and committees appointed for the pur- 
pose of watching legislation and checkmating the foul 
wurk of lobl)yists in the interest of condiines. 
it is difhcult to realize that there are men so short- 
sighted as to oppose forest reservations and subsequent 
reforestry. It is reasonable to suppo.sc that with the im- 
mense increase in population and an increasing foreign 
demand for the products of American and Canadian for- 
ests, that fifty i'ears hence a stick of tinilser will be almost 
as great a curiosity as a buffalo is at present. Forest res- 
ervation on a large scale and reforestry are the onlj^ rem- 
edy. The governments should set apart for reserves and 
leforestry large portions of the public domain from which 
the timber has been taken. Large tracts of Uiese lands 
have already a vigorous growth of young trees on them 
and nature should receive all possible assistance in her 
eft'orts to assert her rights in the interest of her extensive 
family. The value of forests independent of money real- 
ized from the sale of timber is too well known to require 
further reference thereto. The Government of Ontario, 
at the request of the Honorable Commissioner of Crown 
I^ands, has recently set apart a large portion of the east- 
ern part of the Province for reforestry. T am informed 
that large tracts are to be set apart for this purpose from 
year to year. This wise policy will not only have the 
eft'ect of preventing the rivers and streams from becoming- 
mere rivulets, but will also provide food and cover for 
our valuable game and fur-bearing animals. 
A radical change is required in the management of 
Indian affairs, both in the United States and Canada. If 
one-half the money had been spent in teaching the In- 
dians how to farm and become independent and self sus- 
taining instead of herding them on reserves and making 
paupers of them, it would \vA\e been in the interests of 
alt concerned. A late distinguished Canadian statesman 
is credited with saying that the only good Indian is a 
dead one. I am not prepared to accept that statement. 
The Indians of the present are to a large extent w^hat we 
ha\x made them, by taking every possible mean and dis- 
honest advantage of them; nothing has ever been done 
to obtain iheir confidence and respect by dealing hon- 
estly with them. On the contrary, traders and companies 
have taken ever3' opportunity of robbin,g them, resitlting 
in demoralizing them to a disastrous extent. 
Early writers state that previous to the Indians' contact.- 
with the whites they were moral, honest and truthful. As 
evidence of this we have only to refer to the works of many 
of those truly great and good men, the pioneer mission- 
aries. The Indians as well as the game have been forced 
back from time to time by what we have been pleased to 
term the advancing tide of civilization. This process ha? 
in a large measure compelled the Indians to kill game and 
fur-bearing animals at all seasons to enable them to eke 
out a miserable existence. If this sj^steni is continued, it 
is only a question of a few years when the Indians and the 
game they depend on cannot be forced further back and 
both will forever disappear from the North American 
continent. Can such an undesirable result be prevented? 
I am sanguine enough to believe it can. It has been truly 
said that Great Britain is far more indebted to her honest 
and upright civil officials for her Eastern possessions 
than to the army or navy. 
Indians are not all as represented to be. Many are ht- 
telligent, and some educated. These should be instructed 
by the powers that be to confer with their respective tribes 
and endeavor to convince their ler Wored brethren how 
unwisely they are acting in the useless and often unnec- 
essary slaughter of large game and fur-bearing animals. 
The Government should also have the Indians removed 
from the unproductive reserves and given the same facili- 
ties for making a living on productive lands awarded to 
natives inferior to them in many respects from other 
countries. This, with a systematic policy of forest res- 
ervation and reforestry will eft'ectually prevent game ex- 
termination in North America, is the opiniion of 
Ranger. 
Uncle Jimmy ^s Last Bear. 
Uncle Jimmy Mooee was one of the pioneers of Ohio,, 
settling at Waynesville in 1802. He was my grand- 
mother's youngest brother, and came to see us every 
year. He was ninety years old when I first knew him; a 
man of square shoulders, well-built frame and massive 
head, covered with snow-white hair. The face was old 
and wrinkled, and the cheeks and lips sunk in about the 
toothless jaws, and a chronic disease of the eyes compelled 
the wearing of goggles. He wore the typical old-time 
Quaker hat, wide of brim and high of crown, gray in 
color and made of beaver fur. He was not well versed in 
the ways of urban society, but was one of nature's warm- 
hearted children, Avhose affections overflowed toward 
everyone around him. Once a year, in the month of 
August, he drove ninety miles to see our old gr.andmother, 
who was his only sister, and her children. To us, the 
grandchildren, he was a curiosity, a living being from 
that mysterious time when Indians and "painters" and 
bears possessed the land. Like all very old people his 
memory was full of reminiscences which a little invitation 
would induce him to relate, and many were the life stories 
he told while we children hung around him, full of breath- 
less interest. 
