460 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Oct. 12, 1912 
California Notes. 
Pasadena, Cal., Sept. 29. —Editor Forest and 
Stream: The open season for deer closed here 
in district No. 6, California, the 15th, and was 
a most unsatisfactory one, as deer with most 
other kinds of our native bred game is fast be¬ 
coming a thing of the past. It is not a hard 
thing to trace the cause of this state of affairs, 
for it comes from over-shooting both in and 
out of season with little or no attempt made to 
enforce the laws made to protect our native 
game during the close season. The game coverts 
are over-run with automobile parties who shoot 
at everything in the shape of game at all sea¬ 
sons, and then the small boy with his single 
barrel gun or .22 caliber rifle helps on the ex¬ 
termination by peppering away at the young 
dove and quail, etc. As the buffalo went out 
with the coming of the magazine rifle, so will 
our game go out before the come-to-stay auto¬ 
mobile which brings within easy distance all 
grounds within a radius of thirty or forty miles 
of our larger towns and cities. 
We recently accepted an invitation to join 
a fishing and hunting party which was going to 
the headwaters of the Mojave River where we 
were assured that we would be away from the 
crowd, be quite by ourselves, and have sport 
galore. Joe Welch, Pasadena’s expert fly-fisher, 
made me a selection of flies to use on those 
waters. They were tied on No. 10 hooks. My 
companions who ‘‘knew it all’’ selected much 
larger flies and also took along a large can 
of “wumbs” for bait. 
Our destination was Hook Creek, about 
eighty-five miles from Pasadena, with good 
county and lumber roads to the camping ground. 
After we passed “Arrow Head Springs” and 
began to ascend the mountain we began to meet 
hunting parties coming out, mostly in automo¬ 
biles, a few in the more primitive and old-fash¬ 
ioned rigs, drawn by a team of horses or mules. 
While they had no game, they all seemed to 
be well loaded with the vinous products of the 
vineyards. 
When we arrived at the camping ground 
at the end of the wagon road, we found it 
occupied by no less than four different hunting 
parties. They had no game, but were in a 
hilarious mood and the number of tin cans fast¬ 
ened to the trees and the broken glass around 
the rocks showed the kind of shooting that they 
had been indulging in; the kind that helps the 
sale of ammunition. As there is always room 
for “one more,” we found a place for our tent 
and soon had things in shape for the night. 
The next morning we made an early start 
for a three-mile tramp down to Deep Creek 
where we were to fish. This stream is one of 
the largest branches of the Mojave River. A 
large portion of its bed is choked with large 
granite boulders worn and polished smooth, too 
smooth we learned to our cost—a slip, a slide, 
a scramble, and, but that water was cold ! Every 
one hundred yards or so would be deep, clear 
pools fifty or one hundred feet in length where 
the trout lay. It was agreed that when one of 
us had caught twenty fish that we would stop. 
The writer reached that number, and when we 
counted up and exhibited our catch, we had 
twenty-one beautiful rainbow trout, ranging 
from six to about fourteen inches in length and 
the combined catch of my three companions num¬ 
bered fifteen, none over ten inches in length, a 
decided victory for the small dry-fly over a large 
fly re-enforced with a worm. They, however, 
had the pleasure of seeing at close range a 
large black fox. It would be interesting to know 
the southern limit or range of the black fox and 
also to know how those rainbows came in those 
waters, as they are landlocked. The waters of 
the Mojave River lose themselves in the sands 
of the Mojave desert, or the sunken bed of 
Soda Lake. 
We had trout for supper and trout for break¬ 
fast the next morning, and a few left over. 
We then started out for deer. The country 
hunted over was what may be called an open 
country, sparsely covered with tall sugar pine 
and oaks, with occasional thickets of buck thorn 
and wild rose bushes. We neither saw a deer 
or even the sign of a deer, and spent the re¬ 
mainder of our stay there shooting the large 
tree squirrel and mountain quail. It took just 
what we had along with us—strong shooting- 
guns to bring down with No. 7 shot a squirrel 
from the top of one of those pines. We found 
the quail fairly numerous in the thickets. As 
sprinters they can give their cousins, the valley 
quail, points and then beat them, and they are, 
when flushed, rapid fliers. When scattered, they 
lay close, and with setters or pointers they would 
give good sport. We used my smooth-haired 
Irish terrier as a flusher. He did his work 
fairly well and would often flush a bird from 
under our feet after we had passed it. Taking 
it altogether our trip of four days was an en¬ 
joyable one. The weather was clear and de¬ 
lightfully cool, the scenery grand, though in 
places somewhat marred by recent forest fires. 
