May- 26, igoojl 
AND iStHEAM. 
406 
. and so thoroughly absorbed in prospective pleasure as to 
thoughtlessly run foul of the minnow, and snapping at it 
to cast It out of his pathway became accidentally impaied 
upon the hook? 
Aha! And suppose the minnow was the attacking 
party. "What theni" Suppose the minnow was imbued 
with the ambition of ^sop's frog, and that he thought 
himself big enough and powcnul enough to subdue 
everything in the pond? Ah! who will tell? 
Geo. McAleer. 
Worcester, Mass. 
The Last Adirondack Moose. 
Canton, N. Y., May 14. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
"Ine last moose kiutd. m J\ew i'^ork btate ' has been 
kuicd bO many times that lie ought to be very much dead 
by now. i ao not know wuen ae was killed, but i know 
tms: in DecemDer, ib58 or '59, and i think the latter 
year, Charles Marsn, a resident of tne township of i^me, 
St. i^awrence county, killed a bull moose. Marsh was 
one ot tue old-time woodsmen, though a man in those 
days hardiy more than thirty-live, i-ie hunted, fished, 
trapped, both for fur and for wolves and pantners; made 
mapie bUgar in sprmg, tarmed it a little, and made cedar 
sap buckeis, tinkered guns and watches, etc. irle was a 
quiet, sober, industrious man, knew the woods as an open 
book, full ot resources in a tight place and afraid of 
nothing if his right hand grasped his ritie. He was the 
quickest shot I ever saw outside the professionals, and 
tnought it an unpardonable sin to make more than one 
hole in a tree when he tired both barrels of his rilie, bang, 
bang ! from his shoulder at some little knot a dozen rods 
away. 
At the time I speak of he had a winter hunting shanty 
near the head of Bossout Pond on the headwaters of the 
Oswegachie River, and perhaps a couple of miles within 
the south line of St. Lawrence county, and perhaps three 
miles from the head of Mud Lake, the head of Bog River 
(distances estimated, but I have been over the ground in 
bygone years). One day in deer hunting he struck a 
moose track and followed it a while, then returned to his 
shanty and started out next day with provisions and a 
determination to bag that moose. He got a shot before 
night, as I remember, but only wounded the moose. How- 
ever, he stuck to him and slept on the trail one night (I'm 
not sure but two), and got him. As near as I can remem- 
ber, the finish was in the vicinity of Bog Lake. I was a 
youngster attending district school in Fine. One day 
the venison buyer came along Avith the moose on a 
sleigh and the pupils were given a recess to take a look at 
what they were told was probably "the last moose in 
the woods." 
We were told later that the moose weighed 1,000 
pounds. Later on I became well acquainted with Marsh 
and heard the details of the hunt from him. He was my 
ideal woodsman, and' I have followed him through the 
trackless forest when I wondered if we wouldn't get lost, 
but never knew him to miss the place he was looking 
for by an inch. He has now gone over the Divide, as I 
am told, for he went West in the sixties, and I have not 
seen him since. J- H. R. 
LocKPORT, N. Y., May 12. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Mr. M. Chill reports in your issue of this date that a 
moose was killed in Essex county "between 1855 and 
1858," which he thinks was the last mOose killed in the 
State. In the following I shall not claim to have killed 
the last moose, but that I saw a live one as late as July, 
1850. 
I was stopping with my old friend, H. H. Thompson, in 
the Bank of Whitestown, four miles from Utica, where 
we had to drive every day after banking hours to express 
currency to New York for redemption. (At that time 
all banks had to redeem their own bills as sent from 
the clearing house every day.) After doing our business, 
friend Thompson and I repaired to a bowling alley at 
what was called The City Garden, kept by one Sam Ryan, 
and in this so-called garden was a year-old moose that 
had been brought down the Utica & Black River Railroad 
either from Boonville or Lowville. 
I saw this moose a number of times. I do not remem- 
ber what became of it. but I think that it died there. 
I resided in Utica until 1862 and never heard of any 
moose being killed after the capture of this young one. 
J. L. DA\asoN. 
'.Captive Grottse Breeding. 
