FOREST ANI^ STREAM. 
(Nov, i, mi' 
-1 — ~~"'rr-"im ifliiirMrr-T- 
■mm th^^ '^M PigeoQ&. 
James Marlin, of Bloomington, Ind;, writes to the 
Springfield Republican abotit the absence from that re- 
gion of the countless flocks of pigeons that formerly 
frequented the woods there in the late fall and early 
spring. Every one who is forty years old, he says, "re- 
members to have seen millions of tliem, while no person^ 
less than twenty-five years of age has ever seen a single 
bird. When I say millions, I speak deliberately. In 
185s I saw a single flight of these l)irds that must have 
numbered many millions. Densely covering the whole sky 
as far as the horizon either way, they flew straight east 
for fifteen minutes by the clock. My father made a 'record 
of the occurrence on the fly leaf of a little book that I slill 
have in my possession. Allowing the very moderate esti- 
mate of two pigeons to the square rod, this flight must 
have contained 9,000,000 or 10.000,000. On two occasions 
that I remember they had roosting places in this vicinity. 
They also made nests in the same place, and so numer- 
ous were the birds and the nests that many large branches 
were broken from the trees by the weight. Htmdreds 
of acres of woods were literally crowded by these vast 
communities. Now, I am not at all surprised that these 
birds are less numerous than formerly, but why have they 
so suddenly and so completely disappeared? I regret 
their departure. To me they ate one of the lost glories 
of an alsundant land. I should be glad to learn from 
any of your readers who can tell where they are now, if 
they exist at all, and why they have so utterly passed 
away from their old haunts. Were they known, in New 
England as they were in the West? And have they as 
completely disappeared?" 
What Mr. Marlin says of the absence of pigeons in 
Indiana is true of this section of New England. Up to 
about forty years ago pigeons were numerous in 
this region. They came quite early in the fall 
and remained until about the middle of October. 
Sometimes they were here in the spring also. Many were 
caught in nets and many more were, shot by hunters. 
The writer was one of two hunters who shot sixty-two 
pigeons in one day in the oak woods of Augustus Clapp, 
just east of Meadow Park. It was not uncommon for a 
hunter to shoot one or two dozen in a day's hunting. 
They came here in flocks of several hundred and fed 
largely upon acorns. A hundred flocks a day were some- 
times seen. In late years they have wholly disappeared. 
Where tliey have gone to no one knows; nor does any 
one know why they have gone. There is the same variety 
of food for them here now as formerly. Perhaps they will 
appear here again. — Hampshire Gazette, Northampton, 
Mass. 
Snake Swallowing Youngf. 
WiNSLOW, Ark., Oct. 21.— Forest and Stream of Oct. 
19 contains an article in which one of a party of Mis- 
souri sports tells a snake story, in which he says he saw 
ninety-nine little cottonmouth snakes run from the mouth 
of an old one he killed. Now. I take it that this is meant 
as a joke; but I can tell a true snake story in which 
this kind of thing did actually occur. During my boy- 
hood days I attended school at the old Cranford school- 
house, near my home, on the west fork of White River, 
near where Brentwood now is on the St. Louis & San 
Francisco Railroad. One day I was going down a hill to 
the creek, when, some 30 feet from the water's edge, I saw 
lying in the sun on a ledge of large rocks a snake, and 
around it were quite a number of small ones. I picked up 
a stone and threw it at the large snake, when, to my utter 
astonishment, the small snakes began to run into the 
mouth of the large one, and soon were all' gone. I called 
some other boys, and we killed the large snake and cut it 
into two pieces, when the small ones, seventeen in num- 
ber, rolled out on the ground, and we killed them. They 
were about 6 inches long, of a dark brown color, the 
same as the large one, which was a rusty black or brown, 
and between 4 and 5 feet long. 
My father once killed a rattlesnake in a log near the 
same place, and found it filled with small snakes, which 
were as lively as they could be ; but he did not see them 
enter the snake. But I saw the ones I killed crawl 
into the mouth of the large snake, and killed them all. I 
have told this to a number of people, who looked at me in 
the most incredulous manner, and refused to believe my 
snake story, but it is true in every particular. 
J. E. London. 
A "Wofd from the Philippines* 
Manila, P, I., Sept. 8.— Greeting from "the uttermost 
parts of the earth." Have missed my copies of Forest 
AND Stream of late. My first mail just received. Latest 
letter from home dated July 26. Pacific Ocean several 
sizes too large for my purposes. Came via Honolulu,. 
