September, 1920 
503 
FOREST AND STREAM 
trine of Oliver Wendell Holmes that 
“there is something about the outside 
of a horse that pleases the inside of a 
man.” There they ride to the hounds 
five months of the year, and had it been 
known that I shot a red fox I would 
have been ostracised, outlawed and pos- 
sibly decapitated. The fact remains 
however, that I did bowl over Mr. Vul- 
pes fulvus with a charge of No. 6 shot 
belched forth from a full-choked gun at 
something in excess of fifty paces. 
I was attempting to walk up game 
not far from my old home in Fauquier^ 
County, Virginia, and had traversed a 
broad stretch of rolling pasture land, 
and then had threaded my way cautious- 
ly through two thickets, but the elusive 
game, if there, had given me the slip. 
In half disgust I decided to try my hand 
at squirrels and accordingly put on my 
seven-league boots and made strides for 
the mountain. 
Hardly had I gotten well into the 
wooded area when I heard hounds giving 
tongue, perhaps half a mile away. I 
stopped stock still, thinking the quarry 
might come my way. I had tarried only 
a few moments when sure enough I spied 
Mr. Fox moving along velvet shod, and 
with accustomed stealth, on the oppo- 
site side of a ravine about fifty paces 
distant. Quickly bringing my gun to 
shoulder I gave him the charge of No. 6 
shot. At the crack of the gun he sat 
on his haunches, but quickly regained his 
feet and bounded over the hill. Leisurely 
strolling in that direction until I had 
crossed the crest of the divide I saw 
four hounds mouthing the dead animal. 
Foxy Grandpa drove the fox hounds off 
and claimed the fox. This occurred late 
in October and the fox was in full pelage. 
He was an aged robber of hen-roosts 
and looked to be of unusual size, but 
weighed just a trifle over 12 pounds. 
A homesick Southerner who had taken 
up his residence in New York once said 
to me, “I don’t like the fried chicken they 
have up here. It is aeroplane chicken, 
all frame and no meat.” That, Mr. Edi- 
tor, may be very aptly applied to the fox. 
Wildfowl Will, So. Dakota. 
Bay, where they are considered of un- 
rivalled excellence among duck shooters. 
These dogs are the descendents of a 
dog and bitch, the former red, the latter 
black, which were obtained by Mr. Law, 
of Baltimore, from an English vessel 
bound from Newfoundland to Pool, in 
England. They were stated to be a pair 
of pups procured for the owner of the 
vessel of the most approved Newfound- 
land breed of different families and were 
obtained by the sailors from the English 
captain as a matter of favor. Their 
progeny retains the original color, par- 
ticularly the red line of the dog and all 
the excellence of the breed. 
The points by which they may be 
known are the long-pointed head, small, 
smooth ears, medium height, compact 
shape, muscular short limbs, wavy, long 
coat of glossy black or red, not curled, 
and the wonderful activity, strength and 
even speed for which the race is famous. 
When they are of the pure breed they re- 
quire little breaking and no severity. 
Their gratitude, love, indefatigable desire 
to please, cannot be surpassed by that 
stunted junipers, struggling up here and 
there. 
The general effect was of a tawny 
ground splashed with greens, and browns, 
and whites ; the whole set in a dark green 
frame of spruce forest, picked out here 
and there with vivid flashes of scarlet 
and orange where occasional hardwood 
trees flaunted their autumn bravery. 
There were moose tracks in plenty; 
winding paths trodden by many hoofs, 
and mud-holes, and wallowing pits, where 
the great beasts evidently were used to 
disport themselves in summer time. 
My friend decided to call his moose on 
the higher ground by the stream — appar- 
ently a fashionable watering-place. I 
chose to try my luck further down on the 
verge of the swamp, where two junipers 
fought for a living with the morass. 
As we took up our stations the shades 
of evening were gathering in. The sun 
had dropped behind the spruce trees and 
these were gradually changing from 
green to black. Occasional shafts of gold 
shot through the spear-like tops, while 
the sky above ran riot in crimson and 
Sir Thomas Gratton-Esmond and his trophy 
THE CHESAPEAKE BAY DOG 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
A N article in the July number of 
Forest and Stream on the origin 
of the Chesapeake Bay dog was inter- 
esting. A description of the dog and 
his breeding was written by Frank For- 
ester and published in 1856, from which 
I quote the following: 
. “This dog is a pure Spaniel of the 
largest existing species. He is perhaps 
the most powerful, enduring and daunt- 
less of all dogs. Certainly and beyond 
all doubt he is the most sagacious, the 
most faithful, the most easily taught and 
the most retentive of what he has learned 
of all varieties of his race. They are in 
their purest shape jet black or dingy red. 
Any intermixture of white beyond a 
straight frill on the breast is indicative 
of Labrador blood. This breed obtains 
its great excellence on the Eastern Shore 
of Maryland, through Patapsco Neck on 
the Gunpowder and up the Chesapeake 
of any living being, brute or human, 
and their fidelity, attachment, truth and 
devotion alone of any I have ever seen 
or proved, defies time and change, is un- 
altered by unkindness and survives even 
the grave.” 
I trust this will be of interest to your 
readers. E. A. Vickroy, Ohio. 
A MOOSE CALLING EXPERfENCE 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
L AST season I was the guest of a 
friend — a great shikari — a man of 
many hunts and of many experiences. 
He was my host at a charming camp in 
New Brunswick, well-known to us of old, 
and endeared by many memories. We 
were hunting moose and the scene of our 
adventure was a flat, about a mile long, 
one end of which was fairly solid ground, 
with a little stream running through it 
and dotted with straggling birches. The 
land fell away to a bog, dotted with 
patches of alder scrub, until it merged 
in a swamp covered with high reeds and 
orange and green and blue; one of those 
indescribable Canadian sunsets that ever 
fascinate in their changing glory and 
never stale in their infinite variety. 
The plaintive, quivering melody of my 
friend’s birchen horn rising and falling 
and dying away in the labyrinth of the 
inscrutable woods, recalled me to the 
business in hand, and I began calling. 
We called, alternately at intervals and 
by and by an answer came back from 
the southeast, and a little later another 
answer came from the southwest. 
Things began to feel exciting. I 
called again, and again both answers 
came. Two bull-moose were evidently 
on the way. Their answers sounded 
nearer and nearer and the crashing of 
the branches, as they forced their dif- 
ferent ways through the underwood, be- 
gan to be plainly audible. 
Both bulls were trying to locate the 
position of the imaginary cow I repre- 
sented. The bull from the southwest 
was further off than the bull from the 
southeast. Then I changed my call; 
