16 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. 4, 1913 
Published Weekly by the 
Forest and Stream Publishing Company, 
Charles Otis, President. 
W. G. Beecroft, Secretary. S. J. Gibson, Treasurer. 
127 Franklin Street, New York. 
CORRESPONDKNCE— Forest and Stream is the 
recognized medium of entertainment, instruction and in¬ 
formation between American sportsmen. The editors 
invite communications on the subjects to which its pages 
are devoted, but, of course, are not responsible for the 
views of correspondents. Anonymous communications 
cannot be regarded. 
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THE OBJECT OF THIS JOURNAL 
will be to studiously promote a healthful in¬ 
terest in outdoor recreation, and to cultivate 
a refined taste for natural objects. 
—Forest and Stream, Aug. 14, 1873. 
OUR COMPACT WITH THE NEW YEAR. 
The “little fellow” is here. What shall we 
do for him? And by the same token, what will 
he do for us? 
We agree to give him the best sportsman’s 
weekly possible, and in return he will give us 
an audience with what few of the best sports¬ 
men we do not already serve. 
Enough said. It is a bargain. 
RAISING GAME FOR MARKET. 
OuR estimable and well-meaning confrere, 
the Game Breeder, “still insists he sees a ghost” 
in our attitude on matters relating to game 
breeding on private lands. With persuasive per¬ 
sistence our friend asks: “Should game be sold 
alive by breeders for propagation?” Our answer 
to this question is emphatically, “Yes!” Further, 
the Game Breeder yearns for our opinion as to 
whether “game properly tagged should be sold 
dead for food.” To this we should say that 
game raised by private individuals, so labeled, 
with necessary proof to support the labels, should 
be marketable at any time. We believe in a long 
open season on all game, and can think of noth¬ 
ing that would afford us greater pleasure—for we 
ourselves love to hunt—than to see those who 
enjoy shooting wild game indulging their pleas¬ 
ure all year around, excepting during breeding 
seasons. However, were everyone honest, we 
would have no need for locksmiths, for they 
would prosper better as ditch diggers, nor would 
game laws be necessary. Every shooter would 
kill a fair bag, feed birds in winter, and shoot 
only during reasonable periods. Unfortunately 
the time is not now when everyone who carries 
a gun may be trusted to use it honestly. When 
game is abundant, as it has prospect of being, 
thanks to the revenue from hunters’ licenses. 
private game stocking, game refuges and the 
sterling efforts of John B. Burnham and the 
American Game Protective and Propagation 
Association, then shall we shout from the house¬ 
tops for longer open seasons, sale of privately 
reared game at all time, and a general opening 
of the laws that now must be drawn tight to 
keep the game hog and market hunter from re¬ 
ducing the game supply in the woods, fields and 
forests to the game barrenness of a city block. 
Before making the editor’s cross, that indicates 
to the printer the end of the story, we want to 
thank our kindly neighbor for lifting from us 
the stigma of littleness. We love our neigh¬ 
bors as ourselves, and wish all our outdoor con¬ 
temporaries a most prosperous New Year, know¬ 
ing that each adds its mite to the joy of living, 
and produces competition, which after all keeps 
us all on edge for personal and public better¬ 
ment. There is room for us all, but not at the 
top, where we insist on staying. 
RIGHTS OF THE FARMER. 
Syracuse, N. Y., Nov. 14.— Editor Forest 
and Stream: I hope the sporting papers of this 
country will take the right attitude in the matter 
of trespass and posting farms, with a view to 
bringing farmer and sportsman together. 
There is no question but that many farmers 
have just cause for complaint, and the sporting 
papers ought to call upon all those who enjoy 
a day afield to do their utmost to cultivate a 
kindly feeling between farmer and sportsman. 
The State, as a whole, is doing considerable 
in the way of stocking coverts and streams, and 
it is hardly a fair proposition, after this has been 
done, to keep the inhabitants of villages and 
cities from enjoying the sport by “boarding” 
these places after game has become plentiful. 
