142 
FOREST AND STREAM. Fee. 23, 1901.] 
Sfi^^^^^^^ satirist 
— s — 
The Stag: at Grief. 
He pawed in the valley, 
He paused on the hill — 
Not a sound but the tamarack's sighing; 
Not a taint in the gale, 
So he bounded at will, 
Nor a foeman, nor danger, descrying. _ 
But the huntsman stands true 
At his post in the glade. 
While the embers of the day are slow dying- 
Hark! the crack of his gun! 
Mark the gleam of his blade! 
As he bends o'er the quarry, low lying. 
Theodore F. C. Demarest. 
Frozen in on Barnegat* 
Hunt and I had been talking guns for over two years, 
until, to justify their boasted merits, we voted lo take a 
shooting trip. 
Various places were suggested and looked up, from a 
goose pond on Cape Cod to floating batteries in the Great 
South Bay, all of which met with greater or less objec- 
tion, until it was finally decided upon Barnegat 
We left comfortable firesides on Nov. 25 with Govern- 
ment Bureau predictions of fair, pleasant weather, tele- 
graphing ahead for boat and decoys. 
As we left the railroad depot it was suggested that as 
we were embarking upon a hazardous journey it would -be 
prudent to invest in casually policies for the benefit of 
our famiHes, and we each accordingly purchased one good 
for forty-eight hours. After getting in the train and 
reading over the printed conditions on the back, we 
learned the policies did not cover gunshot wounds or 
drowning. 
Forked River was reached early in the evening, where 
we found our boat, a 3S-foot cabin cat, with captain and 
mate awaiting us. Getting a late supper at the hotel and 
quickly changing into our hunting togs, leaving our 
watches, cash and return tickets in our host's safe, we got 
on board and started for the shooting grounds, some 
seven or eight miles distant. 
Not having felt well for some days previous, I had 
stipulated before leaving home that we should not spend 
the night in the boat unless the conditions were favorable. 
The weather, however, was perfect with a gentle slart 
sheet breeze from the southwest and a glorious full moon, 
which, if it did not promise well for a flight, at least left 
us no excuse for a comfortable sleep on shore. 
Arriving upon the grounds, we came to anchor mid- 
way between the blinds, the outer beach and the inlet 
from the ocean, a mile or so from each, and stowed our- 
selves away snugly for the night. 
Next morning at 4 we were called, and bolting a hasty 
breakfast, tossing for choice, put out for the blinds in 
sinks, each taking along an extra sink with man and thirty 
decoys. Early as we v^^ere, we found that both the blinds 
had been pre-empted, and in one of them there was con- 
siderable grumbling over getting out, but as Capt. George 
had bitilt the blinds, the occupants reluctantly saw the 
justice of our claims and pulled elsewhere. Hunt's blind 
was ofif shore near the middle of the bay, while mine was 
near the inlet. 
. Tying my sink inside, my man proceeded to set his 
decoys, and as it was hardly yet light I leistirely waited 
for him to finish and get back into the blind before load- 
ing and getting ready for the fray. He had hardly turned 
his back after casting off the stools when, looking up, three 
broadbills appeared hovering over them. Nervously shov- 
ing in a couple' of shells, I fired twice and scored two 
clean misses. Capt. George seeing what was up, loaded 
and fired once as they wheeled, and likewise missed; and 
then noticed for the first time by both of us, after three 
shots, a solitary broadbill got up out of the decoys, where 
he had lit without our knowing it, and had sat during 
the fusillade. Taking quick aim, the Captain fired his 
remaining shot and again missed. The score was even, 
and I suspect the secret joy upon my face stood out as the 
chagrin on his. The outlook, however, was encouraging, 
and after mutual explanations we settled ourselves for 
more serious work. 
But that was not to be, for those four birds were the 
only ones that came to our decoys during the entire 
morning. We got some passing shots flying by, bringing 
down two old wives, and saw what seemed enormous 
flights going over Htmt's blind, with a bunch of geese and 
another of brant, whereupon we cursed the luck which 
had sent us to the inlet blind. 
At noon a soft, gentle rain began, and we put back 
to the boat. The others shortly afterward appeared, with 
one broadbill. a butterball and a diver, which had cost 
them exactly three cartridges, and they wondered why we 
had not gotten those geese and brant, so near to us had 
they seemed. We decided to lunch and then go out for 
some afternoon shooting on the beach, where we hoped 
for a rabbit or two in the scrub oak or anything that 
promised not to travel faster than our shot. 
