Dec. 6, 1902.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
449 
Various Matters* 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
On my return recently from an Adirondack hunting 
trip, one of the first things which I did was to read up the 
back numbers of Forest and Stream,, which had accumu- 
lated during my absence from home. 
The pleasure I derived from the many good_ things 
Avhich I found was nearly offset by the reports of recent 
fatalities in the deer forests, where men were mistaken 
and shot to death for deer. 
I notice that the opinion seems to prevail that these 
fatalities are largely attributable to the use of small-bore 
high-power rifles. 
I do not think this opinion is warranted by the facts 
in the case. Anyone conversant wth the characteristics 
of deer forests, or forests in which any sort of game is 
killed with the rifle, must be aware of the fact that bul- 
lets from high-power rifles which are fired in such forests 
are sure to be stopped by natural obstructions before they 
have exceeded the range of black powder rifles, which, 
of course, makes one tj'pe of rifle just as dangerous as 
the other. So far as I am informed, no more people have 
been accidentally shot with high-power rifles, in propor- 
tion to the ntmiber of these rifles in use, than by any other 
kind of rifle. 
It seems somewhat strange to me that among all those 
who have attempted to give reasons for these sad acci- 
dents, none have mentioned what to me appears to be a 
very prolific cause, viz., whiskey. 
A drunken, or a half drunken man with a loaded rifle, 
trying to still-hunt deer in a forest where other men are 
trying to do the same thing, is a very dangerous combi- 
nation. It is a lamentable fact that many deer hunters 
regard the whiskey bottle as a necessary adjunct of then- 
trips, and these trips as the time of all other times in 
which to give unbridled license to drinking. 
It is not my intention to deliver a temperance lecture, 
but I will simply say that I think this order of proced- 
ure should be exactly reversed, that whatever may be a 
person's habits in this respect ordinarily, he should abstain 
entirely from drinking spirituous liquors while on such 
trips. The terrible consequences which sometimes follow 
should make it unnecessary to say more on this point. 
Another mistaken idea is that the aim of these man- 
killers is invariably fatal when shooting at the human 
target. 
If this were true I would not now be alive as a wit- 
ness to the contrary, as I have figured in the capacity of 
a target for a half drunken still-hunter. In the compara- 
tively few cases where the aim is fatal we necessarily hear 
all about it, but we hear little or nothing about the many 
cases where the aim is poor, hence the mistaken opinion. 
1 do not wish it to be inferred that I think whiskey is 
responsible for all of these accidents. A very small per- 
centage of them are no doubt genuine accidents, of the 
sort that sometimes will occur when the greatest precau- 
tions are observed. 
Then many are the result of carelessness or inexperi- 
ence, pure and simple. 
I remember one of my hunts which was taken in com- 
pany with several would be still-hunters, who were not 
only novices in this art, bitt also in woodcraft. I do not 
remember the number of stumps, rocks, and other inani- 
mate objects which they shot, mistaking them for deer, 
bear, panther and other wild animals. Luckily on this 
occasion the stumps and rocks were the only things which 
these hunters shot by mistake. It has been a practice 
with me of late to hang a placard over the gun rack in 
camp, bearing inscriptions which I designate as the nth 
and I2tli commandments. 
The Tith commandment reads, "Thou shalt not have 
loaded firearms in camp." The 12th, "Thou shalt not 
shoot at anything until thou art absolutely certain what 
it is." This works well. 
In regard to Adirondack deer. I have hunted deer in 
the Adirondacks nearly every season for many years, and 
have found them more numerous each season than the 
preceding one. Even Saratoga County must now be re- 
garded as a deer inhabited country, as they are now fre- 
quently seen in many parts of it, and quite a good many 
have been killed this season within its limits. For the 
fi/ty years previous to 1890, deer were never seen in a 
wild state in this county. During my recent trip our 
party of ten still-hunted on dry leaves and under other 
adverse conditions, and killed 13 deer in ten days' hunt- 
ing. This does not indicate a scarcity of deer. It is 
true that a large number of deer are killed in the Adiron- 
dacks each season, and this gives the alarmists a basis 
on which to predict the early annihilation of Adiron- 
dack deer. They seem to forget that a much larger num- 
ber is added to the supply each year by natural increase. 
