824 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dec. 28, 1912 
knew exactly where the spring ought to be, and 
almost always where it was, and made the fire 
near it; and he certainly was a past master 
as a fire architect and cook. 
During this trip, every day of which he 
led me over a new trail or spent a new day 
in a new way—from the first day, spent in a 
canoe trip around the lake, to rest up a little 
and make some photographs. In paddling to 
one of the spring holes we saw hundreds of 
trout in the spring some four or five feet deep. 
And on another day a little further up on the 
shore of the lake, where we could see the 
beavers busy at work on one of their dams, 
and in the distance a long blue heron wading 
about helping himself to small unsuspecting 
trout, we got a few nice partridges. One day 
we would be up on a high ridge for deer, the 
next through a dense thicket for moose, and 
on two occasions we went back to small ponds 
for moose, but all we could see of them was 
their footprints in the soft mud. We saw a 
lot 1 of black ducks that kept a safe distance 
from us, but as our desires were centered on 
moose, we did not care to make a noise shoot¬ 
ing at anything so small here in the wilderness. 
One morning we came upon a very 
haughty buck. This unsuspecting victim arose, 
shook the dew-drops from his flanks and 
strolled about leisurely in the thick brambles 
and underbrush, and for some time it seemed 
a close race as to whether the deer or the 
sportsman would win. It is not always safe 
to shoot at a moving object a distance away, 
even in the woods, and victory was trembling 
in the balance. If he had got our wind, naturally 
and promptly his hide would have been safe, 
but he exposed himself to view for a moment. 
A steady aim and a well-directed soft lead bul¬ 
let and the victory was mine, and our coveted 
prize, a fat deer, beautiful of form, lay 
stretched on the ground in the ferns and wild 
raspberry bushes. 
Laura Lousie, the spirit who directs my do¬ 
mestic affairs, had not been in very robust health 
when I left home. 
There is not a very extensive mail com¬ 
munication with the outer world, and as I had 
not received any for two weeks, and the only 
way of getting it was to go after it, I decided 
to retrace my way back home. So Dell the 
teamster was hired with the two horses, neither 
of which looked like prize winners, but Dell 
said they were handy in the woods, and he 
ought to know, for he had just come into camp 
that day in a downpour of rain, bringing in a 
moose and a deer that had been shot five or six 
miles away, and notwithstanding the breaking 
of an axle, the losing of two shoes from one 
of the horses and his water-soaked condition, 
he was as cheerful and happy as a May Queen. 
With the rising sun the stuff we had was put 
securely on the trusted gray, and I rode on the 
other horse—not the glossy black in the story, 
but a black without the gloss. Everything went 
as “merry as a marriage bell” for seven or 
eight miles, by cutting out a fallen tree on the 
trail or going around another that interfered 
with our progress. Finally we came to a place 
where there was a general blow-down, and 
Tom, who was the master of ceremonies, 
called a council, which decided to tie the horses 
to a tree and divide the stuff. In this way each 
one took his allotted load down the trail for 
about five miles where the canoe was hidden 
in the bushes. I had some freshly shot par¬ 
tridges in the pack to take home, but I wanted 
a deer also, so we went quietly, when presently 
Tom saw a small deer on the shore, and in his 
matter-of-fact way, said: “You better take 
him.” He was a small buck, probably about 
eighteen months old, and when dressed weighed 
about fifty pounds, and Tom said he got heavier 
the further he carried him. 
Close to where we got the small deer we 
met a man with a large black bear that he got 
over near Harrington Lake, and Tom said he 
knew two “fellers” that got three bears over 
there last season. It was past noon when we 
reached Ambajejus Lake. The wind was puffy 
and quite strong, but it is astonishing the rough 
seas those canoes can ride, but with Tom at 
the paddle, there was no fear. He was engaged 
to take charge of the Paper Company’s camp 
for the winter, and it was mutually agreed. 
“That each go off his several way 
Resolved to meet some other day.” 
DEER SEASON IN CALIFORNIA. 
Continued from page 817. 
the getting of a deer or bear, to help replenish 
or stock up the larder. One hunter told me 
that it was a “ground hog case” with him, be¬ 
cause of the “high cost of living.” 
