298 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Sept. 7, 1912 
would be cautiously treading the aisles of the 
woodland, moving along lightly, alertly, and then 
would follow a quick aim and a sharp report to 
split the quietude of the morning. It is not all 
of hunting to bring down so many birds or so 
many animals. It is much of the pastime to 
absorb all of the beauties around you and wit¬ 
ness the various processes nature undergoes in 
bringing perfection to the heart of things. The 
billowing wind across the meadows, the stir in 
the leaves, and that sense of rejuvenation that 
spells its tale in your every effort toward a primi¬ 
tive upbuilding. Once again to feel the rifle 
in your hands after a long time. It seems 
like an eternity when you are in love with the 
royal pastime of hunting in whatsoever manner, 
and how once more the interest of it will awaken 
a new and more glorious appeal, when after long 
out the heaviest thicket, and glancing up and 
standing still for a moment, I was glad that 
once more I was back to my beloved nature to 
drink of her sparkling elixir, truly the vitality 
of life. 
An unconfined joy was beating in my breast. 
You will know it, who have trod the secluded 
ways and have stolen through the wild coverts 
with the gun held at ready. Enough! The woods 
are waiting, and somewhere in there the squir¬ 
rels are up and sporting their red and gray 
coats in the morning dawn. Carefully making 
my way forward I peered into the branches and 
listened for that betraying signal that would 
mean the downfall of the squirrel. Cautiously 
drawing deeper in among the trees I paused and 
listened again, but could hear nothing. A 
moment later a shot rang out sharp and clear 
missed. Again, and more careful this time, for 
I had located the creature's head, and the little 
fellow plumped out of his retreat as dead as a 
door nail. I had put an end to his thieving 
career. No more bird nests would he rob, no 
more lives would he pester and no more incon¬ 
ceivable cruelties would he perpetrate upon his 
brother, the gray squirrel, in making him unfit 
to propagate his kind, the kind which are truly 
the kings of this family. There I stood for a 
long time with the quietudes of nature around 
me to bear me witness. I held them up and ad¬ 
mired them, the making of a dish fit for the 
nobility, if one would consider them foremost 
in the ranks of man. Note the beautiful tail 
and the sleekness of the gray. He has fed long 
and to repletion upon the wealth of the wood¬ 
land, and he is rotund and prosperous appearing. 
“the surest plan to please a 
months you again start out to try your skill 
among the illusive folks of the woodland! 
“We will try out the pasture woods first,” 
suggested Fred as we neared our destination, 
“and after we have tried it there, we will take 
in the woods over at the big swamp.” 
Since I was perfectly in keeping with his 
plan we took our course toward the pasture 
woods. There it lay, as it had in the past, with 
not one seeming change marring its singular 
array of trees that skirted the hill on either 
side; great Solomon oaks, whose gnarled sides 
gave evidence of a respectable age. They stood 
there silent and immovable, the very personifica¬ 
tion of lordliness, in which nature is so prolific. 
As we made our way down the decline to the 
first trees, we heard deep in among the stands 
of ancient timber the barking of a hidden gray 
squirrel. The time had arrived. 
On entering the woods I slipped a cartridge 
into the chamber of the gun and was ready for 
number one. Selecting my manner of procedure 
along the more unobstructed ways, I stealthily 
made my way into the shadows of the woods. 
The morning sun was gilding the tops of the 
trees with a dash of golden light that I have 
never seen so wonderfully clear and bright. The 
rays of that risen ball of fire seemed to search 
AN.” 
across the hill, and I knew that my comrade was 
busy. Perhaps like as not he had recorded a 
clean kill. While I was standing there peering 
into the thick-leaved coverts, suddenly and with¬ 
out warning there was a swaying in the branches 
ahead of me, and before I knew it out popped 
a handsome gray squirrel closely pursued by a 
red. It is a well known fact that the red squir¬ 
rel pesters the life out of his brother, the gray, 
and of the two my sympathy was wholly with 
the gray. As the larger squirrel ran out on the 
branch, I let out a shrill whistle and the two 
stopped in their tracks. 
A bunch of fur on that bough! See! there 
is his head clearly shown by the rays of the 
down-pouring sunlight. The gun swung into 
position, the eye ran along the barrel and fol¬ 
lowing the report the animal tumbled uncere¬ 
moniously out of the tree. A clean shot; hit at 
the right mark, the head. The red squirrel wild¬ 
ly ran back into the tree and quickly retrieving 
the dead gray I made my way hastily forward, 
spotting the place where he had made his hasty 
exit. And I was on time, for a moment later 
I noticed a branch sway slightly, and there 
hidden in the thickest of the branches was my 
quarry. 
Crack! The rifle spoke again, but I 
“fred got his.” 
I put them away into the pocket of the hunting 
coat with a contented smile on my face. I won¬ 
dered what Fred was doing. 
As if in reply to my question came the crack 
of that rifle again. A moment of silence and 
then another report that broke the tranquil calm 
of the morningtide. Two shots and I knew 
there was something taken into account, for Fred 
holds the rifle steady, so steady that the eye may 
not see it falter. 
Slipping in a new cartridge I moved on ahead 
with my senses on the qui vive, and my eyes now 
taking on an acquired keenness, alert to every 
move and stir about me. Presently I arrived at 
a giant oak whose branches extended far out 
over me, as though to shield from mishaps its 
offsprings around it. Giant oak, and how 1 re¬ 
spect it! I would stand long and admire its iron 
strength and try to bring into my system some 
of its ruggedness and power. If I could but 
reach out so with my arms and shield those 
about me; if I could only stand so and watch 
the coming of the seasons and witness their 
going in fine weather and bad, in spring, sum¬ 
mer, autumn and winter, when the hard winds 
are tearing through those mighty limbs. As I 
stood there running my eyes up and down that 
great length, suddenly I heard the dropping of 