I NOTE the paragraph in the current issue of Forest 
AND Stream in which Secretary Brackett, of the Michigan 
Fish and Game Commission, asks that any one finding a 
nest of the ruffed grouse will communicate at once with 
him, presumably for the purpose of obtaining the eggs. _ 
Will the Secretary pardon me for suggesting that he is 
beginning at the wrong end of the chain? It is very 
seriously to be. doubted whether grouse diicks hatched 
from wild eggs under a common hen will survive any 
longer than thev can be kept alive by the nourishment 
absorbed from the egg. Either they will be killed by the 
foster mother (as has been the case in other similar trials) 
or they will utterly refuse to have anything to do with her, 
.and die of exposure and starvation. 
On the other hand, the birds themselves, even if not 
taken till fully grown, will ultimately become quite tame, 
and chicks from eggs laid and hatched out by 
the parent bird in confinement, have every chance that is 
possible under artificial conditions. As some of the 
readers of Forest and Stream will remember, the writer 
obtained from rufifed grouse in confinement two clutches 
of unfertilized and two of fertilized eggs m as many 
different seasons, and iro.m the last clutch secured one 
live chick, hatched by the mother grouse. Unlike her 
distant relatives of the 'JiheaLsant family, the. hen. grouse is 
a faithful and persistent sitter, even in confinement, and 
she may be safelv trusted, under favorable, circumstances, 
to bring chicks from fertilized e^gs, . 
It i^; a long and complicated problem to which Secre- 
tary' Brackett has turneS'.his. attention: int. I.. am. convmced 
that' it can be solved. I. am also'.eqitaIl;ir^ conjTjy^d^ how- 
ever, that he does not want^to b,egjn.jlff&;.o%.J::;',' 
To».E»o, O,^ M.ay 19. ; -- ^ ' ' 
A Paftti<3ge*s Drum at Night. 
Bellows Falls, Vt., May 14.— Last Saturday evening 
while fishing for pouts, a partridge began to drum quite 
near me. 'this was about 8 o'ciock in tne evening, and 
he kept it up at short intervals until I left, a little after 
9 o'clock. Is not this something unusual? The moon 
was shining very brightly, and he was located in a ratner 
open piece of ground that had been burned over last fall. 
H. H. Russell. 
[The drumming of the partridge at night, though per- 
haps not very common, has often been heard, and is 
recorded by many observers. We have heard it at 
various times, usually on bright moonlight n.ghts. It 
seems reasonable to conclude that it is analogous to the 
night singing of birds, which, of course, is common 
among certain species, and much less unusual than it is 
generally thought to be.] 
idttfe md ^nn. 
White-tail Deer. 
Owing to the' diminished numbers and the rapid de- 
crease of the white-tail deer, I now enjoy far less pleasure 
in killing this noble species of game than I formerly did 
when deer were more numerous. I have never ex- 
perienced pleasure in shooting a doe or a fawn for sport, 
and during the past five years I have not attempted to 
kill one of them even for fresh meat. Toward the male 
deer, however, I do not entertain the same feelings, for 
the occasional taking of a buck has much less ettect in 
depleting the species. Furthermore, a buck is more 
cunning than a doe and will often evade the most ex- 
perienced hunter. The man who kills a buck by still- 
hunting generally earns his prize. I well remember the 
experience of my younger days with a crafty old buck 
that made his headquarters on a high bluff about a half 
mile from my father's house. He was truly a monarch of 
the wilderness. I devoted my spare time for three win- 
ters in trying to bag him, but he would as often outwit 
me and escape without injury. He would permit an occa- 
sional glimpse at his branching antlers, and would give 
me a frequent parting salute with his great white tail 
as he botinded off, but I could never succeed in getting 
what I then regarded as a decent shot at him. The last 
season that I hunted him the buck appeared to experience 
a real pleasure whenever he found that I was on his trail, 
for he would circle, sneak, back track and frisk about in a 
BOTH BUCKS WERE NOBLE SPECIMENS. 
