48 
FOREST AND STHEAMo 
[Jan. 20, igod. 
of them. Then we took turns working at the brush, one 
standing ready to shoot while the other pulled bushes. 
The birds kept on going out, one or two at a time, and 
it is the honest truth that we killed seventeen of them, 
every last one there was in the flock. When we got down 
to the bottom of the brush pile there was one stick left 
with a few leaves on it, and when we pulled this stick 
away out went a bird, the last one, and we killed it. I 
think it may be some time before just such a thing as this 
happens again in field shooting. I thing this flock of 
quail had been chased by a hawk and badly scared, so 
that they lay just as close as they could. You talk about a 
magautrap and blue rocks, but I want to tell you we had a 
magazine brush pile there, loaded up to the edge with 
quail." 
Illinois Paroquets. 
A friend living in Taylorville, 111., sends in the following 
note regarding the paroquet, which was once common 
all over middle and lower Illinois, but which is now an 
extinct bird as far as this State is concerned : 
"I notice in to-day's Forest and Stream you speak of 
parrokeets, or paroquets, in Illinois. While on a visit to 
my grandfather last week he told me that there used to 
be lots of them in the old tree in the door yard, every 
year." (I have seen persons who remember seeing these 
birds in Illinois.) 
The Planting of Praitie Chickens. 
Mr. Clifford Morris, of Easton, Md., writes further as 
below regarding the planting of prairie chickens. I wish 
very much that some of our Western friends would advise 
Mr. Morris where he can obtain these birds. The correct 
address, as mentioned by Mr, Morris, should be observed, 
and I regret the error which made his communication 
appear to come from Indiana instead of Maryland. He 
writes as below : 
"I see you have very kindly published my letter asking 
your advice about planting prairie chickens, but the 
types make my address, Easton, Indiana, instead of 
Maryland. There is no part of the former State cut up 
by wide water courses, as far as I know, and I am afraid 
any information I may get based on this error in my 
address, will not be of much value. What I principally 
wished to know, was the address of some one who could 
procure the live birds, and I did not know of any one 
better able to tell me than yourself. 
"Our quail season has closed, and I do not know of 
any one who has shot any this season. One covey of 
twelve was seen in my father's woods, and they are the 
only stock we have. 
"Will you kindly correct the error in your next 
'Chicago and the West' and oblige." 
In "Aztec's" Cotfntty. 
All the way from good old San Antonio, Texas, comes 
the following from Aztec, regarding a little panther hunt 
which seems to have occurred in the best social circles of 
San Antonio. The extract is from the San Antonio Ex- 
press, and is printed in a calm matter of fact manner, 
which gives one the utmost confidence in the self-poise of 
that community. I wonder what would happen if panthers 
should begin to break into the hen yards of Boston or 
New York. Aztec writes as below: 
"San Antonio, Jan. g.— I hand you the inclosed for 
your 'Chicago and the West' column. Tamateville is not 
Chicago (yet) , but she is still West, and sometimes wild 
and wooly. My window, as I write, overlooks West End 
Lake, where the ducks rest from their travels. On the 
back gallery my shooting coat hangs brimful of quail and 
squirrels from yesterday's shooting, alongside of the leg 
bone of a fat doe which we have just finished picking. 
If it will stop raining I may go and help capture that other 
panther." 
The clipping follows : 
. "One of the panthers which have been despoiling hen 
coops in the city for the past two weeks, was run down 
and killed in the southwestern edge of the city yesterday 
afternoon by a party of young men of the town. The 
successful hunters were Ed Wilkins, a son of Assistant 
Chief of Police John Wilkins; Robert Campbell, Alfred 
Herman, and a young man named Haerner. The boys 
got on the trail of the animal in the western outskirts of 
the city yesterday morning, and with a pack of dogs 
trailed their game for miles in and out of the city 
limits, until they finally cornered the panther yesterday 
afternoon and ended his career after a desperate struggle 
with the dogs, by a rifle ball. The boys brought the 
body of the panther to the city hall late yesterday after- 
noon as a trophy of their chase. The animal was about 
half-grown, though very powerfully built. It is thought 
that this was the panther which some time ago depopu- 
lated L. P. Schaefer's hen roost on Leal street to the ex- 
tent of over 100 fowls. 
"In the meantime another panther is yet at large in the 
bottoms of the Salado, about five miles east of town. 
