84 i 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 2, igoi. 
undcT other conditions. They are learning to get along 
with each other, and I think that means a great deal to 
them." 
When Mrs. John went home that afternoon she said to 
her husband, "Why did you not tell me about Harriet's 
gardens?" 
"I don't know," he said. "1 suppose I thought you 
knew." Florence L. Wright. 
Hawaiian Wild Turkeys. 
East Wakeham, Mass—Editor Forest and Stream: In the ac- 
cession of new territory our country has gained considerable hunt- 
ing ground and an amount of very desirable game. The following 
is an extract from a letter written by my brother, who is living 
in Honolulu: 
Well, I have killed my first wild turkey, and will have 
to tell you about it. One of my workmen by the name of 
Durant wished me to go hunting with him. We took 
a train at 3 P. M., and rode out into the country about 
thirty-five miles, landing at a native's house, where there 
were lots of women and children and no end of dogs. 
A big sign on the hausc told us that hunting was 
forbidden, but Durant held the key to the owner's heart 
and we were welcomed. After sitting down to a big 
table loaded with boiled hog and poi, we watched the 
natives who finished their feast with a glorious drunk 
on a liquor made from honey. 
We were given the only bed, but sleep was out of the 
question; the natives do not quarrel when drunk, but 
keep up an infernal din. About 3 A. M. we were called 
to breakfast (hog and poi again), and at 5 we got off 
with our guns and lunch, and started for the mountains. 
Five miles of up-hill work. We soon heard the turkeys 
gobbling on all sides, and hens cackling. My partner 
went off on his well-known hunting ground, and I went 
for the nearest gobbler, which took me "up a canon with 
almost perpendicular walls of rock on either side. On 
my way up I saw three wild hogs that would weigh as 
many hundred pounds each. They were black fellows, but 
I wasn't hunting dogs. I drew nearer to the gobbling, 
which seemed close at hand as I got to the end of the 
gulch. Presently I saw two big turkeys walking up a 
steep slope about a hundred yards away. Oh! for a 
rifle — and only a shotgun loaded with No. 6. The. "bush" 
was awful thick, and full of thorns; just such stuff as the 
wild goosel)erry of Washington. The ravine was not over 
thirty yards wide, and I began to think I was. sure of a 
shot as the walls went up plumb for a thousand feet, and 
I thought they must surely come out by me. All I feared 
was being tangled up in thorns so I could not shoot. 
The bush was so thick that it was impossible to get along, 
so I climbed up about fifty or sixty feet and then care- 
fully followed along a ledge inch by inch. 
The turkeys kept gobbling all the time and climbing 
higher. Finally I got where I thought I had them sure 
within thirty yards. I knew there were at least three 
birds, and I sat down for a minute to catch my breath, as 
I had been climbing furiously. Everything was quiet. I 
got my gun all ready (a six-shot repeater) and stuck my 
heel into the ground and stood up, expecting to see tur- 
keys flying in every direction. You can imagine my 
surprise and disappointment at seeing nothing; while I 
was rubbing my eyes and trying to collect my senses I 
suddenly heard a loud gobble right over my head. 
Perhaps I didn't look up quick, but I think I did, and 
you can picture my chagrin when I tell you that square 
over my head, on a pinnacle of rock, stood two big gob- 
blers. They were eighty yards above me, and one was 
strutting and gobbhng incessantly, while the other was 
peering down at me. I sat about ten minutes and watched 
them. Still higher, on the other side of the cation, I saw 
three goats. One of them looked as big as a cow, standmg 
right on top of the mountain like a statue. I could 
hear a kid bleating, but could not see it. With a good 
rifle I could have knocked the big buck over. Well, I 
was helpless— the turkeys were too smart for me, and they 
knew it. There they stood as if laughing at me. Know- 
ing if I tried to climb higher (which seemed doubtful 
to accomplish) the turkeys would spread their wings and 
sail away. I suddenly turned my gun loose at them just 
as they were in full strut. The feathers flew, and some of 
them came drifting down by me; the birds disappeared 
and so did the goats. However, I saw the turkeys agam 
on a "hog back," and they saw me about the same time 
and went sailing away for a mile. ., , , 
On my way out I found a cave with a good trail lead- 
ing into it, but, as it smelt of hogs strongly, and as I 
hadn't lost any wild boars, I did not investigate it very 
closely. _ . , , T 
I had heard Durant shoot several times, and when i 
got out on the ridge I saw him on the opposite one, with 
a turkey over his shoulder, that was almost as big as 
himself (it weighed twenty pounds). I was feeling rather 
blue, but was glad he had one. 
