Forest and Stream 
A Weekly Journal. Copyright, 1906, by Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 
Terms, l:l«£ aCopy, f NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1906. 
( VOL. LXVII.—No. 12. 
I No. 346 Broadway, New York. 
THE DOG IN THE FIELD. 
The season of the year is now here when the 
setter and the pointer, possessed of any commend¬ 
able working abilities afield, suddenly are awarded 
a place on the pinnacles of' their owners’ most 
distinguished consideration, in respect to senti¬ 
mental, utilitarian and monetary values. The 
man’s indifference of the close season gives place 
to the most lively interest of the open season. 
Nor is this new interest manifest on one side 
only. The dog, observing the significant unearth¬ 
ing of sporting toggery, anticipates the pleasures 
of forthcoming field work, and displays extra 
affection toward the person who is his master. It 
has come to a time when in a way there is a 
certain community of interest between man and 
dog in the pleasures of upland shooting, in antici¬ 
pation. 
However, few sportsmen consider that, let the 
pleasures of pursuit and capture be divided ever 
so equally, there is no equal division in the 
amount or fatigues of the work. Galloping up 
and down hill, through cover and open, over 
ground wet or dry, smooth or rough, with the 
interests of the gun to observe and ever to keep 
in mind, the dog has a task which is laborious 
in its execution and varied in its requirements. 
He must skillfully beat out the ground as his 
master walks through it, and. when the birds are 
found, he must take a subordinate, yet earnest, 
part in assisting his master to effect possession of 
them. 
Y^t, after a day of such fatiguing labor, the 
dog may be scantily fed, or fed abundantly on 
food which he detests, and then left to shift as 
best he can for his sleeping quarters. If he is 
ravenously hungry, he may seem to enjoy a bad 
supper; but a good supper for a dog is easily 
provided if a little forethought is exercised con¬ 
cerning it, and the best fed dog, all else being 
equal, will do the best work. A thoroughly 
fatigued dog is likely to lie down anywhere, but 
the seeking for rest should not be construed as 
an expression of contentment. In the matter of 
comfort and healthfulness, the tired dog has no 
judgment. The immediate needs of the moment 
are all that he considers. If he curls up by the 
side of a haystack in the early evening, it may 
be a good selection for the time being; later in 
the night, if frost or rain set in, no more un¬ 
comfortable place could be found. 
There is no more pathetic sight in the incidents 
of field shooting than that of a dog which, muscle 
sore and wearied when he begins his outdoor 
rest, wakes tremblingly, stiff and unrefreshed in 
the damp and chill of the morning, and tries to 
wag his tail and look pleased in his effort to 
cheerfully greet his master, who has slept com¬ 
fortably. It is not a difficult task to provide some 
kind of comfortable sleeping quarters for one’s 
dog. There is generally abundance of hay every¬ 
where, and with it a most comfortable bed can 
be quickly made. The side of a stake can readily 
be made into sleeping quarters by making a bed 
of hay beside it, then erecting a lean-to over 
it; all generously covered with hay or straw. 
The neglect of the dog, so often an incident 
of hunting parties, is the result of thoughtless¬ 
ness, not of intention. A little forethought and 
prevision are not extravagant returns, however, 
for the services which the setter and pointer at 
work render their masters. Some dog cakes, 
some lean beef, and a place to sleep comfortably, 
are humble requital in return for strenuous ser¬ 
vices, aside from the affection and devotion which 
the dog has for the master he loves. The merci¬ 
ful master should see that his dog suffers not 
from any neglect, first of all because he is in 
affection and devotion more than a servant, and. 
secondly, because, in a day of effort afield, he 
earns his keep a thousand fold. 
TRAPSHOOTING FINANCES. 
The sport of trapshooting is one of the most 
wholesome and fascinating of the many kinds of 
fine sports for which the sportsman of this day 
has a penchant, and which are carefully cherished 
by him. Its inherent adaptability admits of one 
man enjoying the sport alone, or of several hun¬ 
dred together in competition. Yet monetary mat¬ 
ters, in connection with trapshooting, have not 
been free from harmful as well as good effects. 
