174 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 27, 1964. 
returning before us, but higher in the air, thus giving _ us 
an excellent opportunity for passing and quartering 
shots. There were eight birds in all and their V : shaped 
flock showed like a bunch of gray and white against the 
deep blue of the sky. As they darted by us the discharge 
of my friend's gun and that of my own rang with one re- 
port, and the leaden hail did its work effectually, for four 
of the- birds came to earth with a resounding thump, 
three of them being killed outright, the fourth bemgmerely 
wing-tipped. As it fell upon the greensward it uttered 
its cry of distress, which my friend and- 1 repeated until 
the remaining birds turned and circled above their fallen 
companions. The report of our guns again rang out, and 
the last bird fell, it dropping to my wire cartridge, which 
reached it after it had passed beyond ordinary gunshot. 
"Bravo !" exclaimed my companion, as we gathered up 
our prizes, "that's a magnificent beginning of our sport; 
eight doe birds, and the whole flock saved ! We ,had 
belter get back to our trenches now,^ for we never can 
tell when something will come along." 
We spent the remainder of the day under cover; but, 
save a small bunch of yellowlegs, out of which we se- 
cured five birds and a ■ brace of Jack curlew, nothing- 
showed up worth the powder and shot that would be re- 
quired to bring them down. The following day was ab- 
solutely blank, not a bird being secured, and the next 
two were not much more profitable, a few yellowlegs and 
a single curlew only falling to our guns. On the morn- 
ing of the fourth day, however, we went into our 
trenches with the expectation of getting some birds,"- a 
lively breeze was blowing from the northwest, and great 
masses of clouds were sweeping across the sky above 
us and down to the horizon on every side. 
"You'll have something- to show for to-day, sure, said 
our host, as he left us on his return to the house. 
"There's a storm coming, and I can hear plover whistling 
now," and he glanced upward as he spoke. 
The old farmer's prediction proved true, for before we - 
had fairly disappeared from sight, a great cloud of birds 
could be seen skirting along the shore, that stretched out 
below us ; back and forth they moved in one great mass, 
their gray and white wings beating the air in one long, 
shimmering flutter. • 
The flight of a large flock of golden plover is ex- 
hilarating in the highest degree to the sportsman. The 
sensation he feels as he holds his gun in readiness to 
pour its deadly fusillade in that swiftly-moving cloud is 
indescribable. He repeats his whistling call until he 
turns them in his direction, and when they approach his 
stools his nerves tingle and his heart almost ceases to 
beat. The mighty rush of wings before him seems to 
give him a vertigo, but when his finger is on the trigger 
and the discharge of his gun ensues, his tremor and ex- 
citement pass and the discharge of the second gun is 
done almost mechanically into the mass of fluttering 
birds which pile up in the air above his decoys and over 
his lurking place. 
That day was an ever memorable one; great flocks 
succeeded each other as the hours rolled by, and nearly 
all of them paid tribute to our guns. They were the first 
birds of the season, and sportsmen had never before seen 
them. - , '■ . . 
To our calls they responded freely, and to the enticing 
notes they sometimes returned and swung over our 
treacherous decoys. Unfortunately, our supply of am- 
munition gave out before the day had ended. 1 had 
brought to the field but fifty or sixty cartridges, and my 
friend was not much more abundantly supplied, but our 
score for the day was the best we had ever made, over 
sixty brace having fallen to my friend's gun, and nearly 
as many to mine. : , 
"Yes, I knew you'd have luck to-day, exclaimed our 
host as the birds were loaded into the wagon and we 
mounted to our seats, "but you'll not get as many to- 
morrow and I doubt very' much if you come out at all 
He was right, for on the following three days the rain 
fell in torrents and the wind blew a gale, and when we 
returned to our trenches on Monday we -did so with the 
conviction that the first flight had passed, and our pre- 
monition proved well founded, for save a few small lots 
of yellowlegs, straggling beetle-heads, and grass birds, 
nothing was to be seen worth the shooting, and nothing 
remained for us to do but to spend a week or more as 
best we could while waiting for the second flight of 
plover which would probably come along in about that time. 
