656 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Nov. 23, 1912 
After a walk of a mile and a half we came 
to a lagoon, which stopped our merry progress. 
We christened it “The Styx.” It was a case of 
turning back or making a detour of a half mile 
with the station only 200 yards away. A really, 
truly life saver saw us from the lookout of the 
station, and detailed a fellow guard to ferry us 
across in a dory, and the day was saved. 
After visiting the station and being shown 
about we adjourned to the beach and stood 
watching the great waves dashing over Pollock 
Rip Shoal, known as “The Grave Yard of the 
Atlantic.” There were no mosquitoes here, only 
the fresh, cold, salt-laden wind from the ocean. 
Midway between Chatham twin lights and 
our position we could distinguish through the 
mist the masts of a schooner that had struck on 
the shoal only the night before. All were for 
the moment silent, then a school inarm found 
a bottle, lately tossed up by the waves, and the 
spell was off. It was a white flint bottle, well 
corked and ground to opaqueness in the hard 
sand. She shook the bottle. 
“There’s a message in it!” she exclaimed, 
looking around woman-like for something to 
break the bottle on. 
“Calm yourself,” ordered the fat doctor, 
authoritatively. 
Then he dove down and produced a cork¬ 
screw. Doctors are always there with the imple¬ 
ments. The cork was drawn, but the message 
refused to come forth. So the bottle was broken 
anyway. It was a piece of card board, cut from 
a paper carton and folded once. “Doc” and I 
thought it was a “plant,” for in a thousand years’ 
journey that bottle could never have found a 
better time to get “discovered.” In plain type 
were these two cryptic words “UNEEDA 
BISCUIT.” 
The trip back to the Ida Mildred was un¬ 
eventful, save that reinforcements had arrived 
in Mosquitohurst, and how they pestered those 
swatting school inarms! 
We arrived at Stage Harbor landing an hour 
ahead of stage time, so decided to walk to Mono- 
moyck Inn. It was a mile and a half, but the 
going was good and the steamed clams, bluefish 
and lobsters made up for some of the morning’s 
hardships. 
Only six of the party elected to make the 
trip home by boat. The heavy gale blowing with 
a fog accompaniment looked too nasty for the 
balance of the party, including the fat doctor, 
who escorted his sister victims of mal dc trier 
home by rail. 
It was some trip back. None attempted to 
remain in the cabin, for the way things were 
flying about down there it would have been worse 
than a “rough house.” 
When finally we reached the quiet water of 
Wychmere Harbor all were soaked to the skin 
in spite of oilers and wraps. 
The sail bore mute evidence of the force of 
the wind, being wet to a height of ten feet from 
the deck. 
As Captain Bourse helped the party to the 
deck, he said, gallantly: “I take off my hat 
to a brave lot of ladies.” 
One of the game wardens estimates that 
there are 10,000 deer roaming about the woods 
of Massachusetts—Boston Globe. 
Florida Game. 
St. Vincent Island, Fla., Nov. 8. —Editor 
Forest and Stream: Ducks are here in good 
numbers now, including many of the choicest 
varieties, there being quite a good many canvas- 
backs and many mallards and teal. 
All my fresh water lakes and ponds contain an 
abundance of wild celery (Vallisneria spiralis), 
foxtail grass (Potamageton pectinatis ), widgeon 
grass (Rupia maritima) with some wild rice 
(Zizania acjuatica ) and very many other of the 
best duck foods. 
I have introduced pretty much all of these 
plants since I purchased St. Vincent Island about 
six years ago. Within a few days I have noticed 
quite a good many English snipe in my marshes. 
I have four varieties of deer which are the Vir¬ 
ginia whitetail, Osceola, Indian, Sambur and 
Sika or Japanese deer. The large Sambur deer 
have crossed with the Virginia whitetail deer 
and they are likely to develop some fine large 
deer of the mixed strain. R. V. Pierce. 
Vermont and Connecticut Game. 
Groton, Conn., Nov. 12.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Your request regarding game condi¬ 
tions in Connecticut has been mislaid, so I have 
been unable to answer the questions until the 
present time. 
Have just returned from a six weeks’ vaca¬ 
tion in Vermont. Partridges are very plentiful 
up there this season, probably owing to the early 
spring and favorable conditions during the hatch¬ 
ing time. The hardy old New England ruffed 
grouse can always find plenty to eat during the 
most vigorous winters and will come out in the 
spring in good shape no matter how trying the 
weather has been. What depletes the coveys in 
my mind is the natural enemies, not so much 
man with dog and breechloading gun as foxes, 
minks, hawks and the common house cat so 
numerous in most small villages. 
It is true that a wet, cold spring existing 
for a long period during the hatching and nest¬ 
ing season work havoc with the little chicks. I 
am of the opinion that quail could be made to 
thrive in most localities of Vermont if they 
were regularly fed and looked after during the 
long winter months. 
In our section here in Connecticut our com¬ 
missioner put out twenty-four bobwhite just be¬ 
fore that severe snow storm came on, and they 
all did well and came out in the spring good, 
healthy, strong birds. These birds were fed 
regularly and were in a locality free from ver¬ 
min. Frank W. Hewes, M.D., 
Pres. Conn. Com. of Fisheries and Game. 
Circumstantial Evidence. 
East Orange, N. J., Nov. 16. —Editor Forest 
and Stream: When two or more sportsmen get 
together, nine times out of ten, outdoor experi¬ 
ences are in order. 
I have read so many absorbing experiences 
in Forest and Stream that I feel constrained 
to add one of my own, and let me say that one 
of the hardest things is to listen to one man’s 
story and not have it remind you of one of your 
own. 
In November. 1898, I had been spending 
some months at a camp in the Dead River region, 
Maine. Although having secured one-half of 
my legal kill; i. e., one deer—the head wasn’t 
good—I made up my mind that every doe and 
spike buck in Maine could pass by before a soft 
point would leave the barrel of my rifle. There¬ 
fore, I started in the direction of Big Spencer, 
TEACHING THE OFFSPRINGS TO SHOOT. 
Photograph by George F. Ilalliday. 
