424 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Oct. 5, 1912 
called “Leg Lake,’’ or by a more exacting re¬ 
finement "Forked Lake.” A persistent pouring 
rain kept us confined to our tents on a rather 
steep hillside there for several days. The deep 
ligneous soil was converted into a soft and slip¬ 
pery consistency which suggested the appropriate 
name of “Camp Cow-Yard” to our environment 
there. 
When at last the sun came out bright and 
clear and a warm, dry breeze greeted us, “life 
in the woods” seemed beautiful, and we worked 
along the lake to the stream connecting with 
Raquette Lake. As we intended staying on the 
lake a week or perhaps two, and the elderly 
member of our party had camped there twenty- 
five years before, he wanted to go to the same 
place. He said that since his former visit Mr. 
Constable, of New York city, had bought the 
point on which he camped, and my elderly 
friend pointed us to the place. 
While we were on the way he told us that 
at this first visit there a fish hawk had its nest 
near the camping place and a grand bald eagle 
also had one, and that every day of his stay 
there, the fish hawk would come out to get his 
fish for himself and probably his family, but 
that Mr. (or Mrs.) Raid Eagle was there al¬ 
ways soaring in a lofty circle waiting for him. 
When the hawk, having seen his fish, made his 
fierce and sudden drop for him, the eagle made 
his circuit smaller so as to keep well over the 
fish hawk's drop. Then the hawk would come 
struggling out of the water with a good trout 
or other fish, wriggling in his talons. The 
A BOUT four ill the afternoon the weather 
cleared, the wind veered to the south, the 
temperature rose, and the sun tried to shine 
through breaks in the clouds, consequently I rigged 
up a bait-casting outfit and had John row me 
around an hour and a half, trying to catch some 
bass, but not a rise did I get. As I had done 
no bait-casting for many years, I was not very 
skillful at first, but ere long the bait began to 
fall where I wanted it to at the edge of the 
lilypads. The place looked to be ideal for bass 
fishing, and they say that in fine weather an ex¬ 
perienced fisherman can take in a few hours 
more bass than he can carry. 
Next day we packed our belongings into the 
wagon, took the four dogs (Mr. W. having left 
Joe with us), and started homeward. John was 
instructed to stop at our old camping ground, 
and the three of us in the two buggies pushed 
northward some nine miles and began shooting 
near the place where we had quit the evening 
of our arrival at the ranch. After locating the 
remnants of two of our old coveys, we took an 
abandoned road running north, so as to strike 
some undisturbed territory. It was really only 
half a day’s shoot that we got, as we did not 
reach the ground till about noon, but we bagged 
some fifty birds, including a brace of jacksnipe. 
hawk, while trying to get off the water and a 
hold on the air with his wings, and seeing the 
old “Wall street” eagle with his eyes on the fish 
which he had marked for himself, screamed and 
whistled louder and louder and aimed for his 
nest in the woods, although he knew it to be 
useless with Mr. Eagle right over him lower 
and lower until the hawk, just as the eagle was 
almost on his head, dropped his fish, while the 
eagle, continuing his rapid drop, seized the fish 
before it struck the water. He said this play 
continued every day while he camped there. The 
eagle every day took his toll of one fish, and the 
hawk paid it, screaming, and after a little rest 
in his tree, went on with his family marketing 
without any further interference from the eagle. 
He told us just where the old eagle had his nest. 
Just as he had finished his story we rounded 
the point and a big bald-headed eagle sailed off 
from the very tree. The old gentleman, quoting 
what he had heard and read about the age at¬ 
tained by bald eagles, said that that, and the looks 
of the eagle, made him readily believe it to be 
the same old eagle of twenty-five years before. 
We made our camp where his camp had 
been and stayed there about ten days, and every 
day, either the same old fish hawk or one of 
his descendants, and perhaps the same old bald 
eagle went through the same performance. It 
was interesting to see the daily repetition. 
