FOREST AND’ STREAM . 1 
out ” or canoe, belonging lo one of the Indiana, was drawn 
up on the bank, and as the lake was too shallow near the 
shore to admit of the advantageous use of rod and line, I at 
once appropriated the canoe and began to paddle out into the 
lake To say that this vessel wus decidedly “cranky” is 
drawing it quite mild. Although when a boy I had been 
quite ud adept in managing “ dug-outs," many years had 
elapsed since I had practiced the art, and my hand bad cer- 
tainly forgot its cunning with the paddle. By extreme care, 
interlarded with much wabbling and nervous holding of the 
breath, I reached a point perhaps a quarter of a mile from the 
shore. Here I cost my line, and before I bad time to adjust 
myself in a comfortable position with a view to awaiting re- 
sults, came a “ strike, " and in a moment be was well hooked. 
Away sped line and hook in the direction of a 6mall island 
near at hand, where I saw with apprehension numerous snags 
protruding above the surface. An attempt to “snub" him 
too suddenly almost cost me a good rod, which bent to a 
curve that would have done credit to a “Damascus blade," 
but it had the effect of changing bis movement in the direc- 
tion of the open lake. The reel spun like a windmill, but I 
had two hundred feet of line, which I aided with a few well 
directed strokes of the paddle in the right direction. At last, 
after a full fifteen minutes spent in active hostilities, he lay 
exhausted and quiet in the bottom of the canoe, as fine a 
specimen of Orgstcs nigricans as it was ever my good luck 
to capture In my judgment, he would have tipped the 
scales at seven pounds. I cast my line again, and with al- 
most the same alacrity was the hook “gobbled." Success 
had made me careless. and after a less vigorous resistance, I 
reaehl d forward to lift the victim into the canoe My motion 
was characterized with rather too much suddenness. The 
canoe tipped to a dangerous degree. A quick backward mo- 
tion more than balanced if, and the next moment I was fran 
tic-ally struggling in the lake. If there wus anything in 
which 1 excelled when a boy it was as a swimmer. My teals 
m that line, however, had always been perfomied in a state 
of nature, and now my movements were c-mbarrassed by 
heavy boots and clothes. However, a few strokes placed the 
caDoe within my reach, which was bottom up. I drew my- 
self on top of it, recovered control of my rod and line, which 
had become entangled with the cnuoc at the moment of the 
accident, and after ascertaining that the fish was still securely 
hooked, struck out with both hands to paddle the canoe 
ashore In due time, though with patience and good humor 
almost exhausted, 1 reached shallow water aud waded out, 
with one black bt.es of about five or six pounds weight to 
solace me for my unforeseen ducking. “ Billy " having re- 
turned with two curlew and two plover, we ate a hearty 
breakfast, and after wringing and drying my clothes in the 
sun _ w hich had by this time become quite warm— we were 
again ready to move on. At this place I saw for the first 
time wbat became afterward a very familiar sight. Along the 
shore of the lake, and completely encircling it, appeared a 
dark rim or strip, perhaps six inches to a foot in width, that 
looked as if it might be an accumulation of little black sticks 
washed up by the action of the water. But a close inspection 
showed that it was notbingmore nor lesslhan an accumulation 
of leeches of all sizes, some of them bciDg fully three inches in 
length. Almost all the lakes in this region are infested with 
millions of t hese creatures, the reason for which I have heard 
no one explain. 
From “ liDemy Lake " we rode across an exceedingly rough 
coun'ry, without road or path of any descripiion, until we 
rea< b<d “ Pickerel" Lake, some six miles to the northeast. 
This is one of the viry few deep lakes in this region. It is 
surrounded on all sides by precipitous banks, from thirty to 
one hundred feet high, and is probably a mile and ■ ue-balf 
'Jong by oDe-fourth mile in width. I made tbree allotments 
on the banks ot ibis like, and hired one of the Iudians to 
paddle me around it in his canoe, whilst I troth d for j.ickerel. 
