832 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 24, 1904. 
But customs vary so, that what is a right and proper 
way for the Eastern Theodore to take his stags, bears, 
boars, rabbits and other game would be a very dis- 
tasteful way for the Wilhelm ot the West. Merely a 
different point of view. 
The late Sir Samuel Baker was a sportsman of sports- 
men, and shot for sport only; he had a very proper 
appreciation of the right thing. So filled was he with 
this spirit on one occasion, that, snatching a gun from 
a bearer, he ran up alongside a fleeing elephant and 
fired a charge of snipe shot behind her ear; she got 
away. Another time, being out of ball, he fired a 
charge of shillings and sixpences at a buffalo; if that 
was not a refutation of shooting for money, let some 
one speak. 
And yet, he shot lots of large game in tanks and 
lakes, where it had to lie and decay. Taken all in all, 
he was a very destructive man. It may be urged that 
he was clearing a country of dangerous and unneces- 
sary animals.. 
As for present sportsmanship, the writer would re- 
spectfully move, that the gentleman who represents 
Brewer, Maine, be considered a true sportsman. In 
ancient times men were named for their characteristics, 
and we know of no one more happily christened than 
Mr. Hardy, or more deserving of _ distinction as a 
sportsman; to achieve success in this line, one must 
be manly, and to follow the chase one must be hardy. 
Coming back to ethics, we have a difficult subject; 
what are they? To the elect, they represent the prin- 
ciples to which all true sportsmen subscribe, and from 
which, the old-time gunner (who shot for meat and 
fun both), the ground and sitting shot, the market 
hunter, the game butcher (not always a market hunter) 
and miscreants in general have no appeal. Where did 
these ethics come from? Everything had its origin 
at some time, but, the origin of many things is hid in 
obscurity. Of course there are many kinds of ethics, 
but we are dealing with those of hunting. 
It is evident that it is useless to search outside the 
back tracks of civilization, for savages had none so 
far as we can learn, and if they did have any, they were 
of a different breed and not worth considering. Sav- 
ages take pot shots whenever they can; yet, strange to 
say, savages and game exist together, the supply hold- 
ing its own against a non-ethical pursuit. Pursuing our 
subject, we can trace ethics back along those roads all 
of which led to Rome, further yet we follow them to 
Greece, where much that is noble, good and pure had 
its origins. As near as we can find out, the ethical 
halo which surrounds the true sportsman is a remnant 
of the luster and glory which surrounded Diana, and 
was by her bequeathed to all sporting, or, more prop- 
erly, hunting people of the earth, without reservation, 
and of late years has been arrogated to themselves by 
a certain class. We should like to say the mantle of 
Diana had fallen upon the hunters, but the contem- 
plation of a great painting by a renowned artist, show- 
ing the goddess with all her attendants in pursuit of a 
stag, constrains us to the belief that mantles were un- 
known, or, at least, unpopular in those days. 
When it comes to application, the foregoing prin- 
ciples are often honored in the breach. One of your 
correspondents would take a rising vote on a differ- 
ence of opinion between himself and Blunt Old Man. 
Recently in one of our neighboring towns, a gentle- 
man sought an office, the gift of which was vested in 
his townsmen. He canvassed the town thoroughly and 
got a yes or no answer from enough voters to find by 
comparison with the check list, that he would have a 
majority of sixty if all the others voted agamst_ him. 
He was defeated by forty votes, and when questioned 
about the defection among his constituents, declared 
he had found a hundred liars. 
Some thirty-five years ago the writer was out with 
his father and brothers shooting partridges (ruffed 
grouse). The old gentleman had just made a neat 
double on two birds which sprang up in a swamp and 
took opposite directions; our dog had just brought the 
second bird to hand, when a genuine sportsman ap- 
peared. He had heard the shooting and hastened up. 
He wanted the two birds badly. It seemed that he 
had gone out on his own hook, and left a party of 
friends, who ttok another direction. He had seen no 
birds, and had a wager with Peleg Hackett, that he 
could and would kill a partridge. The price of a supper 
at Hackett's depended on his skill; two boys were 
richer each by fifty cents, and it was up to Hackett. 
This was all right, only, had Cale Loring been present 
he could have amended his celebrated adage to include 
sportsmen with fishermen. 
