May 9, igo3.i 
StRfeAM. 
sea 
Letters to a Chum.— IV. 
(Concluded from page 842.) 
The following day we spent in fishing with fair suc- 
cess. That is to say, I caught six trout and four gray- 
hng. 1 have read about two men catching 250 trout 
in one day, arid gettitlg well rcia.sted for it, too; but they 
must have been different trout from the ones we 
caught. It takes time and patience to catch trout. 
They are cute and shy. The big ones, which were the 
kind I wanted, were most likely to be found in deep 
water under the shade of the overhanging willows, and 
in dark and difficult places. Once they see you, they 
will not bite your hook. One has to keep out of 
sight and make long casts in order to catch them at all, 
and one has to have a suitable outfit. The smaller the 
line the better, as they are not so likely to see it and 
get scared. And to throw a light line successfully re- 
quires a slender, delicate pole. When you have a 
three-pounder hooked on such an outfit there is "some- 
thing doing." You can't pull him right in as you would 
a bullhead. He won't come. If you could get him on to 
a hog hook and a sash cord you might do it. But with 
a fly-casting outfit, if one uses too much muscle, he 
loses his fish. As I said before, it takes time to catch 
big trout, but it is time well spent. I believe I once 
iheard you say, you would rather shoot at a duck and 
imiss than to catch a cargo of fish, so I take it that you 
:are not deeply interested in the subject. I will cut it 
.out. .i^.--.*^ 
The river we were on was for the most part a rush- 
;ing, roaring torrent, but there was a stretch of it be- 
slovv camp about a mile long, where it ran through a 
eort of marsh, or swamp, that was dead water, deep and 
iwidc. It was next to impossible to get through the 
I'tan^le of brush and nettles that grew in that swamp. 
.Such ;a bed of nettles I never saw elsewhere, many of 
.them six and seven feet high, and they will slap across 
.one's fafte and eyes in the most aggravating manner 
:at iuiexpe€;t;ed moments, and leave a sting behind that 
lis not soon forgotten. These nettles grow among a 
ikind of bush ,or willow whose branches are tangled 
:and interlaced .together in a very discouraging man- 
vner. 
In this stretch of dead water there were many young 
rtnallards. Seme of them could fly, and some could 
mot. It was very amusing to watch them on the water 
when once one had forced a way through to the water, 
Th^ open season had not yet begun for ducks in that 
State, and I never attempted to shoot any of them, 
though they were tempting enough. 
There were many deer and bear tracks in that swamp, 
but it was impossible to hunt in there successfully. 
Once I nearly stepped on a fawn in there and only 
got a glimpse of him. One bound took him out of 
sight. When the sun had gone behind the mountain 
in the evening, by watching closely with the field 
glasses, one could see deer come out of the swamp 
and bushes and stand in the open looking the ground 
over. Nothing but does and fawns ever did this. An 
occasional buck might be seen, but he would act dif- 
ferently. He would stand on the edge of the brush and 
look around, then he would dart across on a keen jump 
and never stop until he was under cover again. I am 
, unable to" account for this unless it is that the law 
protects all deer without horns at all times — only bucks 
may be killed in the open season. I soon found out 
i taat a buck was a mighty cute and smart animal, but 
;it is hardly to be expected that they should be po.sted 
.,on law. Be this as it may, I never saw a buck stand 
. oi>t in the open, and I did see does do so many times. 
Ifi the mountain range to the east of us there was 
, one -peak much higher than the surrounding ones that 
;I concluded to take a look at. It looked about two 
; miles away, but Lem said it was nearer fifteen miles. 
Taking au early start one bright morning I set out for 
ithe top of it on horseback. The horse took me safely 
Ifor about two-thirds of the distance, then it became too 
steep for him, so leaving him in a grassy glade I went 
on on foot. It makes me tired yet to think of that 
climb. I will not weary you with the details of it. At 
the top there was a rim rock that stood about perpen- 
dicular, and I had to look a long time before I found 
a place where I could scale it. When I got up there 
I found there was still more climbing to do and more 
.rim rocks to scale. 
