Nov. 30, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
683 
A Prairie Chicken Hunt 
By W. V. NETHKEN (BUCKSKIN BILL) 
A LIKELY PLACE. 
T HE fall of 1894 I was in Des Moines, Iowa. 
The circus season had just closed, and as 
the saying is among show people, I was 
“at liberty.” On an invitation from several sports¬ 
men friends, I went to a small town in Kossuth 
county, called West Bend, for a chicken hunt. 
After purchasing a case of 500 loaded shells, I 
boarded a train for West Bend. Several of the 
boys were at the train to meet me and dis¬ 
cussed dogs, guns, horses, rigs, ammunition, 
doubles, singles and last, which I thought most 
important, birds. There were several different 
opinions expressed as to which route to take 
that would promise the best results, and still 
more forcible discussion as to the best dogs in 
that town, all of which seemed to be the best 
from the owner’s point of view. 
I had of course been in this town before, 
and there were two pointer dogs that I was 
slightly acquainted with that belonged to one of 
the gentlemen present. I had seen these dogs 
work once before on a short hunt and was very 
much pleased with them, but I took no part in 
the conversation. We lost no time making ar¬ 
rangements, and soon framed up a light covered 
spring wagon with a good team of horses and 
three bird dogs which included the two pointers 
I have just mentioned and a red setter, all of 
which looked to me like the real thing. It was 
agreed that four of us would make up the party 
and that we would start the next morning about 
3 o’clock, so as to be on the stubble. When day¬ 
light came we had to drive about eight miles to 
start hunting. We loaded the dogs into the 
wagon, so as to have them fresh when we got 
on the stubble. The weather was not as cold 
that morning as usual for that section, it being 
the middle of October. It was a little cloudy, 
an ideal morning to hunt chickens. 
There is one sure thing that prairie chickens 
and grouse certainly know the value of a field of 
standing corn for protection, and when flushed 
will get into the corn. Where there are stubble 
fields with corn nearby is a good place to look 
for chickens, and by this time the birds are 
well grown and strong flyers. I have frequently 
seen, when the season first opened, young coveys 
of chickens that had never been shot at. When 
the dog would come to a point, they would seem¬ 
ingly be either so tame or badly scared that you 
would almost have to kick them out to make 
them fly. But all this is changed after the birds 
get older and stronger and have been hunted. 
They won't lie so close to the dog, and usually 
get up all at once and go like a brown streak. 
Early in the morning and late in the evening 
the birds come out of the corn or other cover to 
feed on the stubble. Then is the best time to 
hunt them. Dew makes the scent stronger for 
the dogs. On this kind of ground the hunter 
will generally walk or drive near the corn along 
the stubble, sending his dogs all around in the 
edge of the corn and in front, and especially 
covering the stubble beyond him, where if the 
dogs should come to a point or flush any birds, 
they will usually fly for the corn. This makes 
the game fly across the hunter and gives him a 
couple of open shots before they can reach the 
corn. 
When we arrived at the starting point it 
was agreed that it was necessary for the gentle¬ 
men owning the dogs to go with them. This 
left the other non-dog owner and myself to de¬ 
cide which of us would drive the team, but he 
"will we call the other fellows?” 
generously told me to go ahead for a while, as 
it was my first hunt of the season, and they 
wanted me to have a good day’s sport. He also 
laughingly remarked that before night he ex¬ 
pected everybody would want to drive. The 
gentleman with the pointer dogs and myself took 
one side of a large oat stubble near a corn field, 
and the other gentleman who, by the way, was 
a doctor, with his setter took the other side 
of the stubble. There was also a corn field on 
his side of the stubble. It was just good day¬ 
light and we hadn’t gone one hundred yards, 
when the dogs came to a point in the edge of 
the corn. The gentleman with me remarked we 
were a little too early, and that the birds were 
just going on the stubble to feed, but that had 
nothing to do with the dogs pointing now. I got 
my repeater ready. He spoke to the dogs and 
up went the birds a little above the corn, but 
darted right down, scattering through the corn. 
When they raised above the corn I shot at one 
and killed two and didn’t get another shot. My 
companion got one with his first barrel and 
missed a single through the corn with his 
second. We went after them as fast as 
we could. They didn’t seem to fly far, but 
how they did run! Off to my right about fifty 
yards went an old cock as hard as he could 
run. Leading him about a yard I got him all 
right. This brought the dogs running to me. 
i showed them the chicken. Then they went 
back to chasing the game around through the 
corn, trying to bring some of them to a point. 
Just then I heard the doctor shoot twice in rapid 
succession, then two more shots back of us on 
the stubble. I went to the edge of the corn. 
The doctor’s dog had raised a large covey on 
his side of the stubble and one of the chickens 
had flown back near the wagon. The driver got 
him, although, as he explained, it took two shots 
to accomplish the feat. The doctor had made 
a nice double. We went on to the other end 
of the stubble but didn’t start anything. When 
the team came up we drove half a mile to a 
wheat stubble, not a very large piece of ground. 
The doctor offered to drive awhile, so all three 
of us started with the dogs scattered in 
front. 
We had nearly reached the other side of the 
field when the dogs came to a point on an open 
stubble. It was a grand sight to see three dogs 
at a point in the open. We had agreed if a 
single bird got up I, having a repeater, was to 
shoot first. Single birds got up one at a time 
before the main covey raised. I got one, then 
one of my companions made a double and the 
other had to be satisfied with a single. The birds 
flew across the open prairie, the doctor yelling, 
"Watch them down.” He ordered everybody, dogs 
and all, to jump into the wagon. Away we went 
at a gallop. Arriving at the spot where the game 
went down, we jumped out. Dogs soon began trail¬ 
ing the running chickens. I stumbled over one and 
my companion next to me saved me one shell and 
probably two. The dogs after trailing and work¬ 
ing about fifteen minutes came to a point. We 
moved up behind them and the chickens raised 
pretty well out. I got one with my first shot 
as did each of my partners, but the other bird 
got away. There were only four birds in this 
bunch. We all got into the wagon and drove 
about two miles to another stubble. The dogs 
already were on the stubble marking this field. 
“there was a cornfield on the side of the 
STUBBLE.” 
