93 ^ 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 15, 1906. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
I find in the Boston Globe a few days back 
a statement that four gunners shot three swans 
at one of the ponds at Nantasket on Thanks¬ 
giving Day.- Many, many years ago swans were 
occasionally seen on the Massachusetts coast, 
but their occurrences there in recent years could 
be counted on the fingers of one hand and leave 
several fingers to spare. If the published re¬ 
port is true, the killing of these swans must be 
severely condemned. It is perhaps natural 
enough for boys or thoughtless young men to 
try to kill unusual game. Perhaps 75 per cent, 
of the men who go out with guns would eagerly 
try to kill the last buffalo, the-last, wild turkey, 
the last wild pigeon or the last swan in the 
world, even if they knew it was the very last. 
Such a feeling argues lack of education, lack of 
thought, and absolute lack of consideration for 
other people—which is only a different name for 
intense selfishness. The remedy for all these 
lacks is education, and it is hard to believe that 
an intelligent reader of Forest and Stream 
would be guilty of anything of this sort. Yet I 
have known of action by an intelligent cultivated 
man of wealth which did not differ greatly from 
the reported act of these Massachusetts gun¬ 
ners, and which besides was in direct violation 
of law, which I do not understand their action 
to have been. 
Swans have long been among the rarest of 
New England birds, yet in early days they were 
abundant there, say the old writers. Their very 
rarity ought to' be a protection to .them instead 
of a danger as in fact it is. 
There are those who hold that, had the plans 
for the Panama project called for a sea level 
canal, sea anglers of the future might have in¬ 
teresting catches to record, whereas, under the 
present arrangement for a lock canal, they be¬ 
lieve that very few fish will find their way 
through the canal. 
Suppose, merely for the sake of argument, 
that some school of fishes were to enter the 
canal, thinking it a tide river, and after follow¬ 
ing the flood tide from the Pacific, find them¬ 
selves emerging into the Gulf of Mexico. Fishes 
cannot think or reason, we' are told, but I am 
willing to hazard the guess that in a situation of 
this sort there would be enough wigglin°- of 
tails to give one the impression that some 
vigorous protests were being made in the sign 
language of the sea. 
R 
It seems reasonable to look for eruptions from 
volcanoes. There was one at Volcano, W. Va., 
not long ago, if the West Virginia papers are 
to be credited. One of them says: 
“Charles Reese, residing at Volcano, in this 
county, was fatally injured in a most peculiar 
accident at his home this morning, tie was 
practicing at a mark, and placed a dynamite cap 
to be used as a target. He shot at the cap with 
a small rifle, when the cap exploded and caused 
the bullet to rebound, which struck him just 
above the heart and then took a downward 
course. Physicians were summond, but could 
not locate the bullet.” 
That may be the belief of the reporter who 
wrote up the story, but the yarn needs salting. 
Lots of things in this world need more salt than 
they get. Still, it is not healthy to shoot at 
detonating caps, even if they do" not catch 
bullets and throw them back at the shooter. 
Detonating caps and loaded cartridges are 
dangerous toys, but the one who shoots at them 
generally gets off easy while innocent persons 
suffer from the accidents. 
** 
Persons who shoot at target occasionally have 
queer experiences. I had one myself. A fellow 
member of a club shot at the target, missed it 
clean, but killed a cow. He argued that it was 
the cow’s own fault for not waiting until his 
bullet had lodged in the distant hill before at¬ 
tempting to cross the danger line. So aggrieved 
did he feel over the cow’s lack of judgment 
that he proposed that all members of the club 
chip in to pay the cow’s owner. He himself 
could well afford to pay for forty cows, but be 
was not willing to settle for one. 
R 
The funny man on the Evening Telegram 
welcomes the possibility of “kui” hunting some 
day in the following paragraph: 
“I see that the kui, a fierce African rat, two and 
a half feet in length, has reached here on ships 
and may spread. Welcome little kui. With the 
extinction of the buffalo, the elk, the antelope 
the big horn, the bobcat, the North River shad 
and even the Long Island fox, we can at least, 
when sportively inclined, go out and enjoy the 
pleasures of the chase of the fierce kui.” 