Yokohama and other Japanese ports (300-mile journey by 
rail overland). Shanghai and Hong Kong. Very hot 
and moist here. Great experiment going on. My book on 
the Philippine question not yet ready for the press, and 
I've been here over a week! Have hoped to get time to 
send you some notes, but have not found it, and really 
•haven't seen very much that was very noteworthy from a 
strictly Forest and Stream point of view. Will send you 
something later. Hope to get away for home in a few 
weeks and to get my "back numbers." 
C. H. Ames. 
In England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland fox hunting 
is carried on through the medium of close upon .200 packs, 
and there are very few acres in rural England ' whereon 
the fox is not hunted. Where miles and miles of grass 
and small coverts are found, thither do stranger's congre- 
gate to enjoy the best of riding and the best of com- 
panionship ; and where houses are few and far between, 
the country given over to the plough, or where great, 
rolling hills exist, there we also find fox hunting, though 
the fields be recruited solely from residents. In the Lake 
country, where hounds are necessarily followed oti foot, 
men, and ladies, too, walk and run all day rather than not 
hunt at all ; while in Devon and Cornwall, where formid- 
able banks are found, on downland, and in all sorts of 
countries which would not be to the liking of the grass- 
fed man, are keen masters, capable huntsmen and hunt- 
ing enthusiasts generally. — ^London Field. 
Fixtures, 
March 5-19, 1902.— Eighth Annual Show of the National Sports- 
men's Association at Madison Square Garden, New York. 
Treed by a Moose, 
"Now for a story 1 Come, you can't get out of it; no 
use in trying! 
"Say, were you ever scared in the woods — lost, chased 
by wolves, treed by an old bull moose? — anything, as 
long as it is one of your stories." 
And there T sat, completely cornered by a half-dozen 
rollicking hunters, as completely treed, I might say, as I 
was years previous up in a cedar, while an. old bull 
moose pranced and pawed at its base. 
We were a jolly lot that evening as we sat about the 
blazing fire and related our day's doings, and as I was by 
far the oldest, both in years and in woods life, I was very 
courteously assigned the seat of honor, which consisted 
of the best chair that the camp afforded, placed in the 
center of the group. 
"Now 3'^ou gaze right into that fire and think and think 
and think! It will come, all right. Don't bother him, 
boysl" 
Was I ever scared in the woods? Oh, yes! Was I 
ever lost? No! But I have found lost men, and judging 
by their appearance I was always perfectly willing that 
they should be the ones so bewildered. 
Was I ever chased by wolves? No, But thirty years 
ago, away up on Wadleigh Brook, I was in a crew of 
lumbermen, when the boss, as he returned from visiting 
a neighboring camp one evening, was startled by hear- 
ing something in the road behind him. Quickly turn- 
ing, he saw two wolves. The instant he stopped they 
stopped, and began to howl. Poor John! He thought 
discretion was the better part of valor, and immediately 
began to sprint; and from his appearance when he 
reached camp— -hatless, coatless and trembling — we came 
to the conclusion that the inside of the camp with the 
door well barred was the proper place for us. 
Was I ever treed by an old bull moose? There, now, 
boys; you've struck a story, for sure, for I've not only 
been treed by an old bull moose, but I've had my right 
of way through the trackless forest disputed by an old 
cow moose. Gee whiz! I can see that old bull even now 
as he faced me with mane erect and his little, p'g-like 
eyes glaring at me. Was I scared? Somewhat! You 
see, it happened this way: 
It was late in October, and I had a line of traps over 
on the Allegash. The trapping was good, but the 
hunting was poor, and we needed fresh meat badly. 
Many of my traps I visited by canoe, as they were in the 
little brooks and streams running into Allegash Lake. 
Quietly paddling along one day "to look" my traps. I 
saw an enormous old bull moose standing on the edge 
of the lake, almost knee deep in the water, among the lily- 
pads. Every now and then he would move his immense 
head, surmounted by a set of superb antlers, slowly from 
side to side, and gaze about him, looking for some hid- 
den foe. Occasionally he would plunge his head into 
the water and throw quantities of it over his back and 
shoulders. Apparently he was watching the woods, and 
did not expect any trouble might possibly come from the 
water. As soon as I was within shooting distance, my 
rifle was at my face and at work. Spat! spat! spat! and 
the old fellow wheeled and was out of sight. Paddling 
my canoe as quickly as possible to the shore, I soon 
found his tracks, with now and then a drop of blood. 
