58 
FOREST AND 
STREAM 
February, 1922 
A SPORTSMAN TO HIS SON 
FURTHER LETTERS CONCERNING SPORTS AFIELD AND WILD LIFE 
OBSERVATIONS ON HAMPTON PLANTATION, SOUTH CAROLINA 
By ARCHIBALD RUTLEDGE 
T hough you win be coming 
home in less than two weeks 
now, I must write you, for 
I want what I say to en- 
courage you not to fail us. 1 
planted the hope of your return 
nearly twelve months ago ; and the 
harvest of it is pretty close now. 
We have had several killing 
frosts, and both the woods and the 
fields would look like pictures if 
they had a hunter or two roaming 
through them. All our wood has 
been stored away in the cellar for 
the winter. 1 have some live-oak 
backlogs that are not to be lighted 
until you come. But I have al- 
ready had Old Cudjo and W ill take 
one up in your room and put on the 
and-irons. I told them it was for 
you, and that you and I would sit 
l)efore it some night soon and 
"talk the night away.” By the way, 
if you have old trousers, these two 
men need them. I hardly thought 
the other day that what they were 
wearing would hold out until they 
got that big log in place. 
These two men mentioned went 
on a ’coon hunt a few weeks ago, 
and one incident of it I must re- 
cord. It seems that the pace set by 
the dogs was pretty hot, where- 
upon these followers of Mr. Ring- 
tail decided to take a rest. They 
built a fire in the sandy road, laid down 
with their feet to it, and went to sleep. 
After a while Cudjo roused himself, de- 
claring that he smelt something burning. 
But he soon lapsed into sleep again. 
Three times he did this. Finally W^ill 
stirred himself and sat up. 
“How. Cudjo,” he said in mild sur- 
prise, “ain’t you know that the thing you 
smell burning is yo’ oTvn foot?” 
It takes something more than mere fire 
to make itself felt through the callous 
pads on feet like Cudjo’s. 
I can report that heavy rains in the 
up-country assure us of a freshet in 
about ten days’ time. A height of 20 feet 
in the river at Columbia always means 
flooded lowlands for us here. The water 
takes about ten days to come down ; it 
should therefore be here when you ar- 
rive. I know of nothing that could 
promise you better hunting. All the deer 
and wild turkeys will have to come out of 
the river-swamps, and will stay near the 
freshet-edges. Once in a freshet-time 
we ran into a drove of deer that had 
come across the river. There were 
twenty-six of them, the largest number I 
ever saw together. I counted them care- 
fully as they jumped the road. Being in 
unfamiliar country, they did not run as 
they should have run, but crossed the 
road within sight but out of gunshot of 
all the standers. 
I remember seeing eleven deer come 
Quail hunting on Hampton Plantation 
out in a herd to old Mr. Crumpler. He, 
thinking to make a record, decided, as 
the deer were running down a sheep- 
path toward him single file, to shoot at 
their legs. He did not touch one. I 
once saw ten bucks, fully antlered, cross 
an old bank in the time of high water. 
As a wild-life picture, I believe I never 
saw a finer. I mention these things as 
suggestions of what may happen to you 
when you arrive at the old home this 
Christmas. 
There is humbler game in abundance. 
My rice I have stacked in the barnyard, 
and the stacks are visited every day by 
such a concourse of blackbirds as one 
seldom sees gathered. I took a shot the 
other evening and harvested forty-nine. 
These your mother makes into pie, and 
the kind which no man could scorn. We 
give a good many away to the negroes, 
who never seem to get enough to eat. 
However, from certain hogs that I have 
not seen lately, I believe that some of 
them have enough bacon to last until 
New Year. 
Now that we are well on with the cool 
weather, the wild ducks have been com- 
ing into the ricefield at night ; one night 
at least they kept me awake for half an 
hour. The mallard drakes are the ones 
that make the most noise, though the 
black ducks have very penetrating voices. 
I’ll tell you a thing about catching one 
of these ducks alive that you’ll not be- 
lieve. Charlie Lesane, the negro 
trapper, brought me a perfectly 
good mallard the other morning, | 
and informed me that he caught | 
him in a steel trap that he had set 
on a floating grass bed. I asked ' 
him if he had set for mink, and he 
said, “No, sah; for duck.” He 
then added that he had often 
caught wild-fowl in this way. 
This old drake I am keeping for 
you to see, and perhaps we cant 
breed him to a tame duck and raise 
some live decoys. 
SHORT time ago I was in-: 
vited by some of the men down ' 
the road to join them on a hunt. ' 
The day was a little rainy, and 
I had some trouble keeping myj 
glasses clean of moisture. While 
on an excellent stand, I heard' 
the dogs suddenly begin chiming.! 
Thinking I had plenty of time to 
get ready, I pulled out my handker- i 
chief to wipe my glasses. I think I ' 
gave it a shake. That is what I[ 
judge I did from the way that! 
buck sailed away from me ! Son, ! 
I am telling you straight of this ! 
family disgrace. To think that I 
actually shook a handkerchief in' 
a buck’s face ! Of course I did not' 
shoot. Why I did not remains as^ 
yet a mystery to the other mem- 
bers of the hunt. But I simply have not) 
as yet had the nerve to confess. 
For a long time now we have been , 
having a dry spell. It is unusual for it 
to run on so late into the autumn. Onej 
effect of it has been to lower the water in* 
all the ponds. Jones’ Pond is now al- 
most dry; and you know that when it iS;! 
full it covers about three acres. WelL 
the fall of water there evidently uncov-‘i 
ered an alligator that had hibernated. ! 
He evidently buried himself against the ! 
side of the pond, in the mud on the slope. , 
When the water left him he awoke — very 
uncomfortable, I suppose. At least he 
was certainly irritable. Some negro dis- 
covered him painfully crawling through 
the woods, as if he were making for the 
river. He reported the escape to me. I 
found, on reaching the place, that he was 
not the hoary old dragon I had hoped to 
see, but a sleek young bull of about six 
summers. I let him go, which perhaps 
was a foolish thing, as a ’gator is a var-' 
mit. But I seldom regret letting any' 
wild thing go. Perhaps I thereby ease’ 
my conscience for some of the lives I 
have taken. 
It was on the way home from the alli- 
gator expedition that a peculiar thing 
happened. You, as a woodsman, will be; 
interested in it. I asked the negro with 
me to walk out a bay-head. I just wanted 
to see whether anvthing was lying im 
there. Well, sir, and what do you think' 