By the time we arrived on the beach the rain had 
turned to snow, with increasing wind and a decided fall 
in temperature. Here Ave wandered for some hours, un- 
til thoroughly chilled by what had then become a blind- 
ing snow storm with freshening wind from the north- 
east, and at 4 P. M., when almost dark, after seeing 
nothing larger than snowbirds, we put back for the boat 
to spend the night and try the blinds again in the morning. 
As we were about to get into our sinks, pulling off from 
the beach, one of the men from the life saving station 
came down to look after a small boat moored at that 
point, and I asked him what he made of the weather. He 
replied. "We are in for a no'easter, and the barometer 
has dropped an inch." This seemed startling, but as no 
one else said anything, I concluded to hold my peace. 
Reaching the boat with difficulty, the wind continuing 
to freshen, and lashing everything down for the night and 
casting over the spare anchor, we made ourselves as cozy 
as possible inside, festooning the cabin with ropes, upon 
which we hung our outer coats in hopes of getting them 
dry, and proceede4 tO 9 Slipper of mog^ e^cell^^t broile^. 
(jiv^rr ' ' ' If- 
All through the night it blew hard, and the boat swung 
and pounded heavily. In the morning a strong gale was 
raging from the northwest, which made the outer beach 
and inlet from the sea our lee. The decks, mast and 
sail were covered with frozen spray and snow, the weight 
of which sunk the boat some 6 inches lower in the water 
and made her top heavy. 
Shooting from the blinds was out of the question, for 
no sink boat could have lived in the sea to get them, and 
one did not dare move out of the cockpit of the boat for 
fear of being washed overboard. There was nothing to 
do but to sit quietly, watching for a let up in the wind, 
which would give a chance to reef and beat back to Forked 
River. But the gale continued to increase, with falling 
thermometer and heavy snow. 
Toward noon the atmosphere cleared, and the men,hold- 
ing on to a life line with one hand, chopped the ice off 
the decks and cabin top, which made riding easier, but the 
sail was frozen stiff, making it impossible to reef, and the 
mast covered with ice its entire height to twice its natural 
thickness, over which the hoops could not be hoisted. 
The sink boats towing at the stern with covers over their 
holes were now covered with frozen spray, which sealed 
them up like air chambers. It was bitter cold; all my 
coats and three pair of socks could not keep me warm. 
This was not what we had bargained for. Nightfall 
came with no abatement, but rather increase in the gale, 
and on taking stock of provisions, finding we were run- 
ning short, we dispensed with supper with the certainty of 
another night before us. This left a little bread and our 
four remaining ducks. Meats, coffee and milk were gone, 
and while we were in no immediate danger of starvation, 
the prospect was not the most cheering — lying in a bay 
between thirty and forty miles long by eight or nine miles 
broad, seven miles out from the base of supplies, with ice 
forming off the shore, and unable to get there vuitil the 
wind should die down and the sun come out and thaw the 
sail. 
At dusk the ice began to form as slush on the crest of 
the waves, preventing them from breaking, and as the 
cold was still intense, realizing we were in danger of 
freezing in, the Captain and all hands made a desperate 
effort to reef sail and make a beat for the shore at the 
river mouth; but try as we would, we could not get the 
reef points to meet under the sail, so swollen and stiff 
had it become. In despair, we gave it up and resigned 
ourserves for another night. 
After an hour or more of violent tossing, the boat be- 
gan to ride easier, until there was little or no movement, 
and we imagined the wind had at last gone down. It 
was very dark, and going out of the cabin to investigate, 
the Captain found the gale still raging with the same per- 
sistence ; what caused our easier riding was that the sea 
was now all covered with freshly formed ice, which gave 
it a gentle, tmdulating motion, keeping the waves down, 
but not j'et hard enough to be stiff. Another hour and we 
should be frozen in solid, and we decided, if we were 
going to freeze, to hoist anchors and head the boat for the 
outer beach, running her as much inside the inlet as 
possible. A .small piece of the peak was run up and the 
vessel was driven before the wind through the young ice, 
until she came to a dead stop on account of its thickness. 
Here we dropped anchors and spent the night. 
