ioi6 
[Dec. 29, 1906. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Sitting on the top rail of the old fence is not 
always a safe though it be a pleasant pastime. 
For example, rail fences are one of the chosen 
vehicles of poison ivy, whose cheerful duty 
seems to be the dissemination of itching re¬ 
minders of the fact that we who love the woods 
must take the bitter medicine with the sweet. 
But if you are easily poisoned, do not fancy that 
in winter this creeper may be touched or even 
closely approached with impunity. If you find 
it on your favorite top rail, circle to windward 
and finish your deliberations on another rail 
that is free of ivy. I am not sure that every 
person needs this advice, but I do know that 
some do, because they have been poisoned 
severely on the coldest days in winter, and 
that, too, without touching the vine, so far 
as they could tell. This, of course, may not 
be actually true, but is common belief among 
those peculiarly susceptible to poison. Time 
after time I have been poisoned while exercising 
the utmost care to avoid it, and this, after un¬ 
pleasant experiences covering many years in the 
woods, has caused me to believe that 1 can be 
poisoned merely in passing to leeward of a 
cluster of the vines. Every outer subject to 
poison should have at hand, a little tincture 
grindelia, bathe the affected part in hot water 
frequently before applying the wash, and avoid 
soap until the rash dries up. 
#? 
I believe every reader of Forest and Stream 
will recall the discussion that was carried on in 
its columns not very long ago concerning the 
“barking” of squirrels. I have no wish to reopen 
that question, but something of Mark Twain’s 
that I read recently strikes me as so ludicrous, 
I cannot withstand the temptation to give it here. 
“When I was a boy,” writes the venerable 
humorist in the current Harpers Magazine, “my 
uncle and his big boys hunted with the rifle. * * * 
My uncle and the big boys were good shot's. 
They killed hawks and wild geese and such like 
on the wing; and they didn't wound or kill squir¬ 
rels, they stunned them. When the dogs treed 
a squirrel, the squirrel 'would scamper aloft and 
run out on a limb and flatten himself along it, 
hoping to make himself invisible in that way, and 
not quite succeeding. You could see his wee little 
ears sticking up. You couldn’t see his nose, but 
you knew where it was. Then the hunter, de¬ 
spising a rest for his rifle, stood up and 
took offhand aim at the limb and sent a bullet 
into.it immediately under the squirrel’s nose, and 
down tumbled the animal, unwounded, but uncon¬ 
scious ; the dogs gave him a shake and he was 
dead. Sometimes, when the distance was great 
and the wind not accurately allowed for, the bul¬ 
let would hit the squirrel’s head; the dogs could 
do as they pleased with that-one—the hunter’s 
pride was hurt, and he wouldn’t allow it to go 
into the game bag.” 
Mark complains that no matter how earnest he 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
may be, no one takes him seriously. Of course 
not. Why should they when he spins yarns like 
this one? 
r 
Now let those who have a chronic habit of 
poking fun at our policemen because of poor 
revolver practice turn their attention to the 
Russians instead. The other day one of the 
latter fired seven shots at an admiral at about 
ten feet range, then threw a bomb at him, 
whereupon a second man, taking a hand, fired 
three shots and threw another bomb. The ad¬ 
miral was knocked down and slightly hurt by 
the first bomb, but a small matter like two 
bombs and ten bullets did not prevent him from 
chasing his assailants out of the park where 
they had found him. Our average policeman is 
an expert shot compared with these men. 
I used to think that a citizen had a better 
chance to get away if highwaymen attacking 
him were armed with revolvers than with knives 
or clubs, for the last two weapons named do 
not miss fire, but have often been told I was 
wrong. Perhaps so, but judging from the poor 
shooting some of the Russians have been doing, 
their practice is very bad. It. is said, however, 
that the “Terrorists” are armed with the best 
automatic pistols obtainable in Europe; and. 
singularly enough, all of these are of the same 
type and caliber, coming, it would seem, from 
one agent, or at least from a group obtaining 
supplies from.a common source. What’s the 
use? Air guns would give as good average re¬ 
sults. 
v. 
My thanks are tendered a prominent National 
Guardsman for the following true story: 
"A Naval Militia rifle team had been practic¬ 
ing for the Brigade Match at Creedmoor. One 
of the men had been having a number of mis¬ 
fires with his rifle. Also he stammered badly. He 
approached the ordnance officer: ‘M-M-M—Mr. 
R., c-c-c-can I take my g-g-gun home?’ 
“ ‘Why do you want to do that ? You know we 
keep the team rifles here in the locker.’ 