One pleasant August evening we were sitting on the 
porch. Uncle Jimmy with us. He sat with his chin resting on 
his big rough hands, which were crossed over the heavy 
buckhorn-handled cane that he always carried. He was 
saying nothing; I wondered what he was thinking about. 
I know now, that his mind was roaming among the years 
of his strong manhood when the days were not half long 
enough, and fatigue a thing he could not comprehend. 
The days when the deer came to eat his young wheat, and 
the bears tore down his corn when it was in "roastin' " 
ear, and the turkeys could be seen catching grasshoppers 
in the clearing. 
Presently father said, "Uncle Jimmy, does thee remem- 
ber the last bear thee killed?" 
Raising his bowed head and looking out across the 
fields a moment, he said, "Yes, I remember it mighty well. 
It must 'a' been nigh fifty years ago. The country had 
got purty well settled up, and we had some neighbors 
within three miles of us. It was in the spring, and I'd 
got the corn planted, an' me an' S'lina had been a-visitin' 
to the neighbor's house, an' was coniin' home 'bout an 
hour by sun. We had a little dog, a young feller, with 
us, and he was ntnnin' round in the woods, huntin'. Bime 
by he set up a great barkin' an' yelpin', an' seemed to be 
chasin' somethin'. Whatever it was, he was chasin' it 
towards us, an' I got up on a log to see what it was. 
Jtist then I seed it was a bear, an' the bear seen I was a 
man, and turned off with the dog still chasin' him an' 
snappin' at his heels, an' then the bear would stop an' 
turn round and strike at the dog, but the dog would be out 
of reach, so the bear couldn't hit him. I knowed the 
bear would tree 'fore long, if the dog kept pesterin' of 
him, an' there was no man in sight. We wus purty nigh 
home, so I told S'lina to run to the cabin an' bring me 
the gun, while I staid and listened so the dog wouldn't 
get out of hearin' of me. 
"By the time she got back, I knowed by the way the 
dog was barkin' that the bear had treed, an' I calkilated 
by the sound that he must be purty nigh a mile away. It 
was then gittin' purty near sundown, an' I started on a run, 
an was purty well blowed by the time I got to where the dog 
was barkin'. I knowed if the bear see me, he'd come 
right down an' run off, an I'd get no shot, so I got down 
an' crawled through the brush till I got a glimpse of him 
in the fork of a white oak, over 200yds. away. They was 
a big poplar, 'bout 80yds. from the tree the bear was in, 
an' the poplar was purty nigh right between ine an' the 
bear, so I got the poplar between me an' the bear, an' 
slipped up to it mighty easy ; but I reckon I must a made 
a little noise, or mebbe the bear thought I was follerin' of 
him, 'cause when I peeped round the poplar he Was lookin' 
right et me, and begun to back down the tree. I kip the 
gun p'inted at him as near as I could, hopin' he would 
stop long enough for me to shoot, but he didn't stop till 
he got about 12ft. from the ground. Then he stopped 
and looked down to see where he would land, ah' I 
knowed in a second he would let go all holts an' hit the 
ground a-runnin', so I took a quick aim behind his 
shoulder an' pulled the trigger, but jist as I pulled, I seed 
him let go, an' he was fallin' before the old flint lock 
went off. The bullet just cut a big gash in the back of 
his neck, an' soon as he hit the ground he started right 
et me. 
"I didn't have a knife, an' I knowed if I didn't get the 
gun loaded 'fore he got there, he would kill me. so I 
jerked the stopper out of the powder horn an' poured 
powder in the gun with one hand, and got a patchin' an' 
bullet out of the pouch with the other. I don't know 
how much powder I put in, but I noticed when I pushed 
the bullet down, that the ramrod stuck out 'bout 6in. fur- 
der 'n common. All this time the bear was comin' for 
me, but the little dog was snappin' at his heels, an' the 
bear turned round at the dog three or four times, but he 
was within loft. of me Avhen I got the bullet down, an' I 
had the primin' to put in yit. T seed T wasn't goin' to 
git the gun primed, so I drawed it back to club the bear, 
but jist then the little dog grabbed his heel an held on. I 
reckon he must 'a' pinched his heel purtj^ sharp, for the 
bear squalled, an' turnin" round on the dog, he nicked him 
up with his forepaws an' stood on his hind feet, huggin' 
the dog so tight he didn't give but one yelp, an' it a mighty 
short one, Then I slapped some primin' in the pan, and 
pushed the muzzle of the gun hard against the bear, be- 
hind the shoulder an pulled the trigger. The bear fell 
over an' let go of the dog. The little feller seemed to be 
dead, but bimeby_ he got his breath that the bear had 
squeezed out of him, an' didn't seem much the worse of 