The fish were almost too pltntiful to call it sport, for alter a 
couple of hours spent in encircling the lake, we returned lo 
our starting point with (as a rough guess) eighty to one hun- 
dred pounds of pickin'). I returned enough for our supper 
and linakfsst, giving the balance to the Indians. K. 
Washington , D. V. 
For Foi'cst and Stream and Rod and Oun 
A DEER HUNT AMONG THE PINES. 
W E have left the railroad at H — , in Central Wisconsin, 
for the village of N . seventeen miles away, equip- 
ped with arms, ammunition and old clothes sufficient for a 
month in the woods. We travel by a good road, over an un- 
dulating countiy, which, a little while ago, was a dense forest 
of while pme and tamarack, w ith only here and there mark6 
of the Bpoiler, in the shape of a logger’s camp. Now all is 
changed. The ax and the muscle of the sturdy woodsman 
have turned it into a forest of stumps and fallen timber. The 
Baw-mill, the snug log house, “ entertainment for man and 
beast," . “ Lumberman's Home,” and “ Half-way House,” 
ornament or disfigure tbe landscape. Now we pass the sight 
of a hunting camp, occupied by myself and a single comrade 
fourteen years ago, then in the unbroken pine woods, now the 
centre of a thickly settled district, disturbed by the whistle of 
steam, the stroke of the tearing saw, and the clang of the 
smith's hammer. We pass within a few feet of the spot where 
was passed, I verily believe, the most uncomfortable night of 
my life, a day of toil through bog-hole and windfall, road cut- 
ting and log rolling, a balky team, a “ rickety" wagon, and a 
profane driver, ail garnished with a merciless drizzle of rain, 
sleet and snow ; and then at night our camp was a few pine- 
boughs for shelter and wet blankets for covering, and, with 
empty stomachs and gloomy thoughts for our companions, we 
dozed and shivered through the night — no human habitation 
then nearer than ten miles. Now a 6nug hotel and a neat 
little village occupy the spot. Within a stone’s throw of the 
hotel in the bank of the stream lived then a colony of beavers, 
and elanding in the door I mark the place in three different 
directions where I hung up two fine large bucks and a doe. 
If you have ever roughed it in the woods, thinking over the 
events of your expedition, you remember with the keenest 
enjoyment the pleatuies, they seem to you like a pleasant 
dream. But you forget and cannot realize the dis- 
comforts you Lave bad at tbe same time. Tbe enger 
quist for game, tbe pursuit, the lruitiou ol capture by your 
own sagacity und skill, you realize over and ovei again. You 
forget tbe wet leet, the benumbed fingers, the ai-hing bones 
and the tired muscles; you have no doubt come home many 
times with little gnme and much weariness, inwardly swearing 
that you would never hunt again — for five lean bucks. 
But the blandishments of the very next Indian summer are 
too much for your virtue, and you are off for the woods aguiu. 
Well, whilst I was moralizing, our team has been going at a 
round rate of speed, and I see in the distance tbe end of our 
journey by public conveyance. Here we obtained our camp 
outfit and a good cook, aod two teams to convey us into the 
woods proper. On the second day you might have found us 
forty miles away in the unbroken pine woods, comfortably 
encamped in a substantial log cabin, twenty miles from the 
nearest town. The first rifle-shot has been fired already. One 
of our party brought down a splendid four-prong buck before 
reaching camp; a beautiful running Bliot, such a one as 
makes an old man feel young again, and a young one feel like 
a veteran. 
Our company consists of three, exclusive of our cook. Uncle 
John is sixty years old, vigorous in body, leau and tall, one of 
those rare characters whose sympathies and tastes are more in 
uuison with the young than the old ; a man whose heart will be 
young and kindly disposed to all, even to its last pulsation ; a 
keen sportsman, a camp companion worth his weight in gold. 
(How his honest old face would blush if he should 6ee this.) 
The next is T , a bachelor of uncertain age , and lastly 
myself, aged forty-eight. We are encamped on the divide 
between the Eauclaire River on the west aud Black River on 
the east, the tfto streams here being about five mile3 apart. 