Mountain quail proved to be quite abundant 
here this year, and there has probably been a 
very good natural increase, as climatic con¬ 
ditions have been right for breeding, and forest 
fires have been comparatively few. The in¬ 
clement weather of October has started the 
quail’s “runs” toward the lower country, and 
the danger of being decimated by smothering 
under a heavy precipitation of snow is mini¬ 
mized by the probability of the birds getting 
below the snow line in time to avoid the 
treacherous “beautiful.” 
The other day I partook of a mess of 
cooked squirrels that mine host had obtained 
by good work with a rifle, getting his little 
quarry in each case with a single shot that de¬ 
capitated each. Included in the bag were gray, 
tree and ground squirrels, and a few chipmunks. 
The ground squirrels were of the variety called 
here the “Johnny Digger,” or gopher. Mine 
host did not harbor the prejudice existing in 
some places that the gopher was a “too ratty” 
rodent, nor that it was a carrier of bubonic 
plague. “That’s all nonsense,” he said. His 
opinion is shared by many other mountaineers, 
and particularly by the Chinese placer miners. 
The Orientals have box traps set all the time, 
and the meat of gophers is a frequent item in 
their bills of fare. Gopher meat tamale is 
deemed an especial luxury by many of the 
Latin people in the mining camps of the Sierra 
Nevadas. , 
“And why shouldn’t the ground squirrel of 
the mountain be good eating at this time 
of year?” queried mine host. He went on to 
tell how they foraged in the vegetable gardens 
of the mountain ranchmen, and that they ought 
to be healthy and their meat palatable and 
nutritious. However, I prefer the tree 
squirrels. 
The heavily timbered canon slopes are 
scenically of wondrous beauty just now, the 
golden yellow of the maples and oaks, and 
the fiery-red of the dogwoods contrasting 
vividly with the fresh green of the pines, cedars, 
firs and olive oak. But for the past week there 
has been daily precipitations of rain, snow and 
sleet, and while it has been light, a low enough 
temperature has accompanied it to make it 
rather disagreeable. The first onslaught of 
winter in this region generally has a depressing 
effect upon the spirits—that sharp, bracing one 
it has back in the New England and Middle 
States is lacking; but after the winter has ad¬ 
vanced some, a reaction for the better ob¬ 
tains. To the present week of “indoor 
weather” Forest and Stream is indebted for 
this letter. The promised dissertation on other 
topics may follow soon. Since my last I have 
had new adventures in my rovings—nothing 
sensational, but, nevertheless, I hope, interest¬ 
ing to all your readers. 
To-day I read every printed word and 
figure in the issue of Oct. 19 of Forest and 
Stream, from date line on the title-page, clear 
through to the very last line on the last page, 
where I secured the address for the superscrip¬ 
tion. The loan of the copy has been promised 
to half a dozen disciples of Nimrod, and I 
guess it will be pretty well thumb-worn by the 
time it is returned to me. 
“High class reading in Forest and 
Stream,” says one welcome borrower, who has 
been an enthusiastic reader of former numbers.. 
WISCONSIN’S NEW GAME PRESERVE. 
Continued from page 818. 
Lake and includes nine other lakes within its 
limits. The great wire fence, which will keep in 
the moose and elk, will also keep out the foxes 
and wolves. This fence will at first be extended 
around three sides. A drive will then be organ¬ 
ized with men on horseback, which will drive a 
great number of deer into the preserve, and the 
fence will then be closed. 
The elk will be shipped by the Government 
from the Jackson’s Hole country in Montana. 
There the elk formerly came down from the 
mountains in winter to look for food under the 
snow. As the country settled up, much of the 
land was fenced, and so short did food become 
for the elk that they died standing around the 
haystacks which the settlers protected with 
fences of heavy timber. For the last year or 
two the State has appropriated a sum to buy 
alfalfa to feed them. This could not be done 
from a wagon standing still, for the elk would 
crowd around, and many of the calves would 
be killed by being trampled under foot. At 
present the wagons are driven at full speed 
through the forest, with men pitching off hay 
from the side. 
In three or four years it is expected so many 
of the animals will have bred in the preserve 
that it will be possible to release them into the 
woods. The moose and elk are protected 
throughout the whole year; the beaver is also 
protected. There is a trapping season for the 
mink and otter. 
’Ware 13. 
Besides all else the future now holds, next 
year will be the thirteenth in the century.— 
Commercial Appeal. 