We ate our lunch and started again. Everywhere we 
could hear turkeys gobbling, and cocks crowing, hens 
cackling, just like a farmyard, but always just a little 
ahead. In our vicinity it was quietness. Farther on the 
brush was alive with fowl— always just ahead when we 
would get there after incredible toil over rocks and 
through "lantanna," a kind of prickly shrub, in flower, 
and full of fruit all the year round, which every wild thing 
lives upon. ■ , ^ ^ 
With a good dog now we could have shot (jallas 
bankiva, var. domesticus. I saw one rooster fly out of a 
tree. He looked like a big black game dunghill fowl, nor 
could he fly any better, but when I got to where I saw 
him alight he was not to be found, though it was all 
open there; he might have run a half mile while I was 
going a hundred yards. You can imagine how I felt; 
turkeys everywhere just out of reach. I saw twenty-one 
all told but try as we would they would get on to "hog's 
backs" three or four hundred feet up and wait until we 
were almost within gunshot; then while we were holding 
on to some cliff and- trying to get a little nearer, they 
would sail away down the valley, one after the other. 
Finally when I was almost discouraged, and it was time 
to start for the train, while I was crawling through a 
thicket on my hands and knees, I suddenly heard almost 
under my nose-"Quit! quit! quit!" and saw a turkey mak- 
ing its way through the bushes as fast as its legs would 
j^. It could not fly because there was no chance 
to spread its wings. Thunder!' how I struggled to get 
my gun to point somewhere near it. The bird's instinct 
to go up helped me to keep it in sight, as it dodged this 
way and that through the brush. Finally I got the muzzle 
of my old gun pointed at its neck, and let her go. Mrs. 
Turkey never took another step or even a kick, though 
not shot in the body. I was not so excited but my aim 
was good, even if I had not fired a gun for two years. 
I grabbed my turkey and struggled out of the brush, and 
with enormous strides went down the valley to join my 
partner. 
I felt completely satisfied; we had just time to catch 
the train, with our turkeys in a gunnysack, ourselves 
dirty, torn and bleeding from a thousand scratches, but 
happy as when we were boys and I used to shoot little 
dappers down by the big rock when you would drive 
them in for me. We got heme all right. The turkey was 
fine. 
The Island of Molokai is one of the greatest game 
spots on the globe, alive with deer^ cattle, goats, hogs, 
dogs, turkeys, peafowl, mongolian pheasants, quail and 
dunghill fowl, of all kinds, all escaped and gone wild, 
reverted back to nature. They are as wild now as 
originally. An acquaintance of mine was there two 
weeks and brought home twenty hides of deer (Japanese 
spotted); said he could have killed a hundred. There was 
a bounty on them awhile ago, and still is on hogs. I 
am going over there before I leave the Islands. 
Honolulu. Philip S.WARY. 
It would seem from the above letter that our island 
possessions are natural game preserves, and the game is 
not likely to find its way to the "dumping grounds" of 
our large cities. I have no doubt that these conditions 
would obtain in Puerto Rico and Cuba and in our south- 
ern country, if it were not for natural enemies. Save 
the dog, and probably cats, the Hawaiian Islands are not 
infested with game destroying mammals. My brother 
does not mention any birds of prey' in a list of the birds 
he has seen, and in such cover as he describes they would 
work but little harm. With care to exclude undesirable 
species, there is a great field for sport. 
Walter B. Savary. 
Just One Afternoon. 
Sunday afternoon, not long ago, after a hearty dinner, 
I took my Forest and Stream and, seated in an easy 
chair with feet stretched out toward the fire, prepared 
to enjoy an hour with others, like myself, chained to 
business. My good wife was here, there and every- 
where for a while .and then settled down in a chair by 
my side, and was soon apparently engrossed with the 
Ladies' Home Journal, but I notice she does not seem 
to make much headway, and looking up I am greeted 
with "Jack, you are the slowest reader I ever knew. Do 
hurry up and turn over that leaf." My three-year-old 
boy Forbes is rolling on the floor with my black and 
tan hound Tuck, while Jack the beagle has taken up a 
comfortable position in a cozy spot behind the stove. 
Several pages of Forest and Stream are gone over, 
the descriptions of scenery are photographed on the mind, 
and the success or failure of the brotherhood with rod 
and gun is applauded or condoned, and perhaps their 
methods mentally criticised, and then I come to canoe- 
ing and yachting and trap scores, and then my eys begin 
to wander. Jack Frost, the crystal artist, has been at 
the window with his pallet and brush, and the lower 
two-thirds of the pane is covered with his artistic work. 
