March 5, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
189 
et al. vs. Hunter et al., 17 ^sop, 30 ed., chap. 6, sec. 
20T9, et scq. non seq, etc. (Chitty on Evidence), wherein 
Slid Crow enters complaint that said Hunter covered up 
his slain deer with leaves, thereby concealing same froni 
the vision of said Crow, and so depriving him, the said 
Crow, of his wonted right and privilege of digging out 
the eyes of said quarry while still fresh, and then await- 
ing the progress of dissolution, when, said deer should 
become ripe for the penetration of his hide by the talons 
and beak of said C. Crow et al. 
And plaintiff offers to show many other authorities, all 
to the same purport, if granted sufficient time, and upon 
this he puts himself on the country, and prays that a jury 
be impaneled to try the issue. 
Do I hear someone exclaim, "Oh, for a sapient Pauta- 
gruel. to give a 'definitive answer' in this controversy be- 
tween these two Bridlegooses ?" . Coahoma. 
Dutchess Cottnty Association* 
The Dutchess County Fish and Game Protective Asso- 
ciation is no longer a proposition, it is a fact._ It was or- 
ganized Thursday evening, February 18. and is the result 
of a movement originating with the Poughkeepsie Gun 
Club. The officers, including some of the best known 
sportsmen in the county, are as follows: President, Wm. 
A. Adriinc'' ; Vice-President, Herman W. Marshall ; 
Secretary, A. J. Dn Bois ; Treasurer, Wm. Haubenestel 
(treasver r-f D'ltches'^ co'mty) ; Librarian, H. E. Winans. 
Dir''ctcr= — J^''^n G. Dutcher, Pawling; Isaac Tallman, 
MillbrorV : C'-'-'^ Cline, Millerton ; E. J. Pl'eston, Amenia ; 
Dr Carrol'. Red Hook; Geo. Lasher, Clove; Dr. Wm. 
Baxter, Wappingers. 
Miditatioas of an Angler 
II— Last aumttlef. 
This is what they call "a regular old-fashioned win- 
ter," but, like many other "old-fashioned" things, I would 
much prefer to read about it, or hear the oldest inhabitant 
talk about it, than to mingle with it. There is nothing 
irregular about it. The mercury is as regular as an eight- 
day clock that has run down. But surely there is noth- 
ing old-fashioned in the price of fuel. That is entirely 
modern and up-to-date. If one could be prodigal in this 
latter respect and consult his bodily comfort, bidding de- 
fiance to custom and costumes and coal dealers, one can 
imagine a condition of affairs where winter might be 
made endurable. But as things are at present, I wish 
that I could crawl into some warm corner and go to sleep, 
and not be called for breakfast until old Boreas himself 
wzs hors de combat,_ and all his forces put to rout and 
driven back into their own realm of perpetual ice and 
snow somewhere in the far distant north land, wherever 
that may be. 
At the beginning of this unending season, some vain, 
deluded mortal, some false prophet, some addlepated 
seer foretold an open, mild winter. Possessing "the faith 
of a little child," I believed him, and my heart was therefore 
glad and my flesh rejoiced. As an excuse for mislead- 
ing me in such a shameless manner, he asserted that the 
muskrats had built thin houses this year, seemingly an 
uncontrovertible fact. I took his word for it. I did not 
consult the muskrats; but if they builded according to 
the prophets, they must regret it, and if they perish miser- 
ably in their dens, it will only serve them right ; and if 
my false prophet should perish along with them, it would 
serve him right. 
Like all other prophets, however, this one does not 
Seem a bit disturbed, nor ashamed of himself because 
K>i his erroneous prognostication. , Nay, more, he even 
Seems to take pride in the condition of the atmosphere. 
I met him one day on the street when the thermometer 
had quit work and struck for a higher scale and more 
heat. 
"This is the coldest snap since the sixties," he cheer- 
fully announced, as he brushed the icicles from his 
mustache, and the knowledge of this fact seemed to add 
greatly to his- happiness. "You have frosted your right 
(ear," he added, in pleased tones. 
Having grown accustomed to that sort of thing, I 
merely grabbed up a handful of snow and applied it_ to 
the frozen member. "I thought you said we were going 
to have a mild winter,"' I reminded him. 
"Did I?" said he. "Well, I don't control. the weather. 