I can see no present necessity for greater restrictions in 
regard to killing deer, but as a matter of economy I think 
the open season on deer should be changed so they could 
be killed only when they are in the best condition and 
when their meat could all be utilized to the best advan- 
tage. A deer is a large animal, and when one is killed 
during warm weather the chances are that before it can 
all be consumed it will be more suitable food for buzzards 
than human beings. 
We found it quite difficult during out late hunt, to keep 
the deer we killed from spoiling, although they were all 
killed in November. I have always thought that the open 
.season on deer should be from the first to the last of 
November, for I have always thought that game should 
only be killed when it is in the best condition, and when 
its meat could be used to the best possible advantage. 
This may sound strange to your able and interesting cor- 
respondent, Coahoma, coming from me, and therefore I 
will explain myself by saying that in my opinion we de- 
rive our "true sport" from the pursuit and capture of 
game. The utilization of the meat of captured game is 
purely a question of economy, and bears no relation to the 
sport involved in its pursuit and capture. 
Apropos of this matter, I would suggest to Coahoma 
that quite likel,y his friend B. objected to throwing those 
thirteen quail into the bayou for the same reason that he 
would object to throwing the contents of his pork barrel 
into the same bayou. But his objection to this needless 
waste would be no evidence that he regards the slaughter- 
ing of hogs as "true sport." But enough. 
I like Coahoma, and. the loyal way in which he defends 
his honest ponvictioijs. 
In regard to hounding deer. I have always thought the 
law against hounding a little too hard on those who can 
kill deer in no other way, or those who enjoy this way of 
hunting deer best. 
Personally, I can kill five deer still-hunting while I 
would be trying to kill one driven by hounds, and I derive 
more sport from still-hunting than from any other method 
of hunting deer ; but I believe that all have an equal op- 
portunity to enjoy sport in the way that pleases them 
best, provided their way is a sportsmanlike way. I can 
discover nothing unsportsmanlike in hounding deer. The 
charge that it is cruel is the merest bosh. Deer are never 
found in situations where they cannot throw off the hound 
by crossing water before thay are distressed by the chase. 
If the supply of game cannot stand the drain of this 
method, stop all hunting for a term of years until the 
supply is replenished. This would be very simple and ef- 
fective, and perfectly fair to all interested. It would a.lso 
be much less expensive than our present system, which, 
expensive as it is, stops far short of enforcing the law 
against hounding and jacking. 
Lastly, if hounding were permitted, it would greatly 
lessen the number of fatal accidents, as that cla.ss of deer 
hunters who have none of the instincts ,and training of the 
still-hunter, would then pursue the sport in a way that 
offers but few chances for carelessness, in experience or 
intemperance, on their part to result in the injury or death 
of their fellow men. Jos. W. Shurter. 
Gansevoort, Nov. 26. 
Mr, Brown and the Buck. 
"Tell us about that big buck deer you lost once, 
Brown. They say you missed a very fine one a few 
years ago," said Jones to Brown a few evenings since. 
"Well, it was like this," said Brown, taking a few 
puffs at his pipe. "I had never shot a deer and the 
evening before the occurrence of which you speak, I 
was alone in a log cabin far away from the haunts of 
men. I v/as figuring on taking a turn out in the 
thicket the next day to look for deer, Avhich I had been 
told frequented it. and so naturally thought a good 
deal about deer and the probabilities of my being able 
to get one. If you have ever been domiciled in a cabin 
in the woods several miles from any human habitation, 
you can readily understand what the facilities are for 
undisturbed thought. By the time darkness came on I 
was shooting deer by the carload. Sometimes I would 
be content to kill them one at a time in rapid succes- 
sion, and then, again, I would have them lined up and 
make one bullet do for two or more, but I never failed 
to bring them down. Amid these cheerful reflections 
I fell asleep and dreamed of sitting on runways and 
prowling through thickets. The next morning I 
started out full of hope and ambition. Every faculty 
was on the alert and my gun always in readiness for 
instant execution in case a deer jumped from the 
thicket. For a couple of hours I traveled thus, and 
seeing no deer, gradually relaxed my vigilance, and 
was swinging along at an easy gait with my gun care- 
lessly resting on my arm. I had come out of the thick 
timber and had stopped on a hill overlooking some 
little meadows. I had not the slightest thought of see- 
ing a deer, when all at once there burst upon my vision 
a monstrous buck calmly and peacefully grazing along 
the edge of the meadow at the foot of the hill. In- 
stantly I was again a child, and by my father's side 
I stood clinging to his hand and gazed respectfully 
through the bars of a cage at the beautiful animal. 