Again, we were on Sandy Neck, our live _ decoys 
were sunning themselves on the bank by their coop 
near the shanty. Three sportsmen came around the 
point; the ducks flew off the bank, and one of the men 
fired both barrels at them. His companions laughed 
at and chaffed him considerably; he offered to pay 
damages, but, as we could not see that he had hit 
anything none were assessed. 
Another time we had our rig set in the mouth of 
Cow Creek. Some twenty-five wooden decoys were 
floating so artistically, that they were mistaken for 
the real by a sportsman who was being propelled that 
way by his boatman. Our live decoys were sleeping on 
the bank, for it was warm and sunny, and nothing do- 
ing. Being out of possible range, we watched with 
interest the skill of the boatman as he slowly brought 
his craft up to the flock. The sportsman, well down 
in the bow, with his gun ..projecting like the bill of 
an immense snipe, was making ready for a ripping pot 
shot when the eye of the experienced guide discovered 
the illusion. The sportsman's disappointment was al- 
most pathetic; but, just then he caught sight of the 
live decoys, and in an audible whisper, said, "There are 
some ducks," and brought his gun to bear on them. 
At this we called out that he need not shoot, as the 
ducks were tied. He was the Simon-pure, no meat 
hunter, market hunter, game hog or other outlaw, but 
a well-to-do, elderly good citizen, of whom no ill could 
be said. . . , , , , , , 
Again we were sitting on our boat below the bank, 
at the mouth of Mission Creek; our rig was floating 
idly in a little pool. Of a sudden the monotony was 
broken by the bang of a gun and the whiz of shot over 
our head and among the decoys. We lay low for the 
second barrel, but nothing coming, peeked over the 
bank, and saw a sportsman, still seventy or more yards 
off, making his way across the bog in our direction. 
He had on boots that laced on each side of the leg 
below the knee, and as they flared at the top, while he 
went over their depth at every step, each withdrawal 
took up_ an aggregation of mud and made progression 
almost impossible. He finally came up out of breath, 
puffing and blowing, and the following was said: 
"You have a good gun there." 
"Did I cover them well?" 
"Couldn't say; but you shot an awful distance." 
He complimented our stools and passed on. 
Shortly after this and on the same creek, a gunner 
was. putting out his rig and standing in his boat 
among the flock. It was in the morning twilight and 
he saw two men rowing up toward him, but did not 
give them any attention. One of these men caught sight 
of the decoys, and, snatching his gun, fired; a glancing 
shot struck the gunner under one eye, making a wound 
so painful that the others had to pick up his rig and 
carry him to the city. 
These anecdotes prove nothing, except that on the 
spur of sighting game the ethical shoot quickly. 
_ We have never had a market hunter shoot at our 
rig, or at ourselves; we have had an old-fashioned 
gunner stalk our decoys, and have had an Indian put 
a rifle ball through one. We once lost a shot at 
some dusky ducks because we could not determine 
whether they were the real thing, or another's rig, until 
they had flown off. Walter B. Savary. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
True sport often needs protection from men who are 
offended when told they are not real sportsmen, but 
masked pot-hunters posing as sportsmen. 
Is it not very seriously true that what some "critics" 
of the "blunt old age" school can do to worry and weaken 
the courage, hopefulness and nerve-force, and to chill and 
undermine the enthusiastic and future usefulness of one 
whose young name and fame are world-wide among 
naturalists and sportsmen, is evidenced by the collapse, 
blindness, and possibly ended career of Mr. W. J. Long? 
Does it not seem probable that, as a sad result of the 
severe strain that "critics" have placed upon him, he now 
sits in a dark room at Stamford, Conn., his young wife 
and child beside him? Worse, where are the published 
expressions of even slightest regret from the men who, 
I believe, have shortened his life through years of per- 
sistently published "criticism," urged home with their 
utmost power of separate and concerted ridicule and 
denial — attacks that I am told continue? 
Of course the above will also be contradicted; but 
meanwhile, no doubt, guilty gentlemen will be satisfied 
with results; and readers here are sure to judge for them- 
selves. I leave it with them to say whether . those who 
have watched the course of the controversies believe that 
the above conclusions are the result of proper reasoning 
and warranted, or are far-fetched. The matter will not be 
mentioned again by me. Mr. Long has proved able to 
take care of himself, and no doubt will be again, if, hap- 
pily, he shall recover. As to> the persistent character of 
the disputes and denials, and whether the tension of them 
caused Mr. Long's collapse, it should be remembered 
that all the facts needed to really form a conclusion 
already exist or continue in the issues of various publica- 
tions. The public will be the real judge accordingly on 
its own knowledge, and not by reason of merely reading 
published opinions or statements of any writer, or those 
printed by the management of any newspaper or 
magazine. 
