880 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Talks to Boys.— L 
Bovs, I want to have some talks with you about 
things that most boys like to hear about, and a good 
many old men, too. The editor ot t'oii&ss awu bTKiiAM 
has said thai he would g.sc me space 111 his paper to 
tSilk to you, and i sliall leil you some things tiiat will 
interest a good many of you, and that 1 hope will do you 
like boys, and some of the best times I have ever had 
out of doors have been with boys. To me they are often 
much more interesting than older men. 1 like to be 
with them, to hear what they have to say, and to answer 
as lar a» 1 can aii tue many questions thai tney ask. All 
boys are not alike any more than are all men. There are 
boys that are mtei.igent and others that are not very 
bright, but all boys are alike in some respects— they are 
Usually natural truthful, interested in finding out about 
things and full of energy. 1 his last is one of the things 
that 1 like best about them. 1 hey are full of animal 
spirits, and when tliey try to do anything, t^iey try to do 
it with all their m.ght. i like to see Doys race and 
play hard, and make a lot of noise, and the boys that try 
hardest to do things and always keep trying, become the 
men who are successful in after life. 1 like to see boys 
who are earnest, hbnest, and who love fair play. I 
like to see a boy who is willing to fight if he sees a girl 
or a smaller boy being imposed on, but a boy \vho is a 
sneak and who lies to get himself out of trouble is a pretty 
poor stick, and not likely to be greatly respected or 
much thought of by any one— after he is found out. 
I mean to talk to you about things that will make your 
bodies strong and hardy; things that are innocent amuse- 
ments, and things that, if you can become interested 
in them, will give you always something to think about 
that will be pleasant; will give you a broader interest in 
life, and will keep you from getL ng into mischief of one 
sort and another, as you are growing up, and when you 
become men. These things are the sports of the field — 
recreations which take us out of doors and bring us close 
to nature and to all the beautiful things that nature has 
spread about over the earth on which we live. I mean 
shooting, fishing and the kindred sports that all boys 
naturally love. ^ 
Some people speak of boys as young savages and use 
the words with rather a bad meaning, implying that 
Ijoys have no regard for the rights of others. In a sense 
this is true. Boys are likely to be thoughtlc-s, which 
means selfish, and to think of their own pleasure before 
they think of the comfort of other people. Boys are 
young savages in my estimation, too. but when 1 call 
them savages I mean that they are young people who 
are natural. They have enough of the savage about them 
to like to hunt and fish, and to camp out, as the savage 
did, and still does. They like to be able now and then 
to lie al)out in the dirt, feeling independent and for the 
time being accountable to no one except themselves. 
■ I have shot and hunted and fished and camped for many 
years, over a good part of North America, and I have 
had a great many good times that I am .sure you too 
would have enjoyed, if you could have been with me. 
I do not mean to tell you about thc-e goods times, for 
that would take too long. What 1 shall try to do is to tell 
you how you may gel as nuich pleasure as possible out 
of the shooting a'nd fishing and camping trips that you 
may make, and may have as little trouble and annoyance 
as poss ble. 
When I first started out into the wilds, T had no one to 
teach me but had to learn for niyself by hard experience 
many of the things that 1 sliall tell you about. This was 
a great many years ago, and I remember that on that first 
night in can'ip. one of the party was a man whose name 
to-day is familiar to most boys, and whom many boys 
liave ^een. That was Buffalo Bill. Then he was not a 
showman or circus rider, but a simple plainsman and 
scout, and a very good fellow. His long hair, which to- 
day is gray, was yellow then, and his tall, handsome 
figure clad in buckskin greatly impressed my imagination. 
It is worth while for you to learn these lessons about 
shooting and fi.-hing and camping, for your own com- 
fort, but this is not all ; the comfort of other people is to 
be considered, and you will be more pleasant companions 
and more helpful to those with whom you may be asso- 
ciated on your trips, if you know how to take care of 
yourselves." and how to do your share of the work. You 
will enjoy learning how to shoot and shooting, learning 
how to fish and catching fish, learning how to camp and 
living in ramp. I shall try also to tell you something 
about how to treat your dog because almost every boy 
has a dog and ought to know how his dog should be 
treated. The affection which the dog feels for his rnaster, 
and his fa thfulness to that master, have passed into a 
proverb, and it is well worth while that every boy should 
learn how to treat his dog. I shall not tell you much 
about handling a dog for the field and by this I mean 
using him in shooting birds — there are plenty of books 
in which you can read about that — but I shall tell you 
something about his capacity for learning, and the com- 
fort that a well-trained dog can bring to his master, and 
this I hrpe you will lay to heart. 