To cut it short, at about 2 P. M., I reached the very 
:«op, and had a splendid view, which I was unable to 
.enjoy. When I got up there I was perspiring freely, 
ihaOTHg come up on the sunny side, and out of the wind, 
but on the top a keen wind was blowing that went 
through my light clothing like a knife. I was taken 
with a fit of coughing, my nose began to bleed, and I 
spit blood. I was so dizzy I could hardly stand. I 
stayed about three minutes up there, then started 
back. 
It was a bleak, desolate place, nothing but sharp, 
rough rode that looked as if it had been roasted until 
it was shattered, and in some places it appeared to 
have been melted. I believe that mountain to be just 
a big pile of black lava. 
I went back much faster than I had gone up, and as 
soon as I got ofif the top I felt all right again. I found 
my horse where I had left him and got back to camp 
just at dark, feeling about as tired and hungry as I 
ever did in my life. I brought back eleven mountain 
• grouse and saw two deer. I had a splendid shot at 
iboth deer, but as they had no horns I did not molest 
■.them. 
Supper was waiting for me — ^broiled venison steak, 
^fried mountain trout, fried young grouse, baked pota- 
itoes and hot biscuit, and strong tea. Ye gods and little 
.'fishes! Stop a moment, my friend, and think what that 
isupper meant to me after that trip. 
We certainly lived on the fat of the land in God's 
country. After supper, pipe and yarns. Ah me! Those 
were good days! My soul longs for more of them! 
Lem informed me that the blow-flies had got at our 
venison and spoiled the most of it, and that there was 
a thick green mould on some of it from being in so 
damp a place. In a sneaking way I was glad to hear 
this bit of news. Now I could go deer hunting again 
in earnest. The following morning found us all 
rnounted and ready for a huiit. We took a new direc- 
tion this time, going west. It was a long hard climb 
for about two hours up to a point where Lem said 
we might expect to find a big buck. To the east the 
view was magnificent, but I cannot stop now to tell you 
about it. 
We all dismounted and turned the horses loose. All 
the rest of the party sat down on the grass to enjoy the 
viewi but I was out for blood. I wanted andther buck. 
I do not understand this wild desire that comes over 
one to take the life of some innocent and harmless ani- 
mal. I know I am not naturally cruel. I hate to see 
sufferitig. I Would not willingly hurt a fly, nor wan- 
tonly destroy any of God's creatures, yet I have that 
insane desire to shoot and kill. I do not understand 
myself. 
I once found a muskrat caught in a steel trap on the 
bank of a stream. The poor little fellow was suffering 
horribly. Both hind feet were in the trap and he was 
entirely helpless, just dragging the trap and himself 
around by the front feet. "You poor little cuss," I 
thought, "I'll soon get you out of that," and I went 
up to him to open the trap and let him out. The 
moment I touched the trap to liberate him, he twisted 
around to my hand and set his teeth through one of 
my fingers. My sympathy must have been pretty thin, 
for I grabbed a handy club and pounded him to mince 
meat. 
I think it cruel to set a trap for any animal, and 
I am resolved never to do it. I would not step on a 
worm, but I would do my utmost to kill a deer, and. 
then feel sorry afterward. It takes up the most of mv 
time trying to make amends for what I do the rest o'f 
the time. A man is a strange creature; I do not under- 
stand him. 
But enough of moralizing. On to the hunt. I kept 
on up the mountain through a grove of quaking aspen, 
then up through a tangle of bushes and rocks. Deer 
tracks were numerous and I expected to see a deer at 
any moment. I came out at the top of a ridge and 
stood at the apex of a long steep slant to the south, 
covered with bushes. I could look over a thousand 
acres of ground, but no game was in sight. I loosened 
a big_ round boulder that lay handy and rolled it down 
the hill. Away it went at express speed, bounding and 
skipping along, inowing down the bushes, and making 
a big racket, while I watched for something to run. 
Nothing there, so I went on. Farther on I came to 
a miniature lake of clear cold water away up there. 
Old logs were criss-crossed around it, and a covey of 
mountain grouse stood around on the ground looking 
as solemn and wise as a flock of owls. These birds 
are_ the tamest wild things I ever saw, and the best 
eating of any game bird I know of. I was after big- 
ger game then and did not want to shot until I saw 
something worth while. 
