Forest and Stream 
A Weekly' Journal of the Rod and Gun. 
Copyright, 3908 by ForKst and Stream Publishing Co, 
Tbrms, 1 
: A Year. 10 Cts. a Copy. 
Six Months, 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MAY 2 3, 1903. 
J VOL. LX.— No. 21. 
I No. 846 Broadway, New York. 
The Forest and Stream is the recognized medium of entertain- 
ment, instruction and information between American sportsmen. 
The editors invite communications on the subjects to which its 
pages are devoted. Anonymous communications will not be re- 
garded. While it is intended to give wide latitude in discussion 
of current topics, the editors are not responsible for the views of 
correspondents. 
Subscriptions may begin at any time. Terms: For single 
copies, $4 per year, $3 for six months. For club rates and full 
particulars respecting subscriptions, see prospectus on page iii. 
AS TO DISCUSSION. 
The literature pertaining to the sports of land and 
water may be divided, in a general way, into two phases, 
that which is descriptive in its character, and that which 
is speculative or controversial. 
In descriptive writing, the success of the writer depends 
on his skill in arranging his fund of incident pleasingly 
and sensibly; in drawing clear word pictures, and in in- 
fusing a certain spirit and interest which can only 
emanate from his own individual genius. He assumes 
that all will look at his word pictures from his own view- 
point, as he is quite warranted in assuming. Flowing 
thus unopposed that writing, if good, is a pleasure to its 
author and to its readers. 
But in the other phase of literature pertaining to land 
and water, the discussional, each party to it is almost cer- 
tain to have his own personal view-point, which, in many 
cases, he partially or wholly, according to the opposition, 
is Bent on maintaining, more as a defender than as an im- 
partial demonstrator. 
In a debate or controversy, the men who can dispas- 
sionately, logically and pertinently confine themselves to 
the real issue are a small percentage of the whole. As a 
rule, men who can so discuss a pet hobby are naturally 
•of an equable temperament and broad views, or who have 
had long continued rigid discipline in deaUng with their 
fellow men, or both combined. Discussions, conducted 
courteously and impartially, cannot fail to be both pleas- 
ing and improving. 
Controversy in field matters should be conducted with 
special reference to the gentlemanly amenities, for as a 
class, sportsmen are gentlemen. Controversj^, as con- 
ducted in the struggle for existence in everyday life, 
wherein each one more or less directly endeavors to sur- 
pass his fellows, is out of place in matters of sport. In 
everyday life the competition is unceasing. In the world 
of sport all should meet on a common ground of good 
fellowship and common good. 
As a rule. Forest and Stream's correspondents are ad- 
mirably courteous and fair in their discussions, and we 
desire to compliment them for accomplishments as de- 
bators. Occasionally, however, one becomes restive and 
pugnacious under criticism or opposition, then, ignoring 
the subject matter at issufe, he becomes personal. A blue 
pencil with a broad end is then likely, as a mediator, to be 
invoked. A kind word turneth away wrath, but a blue 
pencil deracinates the wrath itself. 
When a debator abandons the subject matter and be- 
comes personal, he makes a double display of weakness, 
for he confesses, on the one hand, that he cannot hold 
his own in the debate on its merits, and, on the other 
hand, that he feels a greater or lesser degree of malice 
toward his opponent, as expressed by the utterance of 
unkind personalities. We feel quite certain that some of 
our correspondents, on meeting erstwhile opponents, have 
felt indebted to us for the suppression of personalities, on 
discovering how many claims to good companionship 
they found in their opponents' society. 
Unpleasant personalities have nothing of good in their 
favor, but have unlimited possibilities of harm. 
In many instances the parties directly opposed to each 
other overlook entirely the fact that there is another 
party directly interested in their debate, which party has 
a right to insist that the debate shall be conducted in a 
manner courteous and instructive, for the greatest good 
of the greatest number; that party is composed of the 
readers of the journal in which the debate is carried on. 
The same care and politeness should be observed as if 
all the parties, in their proper persons, were gathered to- 
gether under one roof. 