The laud is densely timbered, undulating, hut not precipitous ; 
a succession of ridges and hollows, each with its small stream 
tributary to the Eauclaire. Tne ridges are for the most part 
covered with a growth of hard wood, oak, maple, rock elm, 
etc.; the slopes and bottom-land with white pine. There is 
such a universal sameness in the woods, that to get lost is an 
ensy matter, and even those who are perfectly familiar with 
the locality never venture out without a compass. The deer 
arc plenty ; bears have been here also in large numbers ; we 
see old signs in abundance, but tbe aDimals themselves have 
gone for the most part to hibernate in the great oak forests to 
the far north. The old hunters say that September is the 
t:mo for bears, and I believe it. Ruffed grouse and gray 
squirrels are here in countless numbers, and that repulsive 
but innocent animal, the porcupine, is met at almost every 
turn. We see the tracks aud hear tbe howl of tbe large 
timber wolf frequently, but have seen none as yet. In my 
opinion he is the most cunning of all the prowlers of the 
forest, aud the hardest to ^et a shot at. 
October Nineteenth. — The order is that each one shall go 
his own way aud hunt as he sees fit. We do not propose to 
set a pack of yelling devils on the trail of the deer, and lie in 
wait lor him with a shot-gun and handful of slugs, like a 
parly of ^highwaymen. Our dog is trained to follow the slot 
of a wounded deer, and nothing else. The weather is mild 
and soft. The deer are shy, and Uncle John and I have re- 
turned empty-handed. T bagged a fine doe, and the car- 
cass must be brought into camp in the morniDg, before the 
raven6 find it. 
Twentieth. — T is in luck again to-day, and Ido believe 
he stands a full inch talier in his shoe-packs than he did yes- 
terday. One of our teams is here yet, and on their way to 
fetch iu the doe T killed a large three-tined buck and a 
beautiful epikehorn, fetching all three to camp together. I 
also bagged to-day a fine proDghorn buck, a two year-old, 
very fai aud large. 1 may udd here that I have killed, and 
seen killed in this region, a great many deer, but have never 
yet seen one, young or old, which was not loaded with fat. 
TweDty second.— It has snowed all Dight and bids fair 
to continue through the day. The foliage is so loaded 
with it that the pine woods look almost like great snow banks 
extending to tbeir topmost branches. And still it comes. 
Tweuiy-fourth —It is over at last, and tbe snow lies 
twenty inches deep. A light wind lias ilislodgrd it from the 
trees lor the most part, and we started in f ir business this 
morning. Tbe snow is soft, and the weather not at all cold. 
Decultdly unpleasant walking. Uncle John started an im- 
mense buck almost in sight of camp, aud poured into the back 
of bis neck a whole charge of buckshot lrom his No 9 shot- 
gun, to which he paid not the lea6t attention. He ran about 
loity j aids aud almost over F — , who fired one barrel of his 
rifle at him, bieakmg one fora-lcg just above the loot. This 
turned h m across the hollow and uy the next ridge, and as he 
ran by me, sevemy-five yards away, I fiied one burrel of my 
nlle at him. and he tell in his tracks, but in a moment was 
on bis feel again and iff like a iace borse, bleeding profusely. 
Alter following him Jong enough to find that there was a good 
deul of run iu him yet, i went to camp for the dog, put him 
on the trail, aud iu five minutes he was brought to bay and 
uDOlber shot finished him. He proved to be a very large five- 
tined buck. On examination we found that Uncle John's 
shot hud penetrated very little more than skin deep, that I 
had not hit him at all, and the only wound he had of aDy con- 
sequence (except tbe last one while at bay) was the broken 
bone of the fore leg. just above the fetlock. 