Drawing my canoe out, I was soon on the trail of the 
moose. A quarter of a mile from the lake there he 
stood in his grandeur, made terrible by his wounds and 
my approach. He had wheeled, and was watching his 
back tracks and anticipating my appearance. 
Ugly? He was a perfect demon in appearance as he 
stood there with lowered head, forelegs well apart, and 
anxious for the charge. One look at the old fellow was 
all that I wanted. A hasty sight along the rifle barrel 
at his chest, and I pulled the trigger. 
Well, boys, when I come to die I hope that I shan't 
be as scared as I was then, for there was no report, only 
the dull click of the hammer upon the firing pin, and 
I found that I had not another cartridge about me. 
He seemed to realize my predicament, for with a rush 
he was at me. I was young and nimble then, and of all 
the tree shinning that you ever saw the greatest was done 
that day. Up into a cedar I went, and sat there in the 
lower branches, looking at His Lordship. His Lord- 
ship returned the compliment. 
It was easy enough for me to see that he was hard 
hit, a,nd that it would be a question of only a short time 
before he bled to death. 
When I was thoroughly assured of my safety I laughed 
long and loud. There I sat in that tree like a monkey, 
absolutely helpless. Fifteen minutes of this tree business 
and His Majesty lay down, never to rise again. Quietly 
he laid his noble head on the beautiful green moss, 
and with a sigh almost human he breathed his last. 
Well, boys, it taught me a lesson, and whenever I've 
hunted since I've been pretty fussy about the number of 
cartridges I started from camp with. 
Guess I'll turn in now. Good-night. 
"No you don't! Here, now! Tell us about that cow 
moose." 
Oh, yes! But I am afraid I am getting tedious. You 
know what Thoreau says : "I should not talk so much 
about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew so 
well." So you must excuse the oft-repeated "I." 
Our camp was ten miles from a post-office, and it was 
one day decided that I ought to go out after the mail. 
With my natural aptitude for cruising through the woods 
instead of following the road around T proposed to take 
a bee line over the mountains, and thus save miles of 
travel. Starting at break of day with luncheon and axe, 
I was soon on my course. It was a beautiful, clear day 
in June, and I stopped for a rest on the summit of the 
m.ountain. Never shall I forget the view I enjoyed that 
day. To the west Were plainly to be seen the White 
Mountains; to the north, grand old Katahdin; to. the 
south and east, the Mo^nt Deseft hills^^ne vast pati- 
orahia of mountains, lakes atid streams, as fat as the eye 
could reach. But this is not going for the mail, I solilo- 
quized, and reluctantly resumed my journey. 
I had proceeded but a short distance, when I caught 
sight, directly in my course, of Her Worship. 
Now, one of the main characteristics of the feminine 
gender is fixedness of purpose, and some way or other 
this old cow moose decided that my rights on that hill 
were limited, and no persuasion of mine would budge 
her, not a little bit. I hallooed, I threw rocks, all to no 
purpose. I beat about that mountain like a ship at sea 
with a head wind; every tack I made she headed me 
off, nor could I at all understand it. At last I had the 
extreme pleasure of seeing a calf moose spring from be- 
hind a blowdown and scamper down the mountain side. 
Instantly the mother left me for her offspring, nor was 
1 at all sorry. She had feared for her calf, and had kept 
me from approaching it. 
Of all things in this world, mother love is the grandest, 
the noblest, the most sacrificing and the most daring, be 
it in the human race or animal kingdom. 
That old cow moose had daringly faced danger, even 
courted death, and willingly showed a spirit of self- 
sacrifice for her calf. 
With a woods experience of thirty-one seasons, these 
are the only cases of animal pugnacity with which I have 
come in contact in Maine. The moose is the animal to be 
dreaded at certain seasons, and really the only one. 
And now, boys, I've spun my yams; let's turn in, and 
to-morrow night we'll enjoy another camp-fire, and some 
one else shall be the story-teller. 
Joseph A, Thompson. 
Bangor, Me. ' 
More Maine Manslatighters, 
Boston, Oct. 25. — Cases of accidental shooting in the 
Maine woods are multiplying in a manner most appalling. 
