FOREST AND STREAM 
311 
A Goose and A Gun 
By Herman Blackmer. 
When 1 returned to camp shortly after dark 
everybody was sitting about the fire, discussing 
the happenings of the day. All had done well, 
and it was indeed a satisfied group. As soon as 
I entered the circle of firelight everyone jumped 
up and prepared to display his or her catch, for 
it had been agreed upon to wait until all the 
camp were present before any baskets should be 
opened. It was a pretty display, too, the shin¬ 
ing bass laid out side by side on the rough board 
table, and the contented group standing about, 
while the whole scene, enacted under the big 
birches, was beautifully and effectively lighted 
by the roaring fire. 
The excitement over, I ate my supper, as the 
others had done long ago. Then we all turned 
in to clean and pack our fish, and this done, I 
went out to try the flies a little, as the water 
was better that last night than it had been at 
any time during our stay. At the first cast I got 
a strike and missed, bpt the next I hooked and 
landed. I believe it was the same fish. Three 
or four casts yielded another, but as the place 
was rather brushy I took the old scow and 
crossed over to the other side. On the way over 
I noticed some clouds piling up in the north¬ 
west, but paid no attention to them and resumed 
my fishing. I had fished several minutes and 
missed a beautiful strike, when such an awful 
gust of wind hit the place that I could not keep 
my flies in the stream. I hurried back to camp 
and found everybody in their bunks but father, 
who more than 'had his hands full in the terrific 
gale that by that time was raging. The camp was 
in more or less disorder, preparatory to leaving, 
and the wind did not help matters. 
The fire, which had died down somewhat, was 
fully a rod and a half from the tents, but when 
that wind had fanned up a flame great hunks 
of coals flew clear to the tents. Something had 
to be done immediately, so I spread the fire and 
threw water on it, while father kept the coals 
away from the tents as much as possible. When 
the fire was out it was as dark as pitch, and the 
wind came harder than ever. Thunder could now 
be heard, growing louder every second. 
Meanwhile father and I tried to keep the camp 
from blowing away. He braced himself and 
hung on to tent ropes, while I took in what might 
be termed the after-sail—a dining fly of a few 
minutes before. Suddenly there was a banging 
of tin, and a lard can minnow cage, full of nail 
holes and nothing else, came up over the river 
bank, tore through the camp and was gone across 
the landscape. 
Crash! Bang! Everything on the table, includ¬ 
ing our metal dishes and a big jar of huckle¬ 
berries, started after the can. If wind can rea¬ 
son, I should say that gale concluded that it 
had damaged everything within its power, except 
blowing down the tents—which evidently wasn’t 
in its power—and therefore stopped blowing. 
At any rate it stopped, so father and I crawled 
into our bunks just before the rain set in. 
We got never a drop in our tents all night, and 
when morning dawned, fair and sunny, we gath¬ 
ered our scattered property together, packed it 
up and went back over the mountains, to dream 
of trips to come. We left a considerable part of 
our outfit at the home of the friendly native at 
the farmhouse, in expectation of another trip to 
be made at the earliest date possible. 
Albert Lea, Minn., Feb. 21, 1914. 
Editor forest and Stream: 
Pickerel Lake is a beautiful body of water, 
with high wooded shores, about two miles long 
and more than half a mile wide, oval in shape. 
When I was a lad—that was long ago—there 
was an Indian trail along its shore, as there was 
along all lakes and streams in this country. Near 
the center of the lake was a high shn 1 of about 
seven acres, where otter had their home. I have 
seen the otter at play, when they would run out 
on a tree that slanted out over the water, and 
jump off and back again, one after another, div¬ 
ing and seeming to have great sport. • 
The island was covered with heavy timber, 
and towering above all was a large white oak, in 
the top of which was a bald eagle’s nest. Along 
the shore an osprey had its nest. The osprey 
would fly out over the lake, dart down and catch 
a pickerel, and start for its nest. The eagle 
would sail forth, and when it came near the hawk 
the latter would scream and drop the fish, which 
the eagle would swoop down and catch before 
it struck the water. Again the hawk would fare 
forth, and often make several trips before the 
eagle would plunder it again. This was the regu¬ 
lar thing during the nesting season. Now and 
then an eagle would go after a duck dr goose, 
always keeping below the bird so it could not get 
to the water, and when the fowl became ex¬ 
hausted it would make a rush and seize it. 
There was a long point of land extending into 
the lake. I looked around it and there was an 
immense flock of geese along the shore. I 
stepped back and withdrew the wads from over 
the shot, put in some heavy shot, skulked along 
the shore until I was opposite and near to the 
geese. Then I whistled, the geese raised their 
heads, and I took careful aim at the nearest ones 
and fired. Can you imagine my surprise as they 
all flew away? I watched to see if any dropped; 
not one. I was greatly perplexed, and wondered 
if I had put in the shot. Yes, I had. I walked 
down toward the shore where, to my amaze¬ 
ment. I saw I had made a great hole in the mud. 
It was clear then that 1 had aimed between the 
locks, and let the muzzle hang down. As I was 
a fair shot for. a boy, I must have had goose 
fever. 
I gave up hunting then and there and started 
for home, when I saw a small flock of geese out 
in the lake. I jumped into my canoe and started 
for them. There was a bunch of rushes between 
them and me, and I sent my canoe as fast and 
silently as I could. As I came to the rushes I 
laid my paddle down and was ready with my 
gun. Coming through the rushes I fixed both 
barrels, and killed one goose and wounded an¬ 
other. The wounded goose went ashore and I 
after it. When I thought I was near shore, I 
jumped out and went after and got my goose. 
When I came back my canoe was bottom side 
up and my gun was in the lake. I commenced to 
wade up and down for it, and being barefoot, I 
knew I would feel the gun as soon as I came to 
it. I went back and forth many times, and com¬ 
menced to cry, as I thought the gun was lost. 
Then I made up my mind I would wade up and 
down until the water was too deep to walk in. 
Out as far again as I had supposed it could be, I 
found it. I had not realized the canoe had 
drifted in. If you ever saw a pleased hoy he 
must have looked as I did when I got my gun. 
I did not tell when I got home of my first 
miss nor of losing my gun. I was quite proud, 
as it was my first goose. 
SQUIRRELS TO GIVE AWAY. 
Any city in New York State can probably ob¬ 
tain some gray squirrels free of charge so far as 
the officials of Watertown are concerned. Since 
the city park was stocked with gray squirrels a 
few years ago the animals have bred rapidly, and 
complaints are received frequently because of 
damage to orchards and gardens. Although it 
is understood that the city that wants some of 
the little animals is expected to trap them, the 
task should be an easy one, as the squirrels have 
become remarkably tame. Watertown thinks it 
has about 500 squirrels to spare. 
. - aM...n.~ ^ 
«< -• ' . • - 
••••_ •—wag- 
“Little Lac Grenier, I See You Now, Onder de Roof of Spring.” 