The more I see of deer hunting, the more firmly fixed is my 
opinion that the best weapon lor the sport is a rifle of large 
calibre. The be6t of shot-guns are, to say the least, uncertain 
to hit at over fifty yards, aod even at that distance they will 
not kill halt the lime. The coucussion of the shot is so small 
that, even when fatally shot, a deer will run for miles before 
he 6uecuwb8, aud so will be lost. Whereas with the large 
bore rifle, and even moderate skill in its use, every shot at 
filly yards is certain ; Dearly all at one hundred ; many at odc 
hundred and City and two hundred. Then the concussion 
and the hemorrhage consequent upon the heavy 6troke and 
the large wound are such that a deer will rarely run beyond 
eye or eaishot before he is down. On this expedition T — used 
a double rifle, tlnrty-two conical balls to the pound, and I a 
doable rifle, tweDty-six round balls to the pound. The first 
ten deer we killed, except the old buck mentioned above, 
dropped lo the 6hot without makingmore than a single bound, 
ana i attribute it not so much to good shooting as to the 
heavy lead and the shock of a large wound. 1 am perfectly 
awure that rnauy deer are killed with buckshot, but I cannot 
help thinking that many arc hurt and escape, either to recover 
or to oie a lingering and painful death, which would have 
been secured by the rifle. Many are missed at seventy-live or 
eighty yurds, which any ordinary rifleman would have secured 
easily. It certainly must be vexatious to 6ee a deer standing 
up broadside, say one hundred and fifty yardB away, and 
know that the thmg on his shoulder will not carry up more 
than half way, and if he should chance to hit him with a pel- 
let or two, they would go no more than skin deep. So far as 
I have tried the Elys cartridge (and 1 have tried them pretty 
thoroughly with small shot, large shot, and buck) I have 
found them unreliable and uncertain in their action. I have 
driven tbe green buckshot cartridge entirely through the tar- 
get at fifty yards repeatedly. Others would scatter fearfully, 
and others again would garnish beautifully. But, as I said 
before, theylack in steadiness of action. Buckshot loaded m 
any style do not suit me for large game. 
One of the greatest nuisances to the deer hunter in this lo- 
-cality is the raven. Were it not for this argue-eyec! pest, all 
large game might be left hanging in the woods until the end 
of the hunt, and thus the hard labor of dragging or carrying 
it to camp be avoided. But as it is, before you are done dress- 
ing your game, his discordant croak is heard right over your 
head. It is ODe of the scouts. He has gone to make Lis re- 
port to the main body, and as sure as fate an army of black 
guerrillas will attack your game the next day, and in twenty- 
four hours you will find nothing of it but bones and skin. 
Some huntera hang their deer by tbe head. It secures them 
from iDjury by tbe birds, as they cannot get footing on tho 
sleek kiiir ; but it is bud for the venison. The blood, instead 
of draining out by the divided blood vessels at the neck settles, 
back into the muscular tissue, makes it dark in color, and 
favors decomposition. There is nothing for it but to fetch in 
your venison the same day, or at must the day after it is killed. 
Well, we remained in the woods seventeen days and killed 
sixteen deer and a large quantity of small game, mostly ruffed 
grouse and gray squirrels; not a great showing for the length 
of time, but enough. We had plenty to eat, and ten carcasses 
to distribute to our friends at home. We ate well, slept well, 
no one sick, no one hurt, and no family jars. I cannot help 
believing that such an expedition operates as a renewer of 
life to the care-ridden deDizen of civilization. We will go 
again ( Deo volente) the coming seasoD. 
Were you ever lost in the woods? Let me tell you (for I 
speak feelingly on the subject) it is not a pleasant experience. 
A lost man is resolved as nearly into his primitive elements as 
a man may bt and live. He is reduced to a slate of imbecility 
most curious to look upon. The muscles keep up mechanical 
motion without the governing power of the brain to direct 
them. He wanders in a circle, because the muscles on the 
right side of the body are the strongest. All his senses are 
concentrated upon one thought Lost! Lost I The best 
that can be said of him is that he is a sentient beiDg. Aside 
from ibis (as my old triend F. says) “he is nothing at all 
Wbat then should a man do, lost in ti e woods at nightfall, 
tired, cold hungry, at an uncertain distance from camp. The 
first thing that he will do (if he has sense enough to do any- 
thing) will he to stop wauderiug around in the fust increasing 
darkness, select the largest log he can find, scrape away tbe 
snow on the Ice-side of it for a space of six feet square, collect 
wood, and build a fire far enough from the log that he may 
sit between them. Now let him gather pine boughs enough 
for a soft, dry seat, sit down with his tired spine against 
the log, extend his tired legs toward tbe fire, und 
say to himself like old fat Jack Falstuff: “ May I not 
take my ease in mine own inn ?” Some cold venison and 
a piece of bread which be should have in his pocki t come 
good just now. In default of which a squirrel or a grouse 
roasted on the coals restores the innner man. Soon he bears 
two shuts in quick succession. It is a signal from his anxious 
comrades at camp. He does not answer, for he well knows 
tbe distance is too great for his tired legs to-Dight, and he does 
not wish them to lose their needed rest in hunting for him. 