Then the whole thing seemed like a picture of a beau- 
tiful landscape, with the live deer painted into it. Grad- 
ually I became conscious of something on my arm. It 
was the gun, and then the horrible revelation came 
over me that here was the deer I had come to kill. 
Slowly and mechanically T raised the gun to my shoul- 
der and pointed it in the direction of the meadows, al- 
ways with my eye riveted on the deer. I could not 
shoot yet, for I had not made up my mind how t was 
going to keep him there while I killed him; how_ I 
could spare enough attention from keeping him 
chained with my eye, to aim the gun and perform the 
operation of pulling the trigger. Those w^ere moments 
of terrible suspense. The deer kept growing larger 
and larger, a mist swam before my eyes, and the earth, 
the trees and the sky all began to move. With the 
sensation that one has when he realizes that it is the 
other train and not the one he is on that is moving, I 
awoke to the fact that Mr. buck was leaving the mea- 
dow with my eye still chained to him. It was then or 
never. There he was only a short distance away,_ mov- 
ing slowly along. I can see him yet. Great big fel- 
low. His course brought him nearer and nearer to 
where I stood waiting" — (pause) 
"Why didn't you shoot?" 
"What?" 
"Why didn't you shoot?" 
"Oh. Why didn't I shoot. Well, as I said before, I 
had one eye firmly fixed on the buck. In order to 
sight a gun properly, as you may know, it is neces- 
sary to shut one eye, and wath the other glance along 
the gun barrel between the sights. My gun was in 
place, but when I went to draw a bead on the buck my 
left e3'e being so firmly fixed on the buck, refused to 
respond, and I inadvertently shut the other eye. This 
moved the gun barrel around out of place and changed 
the position of the deer and mixed things up generally. 
I had been perfectly cool up to that time. Almost too 
cool. In fact, frozen, to speak technically, but this 
little matter of getting my eyes _ changed had a ten- 
dency to make me nervous. I quickly recovered, how- 
ever, took aim and fired. I cannot imagine why he did 
not drop. They always dropped — the night before. He 
sim.ply stopped and looked my way. Could it be that 
I had shot him so dead that he did not struggle suffici- 
ently to fall at once? No, he was not dead. He did 
not even know he had been shot at, and to my utmost 
consternation he came directly toward me. He came 
a little way and stopped. How long we stood there 
staring each other in the face I will never know, but 
finally it occurred to me that if I killed him I must 
shoot him again. I raised my gun" 
"Why in the world didn't you shoot then, Mr. 
Brown?" 
"Did you ever shoot at a deer?" 
"No." 
"No? Well, you see, when I made up my mind to 
shoot again it occurred to me that I hadn't pumped 
my repeater. I hastened to reload, when click! the 
deer wheeled like a flash, and with a gentle, graceful 
rolling motion sanlc quietly and peacefully into a kind 
of little ravine like, and I saw him no more. If the 
ground had been a little more level, or if (sigh). 
Say, give me a match, will you, my pipe's gone out." 
With Dog andl'Gun. 
The Delights of Upland Shooting. 
There is no sport that has more pleasurable, health- 
giving qualities than that which appertains to the dog and 
gun. To roam at will through forest and glade, inhaling 
the purest air that nature provides, air laden with the 
scent of wild flowers, heavy Avith the balsamic odor of 
the pines, refreshing and exhilarating, giving breath and 
strength to the weakling and preserving those qualities in 
the strong. No scenery is more beautiful than that made 
by the divine landscape gardener, unmarred by the hand 
of man, whose desecrating hand strings rows of unsightly 
fences, rears an edifice of wood and mortar and stone in 
the clearing in the forest, once beautiful in its pristine 
freshness, but now an unsightly blot upon the face of na- 
ture. In the heart of every man there is one little spot, 
sometimes so infinitely small that even its possessor is not 
aware of its existence until moved by some glorious scene, 
and sometimes so large that it dominates the whole be- 
ing, that loves the wildness, the freedom, the untram- 
meled beauty, found in the silent woods. And it is that 
love for nature that goes far toward making a sportsman. 