Perhaps our friend will assist us to prepare . 
in advance by stating whether it will be proper 
to follow the game afoot or in a boat, and the 
cut and color of “kui” hunting clothes. These de¬ 
tails are very important in other forms of “the 
chase.” 
st 
How many sportsmen of the Northeastern 
States know the exact meaning of the term 
“camp hunt” commonly used in the Southern 
and Southwestern States? Very few, if any, al¬ 
though it may readily, and more or less ac¬ 
curately, be thought to be a combined camp 
and hunt. A camp hunt cannot be described in 
general terms, for methods employed vary with 
different regions, and I myself would appreciate 
it if some reader will contribute what knowledge 
he may have bearing on the origin of this 
method of obtaining outdoor recreation. It may 
be said, however, that one form of camp hunt 
is as follows: A party of men agree as to time 
and place for an outing in company. Servants 
are sent to the spot designated with tents and 
all -supplies, and a day or two later the sports¬ 
men themselves drive to the place, fully 
equipped for shooting or fishing. When not 
actually employed in either they take their ease 
while the servants do the rest. Wagons, boats 
or even small steamboats are employed in 
transporting men and baggage to and from the 
camp ground. 
Another form of camp 'hunt, like the above 
in respect to the social side, is organized with 
a view to economy as well—economy of both 
time and cash. Several persons—perhaps 
families — combine. Perhaps a man to cook and 
watch camp is employed, in order that the 
sportsmen need not waste much time during 
the short days of autumn in the camp. 
R 
A few weeks since an old-time prairie man in¬ 
quired in Forest and Stream whether the buffalo 
bellowed. So far as I have observed he has as 
yet received no answer,' and this is not remark¬ 
able, since he did not express what he meant by 
the word, “bellow.” The dictionaries define the 
verb bellow as to make a hollow loud noise, to 
roar, to bawl, to clamor. In these senses the 
buffalo does not bellow, yet lie is not voiceless, 
and it is common to read in the old books of 
the “bellowing of the buffalo,” by which 'is meant 
his vocal sounds. I should be glad to hear from 
old-time prairie men their views on this sub¬ 
ject. My experience with the buffalo is limited. 
As a rule the ruminants for the most part are 
silent, except at the rutting season, or when very 
young. Yet most of us have heard fawns, calf 
elk and other young animals belonging to this 
group call, and have seen their mothers respond 
to this call. ■ 
R 
I am interested in the man who is “scared” 
after the event, though he shows no alarm at 
the time when he is in danger. Such occur¬ 
rences are common enough, but why does the 
man feel no fear at the time and realize his 
danger only after it is past? I have had such 
an experience a number of times, and have 
pondered more or less over the matter. I am 
inclined to think that the failure to realize the 
danger at the time — or at least to contemplate 
it as a danger — arises from the fact that the 
man’s mind is concentrated on finding a way out 
of his difficulty rather than in considering the 
difficulty itself. When, however, he has escaped 
the peril, he has time to think over its magni¬ 
tude and to consider what an escape he has 
made. Then he may very properly be fright¬ 
ened. » 
*• 
Someone told me a story the other day about 
an old fellow who had hunted all day without 
success and was on his. way home discouraged 
when a rabbit hopped across the road and he 
shot it, but was astonished to hear a lively thrash¬ 
ing in the bushes further on, this proving to be 
a grouse that happened to be in the path of the 
shot. So proud was he of what he called his 
record shot that he put his gun in the rack at 
home and said: “Never again will I go hunt¬ 
ing until someone beats that shot.” 
st 
Some persons walking along a path near the 
foot of the Palisades recently heard a man call¬ 
ing from a point about half-way up the cliff, 
where a path winds through the woods. The 
owner of the voice could not be seen, but it was 
likely he slipped and fell, as he was evidently 
intoxicated. Finally his voice grew so command¬ 
ing that some men preparing to go frostfishing 
called up, asking him what was the matter. 
“Fell down. • Say, Bill, give us a hand, will 
you ?” 
“Are you hurt ?” 
“Yes, pretty bad case.” 
“Did you fall off the cliff?” 
“Yes, fell off cliff.” 
“Well, fall the rest of the way.” 
Grizzly King. 