On getting up in the morning we found we were frozen 
in solidly in 3 inches of ice. The wind still blew. To 
get the boat out of the ice was impossible. The danger 
now was that a slight shift of the wind might carry the 
boat with the ice out to sea. The Captain suggested that 
we might try to get on the outer beach and seek shelter 
at the life saving station, while he and the Mate stood by 
for possible change of wind. We accordingly got the sinks 
cleared, and piled our luggage in and the retreat began. 
At first the ice was not strong enough to bear, being 
salt and fresh formed from slush, but by dint of rocking 
and chopping we got along until it became strong enough 
for us to get out and haul the boats over the top to shore, 
where we shouldered our traps and made our way through 
the snow to the station. Plere we were warmly received, 
and after thawing out were told that we could get a train 
late in the afternoon at a point eight miles up the beach, 
and that, at six miles up, a horse and wagon cotild prob- 
ably be gotten to come down and get our traps. 
We decided to walk to the railway, after negotiating a 
loan with the men to carry tis home. Those who have 
walked along yielding sandy shores can form some idea 
of the" difference between eight miles of crumbling sand 
under foot coupled with a foot or more of soft snow, and 
an equal distance on hard sidewalk or macadam road. 
At three miles up we struck another life saving station, 
where we rested and warmed up. At six miles we found 
the first house, and to our joy they did have a horse and 
would go back for our bags and guns. Proceeding again, 
we finally approached the railway station, and when 
within 200 feet of it saw a train pull in. It was nearly 
two hours before our train would be due, and this one did 
not interest us. As we got to the platform it drew out. 
After it had gone I went to the station master and asked 
where that train was bound for. He replied, "New York !" 
— our destination. On remonstrating it could not be pos- 
sible, as there was still nearly two hours before the even- 
ing train was due, he said, "Oh, that was the morning 
train just getting through." This was heartbreaking, 
after a weary tramp against a strong wind, through heavy 
drifts and soft sand in great hip boots. If the morning 
train was five or six hours late on account of blockades, 
when would the evening train be along? 
We found the telegraph station and attempted to send 
messages, but the wires were down. The telephones be- 
tween each Hfe saving station had also been down.- Finally 
our train came, behind time, but not .so far behind as the 
morning train, and carried us over to the mainland, where 
we got into sleighs and were driven to Toms River. 
Here we got papers and began to learn the news of the 
world, and realized the terrific force of the storm, which 
had wrecked numerous ships from Cape Cod to Cape 
Charles, with loss of many lives; the railroads between 
Philadelphia and Boston were chocked with snow, and 
from many places no telegraphic communication could be 
had. 
And then it dawned on us, that if our outing had not 
been just the kind we had counted on. we had gone 
through an experience which happened to but few this side 
of the frozen north. , . , . , . , 
Th§ fe99tW?H Stayed there imprisoned in tfte ice tor 
two days after we left, when, suddenly in the night — in the 
twinkling of an eye — a soft east wind with rain sprang 
up, and in the morning the boat had motion again. The 
ice on the frozen sail was rained out — not thawed by the 
much longed for sun — and they hastened to reef and sail 
home. Francis H. Bergen. 
Memories. 
"I remember, I remember." — Hood. 
Time evens matters pretty fairly. If the young fellow of 
twenty has much to look forward to, we old fellows have 
more to look back upon. I'm inclined to think we have 
the advantage, especially those of us whose impulses led 
us with ready gun across the game fields of our genera- 
tion, or, rod in hand, along the streams and beside the 
lakes before the necessity of pisciculture other than by 
the "old-fashioned" method had ever been dreamed of. 
The young fellow has a better balanced, better looking, 
handier aad more powerful gun than we had in those 
elder days; his shiny, supple split bamboo, with the 
glittering reel, is a far cry from the cane pole and chalk 
line of our boyhood; the nitro load he uses in his hand- 
some hammerless is the apotheosis of projectile skill, and 
in the evolution of gunnery all his appliances for the 
pursuit and capture of game would have been marvelous 
to us. But, my dear boy, we had the game. And in ^ 
support of Rochefoucauld's maxims we are not wholly 
displeased at your misfortune in this regard. 