When, to strengthen one of his many attacks 
on what he has seen fit to call the "modern 
school" of naturalists, Mr. John Burroughs absurdly 
stated in Outing last July that his mere reaching while 
concealed, for a gun to shoot at "sleeping" dusky mallards 
on the Hudson one spring, instantly waked them "time 
and again" by "duck-and-man-telepathy," he was 
promptly admonished here that before assuming to criti- 
cise others and styling them "romancers,' 'he should first 
cease "romancing" himself, and stop such unsportsman- 
like conduct as shooting at dusky mallards "all sound 
asleep !" 
This counter-attack was just and unanswerable. It has 
been most amusing to note how its force is sought to be 
broken by denials, side-tracking, and attempts by others 
to create other issues. 
Our new national law to protect wildfowls will, I am 
advised, prohibit under heavy penalties, the shooting of 
all ducks unless they are flying when fired at. This 
shows how the public regards pot-hunters. 
However, it is interesting to note the familiar line-up 
of apologists. One hails from sleepy Philadelphia, and 
dons the very large mask of Ocean ! Another, said to be 
a student of bear trails, imported camels, etc., uses a 
Spanish quill-name while mentioning that a single red- 
head duck, probably asleep by himself, did not fly, and 
was potted and given away ! If he had been starving it 
would have been different, but not sport. 
A third unlocated, ancient coadjutor sits in some easy 
chair of a presumably remote room, loads a rusty fowling 
piece with wads, and contentedly fires from behind the 
triple mask not only of anonymity, but also of paraded 
"bluntness" and alleged experience. He claims credence, 
extra reverence and authority, and special consideration 
because he says he is "blunt," and asserts he is an "old 
man." He assumes that all this masking somehow con- 
fers on him what will be gladly recognized as a specially 
honorable jurisdiction to teach, rebuke, and instruct and 
order others to comply with what will meet his own very 
manifest wishes. Worse, he refuses to disclose his 
identity ! 
These gentlemen should not love darkness, the refuge 
of those afraid of light. When they give their real names 
and addresses, and the times, durations and locations of 
their actual duck shooting experiences and acquaintances 
for verification, and also show that they are not thinly 
disguised members of the sore little band of senior 
wranglers, some of whom have been glad, for years, to 
maul everything asserted here out of their own narrow 
spheres of sport, then it will be time enough to get some 
real duck shooters, and members or officers of a few 
actual sporting clubs on the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts 
and the Great Lakes, as well as in the British Northwest 
and the Mississippi, Missouri and St. Lawrence valleys, 
to state here that to fire at dusky mallards "sound asleep" 
is forbidden by their club or hunting usages and rules, 
is never sanctioned, and is recognized as a proper cause 
for reprimand, admonishment, and final expulsion if per- 
sisted in. To these testimonials it will be easy to quote 
earnest pleadings from the real naturalists, like Elliott, 
for mercy to just these wildfowls. 
Readers have already passed adverse judgment on 
shooters at sleeping ducks. Yet "of the same opinion 
still," no matter what may be the public verdict in favor 
of these beautiful and fast disappearing birds (see Elliott, 
"Wildfowl"), "argument" would go on forever, as apolo-, 
gists would be driven from cover to cover, and final 
refuge found in such sophistry as claiming there were 
really no ducks, guns, powder, shot, water, world, sports- 
men or laws, nor any publications in which to air their 
"views." L. F. B. 
Elmira, N. Y., Dec. 13.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
I thoroughly agree with M. Hardy, who writes in the 
December 10 Forest and Stream about who are the true 
sportsmen. I am another sportsman who has shot grouse, 
quail and woodcock for forty years, and I have owned 
but two dogs. One was a cocker spaniel, which, when 
it got aged, would work up on a bird and then wait for 
me, giving, me a good shot on the wing. The other a 
black setter, bought of Mr. Charles Haley, of Bath, 
N. Y., which I could not keep long. (Another shooter 
wanted her for more money than I could afford to wrap 
up in dog skin.) 