What a lover of nature Jack Frost must be, for all his 
pictures are painted from that illimitable source — the 
hand of man is entirely absent — and who can compete 
with him? Look at that clump of spruce trees and bal- 
sams in the corner, with the snow piled up on the lower 
branches. The wind has shaken it from those above only 
to increase the depth on the lower ones, below which is 
a fine shelter, a veritable Hiawatha's tent. Surely there 
must be a ruffed grouse beneath those sheltering boughs, 
but we won't disturb him. Now look at that tangle of 
cedar and Virginian creepers, and that small beech tree 
on which the leaves are still clinging, although bleached 
almo.st white by the sun, rain, wind and frost, and over 
there the trunks of some giant elms and maples, the top 
branches not showing, for the arti-st has not yet reached 
the top of the pane; but no matter where he leaves off 
the picture seems to have a finished look. See that knoll 
over there, where old Boreas has swept away the snow 
and uncovered a cluster of ferns and wintergreen. How 
green some of them look in spite of frost and snow. 
Surely I am not looking at a picture; for the scene is 
too real, and quite certain am I that I recognize the path 
in front of me — those two balsams standing like sentinels 
on either side of the gap in the fence. Why, here is the 
log where Harry and I sat and ate-our lunch, on our way 
home from the trout stream further on, one day last 
year — no! no! it must have been years ago, for my boy 
was a baby then, and here he is with me to-day, a lad of 
ten years,' but to-day feeling very important and quite 
a man, happy in the possession of a brand new gun, the 
first he has ever owned. Then too I feel the pleasant 
weight of my own httle i6-gauge under my arm, the 
crisp but silent snow under foot, and the frosty,, health- 
laden breeze in my face. Jack and Tuck, our faithful dogs 
and companions of many an outing, are with us too, and 
are nosing around in the Httle swamp to our right,_ and 
trying their best to start a hare or fox from his hiding 
place. A sharp yelp from Jack announces the starting 
of something, and a moment later a streak of gray comes 
through the trees on our right and is making for the 
hardwood ridge on our left, but a charge of No. 7 stops 
him; we generally know when Jack has flushed a grouse 
by him giving one or two short, sharp yelps. 
But it is not a grouse Jack has started now, for he gives 
three or four sharp barks and then breaks out with a 
long, loud, musical wail, in which Tuck joins. Tuck is 
a baritone, but Jack could make his fortttne on the stage 
as a tenor. His style, volume, range, technique, tone and 
quality are perfect, but his enunciation is po'or; but then 
he might confine himself to French and Italian opera. 
Away they go. and we catch a glimpse of the hare 
as it crosses a logging road about two hundred yards 
ahead of us. ' 
We wait to see if he crosses that ridge about three 
hundred yards to the south of us. No, he did not cross, 
for the music of the dogs is drawing nearer again, and on 
this side of the swamp; he will cross somewhere near to 
where we are standing. "Stay where you are, Forbes, and 
I will go to where he crossesd- before and try to stop 
him if you miss him." 
Nearer and nearer come the dogs; and presently a 
bundle of gray and white, with long ears and long hind 
legs, hops into the road, half turns and comes toward 
me for a few, jumps, and then — stays there, for a charge 
of lead from the boy's gun stops him. The dogs come 
up, gaily wagging their tails, sniff the game, and then 
look up in our faces as much as to say, "Well, you did 
pretty well, but say, didn't we hustle, him ^around in.great 
.shape!" You certainly did, goodrdogs, but hie away 
again there! hie away! . ?:■'' 
The dogs work bard, but- there ■ seems to be nothing 
else in that part of the swamp, but as we near the ridge 
above mentioned we see in the snow what appears to be 
a row of tiny post holes, about ten or twelve inches apart, 
and one directly behind the other. We know what that" 
means, and looking from whence they come we see where 
sly Reynard has been basking in the sunshine on a ledge 
of rocks, but has slunk off at our near approach. The 
dogs are called, one sniffs, and the air is again filled with 
music. The fox will have to hustle, for the dogs are 
hot on his trail and there will be no time for him to 
try any of his old tricks. Fainter and fainter grow the 
sounds of the chase, but we do not care, for we know 
that the fox, having taken a southerly direction, will not 
leave the swamp, but will most likely circle and then 
take the back track. 
We separate, Forbes staying on the ridge, while I go 
back to the logging road where the hare came to grief. 