But I'll bet the groundhog sees his shadow when he 
comes out of his hole next month. You know what that 
means, don't you ?" . .= 
As weather' prophets groundhogs are nO more of a suc- 
cess than muskrats, or nien, therefore I ignored the bet— 
and luckily, because the w;oodchuck saw his shadow with 
a ' vengeance this year, as everyone knows. , 
Prophesying must; be a satisfying occupation. . .If you 
prophesy some dire event which actually takes place ac- 
cording to schedule, you are the Only one benefited, for 
you win glory and the joy of saying, "I told you so;" 
UnS if fhe thing' does not come t6 pas?, eyeVyO^ife so-gUd 
An application for incorporation has been granted by 
Judge Dickey, of the Supreme Court. The objects are: 
To propagate, restore, and protect fish and garne and aid 
in the enforcement of game laws, and further legislation 
beneficial to legitimate sporting, and to prevent depreda- 
tions of unprincipled anglers and hunters ; to establish 
equal rights for all, and promote good fellowship and 
sportsmanship generally, and collect and publish useful 
information relative to tliese objects, and create a fund, 
by membership and donations, to carry out the purposes 
cf the association, and affiliate with similar organizations. 
A bill will be presented to the Legislature containing 
several amendments to the forest, fish, and game laws 
to affect Dutchess county. Negotiations are now being 
made for the purchase of a quantity of quail for liberation 
within the county. 
The movement resulting in the organization of a society 
having such splendid objects has met with the approval 
cf the people throughout the county, and the association 
is receiving support of the most substantial kind. Other 
counties would do well to follow such a line. 
Snaniweh. 
Fox Farm a Failure. 
A GENTLEMAN by the narrie of Skillings, of Bangor, re- 
cently started a new industry on an island off the coast 
between Machias and Jonesport, Me. This was fox rais- 
ing. He believed that there was money to be made in 
raising foxes for their hides, and so leased what is known 
as Triton Island, some distance off the coast. Having 
secured the island he went west and bought about sixty 
of the finest furred and most hardy foxes he could find, 
paying for some of them as high as $500 apiece. These 
that it did not that they forget to find fault with you ; 
while if you make the mistake that my prophet was guilty 
of, you can lay it to a higher power than your own, and 
talk about the future. If you only prophesy enough you 
are bound to win occasionally. 
All of which has nothing to do with last summer, so 
I shall turn my thoughts from boreal reflections and all 
things pertaining thereto, and , hark back to the days that 
were days, when everything was as it should be, and it 
was good to be alive. 
One has a great number of last summers to look back 
upon in the course of his life. Some glided smoothly by 
in the well worn rut of the every-day, commonplace order 
of things, with nothing in particular to mark their 
progress; and they, therefore, only go to make up the 
great bulk of the mediocre days of our mundane exist- 
ence. So far as our cognizance of the cause and effect 
of human actions upon human life is concerned, these 
summers are as vague dreams wholly forgotten or but 
dimly remembered. They belong to the past and are con- 
signed to oblivion. A few, perchance, stand out from the 
hazy mist of forgetfulness, illumed by the_ memory of 
some unusual occurrence — possibly some tragic event ; but 
hi a whole lifetime how few are all that they should be. 
Scarcely one, in truth, though sometimes it is granted us 
almost to attain the perfect summer we long for. 
A perfect summer should be like a beautiful book — a 
book of golden days, and each day a poem in itself. _ Here 
and there should appear between its pages rare pictures 
of a glowing sunrise or a gorgeous sunset; of limpid 
lakes 'and babbling brooks; of soft rustling trees and 
cool shady dells, where wild flowers bloom; of the world 
of nature, indeed, as we see it at its best — the world that. 
God himself created- Of course we can only dream of 
such a summer, but what would life be worth without 
the dreaming? 
Last summer was not quite such a perfect summer for 
me, but there were days and days, and many of them 
worthy to occupy a prominent place in this book of 
"golden days." For that reason it will always remain in 
cherished seclusion in a niche by itself, apart from other 
summers, even those that have some claim for recogni- 
tion in Memory's sacred temple. There were no thrilling 
adventures to make it memorable, no hairbreadth escapes, 
no fierce struggles with warring tribes or ravening beasts 
of prey; it was all as quiet. and. peaceful and serene as a 
perfect day in June, and L doubt if I shall ever have just 
such another summer. 
Near the place which I at present call my home, there 
' are numerous lakes- and mUch good fishing. Within a 
radius of ten or twelve miles there are also several troui 
streams known only to the initiated— those of the inner- 
most circle. Two of us claim possession of these streams 
by right of discoverey. We have maintained our title 
—it grieves me to confess it — '"with lying lips and deceit- 
ful tongue." _ . 
But;what is one to do ? If people will get curious and 
" ask embai'.rassing questions about such matters, surely an 
evasive ansvi^er were better than a retort discourteous. 
Verily; "a soft answer turneth away wrath," and also an,, 
inquisitive angler from your private trout stream. 
