90 
FORES T AND S T R E A M 
February, 1919 
Hotel 
Chamberlin 
^NATCH a couple of days away from 
the grind, grab your golf clubs, of 
course, and come on down, or up, as 
the case may be, to Old Point Comfort, and 
try your game on the Eighteen Hole Coif 
Course, which is i)art of Hotel Chamberlin. 
You can get here easily — most likely it’s 
only “over night” from where you are, 
either by boat or rail. 
The Golf Course is one of the finest ever; 
designed and laid out by authorities on the 
‘■Royal and Ancient” Game — convenient to the 
hotel, and, being owned by The Chamberlin, it 
is managed in a way which will suit yon. You 
can, also. Tennis, Horseback or Motor. The air 
and sun is just right to make yon enjoy the 
famous real Southern Cooking, and, as yon know, 
this is all in addition to the location of Hotel 
Chamberlin, at Old Point Com- 
fort, with its advantages of 
Army, Navy and Social Life. 
This, also, is the place to 
take “ The Cure,” with every 
sort of Bath Treatment at 
your command. 
You will be interested incur 
special booklet on “ GOLF,” as 
it contains the first Aeroplane 
Map of a Golf Course ever 
published in America. 
Address Geo. F. Adams, Manager, Fortress Monroe^ Virginia 
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Your choice of 44 styles* colors 
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Uncle Sam Fish Contest 
Owing to the delay in receiving the decision of 
all the judges in the I'ish for Uncle Sam Prize 
Contest conducted by FOREST AND STREAM 
during 1918, final announcement of awards must 
be delayed until our next issue. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
9 EAST 40th STREET, NEW YORK CITY 
1919 OLD FISHERMAN’S CALENDAR 
Send for one of these interesting calendars and 
try it out thoroughly. Contains the Fishing Signs 
for 1919 arranged in graphic form for easy un- 
derstanding by all. It is the only Calendar 
granted a copyright by the Library of Congress 
for the annual re-arrangement of its figures. Send 
25i for one to-day . to 
0. F. CALENDAR. 
Box 1466 H. Sta. Springfield, Hass. 
bird. Soon another turkey joined it 
and a little farther on still another, until 
they had increased by three and four at 
a time until I was following the tracks 
of about fifteen turkeys, and now I had 
commenced to find where they had 
scratched away the snow. 
I continued very cautiously to follow 
the winding trail in the snow made by the 
big birds and kept well under the protec- 
tion of the pinons. I had just followed 
over a little rise and down into a ravine 
skirting the edge of the pinons when 
about sixty yards ahead in the timber, 
an old hen evidently on guard stretched 
up her neck and evinced every sign of 
being aware that something materially 
unnatural was coming her way. I didn’t 
want that hen, at least at that moment, 
and “froze” to avoid her notice. To the 
left of her, about 10 yards, the flock was 
feeding, though I could not see them on 
account of being lower down in the ra- 
vine. The old hen was now getting un- 
easy, and I was fearful that she would 
spoil my chances then and there for get- 
ting her lord and master. “Put-put” 
went her warning note of danger, which 
took immediate effect on the flock. A 
commotion was taking place among the 
startled birds. I scurried through the 
timber toward them unseen, paying no 
notice to the old hen which was now 
dodging at full speed through the pinons. 
Gobblers seemed very scarce and I had 
no time to make certain the identity of 
the sexes, as they swiftly disappeared 
through the pinons (in fact, the whole 
scene was enacted in such haste that the 
story without the details would amount 
to a matter of seconds, from the moment 
when the old hen gave out her warning 
notes). My first shot killed a hen, the 
second brought down two of them as they 
came together; then slipping in another 
shell (which I had in hand for just such 
an occasion) I broke the legs of “the old 
gobbler” just as he was disappearing 
around a patch of oak brush, having 
passed me with the rest of the flock. , 
T his terminated the actual hunting 
of the turkey hunt. I returned to 
camp with four more beautiful speci- 
mens, not the easiest pack to carry to be 
sure, but the load was wild turkeys and 
not duffle, so I didn’t think much about it 
being a task. Turkeyfoot had returned 
without having seen any fresh signs and 
as the day was still in its infancy, Tve hur- 
riedly packed up our fine material for the 
proposed group — which consisted not 
alone of turkeys but in addition several 
large bundles of decorative plant life, 
shrubs, trees and other accessories which 
all helped to eventually make a lasting 
reproduction of a group of wild turkeys 
in their natural haunts. 
Our return to the railroad was accom- 
panied by snow storms and blizzards and 
the little party had taken on a decidedly 
weather-worn appearance when we 
reached it. “Turkeyfoot” had ridden his 
pony through it all. His black hair about 
his face streaked with clinkers of ice, w’as 
a contrasting picture to his otherwise 
ghostly appearance with blanket covered 
with snow. We left him thawing out by 
the big stove at the agency at Dulce, 
where the turkeys and other material 
were shipped. 