tantalizing sort of way, and in an all-day's tracking I 
would not drive him out of a certain paten of brush and 
young timber, containing less than twelve acres. The 
buck appeared to enjoy my company and' had doubtless 
become to regard me as his friend. I finally concluded 
that this particular buck was an animal created to em- 
bellish the forest and animate the solitudes of nature, and I 
accordingly did not further molest him. A year after I 
quit hunting him, and at a time when I did not have my 
rifle with me, he walked out into an open place on the 
brow of the hill and stood for a number of seconds gazing 
at me as if to inquire why I had forsaken him and had- 
ceased to be his companion. As I grew' older and became 
more familiar with the habits of the deer, and became 
more expert in the use of the rifle, I occasionally met with 
better success, but I shall never forget the chagrin, keen 
disappointment and ill-success of the earlier years of my 
hunting experience in pursuit of the white-tail. 
.\lthough this animal is the shyest, shrewdest and most 
difficult to successfully still-hunt of all the American game 
animals, instances sometimes occur, although rarely, when 
it becomes an easy victim to the hunter's rifle. A cir- 
cumstance of the kind fell to my lot during the open 
reason in the fall of i8gg. I started out alone after deer 
early in the morning, leaving the two others of our party 
sound asleep at the camp. Soon after leaving I discovered 
fre.sh bear tracks in the snow, indicating that the animal 
had passed along during the previous night. Thinking 
the bear steaks would be greatly relished by the parties at 
our camp, and being desirotis of obtaining the hide. I 
decided to follow the trail. 
The ground was bare except in now and then a spot 
where a small patch or remnant of snow still remained in 
a sheltered place. It was in one of these scanty patches 
of snow that I first discovered the footprints of the bear, 
but nearly all of the tracking had to be done without the 
aid. of snow, making the work slow' and' tedibus.;'.. - 
It was so late in the season that the, bear^ had 
doubtedly .selected his winter den, and^had onlv sauntered 
out for a short distance; I ,wa.s. therefore; ;in; hopes of 
tracking him to his quarters. " In .thi/. I w?^ disap- 
pointed, for whhin a mite frono camj? T .<^scpyer€d his 
den, which was composed of a mass of leaves and brush 
in a heap beside a fallen tree. After, circling the spot to 
make sure that the bear was in his den, i did not molest 
him, but quietly started back to camp. The others of 
our party would be delighted to take a hand in the killing 
of the bear, and I was anxious to permit them to return 
with me for this purpose.. I had traveled but a few rods 
on my way back to camp, when I became startled by a 
.strange noise ahead. I stopped and Hstened with strained 
ears. 1 could hear clashing sounds and crackling from 
the breaking of brush and small trees. I could also dis- 
tinguish a terrific snorting and blowing. Sneaking tor- 
ward I soon reached a position from which I could plainly 
see, through an opening between the trees, the cause of 
the turmoil. Two mighty bucks were engaged in com- 
bat. It was the first time I had witnessed a fight of the 
kind, and I was grateful for the entertainment the oppor-' 
tunity afforded. With the hair on their backs bristled 
up, the two deer would thrash about, shake their heads 
and circle around, meanwhile facing each other and 
bellowing with all their force. At intervals they would 
make furious charges, their horns would meet, and each 
would make a desperate effort to overcome the other. 
They appeared to be about evenly matched. One of the 
deer was larger than the other, but the smaller of the 
two made up in quickness what he lacked in weight. After 
I had watched the two combatants long enough to satisfy 
my curiosity, I could not resist the desire to take a hand 
in the fray, and accordingly brought my .45-90 into action. 
Buck No. I fell from the effects of a bullet. His adversary 
was in such a violent rage that he did not desist at the 
report of my rifle, but continued to gore his prostrate 
antagonist bj' fierce thrusts with his horns, as if to inflict 
ill-tempered torture to a vanquished foe. At the second 
report of my rifle buck No. 2 went down. The prevailing 
solitude of the forest now settled over us, and all was 
again quiet save for the sounds made by the escaping 
bear. He had become alarmed at the reports of my rifle,' 
had scampered out of his den and departed for his own' 
safety, before I could get sight of him. Although- 
chagrined at the escape of the bear, I felt in a measure: 
recompensed for my inadvertency and the loss of the bear 
by the two deer I had taken. Both bucks were noble 
specimens of their species, and many times hy their crafti- 
ness and cunning had doubtless escaped the cruel purpose 
of the hunter. In their ill-fated quarrel, however, they 
had become careless, reckless and bold. As the two deer 
lay dead on the ground before me, I somehow felt that I 
had taken an unfair advantage of them and did not feel 
proud of my work. A. J. Richards. 