This animal is being hunted day and night by a posse of 
farmers of the Salado, headed bv Mr. Seginius The 
animal was trailed with a pack of hounds Friday and 
Saturday from John Wilkin's pasture, southeast of the 
city. The men and dogs have been hanging on the 
animals trail tenaciously ever since. On Saturday the 
dogs got ahead of the party and a sanguinary encounter 
took place between the hounds and the beast, in which 
one of the hounds was killed and another was so seriouslv 
clawed that he too will die. The animal escaped at the 
approach of the hunters. News of the capture of this 
panther is expected at any moment." 
Stop This Sort of Sale of Game. 
Information is at hand regarding a little bit of niarket- 
shootmg which rather takes the palm from anything that 
has offered in this line for some time. I am told that two 
brothers of this State, both of them wealthy, and one of 
them known very well as a shooter in more States than 
1 mois, have been turning their game preserve on the 
Illinois Kiver into a market-shooting resort. A certain 
prominent shooter tells me that he knows these two 
shooters last fall marketed over $700 worth of ducks, and 
te \ 1°%*^ t^'*/!^'' the thousands 
This I take to be the Enghsh system of sport, but one 
hardly needs add that it is not the American idea in these 
days by any means, Men wealthy enough to own an ex- 
pensive game preserve hardly need shoot for the market. 
There are always charitable institutions to which surplus 
game can be given. Indeed, I do not know of any one 
accepted in this country now as a gentleman and a sports- 
man who is accepted on the understanding that he owns a 
game preserve and shoots it for the market. I know some 
gentlemen who shoot for the market because they have to, 
or think they have to, but I do not know of any who shoot 
for the market over their own preserve. This little re- 
port is quietly traveling around, and has excited a great 
deal of surprise and adverse comment. We ought to 
print the names, but will give the men one more chance 
to reform. 
Chicago Fly-Casting Club. 
The Chicago Fly- Casting Club will give another of its 
very entertaining smokers next Tuesday evening, Jan. 16, 
at 6 P. M., at the Union Cafe on Randolph street. There 
will be a nice little attendance, and it goes without saying 
the evening will be passed pleasantly. 
An Artist Among: Indians. 
Away out in the village of Taos, N, M., there is a young 
painter of whom perhaps the world has not yet heard 
very much, but of whom we may all hear more in the 
future. The name of this young man is Bert Phillips, and 
he is still very young, though he is a graduate of the 
Julian School of Paris. In common with many young 
American artists, he felt the attraction of the Western 
country, and a few years ago traveled as far West as 
Denver. He and a friend then started on horseback south- 
ward along the Rockies, seeing what they might see. 
They fell upon the village of Taos, and here Mr. Phillips 
cast in his lot, saying he would go no further. He has 
been there now for a couple of years, studying and paint- 
ing Indians as few have ever done. Last fall the sculptor, 
Mr. Edward Kemeys, of Chicago, discovered Mr. Phillips 
down at Taos, and has much to say in his praise. Mr, 
Phillips can paint Indians, and paint them so that the 
character of each shows beneath the color. He handles 
reds so tliat they mean something more than a smear of 
color. He can show the effect of the red Indian skin un- 
der the glaring sunlight of the Southwest with all the 
lights and shades which the sun makes on copper cuticle. 
One of his fancies is that of an Indian figure seen by 
moonlight, the brave being shown leading his horse, as 
might have been in some forgotten night foray of the 
past. But few specimens of Mr. Phillips' Indians have 
Ijeen seen in Chicago, but they meet with marked appro- 
bation from those able to discern. 
For Golden San Antonio. 
By the way, speaking of the Southwest, and mention- 
ing the sculptor, Mr. Kemeys, one is reminded to say that 
Mr. Kemeys at the present writing is quite ill, and has 
been ordered by his physician to finish the winter at San 
Antonio, Texas. It is much to be hoped that the clean 
sky and good air of golden San Antonio will restore Mr. 
Kemeys to his health long before spring comes around. 
The Story of a Stern-Wheel Duck. 
