1230 
FOREST AND STREAM 
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and my big black pointer instantly pointed at the 
place where we had marked the dead bird. It 
was the same bird, without a doubt, frozen hard. 
My friend argues me into belief in his marvel¬ 
ous nose. He had wonderful scenting ability 
I will admit, but in my opinion it was his Pape 
fault of carrying a low head that gave him in¬ 
stant sight of the bird, and he pointed it by 
sight. 
A few days after he had occasion to repeat 
the performance, but it appeared more marvelous 
this time. From rolling cotton ground the birds 
flushed, and I marked a single as it dropped into 
an open slash. The freeze had been so rapid 
and severe that it only left long slabs of clear 
ice jutting from the bank, after the 
water receded. The big dog pointed the 
moment he put his foot on the first slab 
of ice. There was no bird. Nothing 
was to be seen. And I concluded that 
he had made his first false point. What 
made the dunce point on that ice? No 
quail would alight there. Then I put 
my thinking cap on and got down on 
my knees. Through the clear ice a 
bird could be seen that had run so far 
under the ledge of ice that it was un¬ 
able to proceed farther. The black was 
pointing that bird. How was it possible 
for that bird to get there and for the 
dog to catch any scent? The first was 
easy; the last impossible! The bird 
had merely run to hide under the ice, 
and in fright continued, until finally it 
felt itself absolutely safe, as a cripple 
will at times under a log. My friend 
again gave the Black credit for scenting 
powers beyond the capability of any 
dog. I did not contradict him. Later, 
being very solicitous for a key to the 
enigma, I studied it over and concluded 
that the moment the Black came on the 
ice, it was so slippery that he walked 
over carefully, keeping head very low, 
and in this way saw the bird. The 
pointing instinct did the rest. There 
was a bench show setter that we liked 
to shoot over, a very big dog, with the 
going qualities of any of the best trailers 
lacked in the way of making a reputation for 
'himself was an owner that appreciated the 
game. He was very stanch. The shooting 
grounds, on which we were, were rolling, very 
open and the dog could be seen anywhere within 
a half of a mile. Buster cast out wide in a 
pasture and later wheeled up on point. A 
vicious colt nearby saw him and ran after him, 
endeavoring his utmost to paw him. Buster 
sidled off in a circle from the birds at sight 
of the colt, then returned to them when the 
rush was evaded. This was repeated five times 
before the birds flew. It was, indeed, a tribute 
to the fast dog’s stanchness, and the laying 
qualities of the birds. 
A real ludicrous case of a point was made by 
a very large setter that had the gift of speed, 
but was afflicted with clumsiness and a nose of 
modest power. The dog was a seventy pounder. 
It was nearly impossible for him to climb a 
woven wire fence; and he accomplished the 
rail fences by knocking half the rails on the 
ground and falling over the balance. He made 
a cast in a corn field. He worked to the end 
of it and showed signs of birds as he approached 
a rail fence, dividing a scope of timber from the 
corn. Being, however, a trifle overanxious, he 
made a leap evidently intending to clear the fence 
in a single bound. Touching the top rail, ab¬ 
ruptly he determined that he would somehow 
check his flight there. As he made to steady 
himself the top rail turned and pitched him flat 
on his back with a resounding thud in the woods. 
Laying there motionless for a few seconds, he 
did not move. Was it possible that the dog was 
badly hurt? 
Thinking, perhaps, that it might be the case— 
a broken or wrenched back—I hastened to him. 
Through the fence he was visible, laying on his 
back, stiffened legs pointing half way straight 
up to the sky, and eyes glaring wildly. He was 
either seriously injured or was having a fit! 
Surely not the latter, though his jaws champed 
a trifle. The real cause had not yet obtruded 
itself on me. Calling to the dog, he refused 
These Little Fellows Suffer Terribly in the Storms of Winter. 
Ail he 
to budge an inch, whereat I went to his as¬ 
sistance. 
As I jumped on the ground near his head, 
I landed in a clump of buckbrush. Out of it 
whizzed about fifteen lusty quail. 