The swamp is inWj two miles long, and the fox will most 
likely go to the end of it before circling, so it will be 
some time before we hear the dogs again. Patience is a 
virtue, but it is a virtue hard to exercise on an occasion 
like this, although there is plenty to occupy both eye 
and ear. The snow mantled forest, with its three pre- 
dominating colors, the gray of tree trunk, and branches 
and dead leaves, the green of the evergreens and mosses, 
and the white of the snow, with all their varying shades, 
present a beautiful scene, lighted up as it is with the 
bright sunshitie gleaming. . from a blue, cloudless sky. 
Four odd colors, blue, gray, green and white, and yet 
how beautifully they blend in nature's picture. Over- 
head in a birch tree a red squirrel chatters and skips 
around; he, too, is impatient and doubtless wishing that 
I would move on, so that he can resume his repast on 
the pine cones beneath the fir tree, from which I have just 
disturbed him. The shrill cry of the bluejay is heard in 
the distance, and is- answered from a tamarack near 
by, but a slight movement on my part sends this bright- 
tytA blue and white bedecked winter resident scurrying 
away like a blue streak. A dozen or more tomtits are 
flitting from tree to tree, alighting heads up, tails up, on 
the upper or under side of a branch, no matter which, 
any old way suits them, and continually uttering their 
cheery chic-a-dee-dee, chic-a-dee-dee-dee. But hark! — 
surely that was Jack's voice I heard there. There it is 
again, softened by distance, but none the less clear as a 
bell. Tuck also can be heard now. Hurrah! they're 
coming back, and apparently right straight toward 
Forbes. 
Before parting Ave had arranged that if he got a shot 
and Idlled the fox, either with the first or second barrel, 
he should wait about ten seconds and then fire another 
shot to let me know the game was over. Nearer and 
nearer came the dogs: surely the fox must soon cross 
the ridge, for he can't be far ahead of the dogs. I won- 
der how the boy will act, for this is his first fox run. Will 
he have buck fever, or rather fox fever, and let the fox go 
by without Bang! Bang! Look out now, you had 
better be ready — one — two — three — four — ^five — six — seven 
—eight — nine — Bang! Hurrah, he's got him; good boy, 
Forbes, let me get to him, I can't wait to go round by the 
cattle path, but rush straight through the bush. I am 
willing to bet that he's the biggest, best furred fox ever 
killed around here; how grand he'll look when mounted 
and placed in a glass case over the hall door. But how 
will my boy look when I see him? He will be standing 
there apparently grown two or three inches taller, the 
butt of his gun resting on the ground, the miizzle in 
the right hand, held at arm's length, the left hand rests 
on the hip. .while the right foot is placed triumphantly 
on the neck of the fox. The two dogs will be standing 
near, with lolling ton.gues and heaving sides, but their 
eyes and tails show that they too share in their young 
master's success. His face may be a trifle pale, but a 
triumphant smile is playing all over it, although he tries 
hard to look unconcerned and as if killing a fox were 
an every day occurrence with him. Hark! I can hear 
him call, "Father come and see." All right, my boy. I'm 
coming as fast as my legs can carry me. How I wish I 
could fly! "Come and see, father." Well, really I can't 
come any faster, I think I'm doing pretty well now. 
Had I known the bush was so thick and the snow so 
deep I think I would have gone round, but more than 
half the distance has been covered now, and the rest is 
not so bad. ' _ ■ 
"Father, come and see." ^ "Will te there' in half a 
minute, sonny." Confound these logs, I never knew 
them so slippery before. And the brush heaps seem de- 
termined to keep me back. Whew! it's hot work, and 
I'm all of a tremble. The grouse that just whirred from 
under my feet actually made me jump, and I forgot I 
had my gun with me. I am afraid the boy is not taking 
his success as coolly as I thought he Would; but I'm 
almost there. Just on the other side of this thick cluster 
of cedars and balsams is the spot where I knOw he is 
standing. "Father, come and see." Ah! that voice is 
not more than ten yards away now. "Here I am, my 
boy," and head first into the snow-laden trees I plunge, 
getting a regular icy shower bath. But what is that that 
falls on my shoulder? It mtist have been a small limb 
broken, off by the weight of snow. No, it can't be, for it 
clings there, and is now shaking my arm, and now I hear 
another familiar voice saying, "Jack, do wake up — tea is' 
waiting," and Forbes has been calling, "Father, come to 
tea'-' for the last ten minutes. I rub my eyes and then 
look for the picture oh the window pane, but the lights 