To leave the rush and turmoil of the town far behind, to 
get away from the confines of civilization and feel as 
free from care as the beasts of the field, the birds of the 
air, that is the longing that completes the change from 
man to sportsman. With many the hunting is merely an 
incident, to be enjoyed as one of the numerous pleasures 
that go to make the whole ; it is the companionship of the 
beings of the woods, the animals that know nothing of 
civilization or captivity, the sense of being free, the 
wholesomeness of the life, that attracts the man. 
Did you ever lie on your back on some mossy spot, 
beneath the trees, and gaze upward at the blue sky, tak- 
ing note of the little birds that flit in and out of the 
foliage overhead, now hastily seeking the shelter of the 
thick pine when a threatening shadow warns them of the 
coming of their most troublesome enemy, the hawk; then, 
when danger is over, leaving their refuge and once more 
busily going about the duties of their little lives? You 
hear a faint scratching noise on the old fallen tree near 
you and then you see a tiny chipmunk watching you with 
twinkling eyes, a strange sight for him, resembling none 
of the wood folks with which he is acquainted, until a 
sudden movement of 3'-ours alarms the timid creature, 
and like a flash of light he is gone. Off in that tall chest- 
nut tree there sounds the busy chatter of a squirrel, a 
bluejay catches a glimpse of you and screeches forth harsh 
notes of warning, while a distant whistle, a querulous 
qu6i-la-hee, qu6i-la-hee, proclaims a quail, separated 
from his relatives and sounding the call of the lost. 
There is something irresistibly attractive in these sights 
and sounds of the woods that the rnaxim, "once a sports- 
man, always a sportsman," is rarely at fault. It is gen- 
erally instilled when but a boy, this love of nature, and 
seldom a man, who as a youngster used to roam through 
the w^oods and fields, but that enjoys the same wander- 
ings in his riper years. 
Upland shooting gives one an opportunity to enjoy all 
these pictures from nature's book of field and forest, and 
that accounts for flie man turning sportsman and the 
sportsman naturalist. No one passes a week or even a 
day in the woods without becoming interested in the 
animal inhabitants, and a desire to know more, to acquire 
a knowledge of the heretofore unknown wood lore, draws 
them again and again to the shadows of the silent forest 
until the charm is too strong to be resisted and many an 
hour is pleasurably spent beneath the trees. 
Nor are all the attractions confined to the woods. The 
sportsman-naturalist wanders through the fields, sees the 
burrow of the woodchuck, the well-defined paths of the 
rabbit worn smooth through grass and stubble by the 
passing of many little feet. Under the branches of the 
oak tree in the corner of the lot are several little hollows 
in the fresh earth, the dusting place of Bob White, while 
the feathers scattered here and there about the spot prove 
that the daily dust bath is not neglected. Never a day is 
passed witho'ut some new and interesting scene to relieve 
the monotony, the book of knowledge is never all re- 
vealed, but day by day the wanderer looks upon a new 
page, and before he is aware of it is under that strange 
spell, the "spell of the forest." 
Give a man a dog and a gun, let him roam at will 
through the fields and woods, and unless his heart is 
harder than the hardest flint, his eyes shut to all the 
beauties and charms of nature, he will be inspired by the 
delightful views, the new sights and purest air God can 
give, and go home, happier, better and healthier, surely 
recompense sufficient to pay for the day spent away from 
town and business. 
It was not so many years ago when the man who loved 
the pleasures attendant upon dog and gun, in a day afield, 
was regarded bv the majority of people as a ne'er-do- 
well, an idler who it would be best to watch, and maybe 
you can remember how yon slipped out the back door 
with the gun concealed beneath j^our coat, acting as if you 
were a criminal instead of a respectable citizen who was 
going hunting, afraid of the remarks of your neighbors tf 
they saw you off for such degrading sport and never 
perfectly at ease until beyond the confines of the village 
and the scrutiny of curiotis eyes. 
However, in this more enlightened day the sportsman is 
not a creature of suspicion, but, if a sportsman in the 
true sense of the word, he is respected, admired by many 
and imitated by some, truly a different man from one of 
three decades ago. , 
The American people, as a whole, are a nation ot 
sportsmen, and with a sportsman President at the helm, 
upholding and dignifying the title, the multitudes are 
becoming more and more convinced that the love of sport 
an excellent quality to be instilled in each mini, for it j§ 