1 shall not have anything to say about hunting big 
game with a rifle, because most boys do- not have an 
opportunity to do much of this. But it is worth while for 
every boy to have a small rifle and to learn how to 
use it. 
The boys to whom I wish to talk are young fellows in 
their teens. In a few years they w'll be the men who are 
doing the world's work for America' and I should like 
them to start in the right way both as to their pleasures and 
their toils, so tliat life hereafter may -be ea'^ier for them, 
and the work that they do, whatever its nature, may be 
better done and so more effective. We all know that 
it is impoc^ible for a man to hand over to a boy the ex- 
perience that the man has gained through many years of 
hard knock.s!. but he may say some things to them that 
wi'l help them along. ' 
T cannot teach you to he good shots ; that you will have 
to teach yourselves — to hammer it out by long practice 
and hard wnrk. Some hoys are physically and mentally 
better nualiPed ''o learn to shoot than others, but all, if 
they win take pains not get discouraged, and try hard, can 
easily learn to become fair shots, and to do creditable 
Wori< in the field or at the targets. 
The main thing that is required is practice, but prac- 
tice must be intelligent. A boy or a man can stand up 
through half his Lie, toss his gun to his shoulder and 
press the trigger, and perhaps never in all tiiat tune 
hit anything except by accidtiit, but if his gun fits hnn 
and if he is willing to take the. trouble to try to find out 
where his charges go, it will not be long before he is in a 
posit.on when he misses his aim to know why he did so. 
You will find that a great many men who are good shots 
cannot tell how it is that they hit their bird-S perhaps 
cannot even tell you how it is that they aim at them. But 
when they have missed a shot, they can almost always exr 
plain to you why they missed it and where the shot 
went; that is to say, whether they miscalculated the 
flight of the bird and shot before or behind it, or above 
or below. Yet they have shot so much, and shoot.ng has 
become to them so nearly automatic, that they do not 
know what the operations are that they perform, nor how 
they perform tlrem. , , , ^ ^ 
I think I was thirteen years old when my first gun 
was given to me, and whatever 1 learned about shooting 
with it I taught myself. 1 iiad a good many accidents 
with this gun but fortunately 1 never kided anybody 
with it, though perhaps I frightened a good many people. 
My shooting was done in a region where there were 
many inhabitants, and where there was no game at all 
except now and then a duck on the river, or sometimes 
in the autumn a few wild pigeons, so that most of my 
shooting was at robins and highholes. which, in those 
days, my comoanions and I were glad to get. 
But the first gun I used was not my own. It was an 
old musket borrowed from the crippled vUage tailor, so 
long and so heavy that I could not hold it to my 
shoulder, and so could not use it wi'-hout a rest. I used 
to go shooting w th another little fellow, a year or two 
older than I. and we took alternate ^hots from tins great 
gun, one standing in front of the other ami offering his 
shoulder as a rest when a fence rail a stone wall or the 
branch of a tree was not at, hand for .sxrch use. Our 
expeditions were always secret, and I fancy that we never 
killed anything. If we did, we never dared to take it 
home. 
In the later days after T came to lidssess n gtm. my 
companion and I u-ed to estab'i-li ourscrvc: near :i dog- 
wood or wild cherrv tree, and there -^hnmofiiHy In pot the 
kingbirds robins aiid higlilioles which Hew nto the tree 
to feed on the fruit. A morning spcwt at mch a si.-iiid often 
yielded us half a dozen robins. Sind perlmns two nr 
three of the woodpeckers, which we proudly carried 
home and fiub?c(|uciulv had cooked. 
The first game liird that 1 ever saw was a woodcock 
that I had started one morn-ng out in the garden. I 
.saw it on the ground and from picture* that i bad 
seen, knew what the bird was and. huirying to the 
house, got mv g'.in to kill it. When T returned I d d 
not see the b'ird. and while walking along looking for 
it. it got up under mv feet and flew away, and i fired 
both barrels at it. The next morr'ng the same (hing 
hanpened, and 1 think for a week I had wno<lcock shoot- 
ing in the sarden each morning before breakfast, and 
finally the woodcock left the n'ace unharmed, He was 
oniv the fir^t of manv of kind that afterward had a 
similar experience with my gun. ^ ^ 
W. G Dt; Gkoot. 
Game Keeptra and Poachers, 
English Correspondence o£ the Ci uniry (Jcutlenian. 