Chicago, 111., Jain. 12. — There were five days between 
the date of the receipt of a certain letter and the end of 
the Illinois quail season this last fall. The letter was from 
my friend, Major G. W. LaRue, and it ran somewhat to 
the following effect : "Come down here to Powelville and 
help us shoot quail. There are thousands of 'em, and the 
country needs rescuing. I am staying with Powel, because 
I like him. I moved in a few weeks or months ago, and 
am very fond of the folks, and they are of me, so I guess 
I'll spend the winter. Powel's a fine shot, and we have 
birds hung up all the time. He's a fine stock breeder, and 
has running horses, and everything else that's good, in- 
cluding some mallard duck decoys. He's got one drake 
that can swim backward, and I spend an hour every day 
watching him do this. He swims all around the pond 
backward, and seems to take a delight in it. Bring your 
gun. You don't need anything else. Don't fail L." 
At the time I had never met Mr. Powel, but I had 
heard of him, so it seemed very natural to go down to his 
house and live a while. Therefore I packed up kit and set 
out to finish the season with a couple of days of sport. 
Traveling by the Illinois Central as far as Pana, I had to 
lie over for an hour before catching the train to my 
destination, and it was here that there began to happen 
some of the events of a trip not devoid of entertainment 
and adventure. Naturally I was hungry, and cast about 
for a place to get something to eat in the village, and 
fortune brought mc to a little joint with "Short Order 
Lunch Room" over the door. This looked like my club 
at home, so I went in and asked for some ham and eggs. 
The youth who was running the place wanted to know if 
I "meant steak or pork." He didn't know what ham 
meant. I explained to him that it was cut off the hind 
leg of a hog, and he said : "Oh, I know. I've seen it at 
the shop." So he went over to the butcher shop and came 
back with some meat. Meantime his assistant had cooked 
the eggs and set them on the table to get cool. It was 
all happening out in the kitchen, where I had gone to 
help get the meal, it being a trifle cold in the room in 
front. The "ham" turned out to be pork after all, and 
pretty tough, so I explained still further that the hind 
leg had to be smoked before it was ham. "Oh," said the 
proprietor, "I've seen some of that! The feller at the 
shop didn't have any layin' around. When you come 
down next time we'll know what it is, and we can fix 
you up all right. We just bought this place a little while 
ago. an' we don't know much about cookin' yet." 
An hour after my "ham" and eggs adventure I got my 
train, and in another hour I was also a member of Mr. 
Powel's family. Deer heads on the walls, wolf skins on 
the floors, sporting pieces in the dining room, elk antlers 
for hat racks, hunting horns, whips, spurs, paintings of 
noted horses — what would you have? Likewise, a tall 
and insouciant house master, and a good wife who really 
took a genuine interest in sport of the dog and gun. More- 
over, a string of quail, as long a string as your arm would 
measure, hanging on a nail under the veranda roof. More- 
over, Dorothy, a wiry and active pointer, and Win, Major 
LaRue's dog, a handsome setter. So I drew a long breath 
of happiness, and wondered where the Forest and Stream 
luck would take me next. I hadn't been there an hour be- 
fore I told them I liked the place, and intended to move 
down next fall. La Rue said he would be there too. We 
don't know yet what we are going to do with the rest of 
the family, but they took their chances when they asked ua 
to come. (This is just north of the Mason & Dixon 
line, is Powelville, and the Southern air blows easily 
over from below.) 
"But you ought to see that duck," said La Rue. "He's 
positively the only wild duck born in captivity thati 
can swim backward in a circle without stubbing his feet; 
Powel's crazy over ducks. He'd rather kill a mallard 
duck than go to church, and if he hears of a wild mallard 
anywhere that can be shot, or a tame one that can be 
bought, he's after him from that moment. He'll have thi. 
finest flock of mallard decoys in the country. Got seven oil 
'em now." 
We agreed to get up the next morning and have a 
look at the duck swimming backward, early morning 
being described as the best time to witness his feats iti' 
that line, but sat up late that night in talk. Indeed, wha1| 
could be better than to talk, when all about were the 
proofs of sport of earlier times, and when all pointed tc 
further scenes of sport within our grasp, within a few- 
miles of town, within a few hours' reach? Meantime, it 
was well to hear, for yet one more time, five-year-old 
yellow-haired Frances sing "The road to Mandalay," tc 
her mother's accompaniment. Mandalay ! We had if here 
in our eyesight! It might have been the old Moulmeir 
pagoda which on the next morning looked in at our win- 
dow and beckoned invitation. But the day was Sunday 
and we abode within doors. 
