482 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept. 23, 1911. 
Hill. It was a bear. How the shivers would 
persist in running up and down my back! After 
watching long enough to see the direction he was 
traveling, we started to stalk him. Presently we 
lost sight of him completely, but after innumer¬ 
able windings we came upon the same side of the 
hill with the bear. Charles said he must be 
pretty handy to him and started a zig-zag course 
up the hill. All at once he stopped motionless 
with the whispered word, “Bear!” I asked 
“Where?” It did not take long to see him, 
however; he was about thirty-five yards up the 
hill. I thought I took careful aim, and when 
Charles said, “Let drive,” I did not stop until 
I had emptied the magazine, but the bear, 0I1, 
where was he? 
We searched around, but it was no go, so we 
started to go back to Lookout Hill, when we 
heard shooting to the northeast, that being the 
direction ’Fess had gone, and as it was the 
middle of the day, we decided to go and meet 
him and came across him and Jim about half 
way with the bear. Of course it was the big¬ 
gest ever, but I happened to catch Jim and 
Charlie exchanging winks, and formed my own 
opinion as to its size. 
The next morning ’Fess went to the southeast 
to take photographs of moose, and Charles and 
I went to the hills. We stopped on Lookout Hill 
and had been there barely two minutes when 
Charles sighted a bear on Flag Hi 1 that certainly 
looked to be a big one. We stalked him about 
three-fourths of a mile and reached Flag Hill, 
but could not find the bear. Happening to look 
back, we saw an old she bear and three cubs 
slowly climbing the hill. They seemed to be 
just where we had been a short time before. 
Being unable to find the big one, we started in 
hot haste after the old girl and had little trouble 
in finding her. She, however, got our scent and 
took down the hill. Charles, being rather nimble, 
managed to head off one of her cubs and it ran 
up a pine stub. I could not think of shooting 
it except with the camera. We then went back 
up the hill and Charlie prepared lunch. I had 
just started to eat when Charlie again saw a 
bear. He said: “I bet, by Giminie, it’s the 
same bear.” Lunch was forgotten and we hiked 
after bruin. This time we went further up the 
hill and worked down and around. Directly we 
came upon an open space, Charles made a mo¬ 
tion to keep quiet. That instant I heard some¬ 
thing and the second saw his highness waddling 
along eating blueberries not twenty yards away, 
and oh, but he was a big one! My feelings were 
indescribable. The first shot was answered by 
a howl, the second by a loud crashing in the dry 
brush. He breathed his last as I arrived on the 
scene. The first shot had passed through the top 
of his neck, the second breaking his shoulder 
blade. Charles removed his pelt while I rested 
and ate blueberries. 
Next morning we all climbed Kimes Hill, 1,500 
feet above our camping ground, Charles and I 
merely in the role of interested spectators. The 
fog was quite thick at first, but it was not long 
before we discovered a bear getting its break¬ 
fast off blueberries. We stalked him until with- 
ing about sixty yards when ’Fess decided to 
shoot. He fired three shots, knocking the bear 
down each time, and then he ran out of 
cartridges, when Jim ran toward the bear with 
an axe and was within a few feet of him when 
he disappeared in the underbrush bleeding badly. 
We traced him half a mile until it commenced 
to rain, when we lost all track of him. Next 
day the boys took up the hunt all day without 
avail. 
That evening we decided to leave bruin and 
his relatives to their own devices for a few days 
while we took a canoeing and fishing trip. So 
we canoed down the Nepisiguit River to Lyman’s 
Fool, twelve miles, and pitched our tents. We 
caught some trout weighing upward of five 
pounds that day. ’Fess and Jim were out by 
sunrise the next morning. They had been cast¬ 
ing but a short time when 'Fess hooked a dandy, 
but in the excitement upset the canoe. 
The next day we ran on to the Devil’s Elbow 
for lunch, catching two fine trout in Elbow Pool, 
and in the afternoon we went to Indian Falls, 
where we camped. The next morning we caught 
a few more fish and poled back to Meadow 
Brook camp, feeling ready for another bear hunt. 