Money considerations in club shoots mar the 
competition. Money considerations, in tourna¬ 
ments, are helpful, if the tournament is so 
financed that it is self-supporting. In its club 
phases, the sporting element of trapshooting 
should always predominate. In the event that 
the sport, under a club’s auspices, is subordinate 
to money considerations, commonly designated as 
the sweepstake, the ultimate decay and dissolu¬ 
tion of the club is a foregone conclusion. 
In respect to the open tournament, nearly all 
clubs holding such tournament, safeguard the 
competition by barring the professionals from 
participation in the moneys. They hold that the 
material benefits of the tournament should go 
exclusively to the amateurs. They hold that the 
professional, left free to compete for the moneys, 
is a harm to all trapshooting tournament interests. 
And yet the managers of the many club tourna¬ 
ments, while barring the professionals on the one 
hand, feel free on the other to solicit donations 
from all manufacturers, publishers, local trades¬ 
men, individual enthusiasts, in short from all 
sources that promise profitable pickings, on the 
plea that it is for the benefit of the tournament. 
But a tournament is a business proposition 
in t every particular to those who patronize it. 
Why it should be so to those who patronize it 
on the one hand, and a charitable institution in 
some phases on the other, is inexplicable on any 
dignified or logical basis. The plea is that it 
all goes for the good of the sport. It is a 
specious plea at the best, for if the profits of the 
shoot are dollars, few or many, the profit goes 
into - the club treasury, as a rule. Moreover, 
though obtained on a plea that a donation is a 
benefit to the tournament, no statement is vouch¬ 
safed as to the accounts after the tournament is 
ended. When the donor has contributed his mer¬ 
chandise or dollars, his rights cease. He must 
not be over-curious as to how much profit has 
resulted from his charitable act. It would seem 
to be but fair that, when donors contribute to 
an important degree to the tournament of a club, 
they should have a statement as to the disposi¬ 
tion of merchandise and dollars, so as to avoid, 
in some cases, a possible suspicion that first the 
donation was not really needed, and second that 
it may have strayed from its destination. 
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE. 
Human nature is human nature; and the point 
of view depends on which side of the fence one 
happens to be on. 
A city sportsman had in years gone by de¬ 
claimed fervently upon the selfishness of the 
landowners who post their fields. Shooting, he 
said, should be free. To put up a trespass sign 
is to show yourself a churl. One is not bound 
to respect no-shooting notices further than dis¬ 
cretion prompts. The shooting belongs to the 
shooter. If the shooter has no land of his own, 
it is not asking too much that he should have 
free range of the game-stocked fields of other 
people. 
The other day this man came into possession 
of a couple of hundred of acres in the country. A 
Sunday morning stroll through the woodland 
portion of the estate disclosed the presence of 
ruffed grouse. At the sound of their flushing a 
transformation was wrought in the new owner of 
the land. On the instant he was transformed 
from the advocate of free shooting and no tres¬ 
pass signs into the staunchest and most uncom¬ 
promising of game preservers. “Would he per¬ 
mit shooting on his lands?” Not much. “Would 
he be so mean as to post his grounds and keep 
fellow shooters out?” Most certainly. We may 
feel very sure that when the explosion of a shot¬ 
gun shall startle those covers this fall, it will be 
the gun of the owner and of no other. 
The change of heart was natural and inevitable. 
Here was the outsider now on the inside. It 
always makes a difference which side of the fence 
one is on. 
Professor Garner reports from the African 
jungles, where he is living in a hut to study 
simian talk, that probably a hundred times stand¬ 
ing at his door he has shouted to chimpanzees 
and monkeys and they have answered him. One 
need not go to the jungles of Africa to get 
answers to animal calling; the northern woods 
hear every autumn the answering calls of moose 
to men ; and for the matter of that a human baa 
in a sheep pasture will bring a baa in return. 
