July 12, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
41 
On the Yang-Tse Kiang 
I.—A Mixed Bag 
By F. T. PETERS 
W HAT a host of memories crowd into my 
mind as I sit, pen in hand. What a 
one-time paradise was the Yang-tse be¬ 
fore the invasion of Europe with its thousand 
sportsmen, its hammerless guns, its houseboats, 
and, worse than all, its cold storage plant with 
John Chinaman and his cunning traps to fill 
them. 
Yes, were I a wildfowl or a pheasant, I 
would give the Yang-tse a wide berth—the Yang- 
tse where one can shoot from the middle of 
August till the end of May. 
Many men, better equipped with knowledge 
than myself, have written of sport on the Yang- 
tse, therefore if you wish to learn, please refer 
to them, but if you would like to follow with 
me through the pleasant paths of some delight¬ 
ful shooting days, read on. 
Step ashore, then, with our gallant company, 
three guns and three beaters, a Maltese pointer 
and a flat-coated retriever. Our object to kill 
what we can. 
A quarter of a mile’s walk, through a 
Chinese village across a stream by the local 
ferry—a sampan, that cost us four cash*—and 
we are on the field of action. 
Picture a lake, perhaps two miles long by 
half a mile across, whose surface is as smooth 
as glass; the one side on which you may now 
imagine us, bounded by low mud flats, with 
patches of reeds, anywhere from six to twenty 
feet high, scattered here and there. Little creeks, 
running into the lake, divide the flats into the 
semblance of a chess board; the other side, 
flanked by low foothills, clothed with ideal cover, 
the haunt of the pheasant, the bamboo partridge 
and the wily woodcock. In -the distance loom 
a range of hills. I cannot call them mountains, 
though if you were to refer to the chart, you 
would find them marked as such. The flats are 
alive with wildfowl—duck, geese and swan. 
To cap all, the sun is shining with all its 
might. It is late December; the air is keen; it 
is good to be alive. 
We line out and work round the lower bank 
of the lake. The ground is good ; cut reeds, with 
patches of water here and there. Snipe are 
fairly plentiful. We have covered about a mile 
when we reach the foothills and have secured 
fifteen couple of snipe. Two mallards have 
fallen to my gun; they were sitting in a small 
pond, close under the bank and got up under 
my nose to meet their fate. 
What better shooting than snipe, as they 
rise with their hoarse cry. In the reeds they 
afford delightful shooting, giving you a chance 
at a snap as they disappear over the reeds. 
Again in line we enter the cover on the 
hills. Plere the shots are fewer. An old cock 
gets up at my feet and I bag him. I hear two 
more shots at the end of the line. On we go 
till hunger cries a halt for a frugal lunch. One 
thing about China, you need never be worried 
by the question of portage; none of your pack¬ 
ing forty pounds on your back; you can hire 
a dozen coolies anywhere for a couple of dollars 
Mexican. 
The bag looks none too bad—five pheasants 
(four cocks and a hen, and what more mag¬ 
nificent bird than a cock pheasant in its prime), 
two woodcock, fifteen snipe, three teal and two 
duck. 
The glories, too, of those covers; the warm 
sunlight playing on the patches of bamboo, pro¬ 
ducing a marvelous shade of light green, surely 
without equal. 
We made a hearty lunch. Cold snipe pie, 
among other items, makes my mouth water to 
think of it. 
Then on again over hill and dale, through 
small villages, quaintly grouped in the valley or 
perched on the hillside. 
At the end of one cover we are lucky enough 
to run into a covey of bamboo partridges; the 
dogs begin working like mad things. 
The bamboo partridge lies very close, so 
close that without a dog you are fortunate in¬ 
deed to put one up. 