It may justly be remarked that the journal bearing a 
debate or debates has a character for dignity, justice and 
j)roper cetisorship to maintain, h^nce au ^4itOT, ?is ai^ 
impartial arbiter and responsible censor, would be remiss 
in his duties if he did not scan unpleasant personalities 
with an unfriendly eye and trim them with a firm hand. 
However specifically as this general subject concerns 
Forest and Stream, we desire to express our pleasure 
at the excellence of our contributors' offerings, for they 
arc sensible, refined and instructive. As they have been 
in the past, so will they ever be in the future. 
SPRING NIGHTS. 
The first ten days of the month haye been shuddery 
with more than the normal amount of chill east winds. 
Though bright, they lacked moisture, and the thirsty 
earth has dried, and dried, till all the paths and by-ways 
are powdery with dust. The wavy softness of the spring 
is giving place to a slow, partially stunted, inelastic leaf- 
age grown old before its time, like the child-life of 
crowded tenements. Victims of an unfavorable environ- 
ment, little men and women, scarce out of babyhood, so 
with the spring foliage of 1903- Baby leaves looked for 
quickening showers that never came, and are now tough- 
ening to stoical indifference. But at night, when the 
winds are still, and the fever is gone from the parched 
ground, Venus smiles in glorious brilliancy from the 
western sky to see the mounds of snow white fog that 
heap silently together in the hollows. As the planet floats 
to the horizon the moon throws a flood of radiance that 
brings the dim features of the landscape into full relief, 
and presently we find the knolls and upland a-glisten with 
heavy dew. Now we hear the drip, drip of the eaves. 
Quiet, comfortable, a sound of contentment. Gone is the 
chill of the east wind from the heart as that soft tattoo 
stirs up memories of home life under the old roof tree of 
the past. Longfellow says: 
"The night shall be filled with music, 
And the cares that infest the day. 
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, 
And. as silently steal away." 
So we find it. Up from the marshland comes the 
rythmic peep! peep! peep! peep I of frogs; an humble 
m.elody, but music nevertheless. The harsh tones of a 
restless meadow hen's cackle blend to smoothness with 
the sounding chorus in its regular time beats. Hark ! 
the whistle of a wildfowl's wing! At intervals we hear, 
now distinct, now far away and dream-like, the music 
c;f birds that pass in the sky above. A shooting star trails 
its fiery way for an instant across the zenith, and the bird 
voices seem to rise and fall in comment, as it flashes by. 
So let us go abroad and rejoice in these soft "spring 
nights." Truly, they are "filled with music"— nature's 
music — for those whose hearts are properly keyed. 
IN THESE DAYS. 
Who of us all may read the signs of summer for the 
continent? On the one hand lie the tropics, on the other 
the frozen north ; here the manati and the crocodile, there 
the walrus and the Arctic bear. To the northeast are the 
moose and the eider duck; to the southwest the tiny deer 
and the creatures of the torrid desert. A range of forty- 
five degrees of latitude and 'sixty of longitude implies 
difference of environment hard to comprehend save by 
the seeing or the feeling. A range of 15,000 or 20,000 feet 
in altitude means corresponding differences. 
now by a covering of deep snow. The cattle, which a few 
days ago were rejoicing in the fresh springing herbage, 
now stand about, belly-deep in drifts, starving and wait- 
ing for the snow to melt. The little calves lately born, if 
not hopelessly chilled by the cold storm, drag vainly at 
the mother's udders for nourishment that they camiot 
yield. To the cattle and to their owners this sign of sum- 
mer comes as a bitter mockery. 
Among the higher mountains which overlook the 
stricken prairie, there is as yet no sign of spring. Valleys, 
ravines and gulches are piled deep with snow, and the 
glaciers have thickened many feet by its heavy fall. 
Mountain sheep are still nearly white, for they have not 
yet begun to shed their long winter coats; bears have 
come out of their holes and are prowling over the foot- 
hills searching— too often in vain— for something to fill 
their empty bellies. They make long journeys over hard 
frozen snow banks, and tear away rocks on the mountain 
sides to reach the nest of mouse or ground squirrel. It 
has been a hard winter on mountain game and it is still 
hard. 