I have never been there since that year and 
have no idea what a fish hawk could do there 
now, but then there was a plentiful supply of 
lake trout as well as fontincilis to provide for 
Sport in Florida 
By J. A. L. WADDELL 
(Concluded from page 360.) 
The ground was very wet, but the walking was 
not bad. We shot till nearly sunset, then headed 
for the main road, which we reached after dark, 
arriving about 7130 at camp, where we found 
John awaiting us with a good dinner of fried 
duck, gritz and some of our few remaining 
canned provisions. 
Once more we were in luck at that camp, be¬ 
cause it did not rain during the night, conse¬ 
quently after a good, sound sleep we packed up 
and started for Bartow. On the way in we 
raised a few coveys and bagged seventeen birds. 
The smallness of the number was due to the 
ground having been shot over, all the bunches 
but one being small remnants. About sunset we 
reached town, where I found it necessary to 
spend all of next day attending to business cor¬ 
respondence. It had been our intention to go 
to Dade City to try the black bass fishing at some 
of the numerous small lakes in that neighbor¬ 
hood, but learning that there was good duck 
shooting and some salt water fishing to be had 
at Fort Myers, we took the evening train for 
that place, arriving about midnight. 
The next day was stormy with a heavy rain 
in the forenoon, hence we had plenty of time 
i find a lodging (which we did at the Sea View 
Annex), secure a launch and boatman, buy fish¬ 
the bounteous sustenance of both hawks and eagles. 
Before we came out on that year we rowed 
across the lake and went through what was then 
called Marion River to Blue Mt. Lake. At that 
time the whole region of the lake was a wilder¬ 
ness. We crossed the lake and landed at the 
foot of the Blue Mountain. After cooking our 
supper over a fire on the beach and enjoying 
what one of the party called “a very gratifying 
satiety,” we turned up our canoes and curled up 
under them for a night’s sleep. Our “smudges” 
were effective as to the mosquitoes, but had no 
effect on the howlings of what the guide called 
the “painters” on the hillside above our heads. 
The fatigue of our day’s work was the only 
soporific we had to meet the shriekings and 
howlings of those tiger-like beasts, and that 
soporific did not operate until it seemed as if 
the night were nearly gone. 
In all the distance, from the start on the 
lower Saranac to our camping place on Blue 
Mountain Lake, we saw only Bartlett at his 
house, Mrs. Johnson at her little camp, the man 
that drew our canoes over the carry, a guide 
who had a camp on Raquette Lake, and a young 
man who had built a camp somewhere near Blue 
Mountain Lake, who told us he had cured his 
tendency to consumption he thought by his stay 
there, and thought he evidenced it by the fact 
of his “backing” in through the woods sixty 
pounds of provisions a few days before. 
This is rather different from the experience 
one could meet in the present Adirondacks over 
the same route. 
ing tackle and ammunition and explore the town. 
We engaged a young fellow and his launch, but 
the next morning he refused to go out because 
of the weather. It was blowing a little, but not 
enough to have prevented me from going out 
in a Canadian canoe, had our sport demanded it. 
However, the young man was right, because it 
soon began to breeze up, and I afterward found 
that their swift little launches ship more water 
over the bow than would a canoe under the same 
conditions. We consequently wasted another day 
waiting for the weather to break, which it did 
during the night. 
We noticed a good many wild ducks (all blue- 
bills, or as they are sometimes termed, black¬ 
jacks) in the harbor, where it was illegal to dis¬ 
turb them. They were so tame that they would 
come within a few feet of anyone who offered 
them food. 
In the morning we found that our boatman 
had sent a substitute, a middle-aged man by the 
name of John A. Meredith, who proved to be 
Skillful, experienced, agreeable, and everything 
that could be desired in a guide. He soon 
showed that he knew how to hunt ducks from 
a launch, because as soon as we got outside of 
the protected area, he steered spirally for the 
flocks and often brought us within very short 