To me belongs the glory of having disco'ver'ed one cf 
these streaiTi-.s, and to tnfe befell tht joy of l&n<i,ivi^ ^ 
he placed on the island last fall, and started his fox farm, 
with every prospect that his novel plan would be a 
success. 
Of course, the island being some distance from the 
land, it was impossible for the foxes to get off, and so 
fences were not necessary. This winter came with its 
cold weather, and gradually the water between Triton 
Island and the main land closed slowly in, until finally the 
wide passage was covered with thick ice which could sup- 
poitt ai man, or a team for that matter. 
All this had been going on so quietly that Mr. Skillings 
had quite failed to think of what this rapidly forming ice 
might mean to his new industry, and one morning he 
awoke to find that every fox owned had escaped from the 
island to the main land, and had taken to the heavy 
growth of timber which covers much of this section of 
the coast. Mr. Skillings instituted searches, and scoured 
the surrounding country, but he has not succeeded in re- 
covering one of the animals. The sixty foxes, many of 
which were extremely valuable, aggregated an amount 
of many thousands of dollars, and the loss gives every 
indication of being a total one. — Portland Express, 
Baron Killed by a Bear* 
A PRESS dispatch from Tacoma, Wash., February 24, 
says that word has been received from Forest Ranger 
Bowine, of Solduck Hot Springs, in the Olympic Penin- 
sula, that the body of Baron Martin von Schlosser was 
found on the range south of the hot springs on Monday 
evening. Near the body was a bear. The Baron was un- 
doubtedly killed by a bear. He had started in the morn- 
ing on a hunt. 
dozen or more lunkers when I first wet my line in its 
Wc'tters. I mention this discovery first, because it marks 
an epoch in my angling life. Previous to that time I 
had confined my piscatorial efforts in this locality to bass 
2nd other lake fish. One day Dame Rumor whispered in 
my ear that somebody had told her that somebody had 
told somebody else, and so on, that trout had been caught 
in this stream years before ; so I hitched up my gallant 
pony and drove out there, more on an experimental tour 
than anything else. 
The farm hands at the farm where I left my horse 
grinned pityingly at one another and at me when I ex- 
plained my errand, and made cumbersome jokes at my 
expense. But I assumed my most dignified air — which 
obviously produced not the slightest effect — and stalked 
down .to the stream. 
It was a small, unpretentious brook, and did not look 
very trouty upon first inspection. There was a stretch 
of boggy marsh between the dry land and the bank of the 
brook, and as I was not prepared for wading, I was 
uncertain how to proceed. After many half-hearted at- 
tempts, and after slipping from one or two hummocks — 
V. most aggravating thing to do — and getting my feet 
sufficienly wet, my anger came to my assistance, and I 
boldly waded across, a thing I should have done in the 
first place, as I might well have known. I ought to men- 
tion the mosquitoes right here, but I refrain— something 
which they did not do. 
I found a likely looking spot, where the water-cress 
grew under some overhanging willows, and cast in. The 
trout were there waiting for me. My shout of triumph; 
as the first one lay flopping on the grass, betrayed my 
presence to all the other mosquitoes in the neighborhood, 
not to mention myriads of gnats. 
The fading light and the voracious insects finally com- 
pelled me to reel up my line and start for home. _ I 
strung my trout on a willow switch, and with swelling 
breast and a swollen face fought my way back to the 
farmhouse. Before I got there a. bull appeared from 
somewhere and barred my way. . But I paid no attention 
to hini. I merely left him there, tossing sod in the air 
and bellowing, circled a twenty-acre field, and gained the 
barnyard by another route. Ordinarily I should have been 
nervous, but just then victory crowned my swollen brow, 
and bulls had no terror for me. Doubtless I should have 
circled a forty-acre field with the same glad indifference 
had the occasion demanded the circle. 
A forlorn looking thin woman came to the door and in- 
formed me that the folks had all gone to- prayer meetin' 
or a dance, she didn't know which. I was glad, because, 
although it would have done me good to boast somewhat, 
it was not necessary for anyone to know about the trout. 
A friend of mine had that failing — 1 mean of boasting 
about a catch of fish. It v/as impossible for him to keep 
from displaying a good string of trout, and, of course, 
it was impossible for him to keep from lying about where 
he caught them. One day an envious friend of his came 
to him in private, and said: 
"See here, John, yOu might tel! me where you caught 
those trout. I'll swear not to give it away to any of the 
boys." - . 
"Oh, I don't rtaind telling you," John replied. "It was 
about five miIfes"wtSt'- of 'here" YbU s.ee, pl&nty of- pvm- 