Tiir. wealthy noblemen oi Ji^ugland expend vast sums 
of money iipoii ihen game preserves, which are the lutesl 
in ihe world, ulten eminacmg liiuiisands ol acres ul 
mooriand and niea.low, weli-cultivated larius and beauti- 
ful (uresis u' e\ergref;n Ifce.s and shrubs, which allord 
the game birds protection from rain and shelter fioin 
stuvnis. If trees are cut down, young ones are planted 
in their places, and every precaut.un is taken to preS'jrve 
the naiurul beau.y ui woodland and field. Stringent laws 
were enacted ages ago for the protection oi game and 
the punishment of poachers, and these are everywhere 
rigorously enforced. . 
But notwithstanding the severe penakies imposed 
upon the trespasser, when taken on the preserves, there 
appears to be a certain fascination about this unlawUll 
sport that many men, otherwise honest, are (juiie unable 
to resist. There is a natural love of adveiilure in the 
human heart, and if there is danger to be encountered 
and courage re<juired to meet and overcome it, it is 
relished by many all the more. Perhaps it is only the 
same reckless love of adventure that nerves the soldier 
on a battlefield to do a deed of draing, that also prompts 
the poacher to snatch a hare irom under the muzzle 
of the keeper's gun. I know an estimable lady, living 
in the county of Somerset, who once set a wire and 
caught a hare on the preserves of a neighboring noble- 
man, and was well pleased over the adventure, though 
she had game in plenty all her own. 
The keepers are vigilant, skillful and incorruptible. 
They usually wear a suit of brown velvet, carry a fine 
gun, and some of them are always on duty, no matter 
how stormy or cold the night. Where the preserve is a 
large one there are several underkeepers, and each one 
has his separate beat, like the policeman on the city 
streets. These men are thoroughly familiar with the 
haunts and' habits of every animal on the preserves. 
They are made aware of the presence of trespassers on 
the grounds at night by the flight and cries of startled 
birds, the sudden alarm of slumbering flocks, or the 
barking of their dogs. They have studied the habits 
of all wild creatures found anywhere upon the lands 
they guard, and as they are generally the sons of game- 
keepers, there has been handed down to them, as heir- 
looms from their fathers, all the forest lore and ex- 
perience of the former guardians of tlie preserves. They 
remove the earth carefully from ant hills, and the entire 
nest is then taken away and given to the pheasants, 
which are extremely fond of both eggs and larvae. If 
a keeper should find a hare or rabbit caught in a gin 
or wire, he does not take it from the trap, but concealing 
himself carefully, awaits the coming of the poacher. If 
the latter offers resistance to arrest, a fight always en- 
sues, sometimes resulting fatally to one or both com- 
bafants. 
The animals against which the gamekeeper wages 
ceaseless war are the crows and magpies, which eat the 
pheasants' eggs_, and weasels, stoats and polecats, which 
destroy the young oi rabbits, hares and game birds. 
Owls are also fond of all the young things under the 
keepers care, and he sets steel traps un the tops of poles, 
where these birds of wisdom are almost/ sure to alight; 
and as the trap is of circular form and covers all the 
top of the pole, it is unnoticed by the . owl, and many 
are thus taken. Cats arte also inveterate poachers, and 
are kil.ed by the keepers when seen provyhug over the 
preserves. AH these animals go to make up the game- 
keeper's museum, and are nailed up on barn doors as 
proof of his watchfulness and skill. Foxes also destroy 
much game, but they are far too valuable to be in any 
way injured, and their depredations must be endured, 
and they are always carefully protected by the game- 
keeper. If chickens or other poultry are destroyed by 
foxes, their owners are .always paid their full value by 
the hunt. 
