Forest and Stream 
A Weekly Journal of the Rod and Gun. 
Copyright, 1901, by Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 
Terms, |4 a Year. 10 Crs. a Copy. 
Six Months, $2. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1901. 
I 
VOL. LVII.— No. 18. 
No. 846 Broadway, New York 
announcement. 
In the Ranger Service. 
Among the completed manuscripts which were left by 
Rowland E. Robinson was the serial entitled "In the 
Ranger Service," of which the publication is begun to- 
day. It has to do with a period of New England and 
New York history which was full of incident and color ; 
and the story was one to come only from the pen of a 
writer like Mr. Robinson, who had his sympathy with the 
times and the people, and that rare insight into nature 
which makes up so much of the charm of all that he wrote. 
As was said last week, "In the Ranger Service" is notable 
for its pure and limpid English; and there is reason for 
Confidence that it will have a warm welcome and will add 
to Mr. Robinson's fame as a writer. 
Adventure in Tropical America. 
We shall begin in our issue of Oct. 5 the publication 
of a series of "Stories of Adventure in Tropical America," 
by Dr. Francis C. Nicholas. The recent alliances of the 
United States with its Southern neighbors has had the 
elfect of increasing interest in those countries, and direct- 
ing attention to them. Because of this these relations of 
experience there will be of special timeliness. Dr. Nicho- 
las has spent many 3fears in travel and exploration in 
Tropical America, and his life in the forests and on the 
mighty rivers, among savage and sometimes hostile and 
treacherous tribes, has been full of perils and hairbreadth 
'scapes. His stories as here told give vivid pictures of 
rough life in the wilds, and the announcement of them 
here is an assurance that for weeks to come the Forest 
AND Stream will have in them an attractive feature. 
In the Faroe Islands. 
In strong contrast with the tropical setting of the stories 
by Dr. Nicholas are the bleak and chill islands in the 
northern seas, of which Miss Elizabeth Taylor writes in 
her sketches of life in the Faroe Islands, whose inhabitants 
maintain their hold only by a strenuous and unremitting 
warring with the elements. The four chapters in hand are 
a continuation of the first one which we published last 
summer, and will appear in early issues. 
This is to note only a few of the many good things 
which are in store for the coming weeks — a generous 
measure of entertaining material which will maintain the 
Forest and Stream's character as the American sports- 
man's favorite journal. 
THE DOG IN THE FIELD. 
The season of the year is now here when the setter and 
the pointer possessed of any commendable working abil- 
ities afield suddenly are awarded a place on the pinnacles 
of their owners' most distinguished consideration, in re- 
spect to sentimental, utilitarian and monetary values. The 
owner's indifference of the close season gives place to the 
most lively interest of the open season. There, indeed, 
may be a sudden revival of interest in the owner him- 
self, on the part of friends, or friends' friends who own 
no dogs or guns at any time, and who wish to borrow 
them only during the open season. Some friendships, 
torpid during the close season, are subject to fervid 
revivification sometimes, when dogs and guns are so use- 
ful as adjuncts to good sport. It is a season when the 
useful and the sentimental may be most happily blended ; 
when recreation of the best form may be enjoyed and 
friendships, neglected, may be renewed, and friendships 
not neglected may be made stronger. Nor is this new 
interest manifested on one side only. The dog, observing 
the significant unearthing of sporting toggery, anticipates 
the pleasures of forthcoming field work, and displays ex- 
tra affection toward the person of his master. It has come 
to a time when in a way there is a certain community of 
interest between man and dog in the pleasures of upland 
shooting, in anticipation. 
HoAvever, few sportsmen consider that, let the pleasures 
of pursuit and capture be divided ever so equally, there is 
no equal division in the amount or fatigues of the work. 
Galloping up and down hill, through cover and open, over 
ground wet or dry. smooth or rough. Avith the interests of 
the gun to observe and ever to keep in mind, the dog 
has a task which is laborious in its execution and varied 
in its requirements. He must skillfully beat out the 
ground as his master walks through ft, and, when the 
birds are found, he must take a subordinate, yet earnest, 
part in assisting his master to effect possession of them. 