On the southern migration the plovers sometimes make 
but one stage from Prince Edward Island to the South- 
ern States In former times they used to pause at 
intervening points in considerable numbers. I have seen 
them by thousands in the "Canton Fowl Meadows a 
few miles from Boston, on the hilly pastures and fields m 
Hingham, Mass. ; have had magnificent shooting on the 
great stretches of waste land on Nantucket and at 
various points on Cape Cod, but nowadays they seem to 
move en masse, some times far out at sea, their flight 
having been witnessed from vessels, and unless a severe 
northwest storm drives them shoreward, where their 
flocks become broken up, gunners have poor success with 
them In its migrations, according to C. J. Maynard, the 
ornithologist, golden plover have been known to pass 
from Newfoundland to the West Indies m a single flight, 
and that it travels over the whole continent of South 
America, wintering chiefly in Patagonia _ . 
In speaking of the velocity of flight of migrating birds, 
he says that geese, swans, and other large species, move 
at upward of 100 miles an hour, and thus can readily 
accomplish a distance of 1,000 miles between meals. 
Ducks, especially the smaller species like teal, scaup etc., 
move more rapidly than this, the average being probably 
as high as 150 miles per hour. . 
Shore birds move even more rapidly, averaging 180 
miles per hour, and some species exceed even this flying 
at the ^reat speed of 200 miles an hour. The distance 
from Newfoundland to the West Indies is about 3200 
miles and to traverse this the plover would be on the 
wing sixteen hours if they traveled only at the rate of 
200 miles per hour. . 
Our visit on the island was prolonged until there was 
no likelihood of our seeing the second flighty which 
must have passed without a pause, perhaps at night or 
bv way of Nova Scotia, and we were obliged to return 
home with the greater portion of our first great bag 
oacked in ice, to be distributed among our friends who 
were so unfortunate as to be unable to leave their work 
as we had done. 
Guns and Gun Feats. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It seems a pity to disappoint so amiable a person as 
M. D. of Milford, and I trust that nothing may be said 
to impair his confident belief that he has accomplished 
his laudable purpose of adding to my presumed discom- 
fiture. I think he ought to acquaint the War Depart- 
ment with the fact that it is not necessary to hit a man 
with a rifle ball in order to kill him. The casualty lists 
of an enemy might be au'gmented materially by marks- 
men trained to miss scientifically. It seems strange that 
Daniel Boone never learned that squirrels could be killed 
without hitting either them or the bark under them. 
If I didn't know about "wind contusions" before, I do 
now, since M. D. has given a practical demonstration, 
using me as a target. Allen Kelly. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Manhattan, Cabia Blanco, O. H. Hampton,_ Skeptic, 
and M. D. have got me all mixed up. There is an old 
proverb or saying that a "draught that will put out a can- 
dle will blow out a man's life." Now, why won't the 
wind of a bullet that kills a squirrel or breaks a man's 
bones, blow out a candle? M. D. says the medical books 
treat of the lethal properties of "wind contusion," and 
avers that a bullet passing close to a squirrel's head 
without touching it causes instant death. Yet we have 
most respectable authority for the truth of the legend 
that old-time riflemen snuffed candles with the same 
weapons with which they "wind-contused" squirrels. 
Where are we at? Quien Sabe. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Cabia Blanco has called the turn in the candle-snuffing 
game. I've ridden the range a few myself, and have seen 
and tried all kinds of plain and fancy shooting, but I 
never saw bad man or cowboy, frow Wild Bill down or 
up, who could shoot the snuff from a candle without 
dousing the glim. As a matter of fact, just about 95 per 
cent, of the cowboy's alleged skill with the gun is hot air, 
but I have seen a few punchers able to hit the wick of 
a candle at five yards once out of three shots. _ I'm not 
bragging when I say I've done it myself many times, and 
that I could shoot straighter in the fancy game than any 
other man in every outfit I was with, although lots of 
them could draw quicker and hit a telegraph pole sooner 
than I could. Tenderfoot yarns about keeping a tomato 
can rolling with bullets, putting two or three shots 
through a can tossed in the air, whipping out a gun and 
shooting a running jack rabbit all in one motion and no 
time at all; picking the spots out of a playing card at 
twenty yards, "fanning the hammer" and hitting any- 
thing smaller than the smiling face of nature, are all pipe 
dreams! There's a heap of cow punchers and deputy 
sheriffs out West who say they can" do these things, and 
they think they can, but when they try to make good 
there's always something the matter with the gun. 
When I see a man bite the bottom out of a frying-pan 
without smutting his nose, I'll allow he t;an snuff a can- 
dle without putting out the light. Meanwhile, more 
power to the myth busters. Latigo Joe. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I cannot plead ignorance of that gun of Major Furgues- 
son's which Mr. Ellicott calls my attention to in the 
current number. My best excuse must be carelessness. 
