Jan. io, 1914. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
39 
When I had finished and was just about to 
drink of that most thirst-satisfying drink, water, 
from the flask which I always carry in my pocket, 
I heard, very distinctly, a noisy crushing in the 
woods ahead of me. I strained my eyes and 
saw: Coming up on a knoll about three hundred 
yards away, were five deer, bounding, Indian 
fashion, and then disappearing behind a clump of 
bushes. I saw them all and was sure that the 
second in the row wore a beautiful pair of ant¬ 
lers. 
Five deer together! Before proceeding with 
my narrative, I want to remark that after telling 
my story in camp, the proprietor himself admitted 
that he had never seen five deer together—never 
more than three. The only explanation for my 
experience is that two or three deer must have 
been started by some hunter, had met another 
pair and run on together for a short time. 
To return to my story. After the deer had 
disappeared, I calculated that running in the di¬ 
agonal direction in which they were, they would 
reappear in an opening to my left. I watched 
that opening with my rifle on the ready. They 
soon came out again on a second knoll, but in¬ 
stead of galloping they slowed down to a trot. 
The first was a doe and the second the same 
buck as before. The last of the herd was a 
fawn. 
They were coming in just the direction that 
I expected. From behind a tree, the doe ap¬ 
peared first and then those beautiful antlers came 
into sight. I aimed the sights of my rifle about 
six inches ahead of the buck’s front shoulder 
(one learns this while shooting flying ducks with 
a .22 rifle). I then pulled the trigger. Making 
one feeble leap, the fine animal dropped like a 
log. I heard him kicking, but could not tell ex¬ 
actly how far away he was. I ran a considerable 
distance between windfalls, over creeks and small 
ravines, and saw him lying prostrate with his 
left antler caught in a snag, from which he tried 
to liberate himself. I despatched him immediate¬ 
ly with my hunting knife, and then dressed him. 
His head was stately and majestic, with seven 
pronged antlers. 
I am a happy man. My buck fever always 
comes subsequent to my getting the quarry. After 
everything was over, I felt a shaking all over 
my body. The only remedy for me is to drink 
my fill from some cool spring or brook. I re¬ 
membered my flask and thrust my hand into my 
pocket. It was all wet and full of broken glass. 
The flask must have been crushed while I ran 
to the deer, so I went over to a nearby creek 
and drank and drank until I felt cooled and 
composed. 
Returning to the animal, I made a thorough 
investigation as to the result of my shot. The 
bullet, instead of entering the shoulder, had gone 
about seven inches further back, striking between 
the first and second ribs and breaking part of the 
spine. Measuring the distance, I found it a trifle 
over one hundred fifty yards, and remembering 
the rapid trot of the animal, explained why the 
bullet had gone so far to the right of the in¬ 
tended mark. Going straight through the animal, 
it had, with its soft nose, lacerated a terrific 
wound at its exit. 
Trying to lift the animal, I found that a 
man, accustomed to desk work in the city, is not 
the fit one for this job. Belonging to the sparing 
and saving class of people, I cut out the liver, 
heart, spleen and kidneys, which I wrapped up 
in my red handkerchief, intending them for a 
dinner in camp. This, of course, added to the 
weight. 
Realizing my plight, I began to whistle for 
help. After about half an hour, Mr. Buckley 
appeared and was overjoyed to see that lovely 
buck floored. He congratulated me, and we tied 
its feet with some fishing line which I had in 
my pocket, and ran a pole through. Attempting 
to lift the animal, the line broke. 
Mr. Buckley suggested going for help. He 
went away, and I sat down to feast my eyes on 
the buck. At about four in the afternoon, Mr. 
Buckley and a certain other gentleman, Mr. Mills, 
by name, appeared. The three of us tried to 
carry the animal, but could not, so taking hold 
of his horns, we dragged him down to the lake. 
Then Mr. Mills brought up a rowboat on which 
we loaded the deer, and my troubles were almost 
ended. 
When the hunters assembled to return to 
camp, it was found that I was the only one to 
get a deer that day, although almost everyone 
saw deer and had shot at them. They were all 
glad to see me the possessor of the buck, par¬ 
ticularly Johnny Balderson, and it was real glad¬ 
ness, too, with no trace of jealousy, as behooves 
real sportsmen. 
On our way home, the boat’s engine broke 
down. A gale arose, darkness came on, and we 
were tossed on to the sharp edge of a rock. 
Cranberry Lake is a beautiful one, but its numer¬ 
ous rocks and swift-running eddies make naviga¬ 
tion dangerous. Mr. Mills, his brother and one 
other gentleman, with the deer in the bottom of 
the boat, rowed across the lake. Help came and 
we were towed out from our precarious situation. 
I was drenched to the skin, but happy. The 
deer was hung up, clothes were changed, a de¬ 
lectable meal served, and then followed a pleasant 
chat in front of that inviting open fireplace. 
How heavy was the deer? When that chap 
at the Wanakena railroad station announced 162 
pounds, I told him frankly that I did not believe 
him. I had thought it weighed about a ton. 