On the middle Atlantic Coast the sun shines down with 
blistering heat through a smoky sky. Under the heat and 
drouth of late April and May the meadows are already 
becoming parched and brown, although the frondage of 
the trees has as yet hardly lost the tender green of spring 
for the darker hue of summer. The fields of rye have 
reached full height, have headed out and will soon be 
ready for the sickle. The birds have all come, and many 
have passed on to their homes further to the north. 
Others have built their nests and hatched their young. 
Young crows, big headed and short tailed, rest on the bor- 
der of the nest, keenly watchful of the approach of hard 
worked father and mother, bringing food; owlets, fluffy 
and round headed, sit at the mouth of their hole and stare 
about. Of some birds the young are already abroad. 
In the fields men sweat as they follow the plow or sow 
the seed. 
On the prairie which flanks the mountains, the back- 
bone of the continei^t, the grass is gre^n, t>^l it i§ hi^dei^ 
Away to the westward, on the shores of the still Pacific, 
is the beautiful land of flowers, a land named for the 
saints and the angels, a land where in feeling it is always 
summer. Now cultivated fields and mountain sides alike 
are green from the plenteous rains of winter, and roots 
and grain and fruits are almost ready for the harvester's 
hand. Here is a land that smiles always, ever growing 
richer, more populous, happier. Well has it been called 
the right hand of the continent. 
From the northern part of the Bering Sea the pack ice 
has not yet vanished. Esquimaux are still killing walrus 
and narwhal along its slowly receding border; whalers are 
waiting in their harbor for leads to open, through which 
they may press on toward the Arctic Sea. Inland the 
snow still covers the earth, but here and there strips of 
green show where the strengthening sun has called forth 
the leaves of the Arctic plants— a sign of summer. 
In his diary for the years 1787 and 1788, John Quincy 
Adams wrote: 
Game laws are said to be directly opposed to the liberties of the 
subject; I am well persuaded that they may be carried too far, 
and that they really are in most parts of Europe. But it is equally 
certain that where there are none, there never is any game ; so that 
the difference between the country where laws of this kind exist 
and that where they are unknown, must be that in the former 
very few individuals will enjoy the privilege of hunting and eating 
venison, and in the latter this privilege will be enjoyed by nobody. 
This was an enlightened view when we consider that 
it was expressed in New England a hundred years ago, 
when the necessity of game protection had none of the 
popular appreciation it has in our time. No community 
realizes the necessity of game protection while the native 
game supply is abundant. If the birds or the game ani- 
mals are in hosts to-day, it is the complacent confidence 
of human nature to fancy that they will be plenty always. 
It took a prescient eye to see in the future a time when 
without game laws "the privilege would be enjoyed by 
nobody." In all of Adams' diary are no truer words than 
these. Nor could he have dreamed of the growth of 
population, the marvelous perfection of firearms, and die 
popularizing of. hunting as a sport and the effect of all 
these upon the game supply. Time has demonstrated that 
but for the protection offered by the game laws, in New 
England as in every other part of the land, the existence 
of a continuing and perpetuating stock of game would 
long ago have become a thing of the past. A sufficient 
and unanswerable retort to any benighted fogy, who in 
these times questions the wisdom and public utility of 
game laws as a system, is the simple question. Without 
game protection where would there be any game? 
Adams shared the view of his time that protecting the 
game meant the securing of a privilege to be enjoyed by 
"very few individuals." That view was based upon ob- 
servation of the European system of preserves. The spirit 
of the American system, on the contrary, is to secure the 
privilege of hunting to the greatest number of citizens. 
n 
Newfoundland's experience with a $100 non-resident 
license fee for caribou shooting has been decidedly dis- 
astrous to the interests of those who have in past years 
derived a considerable revenue from American sportsmen. 
A reduction of the fee at the first opportunity was ^ fore? 
gone conclysiQU; It- hai feeen r^-^^^ %q. 