My father, being an enthusiastic wing shot and trout 
fisherman, was to blame, I suppose, for my taking to the 
gun and rod. I also commenced shooting in the Adiron- 
dacks with a double muzzleloading rifle that had one bad 
fault of missing fire — especially if what I was trying to 
shoot at was a nice buck standing broadside on. My next 
gun was a Frank Wesson .44 R. T. tip up single shot that 
never missed fire. I remember one of the boys picking 
up one of the cartridges in the spring that had lain out 
all winter and it went on first trial in the gun and seemed 
to have all the force a fresh cartridge would have. 
Mr. Hardy's friends must use poor judgment in load- 
ing their shells if they use 12 grains with to i J / 2 
ounces of shot. Our shooters here use i 1 ^ and a num- 
ber only 1 ounce of shot. 
I would laugh some, I think, to see anyone try to still- 
hunt our wary old grouse. I haven't seen one in a -tree 
or on the ground in ten years about here, and I shoot 
some. I have many friends who have dogs that I gun 
with, and being away from home most of the time I keep 
none. My friends always get the cream of the shooting, 
however, and most of the game; still I get a heap of 
satisfaction, in once in a while closing up the wings of a 
swift-flying grouse or quail that has got away from the 
chap with the dog, and had not counted on the old man 
on the side. And, by the way, take the dog out of the 
question and the game would more than hold its own 
with all the shooters. 
Did you ever nearly step on one of our cotton-tail rab- 
bits in the high grass and see how easily he could side- 
step a load from each barrel of your gun? Great work. 
My idea of a true sportsman is one who can refrain 
from potting a bunch of quail when he runs on to them 
when alone; who is always willing to help out his friends 
with information of where to go ; who does no shooting 
or fishing out of season or unlawfully; who, if he comes 
home with an empty bag, can tell his friends just what he 
got; who obeys the game laws, tries to get his friends to 
do the same, and pays 100 cents on a dollar, who is 
satisfied with a moderate bag, and has a good time if the 
bag is empty. If he is this kind of a man he can use dogs 
or not and I think he would suit Brother Hardy. 
E. H. K. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Blunt Old Man refers to me as a (quondam) "usually 
intelligent" contributor. I've been thrown out of a jury 
box by the learned counsel because (he said) I was "un- 
usually intelligent." I've always said our jury system 
needed reforming. So now where am I at? 
Now, I don't worry how Blunt Old Man or any other 
kind of an old man "swats" his ducks. I'm not the duck, 
so what care I ? 
After Blunt Old Man downs Brown (if he does), I'm 
ready to take my dressing-down with humiliation and 
repentance for condemning the "swatting" of a bevy of 
quail all together asleep at the same time in a cosy fence 
corner enjoying the invigorating rays of the noonday 
sun. 
But my dear old fellow-contributor, Cabia Blanco, 
swatting a duck sitting. Et tu Brute! O temporal O 
mores! Charles Cristadoro. 
Buffalo, N. Y., Dec. 17. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
If I were to take sides with either the Blunt Old Man or 
Charles Cristadoro on the question started by Mr. L. F. 
Brown when he condemned Manly Hardy for shooting 
a duck sitting, I would have to take sides with the 
former to the extent that it has been, and still is, a 
common practice with duck hunters to shoot them sitting 
under certain conditions. There are many conditions 
under which, if a gunner v. ere to shoot at swimming 
ducks, he could undoubtedly be called a pot-hunter ; there 
are also times when people well known for their sports- 
manlike qualities have shot swimming ducks and gone on 
record over their own signatures. For instance, Mr. 
Grinnell in his book on "American Duck Shooting," 
page 334, quotes the well-known sportsman, Mr. E. 
Hough, from an article he wrote for the Forest and 
Stream about river shooting. Mr. Hough says : "We 
had learned to believe it as honorable to shoot a duck 
diving as one flying." The ducks in question were hard 
to get on the wing, so they took them the other way. But 
we believe Mr. Brown and Mr. Cristadoro made no dis- 
tinctions, but condemned anyone who would shoot a duck 
other than on the wing. I think all will agree that Mr. 
Hough has a secure position in the sportsman's world. 
Now, I think it a great deal more sportsmanlike to 
shoot a single duck on the water than to shoot into a 
thick bunch coming in to the decoys, and that 
at the most opportune tim- for bagging the greatest 