That morning, as per schedule, I rose early and hastened 
to the barnyard, in order to see the duck swim backward. 
The duck was in the pool, with several of his kind, but 
they only quackled and clucked, and swam front end 
forward, after the fashion of most ducks. Sleek creatures 
they _ were, these captive mallards, and reputed to be 
cunning in their treacherous art, but as for swimming, 
backward, not once did any one of them even suggest it 
"It's the big storm we've had," said Mr. Powel, apolo- 
getically. "The ice around the edges of the pool perhapj, 
disconcerts the old fellow and makes him afraid tq 
chance it. He does swim backward, though, honest." 
We let it go at that. I may testify that, though I made 
many trips out to the yard, and stood in the snow for ? 
long time, the star performer of the tank drama declinec 
to go to do his turn. Many apologies on the part of hi; 
owner, and many assurances from Major La Rue that h( 
would back that duck against any duck under the skies ir 
a. stern-wheel race in any sort of water. This left the 
visitor polite, but in an embarrassing position, for I wa? 
tempted to take La Rue's wager, though no instance was 
at hand of a duck that ever did swim backward. 
The failure of the bird to perform seemed to unsettle 
my friends in their firmest convictions. "We've beer 
having the best kind of a time up till now," said La Rue, 
"We've had splendid weather, and the birds have been sc 
thick we could walk out of town any afternoon and kill 
twenty or thirty if we wanted to. The walking has beer 
good, and we have never had any trouble in finding the 
birds. Now yoti've come down here, and it has snowed a 
foot deep and got cold enough to freeze alcohol. I| 
wouldn't surprise me if we didn't see a bird, now. Wha< 
made you come, anyhow?" 
I suggested firmly to the Major that I had come on hL 
own invitation exclusively, and that Mr. Powel had not 
asked me ; but that, having come, I was not to be driven 
away by any slight cause, because I liked the place as weU 
as he did. "Well, I don't care," he grumbled, "there's 
something wrong. It used to be one of my daily pastime? 
to go out and watch that duck swim backward. It was my 
morning diversion, my eye-opener. Now see what you've 
done. He won't swim at all. Looks mighty bad, to raei 
However, we'll start to-morrow morning and ride out a 
dozen miles or so into the country, and we'll show yott 
where Warren (Mr. Powel) and I killed thirty quail in 
less than an hour one afternoon. We put up half a dozer 
coveys right around the door yard, and the farmer said 
he _ had never seen a quail shot before, or seen a dog on ? 
point, and he had never eaten a quail. We showed him 
all those things, and he asked us to come back again 
We'll go out there and live with him awhile." "Alj 
right," said I; for by this time I was getting quite 
pleased with this notion of going and living with folks, 
and I had the utmost confidence in La Rue's judgment!^ 
So we went the next morning, Mr. Powel, Major La Rue 
and myself. Of which it is to be continued. 
480 Caxton Boildikg, Chicago, 111. 
Rhode Island Notes. 
Prowdence, R. I., Jan, 13.— Editor Forest and Stream:' 
Reynolds Lillibridge, the noted trapper and hunter of 
Exeter, died of an affection of the heart at his home Tues- 
day, aged sixty-two years. Mr. Lillibridge was widely! 
known by sportsmen in this and other States, many of 
whom used to visit his home in the northern portion of 
Exeter, near the East Greenwich line, in search of game, 
and were right royally entertained by the old hunter and- 
his amiable wife. 
James A. Borden, of Scituate, shbt a deer in the woods 
of that town a few days ago. The animal was a young 
buck, and was dropped at 40 yards with a charge of No. 2 
shot. He tipped the scales at 136 pounds. Although 
sportsmen in this State have set free several deer within 
its boundaries and some few escape from parks or wander 
across the Massachusetts and Connecticut lines, yet a 
sight of one is a rare occurrence in Rhode Island woods 
W. H. M. 
American "Wild Rice m Foreign Watefs* 
Messrs. Northrup, King & Co., of Minneapolis, re- 
ports that through their advertising in Forest and Stream 
they have made shipments of wild rice for planting in 
wildfowl waters in Berwickshire, Scotland, and in New' 
Zealand and Australia, 
The FosEST and Stream is put to press each week on Tuesday. 
Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at the 
latest by Monday and as much earlier as practicable. 