On the far side of the lake 100 yards away, was a 
dense green pine forest of magnificent timber. Great 
big trees that had never heard the sound of an ax. 
In here I was in fairy land again. Here was animal 
life in profusion— birds and squirrels, hawks, eagles, 
magpies, jays— the flit of wings everywhere— and I 
never saw squirrels so thick, or so noisy, or so small. 
In telhng Lem of them later he called them "rock 
squirrels and not much good." Deer tracks were thick 
and big. I felt that I had found an ideal spot for sport. 
The ground was almost level on that portion. The 
shade was deep and refreshing after the hot sunshine 
of the open. A five-minute walk brought me to a little 
open glade, where the sun shone brightly on a half 
acre of wild flowers entirely surrounded by a heavy 
dark green forest. When I saw this glade ahead of me 
I expected to find a deer in it, and I approached and 
looked It over carefully, but it was empty. So I went 
on across it and entered the forest on the other side. 
Ten steps from the open I jumped a buck. He was 
lying down. I heard him get up. Heard his bones 
crack, or something, just as they always do. Once 
you have heard a deer get up off the ground you will 
never confuse it with any other sound. 
I soon got my eye on him through an opening be- 
tween the trees, and I saw that he had big horns I 
carried my gun all ready for quick work, loaded, 
cocked and at present. When I first got my eye on the 
buck he was swinging his head around, looking for 
what had disturbed his rest, and he got his eye on me 
at just about the instant I saw him. I could see only 
a small part of him— one horn and part of his shoul- 
der— bet\veen the trees. The moment he saw me he 
was off like a flash. The moment I saw him I raised 
my gun and fired a snap shot. I dared not take time 
to look for the sights. I knew it was then or never 
I really could not tell whether he had beaten my bul- 
let or not._ I feared he had. He started oif toward the 
httle opening behind me that I had just crossed, swing- 
ing in the direction he had started. I saw a little open- 
ing between the trees where I could see out to the 
sunshine m the little glade. I covered this with my 
rifle, and m a moment I saw a yellow streak flit across 
and I fired at it. Then I worked the lever and turned 
to the next opening ahead of him, but had to wait a 
couple of seconds before he flitted by, then I fired 
again. I did this the third time, then I saw him no 
more. He didn't seem to be going so very fast or he 
would have gotten away before I could shoot at him 
so many times. 
I thought he must be hit, at least I hoped he was, but 
could not tell. I hurried back to the glade and looked 
around. Nothing there. Then I went up to the place 
where I had first seen him. Here there were plenty of 
signs. Where he had made the first jump he had evi- 
dently fallen flat and there was blood on the ground. 
The next leap was a long one, and here again he had 
fallen, and left more blood. It was easy to trail him, 
for at each jump he had fallen and scratched around 
getting up. ^ He seemed to have made very long leaps, 
but lit on his head every time. 
As I was following the trail I suddenly heard a noise 
around to my left. Glancing in that direction I saw 
him standing on his hmd legs and nose. Then he made 
another of those long leaps without getting on his front 
feet at all. While he was in the air I took another snap 
shot and hit him by the side of his tail. Then he lay 
still, and I ran down there. As I came up to him he 
swung his head over and gave me the txiost pitiful look 
out of his big liquid eyes and groaned. 
Clark, that look haunts me yet. I felt like chang- 
ing places with the poor thing. If he had gotten up 
and tried to fight me I should have felt all right. Or, if 
he had done somethiiig to deserve such treatment, there 
would have been some excuse for me. I said to myself, 
"We needed meat. Bah, a flim.sy excuse; we could have 
gotten along without it." As plainly as animal eyes 
can talk, he said to me, "How could you be so cruel ?'f 
I don't know but what he hurt me as badly as I did 
hihii only in a different way, and it lasts longer. Some- 
tim^es I think I am getting to be a chicken-hearted fool; 
and then, again, I think tliat it is right. That we have 
no right to hurt any of God's creatures; that they are 
not harming us. Hi ho, this question is too big for 
me. I shall never solve it. A thousand times since 
that I have wished that I had found no deer that day; 
and a thousand times h ave I looked with pride on that 
deer's head, where it hangs on my wall, and thought 
of the good shooting, under difficulties, that I did that 
day. 