To date there have been nine cases of accidental shooting 
— ^men for deer or birds. Five are dead and three seri- 
ously wounded. The dead are: John G. Weeks. Lewis- 
ton, mistaken for a deer while hunting near Jefferson: 
John G. Leonard, sixteen years old, of Frankfort, k'lled 
while hunting near that town by the accidental discharge 
of a shotgun in the hands of a companion ; William Bow- 
ley, of Skowhegan, seventeen years old, mistaken for a 
deer while fishing near Moro, and shot by a couple of 
hunters going up the stream ; Henry McPheters, forty 
years old, mistaken for a bear while gathering apples in 
an orchard not far from some lumber camps in Monson ; 
Frank Ripley, aged forty-five, of Waite, accidentally shot 
while hunting near Brookton. The wounded are ; Dana 
Levitt, twenty years old, shot while gunning at Bridgton 
by George Robinson. A charge of ^bird shot entered the 
abdomen. His condition is very critical. Eugene Wilson, 
of Jonesport, mistaken for a bear, wound not necessarily 
fatal; Daniel Mclnch, of De Wolf's Corner, mistaken 
for a deer while hunting near Calais ; Edward Metcalf, of 
Rockport, mistaken for a deer while hunting deer near 
that town. The new law does not seem to have any 
effect in stopping these terrible fatalities. They are 
more than double what they were a year ago without 
the law. In most instances there seems to be a disin- 
clination to enforce the new law. The men who do the 
shooting are most decidedly penitent, and regret what they 
have done more than anj'body else. In only two or three 
cases have steps been taken toward enforcing the new law. 
The person who shot Wilson is under bonds for appear- 
ance at the next criminal court in Washington county; 
Leslie McPheters, who shot Henry McPheters, has been 
held for the February term of the Grand Jury at Dover. 
The story is out that the Maine Fish and Game Commis- 
sioners have been applied to for the enforcing of the law 
against accidental shooting, but that they do not think 
that it comes in their province. It is certain that the 
terrible danger from this accidental shooting is preventing 
both hunters and lumbermen going into the Maine 
woods. In one case where a hunting party has been 
planned by four or five merchants in this city, two of them 
have backed out decidedly; the risk is too great. A 
timber land owner told me yesterday that he had some 
prospecting to do, but did not dare to go into the woods. 
He started the other day, but hearing the crack of rifles, he 
came out of the woods and took the next train for home. 
It is a feature worth noting that so far the accidetnal 
shooting has been done by Maine gunners, and not by out- 
side sportsmen accompanied by guides. 
SPEaAL. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
You have already reported the killing of William Bow- 
ley by a Houlton man. who mistook his hapless victim for 
a deer ; but this report of the affair, as printed in a Bangor 
paper, should go on record: 
William Bowley, of Skowhegan, was accidentally shot at More 
.Sunday, on West Hastings Brook. The shooting was done by K 
L Vail Esq., of this town. The affair is a particularly sad one, 
and was purely accidental. Mr. Vail is one of the most careful 
hunters of the country, and for fifteen years has been getting his 
share of game and this is his first accident. The man was sitting 
with a companion in some long grass in the bed of the brook, 
which was nearly dry. He had on a slouch hat, turned up at the 
ends in such a manner as to represent perfectly a deer's ears. 
\s Mr Vail and a friend came down the brook he saw the 
movement of the hat 100 yards away. Nothing more was visible. 
Not for a minute believing that a man would be sitting among the 
grass in the brook bed, and naturally thinking it was a deer 
standing in the long grass, he took aim and fired. 
The bullet entered the right cheek of Bowley and lodged in the 
back of the head, killing him instantly. The dead man's companion 
jiimped to his feet and cried out. Mr. Vail immediately rushed 
to the scene, and there his -feelings are more easily imagined than 
described. Mr. Vail aroused the lumbering crew to which the 
dead man belonged, and did all he could do under the circum- 
stances to hunt up the man's people. 
W. W. Brown, foreman of the lumber crew, and the men em- 
ployed, attach no serious blame to Mr. Vail. Tt is simply one 
of those inevitable accidents which follow the sporting season. 
Had the deceased been on the side of the bank instead of sitting 
in the long eel grass he would undoubt-edly be alive to-day. Mr. 
Vail brought the dead man to the undertaker at Smyrna Mills, 
and is putting forth every effort to locate the man's relatives. 
It is the most bare-faced attempt to .shift the blame of 
shooting a man through sheer carelessness from the 
shooter to the man shot I ever read. In the first place, 
Mr. Vail was breaking the law in hunting on Sunday, and 
liable to a fine and loss of his gun if he shot it on that 
day. Next, it is about an impossibility to twist any hat 