Wisconsin. 
A Persistent Goose. 
Cherrystone Lodge., Cherrystone, Ya., May 3. — Editor 
Forest and_ Stream: It did not take long — after I heard 
from L. that the genial manager of this delightful spot 
had written him that the geese were plentiful m Cherry- 
stone Creek, but would probably clear out for the North 
on that (the April) full moon, ihen only four or five days 
off — for me to hustle my things together and meet L. and 
his pal, as he called him, at the Pennsj'lvania Railroad 
ferry to, catch the 8:55 P. M. for Cherrystone. We were 
met at Cheriton Station by the depot wagon from the 
Lodge at 4:25 P. M., and in twenty minutes were landed 
iiere, guns and baggage. Dinner hour was at 7 P. M., 
and after showing Pal — it was his first trip — over the 
house and cottage row, L.' suggested that we walk down 
to the kennels to see the dogs, and incidentally to view the 
"tame wild geese live decoys." 
Now all guns, as is the rule, had meantime been de- 
posited in the gun room and jealously locked away. 
Cherrystone Lodge is just on the edge of the . water — in 
fact, some thirty or forty rooms are built over the water 
with porches overhanging. A long plank walk. 1,000 feet 
long, runs down the shore to the kennels of the Cherry- 
stone Shooting and Fishing Club, who make this their 
headquarters, availing therhselves of the hotel as a club 
house. On the inshore side of .the plank walk is a meadow 
between the water and the/road, containing in all some 
twenty acres, and in this meadow between the kennels and 
the hotel the tame wild geese are turned out when not 
tied by the legs and anchored as decoys. 
We had hardly gone 200 feet along the board walk when 
the geese started up the most tremendous honking ever 
heard. I looked over my shoulder. "Look there," I 
yelled and w'thin 30 yards of us, wings set to alight, in sails 
a goose, heading for the tame wild ones. ".\h ! then and 
there was hurrjang to and fro." L. and his pal made a 
wild dash back for the gun room. I drew back behind a 
bush and watched the goose, which, seeing us, had sheered 
off over the water again, I thought for good, but arouncf 
he swings and heads in again, and I look an.xious!y baclc 
to ?ee if reinforcements with the guns were coming around 
the house — ^but no one is in sight yet. 
Again, with set wings, he almost dropped in the 
meadow, but bang ! goes a shot from the other side of the 
road from the front yard of a neighbor. 80 or 100 yards 
awav at least. The shooter might have spared himself the 
trouble. 
Away goes the goose, as_ the boys, one with an 8-gauge 
and one with a lo-gauge. join me, and swinging over the 
water annears to be headed for nothing nearer than the 
North Pole: but as we, returning slowly, have about 
reached the door of the gun room, that confiding creature 
actually heads back toward us, honking at a great rate. 
Right over our heads he comes, but a long' shot, pretty 
high un; L, lets go two barrels from his big 8-gauge, and 
Pal's No. 10 joins in the chorUs: but there is no stopping 
that bird. Right down along the edge of the water to 
below the kennels he goes, and swinging around over the 
barn sails down, and actually after all this rumnus. alights 
in the meadow, where he is nromntlv notted by the afore- 
.said neighbor, fortunately without killing the tame decoys, 
he having meantime stolen rp behind the fence near to 
the decovs. That's what I call a "persistent goose." I 
wonder if he intended 'Juicide I 
We SDent the i.e.xt dav and the fnlloivinor fnrennon in 
the floating blinds out on the bay. and w'th the Hve decoys 
out. and nur bag was eleven. to wti'Vh I contributed one. 
I on'v shot once — a Inner, sinofle-barrel, 8-ga"<ie. ""'"'th 
cartride-^- loarlpd w'th about dram<!. i34 No. BB — 
at a flock fairly well up overhead, and down came thret^ 
