442 
FOREST AND STREAM 
October, 192 
■( 
PRAIRIE CHICKEN SHOOTING 
RARE DAYS OF SPORT ON THE STUBBLE FIELDS OF 
THE WEST WHEN EVERY TUFT OF GRASS HELD A BIRD 
By EDWARD T. MARTIN 
H OW far away seem the times 
when prairie chickens lived and 
moved and had their being in 
countless droves. August 15 th, 
the shooting was supposed to begin, or 
perhaps in certain places it was the first. 
The limit, all one could carry ; never 
stop while the powder lasted and give 
to the neighbors all that the folks at 
home could not use. 
In those years of abundance the 
chickens came into the cities and often 
nested close to the habitations of man, 
and there is where I first hunted them, 
inside the limits of the city of Chicago. 
Some of them nested and raised broods 
of young out Humbolt Park way and 
were carefully guarded by a mounted 
police officer. 
It was as much fun dodging him and 
listening to his lurid language as it 
would have been to kill every grouse in 
the county. 
There were wide, deep and muddy 
ditches that his horse could not nego- 
tiate, fences it could not jump, and that 
we could. Still, if the officer was game 
and if he heard a shot, he was out and 
after the gunner, often to find it only 
a decoy that lured him away from the 
real point of attack. Usually we trav- 
eled in pairs and when he loomed up on 
the horizon, if game other than plover 
or snipe had been killed, the guilty one 
was far away, over some high fence or 
across a wide ditch with the game care- 
fully concealed in the legs of his rub- 
ber boots or the seat of his trousers. 
There was no particular crime in this, 
except that of shooting inside the city 
limits, for there were quite a few birds 
and they were in season. We had such 
interesting conversations too; with the 
officer on 
have always thought the officer would 
have done better to let us alone and 
devote his time to the cats, the skunks 
and the weasels which were the enemies 
of his grouse, yet perhaps it was a 
sporting proposition with him as with 
us. 
The first real chicken shoot I ever 
had was near Joliet, a few miles out of 
Chicago, in a location where if a bird 
of that kind was to be seen now it would 
be considered either a freak or a ghost- 
bird come from some other land to visit 
the haunts where its ancestors once 
lived. My host was a real sport in 
that he permitted me to take most of 
the shooting, and I killed about thirty 
birds in a couple of hours despite the 
fact that my methods were, to say the 
least, unique. 
It was the first wing shooting I had 
ever done, strictly speaking, barring an 
occasional bird killed more by accident 
than intention, and I became much ex- 
cited over it. No dog ever needed a 
spiked collar and check-line as badly as 
I did. 
did. It was as good as going to a circu 
to watch him.” I agree with him now 
after the lapse of many years. 
When the birds flushed, I would start 
running after them, whooping like a 
wild Indian and in some way, before 
they got out of range, the gun would 
be discharged and often a bird drop. 
This last could only be explained by the 
fact the birds were young and easily 
killed ; also that the charge of shot must 
have scattered a good deal. It had the 
effect of making me underrate the skill 
required in wing shooting; also I took 
ff as a compliment when a friend said 
to an appreciating audience at the 
house: “I don’t believe there is a gun- 
ner in the whole state of Illinois who 
could have shot the way this young man 
A T the close of one of the red lette 
pigeon shoots in which I partic 
pated many years ago a well-known ma: 
of affairs came over to where I stoo' 
wiping out my gun and after a fe\ 
words about my shooting, asked 
“Would you like to Jiaperone my so: 
and a friend of his on a prolonged 
chicken hunt?” I knew the boys to b 
all right; hard workers and fair shots 
so I replied: 
There is but one thing that I can se 
to prevent such a trip — the expense.” 
“Don’t worry about that. The tri; 
shall not cost you a cent. We will se> 
you through on the whole thing,” th 
man said, so on that basis the hunt wa 
arranged and the other side had th 
better of the bargain, for I was a hun 
ter of experience, while the boys wer 
green at the game. 
We got off to a good start, Tracj 
Minnesota, being the objective point. Ii 
the sleeping-car we were told that Trac; 
was too far north and that the chicken 
hadn’t got there in any number yet, s> 
we decided that Mankato and the cour 
try south of it were where we would d 
our hunting. 
We learned later that when the set 
tiers took up land in that new country 
they found that bears, wolves, elk am 
deer were ahead of them, as were al 
manner of waterfowl, but neither chick 
ens nor quail. These were late comer 
and after they had arrived the chicken 
migrated every fall and the quail froz 
to death, fresh birds taking the place 
of those frozen in the spring. As fo 
the chickens a smaller and lighter col 
ored bir* 
r 
in 
one side of 
the fence, 
his torment- 
ors on the 
other and no 
gate or gap 
for at least 
a mile. 
We did not 
kill as many 
chickens in 
any one sea- 
s o n as a 
well-mated 
pair might 
be expected 
to raise in a 
single brood ; 
still those 
were days of 
real sport for 
the two or 
three years it 
lasted, but I 
fror 
ito 
It, 
jjv 
at 
att 
Arriving on the prairie chicken grounds 
( Continues 
on page 460 
if. 
came 
some 
known quar 
ter, so ther 
were plent | § a , 
of them i 
the countr 
all wintei 
They wer 
not t h 
sharp - taile 
grouse wit 
feathers o 
their leg: 
but real piri j(, 
nated grousj | e 
similar t 
those t h a 
had migrat 
ed, only lear 
e r , lighte 
and smaller 
also give 
to burrowin 
(St 
"•'er 
: 