Right off the reel Big Bob got up, and was 
prepared to go to work on the scattered birds. 
THE WINTER. 
O NE winter after my father’s death a fierce 
wind, lasting three days, blew from the 
northwest. Then it clouded up and snowed 
steadily for three days, something, the like of 
which only the old men of the neighborhood 
remembered. With the cessation of the snow 
followed a heavy sleet. From one end of the 
country to the other it was a merciless sheet of 
ice that would bear the weight of the heaviest 
man. Thinking what a good time it would be 
for hunting I started out with my gun for the 
woods. On my way I stopped at Josh Wilson’s 
shack and asked him to accompany me, but 
rheumatism was having the best of him and 
“Sarah wuz a durned site wusser!” 
Whereat I paid no more attention to my de¬ 
sire for companionship and proceeded on alone. 
Now as I think of it, I am glad I went alone, 
for I learned lessons on quail protection that I 
had never thought of before. No one had told 
that the wild creatures suffered from snow 
me 
and ice bound conditions. No one had ever 
told me that they starved to death. And when 
all this, came before me with its preponderance 
of testimony, I sensed as though I was a part of 
the crime committed against them by so many 
hunters, neglect when they needed it. 
My big setter Chlo and Brownie, an undersized 
solid liver pointer bitch showed indications of 
game. At first to me all was laughable. Chlo 
would slip as she attempted to run, and Brownie 
would perform in the same way. After a time 
they drew on birds. The birds flushed freely, 
lighting a few yards before us on the ice covered 
earth. The first one that lit was very near me, 
and as soon as its feet touched the ice they gave 
way under it. Brownie saw the bird 
and brought it to me. There was not 
much more weight to it than its 
feathers. It lost nearly all fear of me 
at first contact with my gloved hand. 
“What made it so light?” I questioned 
myself. “There is not a thing in its 
craw, and, goodness! its breast bone is 
about all there is to its breast.” “What 
was the cause of it?” was another of 
my exclamations. I pondered a while. 
Some paces beyond me was a fox squir¬ 
rel digging frantically near the foot of 
an ice bound red oak. It made little 
headway. I petted my bird again and 
its body gained some more vitality, for 
I had been holding it carefully under 
my arm. I did not think long, for my 
eyes surveyed the sheet of ice, then up¬ 
lifted to the trees, and off to saplings, 
weeds and bushes. Nature was unfold¬ 
ing the pages of her book to the ignor¬ 
ant. Every thing was ice bound and 
the quail were starving to death before 
my eyes. Yes, now back in the past 
someone had spoken of the same oc¬ 
currence. It was revivified again; 
Father had mentioned it. Presently my 
thoughts took action, and before noon 
I had that entire covey of birds in my 
hunting coat. Never before had Brownie 
exhibited such tenderness of mouth in a 
better cause, and I readily forgave her for every 
false point she had deluded me with the fall pre-' 
vious. My mind was actuated by the impulse of 
a great undertaking. I was going to gather all 
the quail I could and give them a winter home! 
We had one large barn of antiquated archi¬ 
tecture which would admirably serve the purpose. 
On the southside it was empty, and the other was 
crowded with a plenitude of cow pea hay cut, 
with the peas on it. The potentialities of this as 
a home for a number of quail during this winter 
appealed to me. In it I put my birds. 
I went to the house and told Mother, ate 
dinner, chained Chlo and fed the tender-mouthed 
Brownie a big dinner. Then I took a sack and 
cut many small holes in it and requisitioned the 
services of Mat, the hired hand. I gave him 
another sack and we both filled our pockets 
with corn and cull wheat out of the chickens’ 
supply. Before leaving we went to the hay barn, 
and our fourteen little brown charges were 
picking industriously at the shattered peas. 
How soon starvation will cause the wild creat¬ 
ures to conform to the blessings of man! 
Mat and I tramped through the woods. On 
finding sumac we knocked the ice off with clubs 
and scattered it on the ground. Where indi¬ 
cations of a frequenting place of the quail were, 
we scattered grain. All wild life was suffering 
the consequences of the snow, and tracks of 
(Continued on page 1253.) 