Well, I cut his throat with my hunting knife, and 
then looked to see where I had hit him. Altogether 
I had fired five shots at him, and there they all were, 
as plain as day. They were not well placed, but all had 
found the mark. One shoulder was crushed (my first 
shot, I think). One front leg was broken in two 
places, and the other front foot and four inches of the leg 
were gone entirely. I had shot too low, but I had 
hit every time. There is satisfaction in that. 
Then I went out to the edge of the timber, and mak- 
ing a trumpet of my hands, I let a "Halloo" that went 
echoing around and around in the still air. In a 
moment I had an answei-, away down there, seemingly 
half way down the mountain side, and in twenty or 
thirty minutes Lem was with me with the gray horse. 
Lem said that they had heard my first shots, bang- 
bang— bang— bang— and had listened to hear my call 
for a horse. When this did not come as soon as he 
thought it ought, he had told the girls he thought I 
had missed. Then came my last shot, and he knew in 
a moment just what had happened. He told the girls 
that I'd got him, and he jumped on his horse and was 
well on his way up to me when he heard my call. 
We dressed the deer. Then went to look at the place 
where I had shot him. Along the trail we found the 
missing front foot. The bullet had evidently hit the bone 
fairly and cut off the cords or some of them, then in 
making a leap he had caught the severed part under a 
root and jerked it off. Lem said it was a wonder I had 
hit him at all in the place I had to shoot through. I 
did not tell him that I was a "crack" on wing shoot- 
ing, which, I believe, I might have done with some 
truth. 
Be that as it may, I am proud of the work I did that 
day with my Savage, and only sorry that I did not hit 
his heart the first shot. 
Now, old friend, I think I've told you enough of this 
hunt to make you want to go with me next time I go 
to tk^: place, which will be next August, if the Lord 
IS wi/fing. 
W-iiiing you prosperity and happiness, I am always, 
Yours truly, 
* Richard A. Paddock. 
The Wild Pige ons. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I once kept a diary. It was only a business sort of a 
diarjr— just a few jottings each day— a record of things 
and events most important to me. But I had kept it 
for years and would give much if I had continued it. 
It runs up to the time of the Chicago fire! 
Then it had to stop for a time. Events were too 
many and too important to be recorded. This time was 
prolonged and the leisure time to write it up never 
came. So ended my diary. 
I used to take no end of pleasure in the stories and 
discussions of the brethren of the goodly fellowship of 
Forest AND Stream, and used to "chip in" now and 
then with an observation of my own, and humbly 
hoped I might, in a small way, be entitled to call my- 
self one of them. 
Then came a time— a year and a half ago— when cir- 
cumstances called me to start on a long, long journey, 
which resulted in taking me around the globe— giving 
me experiences in many lands, including the Hawaiian 
Islands, Japan, China, the Philippine Islands, the Malay 
Peninsula and India. 
I thought that surely all this would furnish me many 
an observation and adventure worth offering to my 
brethren of Forest and Stream. 
~ But it was "Chicago fire" over again. There was 
too much to write— an embarrassment of riches— and 
from the time my steamer carried me west from the 
Golden Gate, till by going ever westward, I sailed up 
Boston Harbor and sighted the blessed old gilded dome 
of the State House, and until now, I have never found 
it possible to relieve my spirit by sending you a word. 
Worst of all, by some oversight, my file of Forest 
AND Stream was not forwarded to me, and I found 
them, a tall pile on the top of my desk, when I re- 
turned—enticing, but impossible— and absolutely un- 
touched, even yet. 
_ But who could resist the stimulus of your recent 
issues to take a hand again? Every number and al- 
most every page is a challenge. Sometime I do still 
hope to tell a few things and to propound a few conun- 
drums which came to me in those marvelous lands, 
where I longed as never before, for more naturalistic 
lore and for some of the "goodly fellowship" to enjoy 
and experience with me. 
A vast amount of hunting and fishing I did, but it 
was mainly of the kind that is done from car window 
and from the bridge or bow of a steamer, or from the 
cab of an engine. If any one thinks that is unfruitful 
sport and unworthy of record, I hope some day to con- 
vice him to the contrary. 
