TURKEY LOVE 
Dear Forest and Stream : 
I N the depths of a tidewater \'irginia’ 
forest, a wild turkey hen had made 
her nest u n d e r the close.-hang'ing 
brandies of a sturdy holly tree. Hei’ 
clutch had been laid and she had been 
brooding over her speckled eggs for 
three weeks, only leaving the nest at 
such intervals as would allow her to 
find necessary food. Ten fine chicks 
were the reward for her patient waiting, 
and the proud mother cared for them 
well all through the spring, summer and 
early fall, although there were only eight 
youngsters under her care when the 
leaves began to turn, for two of the 
chicks had died soon after they had left 
the nest. 
When the sturdy brood had grown to 
the size that their sexes could lie distin- 
guished, the mother hen began to notice 
the remarkably handsome appearance of 
one of the young gobblers, a bird which 
had grown steadily into masculine 
beauty and strength, showing larger size, 
more brilliant plumage and a greater 
spirit than his three brothers. Naturally 
the fond mother fairly worshipped this 
particular son, who soon became the very 
pride of her heart, for he was indeed a 
perfect specimen of his breed. 
The forest in which the wild brood 
was hatched and later on, grew to ma- 
turity, was the woodlands of the Wil- 
ton Plantation. Broad fields came right 
up to the borders of the wood. Way 
down across the fields, was the manor 
house set in a beautifid shady lawn that 
ran full to the hank of the broad river 
which flowed along in lazy manner to the 
ocean. The mistress of the manor prided 
herself on her handsome flock of bronze 
turkeys, and each succeeding season one 
could see these domestic birds ranging 
over the fields, even to the edges of the 
great body of woods. 
On this particular year, among the 
flock, was a most beautiful young hen, 
the very personification of turkey grace- 
fulness and fascination. It might have 
been noticed that the gobblers among the 
bronze flock often glanced at this hen, 
as the nreeding season approached and 
two of them were especially impressed 
with her charms. 
One bright winter day it so happened 
that the wild flock came out to the very 
edge of the woods, where they began 
to scratch under a big oak tree for 
acorns that the matted leaves now cov- 
ered. The domestic flock having ranged 
far from their ordinary run, sighted and, 
later on, joined their wild cousins. After 
much confab in the turkey language, 
both began to fill their capacious craws 
with the acorns. Thus it was that the 
handsome wild gobbler and the beautiful 
domestic hen met for the first time, fal- 
ling very much in love with each other 
at once. What a very attractive picture 
these two young creatures presented as 
the wild gobbler drew himself to his full 
height and strutted near to his newly- 
found charmer, while she, with apparent 
demureness hardly noticed his attentions. 
The mating season was on. The great 
flocks of wild ducks and geese had left 
the broad ri^■er marshes and commenced 
their long flight to their far-off Northern 
breeding grounds; the blue birds had 
come, and the old peach trees in the 
manor house orchard had bloomed out in 
full. There were new-born colts in the 
paddock, where the tender young shoots 
of grass were showing their pointed 
spires through the grey sod of the past 
winter, and there were quite a lot of 
white fleecy arrivals in the flock of fine 
Shropshire sheep that used the South 
pasture field on the old plantation. So 
all nature was telling the story to those 
who knew. 
Among the children of nature, many 
a bride is won at the point of beak, 
claws, hoof, teeth or horns, according to 
the breed and their mode of fighting, so 
as soon as the wild gobbler showed his 
ardent admiration for the beautiful do- 
mestic hen, he had trouble on his hands. 
First, a cousin of hers belonging to the 
flock of bronzes showed his sentiments 
by rushing at the wild bird. “Greek met 
Greek” in a veritable “tug of war” as 
these two lusty fellows fought with beak 
and claws and strong wings. The battle 
lasted for twenty minutes or more, then 
the bronze turkey backed off, a well- 
thrashed and disappointed aspirant for 
the love of his fair cousin, who with 
feminine dissimulation, seemed to take 
but little interest in either his defeat or 
in the victory of the other suitor. 
There was a great gobbling and fus- 
sing around among the two flocks while 
the would-he champions w'erc testing 
their might in the lists of love, hut when 
the wild bird ehased his defeated antag- 
onist hack to the flock of bronzes, and 
turned with a feeling of exaltation to 
his inamorata, all the other birds, both 
wild and domestic, watched with in- 
tense interest the outcome of the affair. 
Approaching his loved one, the hand- 
some bird of the wood strutted up close 
to the beautiful domestic hen. Some- 
thing was said in the turkey language 
of love, the notes of which were charged 
with deep meaning, for when the two | 
flocks separated for their respective I 
roosting places, the young champion es- I 
corted his newly won bride down | 
through the great woods to the foot of ij 
a wide-spreading oak, and soon the happy i; 
])air were roosting side-by-side on one 
of the limbs far up above the ground, 
while they were lulled to sleep by the k 
.soft night wind which went whispering j 
through the forest, and over the broad 
fields as well as across the great river 
marshes, telling the old, old story that 
renews itself eaeh season. 
J. M. Beei., 
X^irginia. 
THE LONG SLEDS 
Dear Forest and Stream i ! 
jV/FILES and miles of silent snow- j 
fVl wrapped forest. Hardly a sound I" 
save the snapping of some hough riven 
by the frost; tracks aplenty yet never a |! 
sight of a living thing for many a Aveary . 
league. Lake and lakelet, river and | 
.stream, lie as though dead, covered by II 
a spotless mantle that reflects the rays | 
of a low sun by day and the flashing <| 
beams of the aurora by night 1 
Canada’s northland now wears its win- 
ter garb — calm, beautiful, awe-inspiring. 
.Surely, Nox, the God of Death reigns 
here. Man cannot bend this stern coun- 
try to his will, cannot force these grim 
’rocks, these interminable muskegs, these 
unending forests, to yield him a living. 
On the contrary, the Indian finds him- 
self perfectly at home herein. Self-suffi- 
cient, independent, knowing as by in- 
stinct where the real dangers lurk, con- 
temptuously indifferent to those that the 
over-wrought imagination of the strayer 
from civilization conjures up, the trapper 
feels safer in the wilderness than in the 
haunts of men. 
And at this particular season thou- 
sands of silent, alert, hunters arc making 
their way to the outposts of the ' fur 
trader. There must he faces anxiously 
awaited that will be missing; thin ice, 
accident by flood or field, may halt the 
most experienced, yet the hazard is no 
greater, perhaps, thanJ:hose the city man ] 
has to face daily. 
Mark that beaten trail ! No snow has 
fallen since it was made, hence, some- | 
one must have passed since daybreak' 
when the night’s sprinkling ceased. Flere 
is the track of a snow'shoe, pitted by the . 
print of many a husky paw', all ironed 
out by the pressure of a- heavily-laden 
toboggan. 
By forcing the pace a bit w'e may yet 
catch up with the voyageur when he 
next stops to “boil the kettle,” something 