The situation is not so had as it might be. No danger of 
freezing. And the contemplative man may even fiud food 
for entertaining thought. You hear far off the loDg^dr.^ry 
crescendo Dote of the wolf, the too-hoo, too-hoo of 
and you wonder whut important business has called oil, nack _ 
two prowlers of the earth and air on such a night. You lu ari" 
a rustling iu the leaves at your side, and there si s your little 
sleek friend, that smallest of all known quadrupeds, the wood 
mouse of the north. You bear tbe squeak of the flying squir- 
rel, and the “ swish, swish" of the night lmwk over your 
head, and a thousand other sounds of things animate and in- 
animate. They start you speculating as to the causisof each, 
and vou forget your discomforts in the investigation. Believe 
me. these " voices of the sileDt night” are a fruitful source 
of pleasure to tne thoughtful man. But the tire is getting low, 
and our tired buDter must gather m»re wood. And so the 
time passes until the gray dawn comes creeping through the 
forest, bringing with it blessed hope and cheer. Now he 
answers the camp signals, carefully shapes his course, BDd in 
due time gladdens the hearts of his comrades by his presence 
in camp. And further on be finds out that there was perhaps 
much )e6S 6leep in camp that Dight than at his soli'ary fire in 
the woods. Venator. 
ON THE SUNFLOWER RIVER. 
T HOSE who may have followed the Sunflower River bear- 
hunters on their rough-and-tumble, dare-devil chase 
through tbe CMebrakes, as told by our correspondent “ H. 
L. S." in these pages, Jan. 24, and March 21, 1877, will wel- 
come this further account of Mississippi sport : 
At the first break of day our deep sleep would be rudely 
interrupted by Uncle Joe's loud exclamations and shakings. 
In fact, he often routed us all out in the middle of the Dight, 
mistaking the rising moon or his own sleeplessness for indica- 
tions of the approach of daylight. The early hours of tbe 
morning are usually the most pleasant os well as profitable to 
the sportsman, and a successful bear-hunter should be in sad- 
dle by sunrise, ready for the day's sport. We found bears 
very plentiful- Frequently but a few minutes would elapse 
after turning the hounds into the canebrake before they 
would strike a trail. Then came the most exciting sport 
imaginable. Nothing can try the nerve and endurance of a 
man and horse more than following the dogs in pursuit of a 
bear through this almost impenetrable wilderness. The ex- 
citement grows so intense that hunger, thirst and weariness 
are alike forgotten, and not until the chase iB over does the 
hunter realize the intense strain of mind and body ho has 
passed through. Bear hunting is undoubtedly the most royal 
sport our country affords, and it strikes me as something re- 
markable that with the abundance of this game so near at 
hand, so few of our enterprising sportsmen avail themselves 
of its attractions. 
Hardly a day passed after our bear hunt was fully inaugu- 
rated that we failed to bring to camp one or more formidable 
trophies. All tbe surplus game killed was turned over to tbe 
gentlemanly Captains Dent and Bookout, of the fine little 
steamers “ Sunflower Belle" and “Fair Play,” which ply 
weekly between Vicksburg and the upper Sunflower. These 
gentlemen in turn distributed the spoils to their friends, and 
our fame as bear-hunters was soon noised abroad, and it was 
not long before our camp was enlivened by the arrival of 
several sportsmen from Vicksburg and vicinity. They were 
received with hearty cordiality, and wo found them to be 
genuine representatives of the true Southern gentleman. 
Thus recruited, we spent several days of rare enjoyments 