“ ‘Y-Y-Yes, b-b-but the d-d-darned thing st-st- 
stutters when I shoot.’ ” 
m 
Here’s another one: Two “trouble-hunters,” 
employed by a telephone company, looking for a 
broken wire or for crossed wires in a suburb, 
located the “trouble” in a wire that crossed a 
private yard. While they were repairing the 
wires a savage dog of large size pounced on 
them, and to save himself one of the men struck 
the enraged brute on the head with the heavy 
pliers he had in his hand, killing it instantly. It 
was not a pleasant position to be in, and again 
in self-defense, the men lost no time in getting 
back to headquarters. Not long afterward the 
telephone bell rang and a feminine voice called 
for tht manager, who was informed that two of 
his men had killed her pet dog Yorick—“poor, 
good little Yorick, who had never harmed any¬ 
one in all his life.” The manager asked the men 
if they knew anything about the case, and the 
guilty one replied, his emotion aggravating his 
habit of stuttering, “I d-d-don’t k-k-know any- 
t-t-t-t-t-hing ab-b-bout w-w-hat Y-y-yorick used 
to b-b-be, b-b-but I k-know Y-yorick is a g-good 
d-d-dog-g-gie now.” 
m 
R. L. E. writes me from Natick, Mass., as fol¬ 
lows : 
“In the Dec. 8 issue of Forest and Stream I 
notice in your column an instance of a hawk 
carrying away a rabbit which had just been shot 
by a hunter. This reminds me of an incident 
which happened some years ago while hunting 
ruffed grouse with Mr. John Goulding, of South 
Sudbury, Mass. My dog flushed a grouse which 
flew directly over Mr. Goulding’s head. He 
wheeled about and fired both barrels. At the sec¬ 
ond report the bird started up into the air at a 
very acute angle, somewhat like a towering bird, 
evidently hit in the head. After going up for 
sixty or seventy-five feet it commenced to drop. 
Meanwhile a hawk had left the brush from which 
the grouse had started, and taking the same line 
of flight, followed the wounded bird until it 
began to drop, when he.seized it with his talons 
and bore it away. We hunted a long time, but 
failed to find either hawk or grouse again. This 
happened in plain view of both of us. I could 
not shoot the hawk without endangering Mr. G., 
while his gun was empty, having just shot at the 
grouse. I have never heard of another such hap¬ 
pening and on relating this incident have some¬ 
times been asked what we carried on our trip 
that day. That the incident occurred as related 
is an absolute fact. 
“This season my nephew shot a grouse with 
but one leg. Examination convinced me that the 
bird was hatched that way or had lost the other 
leg while very young. There was no scar and 
the skin was as smooth and clean as on any part 
of the bird. The one leg was considerably larger 
than ordinary. 1 judged the bird to be an old 
one and it was in fair condition.” 
This calls to mind a shot I made years ago 
with a rifle while learning to shoot that weapon. 
A blackbird sitting on one of the lower limbs of 
a pecan tree offered a target so tempting that I 
could not resist it. Boy-like, I fired hastily, and 
cut off both the legs, the bird flying out over a 
field that was marshy and dangerous to attempt 
walking over. I hunted all that day in an at¬ 
tempt to flush the blackbird, if it could not be 
located, but failed, and I was compelled to be 
satisfied with the hope that some fox caught it 
ere it began to suffer from hunger. This is one 
of the sad incidents that taught me to “miss clean 
or kill clean” while hunting with the single-shot 
rifle, for I have never forgotten the matter. 
« 
Here is a story B. C. Foster sends me: 
“As sportsmen very often engage a guide to 
show the way into the forest in places where 
they are not well acquainted, it is said of one 
who hired a negro to show the route, that as 
they were passing through a pine thicket, after 
hunting for some time without success, the guide 
pointed out a chance shot at a deer, which was 
taken advantage of by the sportsman and with 
telling effect. It was some time before reaching 
the dead game, as the bushes were very thick 
and the guide claimed that ‘We shot him,’ to 
which-the sportsman replied: 
“‘We! Why you haven’t anything to do with 
it. You. haven’t even a gun.’ 
“On finding that the dead game was Mr. 
Jones’ young colt, the sportsman exclaimed, 
“There; we have killed a colt.’ The negro said, 
‘Mistah, ’taint no “we” in dis. I haven’t even 
got a gun, and couldn’t hit the broad side of a 
barn if I fired bofe barrels to oncet wif both 
eyes open.’ ” 
Grizzly King. 