I know that some of the sporting fraternity 
would be interested to know something about the 
rifle I used. It is a .303 Savage Featherweight. 
I never bother with the raising of sights. Up to 
about 125 yards I shoot “point blank,” but when 
I think the distance is above that and up to 200 
yards, I shoot two or three inches higher. I 
prefer the open rear sights, just as they come 
from the factory, for hunting, and a gold bead 
front sight. 
As I said, we had only one clear day, and 
that was the one on which I shot my deer. Just 
that day, I forgot to take my camera with me, 
and so could not photograph my quarry in the 
woods. 
During the remainder of my stay at camp, 
the weather was not fit for taking negatives with 
my small camera. I obtained a few photos from 
Balderson, and the rest I must leave to the 
imagination of my friend the artist, Mr. S. Zagat, 
knowing that he will do justice to the subject. 
In conclusion I wish to say that there is 
excellent shooting right here in New York State. 
One must only find the right spot. I believe that 
a most appropriate one is Balderson’s territory. 
With fifty dollars in his pocket, a man can easily 
spend two weeks at Cranberry Lake, and if he 
is only an ordinary shot, secure a deer. 
One more remark. Referring to Indian 
Mountain, some rich gentlemen have established 
in the neighborhood the Indian Mountain Club 
for hunting and fishing. They have also posted 
the ground on all sides. That particular part of 
the country has been stocked with elk by the 
state and every brook and lake with various spe¬ 
cies of trout by the Fish and Game Commission. 
According to law, such territory cannot be posted 
or used as a private preserve. Don't those rich 
gentlemen think they are encroaching a little too 
far on the rights of the poor man? 
In twenty-six states there are state foresters 
who co-operate with private timberland owners in 
solving forest problems. 
The Polar Bear of Bering Sea 
BSERVATIONS made throughout a num¬ 
ber of years by officers of the United 
States revenue marine prove that the polar 
bear’s limit of range is St. Matthew Island in 
Bering Sea. A few of these bears were at one 
time seen near the seal islands, being adrift upon 
a huge ice floe. On St. Matthew Island the bears 
have lairs and dens among the rocky glens that 
abound upon the island. There, it is generally 
supposed, the young cubs are born, though the 
natives living in the vicinity of Point Belcher 
aver that in December, when the sun disappears 
entirely, the females make a snow house out upon 
the ice and there give birth to their young. 
There is some evidence of the truth of this state¬ 
ment, as it is a rare thing to obtain the skin of a 
female bear which has been killed during the 
winter. They feed almost entirely upon seals, 
walruses, and dead drift whales, and, though dis¬ 
daining to devour the blubber, the flesh is greedily- 
consumed. A carcass upon which a bear has 
passed his gastronomic judgment reveals the skin 
and its fatty lining torn asunder, the flesh being 
cut into strips and shreds by the powerful claws 
and teeth. A single blow of a bear’s paw upon 
a seal’s head suffices to kill it, and, dragged out 
upon the ice, a meal is soon dispatched. 
“The largest white bear I ever saw,” said ai. 
old whaler and hunter, “was shot in November, 
1885, about 150 miles northeast of Point Barrow. 
It measured twelve feet two inches from tip of 
tail to nose, six feet three inches girth, fifteen 
inches across fiom ear to ear, and possessed a 
seven-inch skull, while the track made by the 
huge beast covered eleven inches in length. An 
idea of the size of this monster can be gained 
when it is known their average length is only 
about eight or nine feet.” 
In summer the hairy coat of the polar bear 
turns to a dingy yellow and its pelt then becomes 
of no value. They have not near the courage of 
the interior bears and will rarely attack a person 
unless there are two or three in company. As 
soon as they scent a man approaching they, as 
a rule, will shamble off as fast as they can, and 
there are but few records of a bear killing any 
of the natives along the northern coast. The 
Eskimo are very partial to the meat of the white 
bear, but the blubber they reject, and even the 
dogs, unless they are very hungry, turn up their 
noses at the oily mass. Ten years ago it was a 
hard matter to secure the entire skin of a polar 
bear. The Eskimos formerly cut off the head and 
claws and either threw them into the sea or 
buried them in the ground. One of their super¬ 
stitions is that should the head and claws not 
be disposed of the friends of the dead animal 
will see the remains and consequently leave that 
particular district and will never return .—Juneau 
( Alaska ) News. 
Deer Season In Michigan 
Lansing, Mich., Dec. 17, 1913. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
We have been unable to receive accurate re¬ 
ports of the number of deer killed during the 
hunting season just closed. The accurate number 
cannot be determined, but it is estimated that 
ten thousand deer were killed in Michigan during 
the last hunting season, and that 60 per cent, of 
these were does. 
I am also enclosing herewith a list of acci¬ 
dents which occurred to hunters during the last 
hunting season, and advise you that the reports 
of these accidents have been verified by deputies 
of this department. Twelve were killed and eight 
injured. 
William R. Oates, 
State Game, Fish and Forestry Warden. 