Our camp was at an altitude of over 5,000 feet, 
and where we crossed the divide, it was 6.150 
feet. There we had a fine view of the country 
to the west and southwest, San Bernardino, 
Riverside, Redlands, etc. 
Duck shooting opens here in this district— 
No. 6—on Oct. 1. So far but few flight birds 
have come down from the far North. Just 
enough with the few native bred birds to give 
fair shooting the first day. The open season 
for valley quail begins Oct. 15, though by that 
time the coveys will be well shot out by the 
rabbit and dove hunters. There is one thing 
that the pot-hunter cannot steal away from us; 
that is the delightful tramp around in the cool 
atmosphere under the sunny sky with gun and 
dog, and if we do not have a big well-filled bag, 
the few birds that we do get will be shot as 
the Christian sportsman ever shoots—on the 
wing—and we will have a renewed lease on 
life and return home with a good appetite. Ha! 
this is after all a pleasant world to live in. 
Stanstead. 
Shooting in Blue Ridge Mountains. 
Linville Falls, N. C., Oct. 4.— Editor 
Forest and Stream: The most glorious season 
in the mountains is now just beginning. It is 
the season for the sportsman and the nature 
lover, the time when all the mountainsides 
take on such splendor of color as defies the 
painter’s skill. Br’er ’Coon is taking on fat 
as the leaves take on color, and by the time 
the chestnuts are yellow, which means they are 
ripe, he will be in prime condition. The 
mountaineers are getting their dogs in train¬ 
ing for the many night races after ’coons and 
’possums. Just now they are pursuing ground¬ 
hogs, or “whistle-tails,” as they call them. 
Those who have tried it say groundhog meat is 
about as good as ’coon, so it must be mighty 
good. Of these three animals an abundance 
may be found hereabouts. 
An old hunter, one who is not given to 
telling wild stories, told me the other day that 
he knew where there are thirty-six wild turkeys, 
and has promised to lead me that way at the 
proper time. A few are still to be found in the 
Blue Ridge if one knows where to go, and 
several good safe resorts of these very wild 
birds are within three to ten miles of this 
place. 
What about bears, do I hear? It all de¬ 
pends upon the mast, that is, the chestnut crop. 
Plenty of black bears are still roaming over 
the Blue Ridge, hunting for chestnuts, acorns, 
black gum berries—and fat young pigs. Be¬ 
cause of their fondness for pork, the moun¬ 
taineer is a relentless enemy of the bear, so 
he is doomed to extinction soon. The owners 
of the property hereabouts are trying to pro¬ 
tect the black bear in a boundary including 
about 40,000 acres, allowing only a short open 
season, two weeks. But the best hunting this 
year will be outside this boundary, for the rea¬ 
son that comparatively few chestnuts are on 
the property this year. It is reported that the 
bear are thick in the Unaka Mountains, not far 
from here, and that plenty may also be found 
about ten or twelve miles from here, on Rip- 
shin Ridge. The Burlesons are sure, they tell me, 
that there is plenty of bear hunting not far 
from here, and they mean to keep it for their 
friends. 
The season for ’coon and ’possum is now 
open, and the bear season is open all the time, 
but it does not really begin before the middle 
of October. Turkey, quail and pheasants are 
protected till Nov. 1 in some counties, and 
Nov. 15 in others in this vicinity. The trout 
fishing holds good till the last of October, and 
on some warm days till the last of November. 
Frank W. Bicknei.l. 
Pennsylvania’s game preserves, which have 
within the last year been stocked with deer, 
wild turkey, pheasants, quail and other game, 
through the efforts of the State Game Com¬ 
mission, are to receive a large consignment of 
elk within three months. 
The last elk was killed in Pennsylvania in 
1874, and there is now no law governing the 
killing of the animal. It is possible that the 
next Legislature will be asked to amend laws 
providing for an open season. Meanwhile the 
elk will be kept closely within preserves.—From 
the Philadelphia Record. 