One of my first memories is of a wonderful flight of 
pigeons — the last of such incursions eyer made into 
the Rock River Valley of Illionis, where my parents were 
residents. I can close my eyes to-day and the marshalled 
lines of the interminable flocks flit across the retina as 
they did that day more than a third of a century ago; 
flock following flock throughout the day, each stretching 
beyond the rim of the horizon, the migratory millions 
swept on their way, whither? You will never see them, 
my dear boy. They are gone like the day and the lad 
that watched their flight, and neither the birds, the day 
nor the boy will ever return. Countless thousands were 
trapped and shot. In fact, I presume that I could find 
a bed or two of pigeon feathers in the old neighborhood, 
souvenirs of the time when a hundred dozen pigeons 
were taken with one cast of the net. I remember a 
local superstitution that the departing soul lingered 
longest on a pigeon feather bed, and a tale that received 
considerable credence was of an old lady of the com- 
munity who found death impossible, and to relieve her 
sitffering was removed to a bed of goose or hen feathers 
with the result that her spirit passed quietly and easily. 
Of course the pigeons did not disappear at once. They 
came back for several years after the big flight that I 
remember, and offered considerable sport of a pot shoot- 
ing kind. Dead trees in the grove would be covered 
with them, and marvelous stories were told of the num- 
bers slain at a shot. Old "Saut" Deyo told a tale of 147 
gathered alter one discharge of a Potsdam musket loaded 
to the danger line with black powder and No. 4 shot, and 
a number of good people backed up "Saut's" assertion. 
Just what he might have done with an 8 gauge and 
No. 7/^ must be left to the imagination. You'll very 
likely neA'^er see a wild pigeon, young man. 
Oh, bttt we old uns "have heard the chimes at mid- 
night!" There were ducks then and long after. Green- 
headed glorious mallards quacked in the ponds and 
bayous, and teal and wood duck thronged the bends and 
reaches of the creeks. 
The memory of long tramps along Eagle Creek and 
up the PJlkhorn rises up as I write. Times when the 
mallards sprang from every boggy stretch, and low flying 
teal scudded around the bent banks. The old muzzle- 
loader and I made connection with them only rarely, but 
a single tramp netted more ducks than a week of hard 
hunting and straight holding is Ukely to do nowadays. 
A quarter's worth of powder, the same of shot, a few 
percussion caps, a muzzleloading gun and a boy in blue 
overalls were the necessaries that grouped themselves 
about a big bag of ducks then. It takes more now, my 
boy. 
I remember, I remember, a hoy in blue denim oTer- 
alls, and how he begged that day to accompany father 
and Jip Shoemaker on a chicken hunt. An old musket 
that had sur\nved the stricken battlefields of centuries 
was his only available gun. Its mighty hammer swung 
in a 6-inch arc and was driven by a mightier spring to 
land with crushing force tipon a cap the size and shape 
of a rough rider's hat. It roared like the crash of a 
cataclysm when it went off, and kicked like a traveling 
man. But to the boy it contained infinite possibilities of 
life and death. Under the circumstances it was good 
enough for him. He wanted to go; and after a demurrer 
that he argued down they let him. There was a dog in 
the party. To the boy he seemed the ultimate per- 
fection of the canine genus, and the man looking back 
doesn't see many dogs-on the back track that had a 
license to show old Boney the way to a covey. How he 
raced and turned and quartered, head in air, an eye tc? 
the guns, and every sense alert and anxious; and then, 
oh, marvelous moment! he found them. There he stood 
the bounding, racing figure of the previous moment 
turned to marble. The saliva dripped from his slowly 
moving under jaw, and as we approached he took a step 
forward and froze again rigid and statuesque. But his 
eye, lit with the fire of conquest and expectation, blazed 
like a, beacon. Good old Boney! He met an ignqmini- 
ous death at the hands of a fat fool whose unwise parents 
made him a terror to the neighborhood by gratifying 
his desire for firearms. 
The men walked up behind the dog quiet and smiling. 
The boy didn't feel that way. He pried the infinite ham- 
mer of that musket past two notches of the ratchet with 
eager haste, and prayed for strength of arm and fore- 
finger to pull it loose again. He was excited. He could 
have given the dog cards, spades and little casino in a 
game of excitement, and still have won with ridiculous 
ease. He had never killed a chicken, but he wanted to, 
he wanted to bad, and right away. He'd kill that chicken 
if it was the last— b-r-r-r Jehosophat! there they go. With 
his heart in his mouth t% boy leveled the musket on 
a feathered cannon ball speeding past. A determined 
clutch of his forefinger on the trigger was followed by 
the jarring crasii of the 4isci?arf« a^id dimly through 