Possibly some day a law will be enacted 
which will do away with the “No trespassing— 
No hunting” sign, except in the immediate 
vicinity of farm buildings, and perhaps a con¬ 
tribution of fifty cents or one dollar from each 
hunter directly to the farmer to compensate for 
any possible damage of fences or other property 
in hunting upon his grounds will form a satis¬ 
factory solution of the problem. Some middle 
course of this kind, it would seem to me, would 
be the best way out of the dilemma. 
Louis Will. 
[The farmer should be paid for the privilege 
of shooting. The farm is more generally posted 
to-day than ever before. In many sections, in 
the South especially, the shooting rights are re¬ 
served for visiting sportsmen, who in return pay 
the taxes on the land. In such cases the owner 
cares little or nothing for the shooting, but is 
glad to piece out his income thus. 
We believe'that the system is one to encour¬ 
age. There is little likelihood that the time will 
soon come when the prices asked for shooting 
privileges will be exorbitant, or in excess of 
what the gunner would be perfectly willing to 
pay, provided he actually received in exchange 
for his outlay a chance at game that was worth 
while. 
Erom the present widely prevailing condi¬ 
tions of utter disregard of the landowner’s rights 
by the visiting—that is to say, the invading and 
trespassing—gunner, to such a common recogni¬ 
tion of the rights of others as shall make pay¬ 
ment for shooting privileges obligatory, is a far 
cry, but the new order of things would be for 
the true interest of the sportsman. 
The more fully the privilege of shooting is 
regarded as a privilege, and the more commonly 
the recognition is insisted upon, so much the 
more game will there be for the decent sports¬ 
man, and so much the less for the rowdy. When 
those conditions shall prevail, the problem of a 
game supply will in large measure have been 
solved. We would be glad to see the agricul¬ 
tural papers give increased attention to this sub¬ 
ject. The farmers of this country have the game 
situation largely in their own hands, and the 
sooner they recognize the fact and it is recog¬ 
nized by shooters, the sooner will come an end 
to the raids of the ruffians who are no more 
entitled to be regarded as sportsmen in the field 
than as respectable citizens at home.— Editor.] 
WHEN DID MAN COMEf 
In a lecture delivered not very long ago in 
London on problems relating to the antiquity of 
man. Prof. A. Keith called attention to the op¬ 
posing views of two sets of scientific men. One 
of these groups believes that man had developed 
in the Pleistocene period—say, 400,000 years ago 
—while another set believed that man, as man, 
existed far back in the Tertiary—say, 3,000,000 
years ago. 
Professor Keith made the point that in 
the distant past there was not a single kind 
of man in existence, but very many different 
kinds; all of which in due time became extinct, 
except that branch which gave origin to modern 
man. He believes that man must have taken on 
his human character near the beginning of the 
Pliocene period, or in late Tertiary time, per¬ 
haps 1,500,000 years ago. 
A Friend of Yours. 
BY GEORGE A. T. HISE. 
Yes, there’s sport in the rushing brook. 
Where the speckled beauties lie; 
In thrashing out the shaded nook 
With whipstock rod and fly. 
But for sport to test the old bamboo. 
There’s none compared to that 
You find upon your hands, when you 
Have hooked a two-pound cat. 
There’s plenty of sport in the ponds, my lads, 
Where the big-mouth have their sway. 
And snarl your line in the lily pads 
While the reel is clicking away. 
But down by the dam, in the rocky bed. 
There’s better sport than that— 
“Give him the butt and keep your head. 
You’ve hooked a five-pound cat.” 
Yes, there’s sport in the northern lakes. 
Where the muskie’s full of fight. 
No use to thumb the line he takes, 
He calls on brain and might. 
But listen, pal, if it’s scrap you want, 
If you’re bound to go to the mat. 
Come on with me, I know the haunt 
Of a ten-pound yellow cat. 
The cat is ready for any old bait, 
Morning or noon or night. 
No matter his length, no matter his weight. 
It’s fight, fight, fight. 
Twisting and flopping he comes to the shore, 
Giving you tit for tat; 
On the sands he grins and asks for more, 
This sportsman’s fish, the cat. 