Yet, after a day of such fatiguing labor, the dog may 
be scantily fed, or fed abundantly on food which he de- 
tests, and then left to shirk as best he can for his sleeping 
quarters. If he is ravenously hungry, he may seem to en- 
joy a bad supper; but a good supper for a dog is easily 
provided if a little forethought is exercised concerning 
it, and the best fed dog, all else being equal, will do the 
best work. A thoroughly fatigued dog is likely to lie 
down anywhere, but the seeking for rest should not be 
construed as an expression of contentment. In the matter 
of comfort and healthfulness, the tired dog has no judg- 
ment. The immediate needs of the moment are all that 
he considers. If he curls up by the side of a haystack in 
the early evening, it may be a good selection for the time 
being; later in the night, if frost or rain set in, no more 
uncomfortable place could be found. 
There is no more pathetic sight in the incidents of field 
shooting than that of a dog which, muscle sore and 
wearied when he begins his outdoor rest, wakes trem- 
blingly stiff and unrefreshed in the damp and chill of 
the morning, and tries to wag his tail and look pleased in 
his effort to cheerfully greet his master, who has slept 
comfortably. 
Let the ■ sportsman dwell where he may, in his own 
home or the home of others, in city or country, it is not a 
difficult task to provide some kind of comfortable sleep- 
ing quarters for his canine servant. There is generally 
abundance of hay everywhere, and with it a most com- 
fortable bed can be quickly made. The side of a stake 
can readily be made into sleeping quarters by making a 
bed of hay beside it, then erecting a lean-to over it, all 
generously covered with hay or straw. 
The neglect of the dog, so often an incident of hunting 
parties, is the result of thoughtlessness, not of intention. 
A little forethought and prevision are not extravagant re- 
turns, however, for the services which the setter and 
pointer at work render their masters. Some dog cakes, 
some lean beef, and a place to sleep comfortably, are 
humble requital in return for strenuous services, aside 
from the affection and devotion which the dog has for the 
master he loves. The merciful master should see that his 
dog suffers not from any neglect, first of all because he is 
in affection and devotion more than a servant, and, sec- 
ondly, because, in a day of effort afield, he earns his keep 
a thousand fold. 
SEPTEMBER CHANGES. 
September's sunshine is brilliant and the shorn fields lie 
warm in its yellow light. Some are green with fresh- 
grown ragweed, others, later reaped, still show golden 
stubble and shocks of grain not yet garnered. About their 
borders, the fences and stone walls are hidden behind 
veils and traceries of ivy now growing yellow, or Virginia 
creeper, turning to flame, or clumps of browning black- 
berry vines, or stiff crimson spikes of sumac. Above the 
damp spots along the edges of the woods the cardinal 
flower beckons with its startling scarlet, but search is 
needed to detect the modest blossoms of the fringed 
gentian hiding among the ranker growth about them. 
Down in the swamp the soft maples have begun to turn, 
though a touch of frost is needed to bring out their full 
color, brilliant though short-lived. The undergrowth has 
matured, and one by one its leaves are letting go their 
hold, and in the still air twirl slowly to earth, which they 
touch at last as lightly and noiselessly as a thistle- 
down which drops on the surface of the placid river. 
Soft leaves cover the ground, those of by-gone years wet 
and rotted, while those fresh fallen are still full of 
moisture and crush noiselessly beneath the foot. 
By the river's margin, the yellow wild rice is broken 
down now by the boats of the rail shooters and the work 
of the birds that feed upon its abundant seed. The cat- 
tails are yellowing, the jewelweed which overhangs the 
stream has lost its beauty and seems shrunken, and only 
the docks stand up. stiff and ungraceful as ever. 
Now migrating birds begin to fill the air. At night are 
heard their calls and the whistling of their wings, and by 
day they are seen loitering on river, in fields and along 
hedge rows, picking up a living as they move southward 
on deliberate wing. 