Two of the guns go round to the end of 
the cover. I stay in the rear. Out the birds 
shoot, flying straight as an arrow, each one 
seemingly choosing a different point of the com¬ 
pass to steer its course by. I get a chance at 
one which flies back, but an intervening tree says 
no. The others are more fortunate and we 
gather three. Time is getting on; we retrace 
our steps and take up our stations for the eve¬ 
ning flight. I have built myself a “blind” by 
the edge of a likely looking pond; behind me 
stretches a mud flat backed by high reeds; in 
front is my pond and beyond that the lake. I 
might be a thousand miles from anywhere. The 
sweet stillness of the air is broken by the honk, 
honk, of a flight of geese winging their way 
northward high in the air. The whole scene 
is weird and desolate and beautiful. Kipling's 
words return to me: 
“Who hath seen the beaver busied? 
Who hath watched the black tail mating? 
Who hath lain alone to hear the wild goose cry?” 
The sun sinks; I can see a great fiery ball 
in between the stalks of the reeds. The sky 
is changed to red and then to purple and a hun¬ 
dred other colors. Oh! the beauty of it. I am 
suddenly recalled by a noise like an express train 
crossing a bridge, as a duck does a volplane 
from a tremendous height and alights in the 
water just out of range. 
The evening flight has begun. First the 
duck in their twos and threes, then an odd teal 
or two-—good shooting. Is there anything that 
can equal it? Then more duck. I see a cloud 
like an approaching thunder storm; there is an 
ever-increasing roar, and then 10,000 teal sweep 
over my head, their wings making a noise like 
a waterfall. And then another flight and yet 
another, till one wonders if there can be any 
teal left anywhere else in the world. The light 
has gone, I pick up my birds and wend my way 
back. We foregather on the river bank and lay 
out the bag by the light of the moon. Yes, I 
think it will bear looking into—xi pheasant, 3 
bamboo partridge, 2 woodcock, 20 duck, 15 teal, 
38 snipe, 1 hog deer. 
And the joy of it all. 
The Merit System for Protectors. 
BY CHARLES E. LEE. CHIEF OF HUDSON DIVISION OF 
NEW YORK STATE CONSERVATION COMMISSION. 
In discussing the merit system, my under¬ 
standing of the object at which we should aim 
is an absolute impartiality in ascertaining the 
fidelity and efficiency of each protector. Parti¬ 
sanship or bias results in unduly emphasizing 
some points and in the suppression of others to 
the end that actualities are hidden. 
To reach the exact truth as to a protector’s 
worth, it is necessary to go back to the point 
where we can find a fundamental reason for 
the existence of the law protecting game; and 
even further to find the sentiment or feeling 
lying behind the reason. It must be said that 
even at this latter day, with the well defined 
knowledge of the value of game, the public sen¬ 
timent behind protective law is still very much 
divided. 
It is an easy matter for a few selfish, mer¬ 
cenary or merely reckless pot-hunters to destroy 
the game of the State, and thereby perpetrate a 
wanton robbery of all of that great portion of 
the public not included in their own ranks. 
Special Game Protectors. 
BY FREDERICK HAMILTON, WESTERN DIVISION CHIEF 
OF NEW YORK STATE CONSERVATION COMMISSION. 
The position of special protector was created 
by the Legislature several years ago when they 
had few regulars. Each year has seen more and 
more added, until to-day we have upward of 
three hundred. 
A few years ago the Legislature enacted a 
law granting special protectors the powers pos¬ 
sessed by the regulars. This has made them 
valuable to sportsmen, regular protectors and to 
the Department. I have known protectors wffio 
did not know a bass from a perch, a herring 
from a whitefish, a great Northern pike from 
a maskalonge, a woodcock from a Wilson snipe, 
a seine from a gill net or a fyke net from a trap 
net. Why was this? Simply because they had 
no proper training. Had they served two or 
three years as special protectors, they would 
have had sufficient experience to know these 
things, and thereby save the Department a whole 
lot of trouble, the protective force a lot of dis¬ 
grace, and the sportsmen and others a lot of 
disgust and contempt. While I am heartily in 
favor of special protectors, I believe they should 
be carefully investigated by the division chiefs, 
and only those retained who are actually of 
some assistance in the work. 
*Ten cash equal one cent. 
ANGLERS. 
From an old German print in Woodward Collection. 