Bands of gypsies ,wander,y,continually up and doAyn the 
green, secluded lanes of England, and when near a game 
preserve many a pheasant,' hare and riibbit is roasted 
over tlieir camp fires and eaien tinder some spreading 
tree, or beside the whitethorn hedge where the nightin- 
gale sings and the primrose blooms. They know the 
haunts and habits of evcy animal on the prescrse quite 
as well as the most experienced and observing keeper, 
and are dishonest, bold and cunning. They know the 
secret of covering hedge hogs over with moistened clay, 
and ihen baking them as in an oven, thus avoiding all 
danger from their quills. They are skilled m the selling 
of snares and the making of traps, and ihey can nnii-aie 
the call of any bird, or the cry of any animal, and are 
the most inveterate and successiul poachers in the king- 
dom, VVhen out for game they are generally followed by 
a lurcher — a crossbred dog, resembling a mongrel gray- 
hound, having pricked ears, a shaggy coat and usually 
of a yellowish-whue color. He is lleet, keen of^ scerit 
and hunts always m silence. These dugs are must care- 
fully trained — will immediately hide themselves on the ap- 
prcdcn 01 a stranger, and are exCe.leiu relnevers and 
carry every hare or rabbit they may take to their 
master's feet. Rabbits are caught by poachers by stretch- 
ing nets in front of iheir burrows, and the lurcher is 
then sent out to drive them into the warren. Many are 
sure to get entangled 111 the meshes of the n'et, when 
they are easily captured. Hares are often taken in the 
same way, only the nets, then set in front of gates and 
gaps in hedge rows, entangle them as llvy atienipt to 
run from one field into another. As a full gruwn l)are 
will weigh front 10 to 14 pounds, and its meat iS of 
excellent llavor, it is more sought after by the poacher 
than any other animal on the preserves." 
Law breakers, when trespassing on the lands of others, 
keep out sentinels or scouts to watch the keepers and. 
give notice of their approach. The danger s.gnal— al- 
ways agreed upon among themselves before the raid is 
undertaken — may be the closely imitated cry of some 
night bird, the barking of a fox or the b, eating of a lamb. 
When discovered by the keeper?, anil unable to escape 
by flight, they endeavor, tp conceal' ihelUselves behind 
hedges, at the" bottom; of ditches, or among the foliage 
of evergreen trees. Gypsy poachers often cttrry with 
them well-trained game cocks, trimmed ready for battle 
and armed with long steel galls securely fastened on 
over their spurs, and if a pheasant should chance to 
crow within the hearing of these midnight prowlers, he 
is immediately answered by the cock. Now the 'male 
pheasant is one of the most pugnacious of birds,.and. will 
never decline the wager of; battle, but fighting at such 
a disadvantage, he is almost invariably ki-lt;d. by the 
game cock, to be afterwards served up at a gypsy least. 
The rabbit warren is generally located under a large 
sand bank, which is completely tunneled in every direc- 
tion by these little rodents— thousands sometimes in- 
habiting the largest of these subterranean cities. They 
devastate the grain fields of the farmers living near their 
warren, to which they retreat. ^on being alarmed. The 
owners of preserves furnish the farmers with wire net- 
ting, with which they inclose their fields, but the rabbits 
will often burrow beneath it and dq much damage to 
the crops. Fair minded land'ords, however, are always 
willing to compensate the farmer for the loss sustained, 
as they also are for poultry destroyed by their foxfes, or 
damage done by the hunters during the chase. As 
rabbits cannot articulate sounds, and spend most oF their 
lives in communities under ground, their method of 
giving alarm is peculiar; for when any danger threatens 
they thump the ground with one of the hinder feet, and 
thus produce a sound that can be hea'rd at a considerable 
distance. 
Stags and fallow deer are generally kept in parks and 
the royal forests, and are not often found in the game 
preserves, though sometimes, of course, they are under 
the keeper's charge, together -with the. other animals 
not mentioned here. 
Many stories of fierce encounters between game- 
keepers and poachers are told of winter nights around 
the firesides of the humble homes oi England; and the 
following was related to me by an old keepe.r, over a 
mug of ale at a wayside inn in the county of Somerset: 
Some years ago, a gamekeeper, in the vales. of Devon 
had a handsome daughter, loving all outdoor life, and 
courting the kiss of sunbeams and the fall of dewdrops 
on her wealth of golden hair. She frequently accom- 
panied her father, both by night and day, on his rounds 
over the preserves, on which occasions she carried a 
light gun, loT^g practice in the use of whiJi had made 
her a splendid shot. Her accepted lover was a reckless 
lad of the farmer class, a keen sportsman, but never even 
suspected of poaching. One night in autumn, when the 
full moon shone brightly at intervals, only to be hidden 
a moment later by dark clouds sailing across the sky. 
she was left alone in the forest, her faiher having gone 
to a distant part of the wood to watch for poachers. 
Her attention was soon arested by a slight rustling 
among the laurel leaves by the brooks-de, and the 
startled cries and sudden flight of birds; and a moment 
later a tall man, holding a golden pheasant in his hand, 
stepped out from among the dense foliage into the open 
space before her. A great black cloud came drifting 
over the moon and hid her beams, but the girl knew that 
a poacher stood before her in the darkness. When or- 
dered to surrender, he turned and fled, laughing as he 
ran, for he had recognized llie keeper's daughter by the 