I had forgotten all about that gun, though the breech- 
loading muskets that he describes are new to me. It is 
hardly possible that men would carry guns of different 
types, all of them muzzleloaders, year after year for 
several centuries, without many different men trying to 
invent some plan to load more guns quicker than by 
the tedious process of loading at the muzzle. _ No doubt 
many breechloaders have been invented of which no his- 
tory now remains. 
An inquirer in one of our local papers the other day 
wanted to know when and by whom gunpowder had been 
first invented. The editor told him it had been invented 
by an English monk early in the eleventh century. He 
may have forgotten, as I did about the gun, or he may 
never have been told, that the Chinese claim to have in- 
vented gunpowder 2,000 years ago, and they may have 
done so. They were civilized then, or as nearly civilized 
as they are now, in spite of the efforts made by some of 
us who cannot find anything better to do>, to civilize them 
some more. Cabia Blanco. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
When in reply to Rifleman's question whether any of 
the readers of Forest and Stream nad barked squirrels 
with a rifle, I stated that I had done it many a time ; that 
to do it I shot into the bark of the limb directly under 
the squirrel's throat, I did not say it could not be -done 
by shooting under the heart. I made no comments on 
Mr Kelly's experience and opinions, and am not a little 
surprised that he seems to doubt the truthfulness of my 
statement. I have never had time nor inclination to deal 
in fiction, and very seldom assumed the role of critic. 
What others have done in the way of barking squirrels 
I know not, but I have barked them ; that is a settled fact. 
I have also shot them with a revolver, and with a shotgun. 
My best squirrel rifle was a long octagonal, full stocked, 
percussion cap muzzleloader. My best shotgun for squir- 
rels was one of the same style, but running about 60 balls 
to the pound, with the rifles bored out, making what we 
called a smoothbore. With my rifle I shot the head off 
many a wild pigeon and quail. This pattern of gun fol- 
lowed the flintlock, and was followed by a half stocked 
shorter barreled rifle, and these by the repeater. 
I want to say to my doubting friend that when at the 
a°-e of 13 to 18 I spent my leisure hours in the woods, I 
seldom missed a squirrel's head if I shot at it. If I saw 
the squirrel's ear or eye, it was my squirrel, minus the 
head A wild pigeon's head up among the branches of a 
pin oak tree was a more difficult target to hit, but I have 
killed more than one pigeon in that manner. Some years 
ago I told in these columns of shooting the heads off two 
grouse in a thicket on the north side of Witch Lake, 
Michigan. I was standing on a log near where I had 
heard a grouse. I had a .32-20 Winchester. Presently 
I saw one of the birds on a small log that Hy at right 
angles to the one on which I stood. To have shot the bird 
through the body would have been no trick, but the point 
was to shoot its head off before it got behind a clump of 
brush. Anyone who has hunted grouse knows how they 
move when they walk. They move slowly, but their head 
is still scarcely longer than two seconds. I shot the head 
off that grouse, then swung part way around to the left 
and shot the head off another one before the first one had 
quit fluttering. The distance was 19 steps to the first and 
21 steps to the second one. 
My friend, Geo. Hedrick, of Ft. Recovery, Ohio, was 
near me when with my old .38 Winchester I shot the head 
off a grouse, then- stepped the distance. The bird was 
standing still on a log, and the distance was 39 steps, 
equivalent to 39 yards. 
I never killed deer at over 250 yards, but I have killed 
them lying, standing, walking, loping, and flying. But the 
finest rifle shot I ever made was at a buck's eye. Our 
party had gone over 500 miles to hunt deer, and were de- 
sirous of making a success of the trip. I was trailing a 
deer I had wounded, and had come to the point of a ridge 
where it had doubled on its track and probably laid down. 
I had trailed it fully a mile by an occasional drop of blood 
and its hoof-prints on the dry leaves. Then as I stepped 
on top of a pine stump on the end of the ridge, I found 
myself looking into the eye of a large buck. To hit an 
eye in that buck's head looked improbable. But I shot at 
his right eye just as deliberately as I would shoot at the 
center of a target, and I hit his right eyeball so near the 
center that the skin around the eye was not broken, as 
men will testify who helped carry him to camp. The 
distance was 45 steps. 