Acorns, chestnuts and beechnuts are falling to the 
ground, and the squirrels are gathering them and hiding 
them away against the winter time, wh^n the earth shall 
be bound in fetters of frost and covered by a mantle of 
snow. 
A little later than this, loose flocks of brown quail will 
be wandering through the ragweed fields and along the 
borders of the swamp, feeding on the ripening seeds and 
trying to decide where they shall make their winter home. 
Now truly their journeyings will disappoint many a man 
who has watched a brood from the egg to full growth and 
strength of wing ; for the little family, deserting its sum- 
mer home, will move off, and when the hard frosts come 
will have chosen some new domicile, perhaps far away. 
Food, water and shelter are needed for this winter home, 
and in the search for this combination the family may 
wander far. It may be found in the dooryard, or walking 
along the village streets or crossing its green. Some- 
times the birds, may fly into the open windows and startle 
the busy housewife with their roar of wings and im- 
petuous dartings to and fro. in utter disregard of furni- 
ture and its arrangement. No one can tell what strange 
things the quail will do now nor where they will be found. 
As with the quail, so with the ruffed grouse, for. indeed, 
when autumn comes all feathered life seems to be seized 
with a vague feeling of unrest, which, among most birds, 
finds its expression in the southward journey, but with 
gallinaceous birds is confined to this "shifting," which is 
invariable, and is recognized by most sportsmen. 
As the weather grows cooler and the leaves fall, -the 
' ruffed grouse families break up into little groups, and each 
bird sets out on its travels to find a home. While moving 
about in this search, they are found in most unexpected 
quarters; in roads, under apple trees in open lots, some- 
times among the branches of trees in the village street, or 
again — moved by what impulse we cannot know — starting- 
on long flights from one piece of woods to another, per- 
haps in their course to dash themselves against the side 
of a house, to be picked up dead a little later, and to 
cause unending speculation among the finders as to what 
may have caused this eccentric action. There are many 
sportsmen of long experience and keen habits of observa- 
tion who believe that at this season of the year the grouse 
become crazy, for they seem to lose all their proverbial 
cunning, and act in strange and unnatural ways. Some 
times when flushed they will leave cover and alight in 
bare pasture lots, and if started again will again alight 
in the open, wholly neglecting the shelter of the forest. 
During this time, when the quail and the grouse are 
changing their homes, the sportsman cannot hope for 
much success in their pursuit, but later, after these homes 
are chosen and the birds have settled down, his oppor- 
tunities improve. 
In September these birds are often too small to be shot, 
and within a day or two we have heard of broods of 
partridges not yet three-fourths grown, and so tame that 
they might almost be killed with sticks. Nor are all the 
quail full grown, and in some sections one reason for the 
scarcity of birds is that the shooting season opens so 
early that all young birds in a brood may be killed. 
A SPRING SHOOTING DEMONSTRATION. 
An oilnce of demonstration in practice is worth a ton 
of theorizing. In his letter to-da3^ Mr. W. H. Tallett 
gives us the demonstration. When the Jefferson County 
Sportsmen's Association were contending last winter for a 
law to protect their wild duck breeding grounds in spring, 
they urged as an argument to secure their end the theory 
that if the summer ducks were given immunity they 
would breed in New York and multiply for the fall shoot- 
ing. The law was secured, the immunity was given, and 
the ducks "did the rest." "Never within the memory of the 
oldest sportsman," writes Mr. Tallett, "have there been so 
many of these ducks in this county on the opening day." 
This is an ample, complete and unanswerable demon- 
stration of the soundness of the theory advanced by the 
Jefferson county sportsmen. It is a demonstration for 
Jefferson county. It is a demonstration for every county 
in the State which has breeding grounds for wild ducks. 
It is a demonstration for every State in the Union which 
has wild duck breeding grounds, and which can muster 
up enough common sense among its legislators t© prohibit 
spring shooting, and to give the ducks a chance. It is a 
demonstration also that if a State will not prohibit spring 
shooting, a single county which is more enlightened than 
its neighbors may, by dint of the active, determined and 
persistent effort of its local association, secure to itself 
the benefit of an anti-spring shooting law. 