There are so many things that contribute to good or bad 
rifle shooting, the wonder is more self-styled sportsmen 
of to-day do not fail to comprehend its possibilities. A 
gun mav be of poor material, indifferently sighted, or have 
flaws or rust in it. There are certain facts, however, 
patent to all intelligent men. One cannot hope with any 
certainty to hit a mark beyond the range of the gun he is 
shooting. A long range gun should be sighted finer, or 
the aim should be lower down on the mark, at short 
range. One cannot hope to do good shooting with a poor 
gun. 
There are expert marksmen just the same as there are 
expert mechanics, and what they have done should be 
accepted as a fact. On my hunting trips in the deer coun- 
try I carry a .38 Winchester, '73 model. My first shot at 
a deer with this gun was a disappointment, though I had 
not tested it at long range. When I fired, the deer sprang 
into the air and dodged behind some bushes. Evidently 
the ball struck under him. I went to camp and tried the 
gun on a spot on a tree. It shot too low. Then I got 
a file and went to work on the bead ; also filed the prongs 
off the sight, and when I went into the woods again with 
that gun I hhrwhat I shot at. But while I have shot the 
heads off grouse, squirrels and rabbits with it, I would 
not think of trying to bark squirrels with it. My old 
squirrel rifle is in the possession of a farmer near this 
town, and he molds bullets for it j ust as I did thirty- 
seven years ago.' He says "it shoots where it is held." 
The best plan I ever found for molding bullets, was to 
get a piece of linden wood and make a ladle of it, leaving 
the bowl shallow, and cutting a groove out to the edge. 
Then I made a fire in it of live coals and small chips or 
dead coals, laid pieces of lead on top and by blowing set 
the inside of the ladle to- burning. This , melted the lead 
and kept it melted while I molded the bullets one by one. 
I usually chose a spot on a bare floor, turning the bright, 
shining bullets out on the floor, then, before they were 
cool, cut their necks off where they lay with my knife, 
returning the necks to the ladle to be molded again until 
there was nothing left but possibly a squib. 
G. W. Cunningham. 
Charlestown, N. H., Aug. 17. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: The discussion on squirrel barking and the old 
Kentucky rifle has recalled many reminiscences of my 
boyhood days. Seventy years ago the old long barreled, 
small bore rifle was still a favorite weapon in New Eng- 
land, as well as in Kentucky, and the "turkey shoot" was 
the common accompaniment and amusement of Thanks- 
giving time. My own experiences with gunpowder began 
with the rifle, and as a boy I was a pretty fair marks- 
man at a target, and have shot squirrels with the 'rifle, 
though my eyesight was never strong enough to make me 
a very "crack shot." The letter of Cabia Blanco, however, 
recalls the fact that some time in the early '30s, when I 
was ten or twelve years old, the late Governor of New 
Hampshire, then a member of Congress, brought home 
from Washington one of those. Hall rifles, with one of 
which each member had been supplied, and being no 1 
sportsman himself, turned it over to my father to keep for 
him. I practiced with that more or less, and soon got so 
I could beat my father at a target, but it was too clumsy 
and coarse sighted for a sporting weapon, and carried too 
big a ball. I mention it now to fix the date for Cabia 
Blanco. The other rifle he speaks of, with the revolving 
wheel, was, I think, the "Henry" and this was a Ken- 
tucky invention. 
One of my school mates had an 8-inch pistol barrel, 
made by Robbins & Lawrence, at Windsor, Vt, which he 
had got mounted on a short stock like a gun, and which 
was "sure death" for chipmunks and red squirrels, though 
I never tried it on any larger game. Another gun which 
I used a good deal belonged to a distant relative, and was 
a short English rifle, made for use in moist or tropical 
climates, with a brass barrel, about 16 to 18 inches long, 
but it had been a good deal worn, and was_ not very ac- 
curate, though I have killed squirrels with it. My next- 
door neighbor in those days was an old blacksmith who 
was not only a good shot himself, but a gunsmith, too, 
like many of the old New England blacksmiths of those 
days, and he had a long rifle of his own make which was 
the subject of my boyish admiration. 
Somewhat later a young gentleman from Boston came 
up here to read law, with the late Chief Justice Cushing, 
and brought with him a rifle and fowling piece made by 
one Pratt, of Roxbury, which were, without exception, 
two of the best guns I ever shot. One of my shooting 
cronies, a young shoemaker, like Nessmuk, could put a 
ball through a squirrel's head with that rifle with great 
certainty, and I well remember the string of gray squirrels 
which he and Mr. Tirrell, the owner of the two guns, 
brought down the evening of the day on which the first 