The following morning, however, ’Fess, feel¬ 
ing lazier than usual, said he was going to lie 
around camp and swap yarns with Jim, so 
Charles and I decided to try our luck on Kimes 
Hill, and way down in my shoes I registered a 
determination to bring back the pe’t of the bear 
’Fess and Jim had missed, or his mate. 
B EING a frequent visitor to Virginia, I read 
with profound interest “The Situation in 
Virginia” in your issue of Aug. 26. My 
knowledge as to trapping is limited, but as to 
the other matters mentioned in the article I 
wish to confirm and support Mr. Buchanan, and 
with your permission will add a word or two. 
There are many good sportsmen in Virginia 
and by their efforts some good laws have been 
passed, notably the sale of game has been greatly 
curtailed and the export from the State practi¬ 
cally prohibited. The trouble is in the enforce¬ 
ment of the laws. Game wardens for the most 
part are a joke, and the reason for this is they 
are not supported by the sentiment of the com¬ 
munity. The lack of this sentiment is due to 
an erroneous belief as to actual conditions and 
from a sympathy for the “poor market gunner.” 
The error in belief is that wildfowl and up¬ 
land game can be shot at all times and by every¬ 
body without diminishing the supply, and so 
sympathy supports the “poor market gunner” 
who they think should be allowed to get a living 
by shooting by night as well as by day and on 
land or water of private individuals, regardless 
of such private ownership. 
In early days, Virginia was full of game and 
doubtless the early settlers used it ad libitum 
for food and they killed it themselves. As the 
settlement of the country advanced, game be¬ 
came less plentiful and the owners of land and 
waters began to protect their property and ob¬ 
ject to people shooting over it without their per¬ 
mission, and it is safe to say that if the land and 
waters had not been so protected, there would 
now be no game to speak of. In fact, now the 
preserves supply the greater part of the game 
It was but little past sunrise when we sallied 
forth. Half way up the hill we discovered a 
large bear to the left, circled down wind and 
came out on the top of the hill and there we 
could plainly see bruin eating a belated break¬ 
fast. Running down the hill about 300 yards we 
hid behind a pine bush to get our wind before 
endeavoring to shoot. Presently I raised my 
rifle, suffering in the meantime from an acute 
attack of bear fever, and succeeded in sending 
five shots in his direction. Charles sang out: 
“By Giminie, you’ve missed every shot,” while 
the bear started for the lower ground at a 2:40 
clip. After we reached camp, Charles told the 
boys about the way the bear at the first and 
second shots stood on his hind legs, forepaws 
dangling, looking around to see who was dis¬ 
turbing his lunch. As for myself, I had noth¬ 
ing to say. 
The next day we broke camp and moved out 
to the river where we remained for the night. 
It took us two days to reach the lakes, and three 
days from there to the forks of the Tobique. 
The weather being favorable, we decided to go 
down in the canoes instead of driving. Arriv¬ 
ing at Plaster Rock we bade good-bye to the 
guides, Charles Cremins and Jim Black. 
and it is the wanderers from the preserves where 
game is propagated as well as protected, that 
supply shooting to the public. Now, as before 
stated, many think there is as much game as 
ever there was, and they think it a hardship that 
the poor man “whose fathers have always shot 
when and where they liked” should be interfered 
with or that lands and waters should be pro¬ 
tected against him. The sympathy is misplaced, 
for the hue and cry against protection and for 
free shooting comes largely from gunners from 
cities and towns, who instead of living near the 
shooting places, visit those places for the pur¬ 
pose of shooting and most of whom do not per¬ 
mit game laws or property rights to interfere 
with their killing game, and these are the ones 
who fan the sympathy fire. 
Then again, assuming for the purpose of this 
discussion that formerly on a certain water a 
market gunner made a living by his gun by 
shipping birds to market. Now are his progeny 
entitled to sympathy because they cannot do so? 
There may have been shooting for one gunner 
where there is not shooting for five. Where 
there was one gunner then, there would be ten 
now and nothing whatever done to propagate 
game, but everything permitted to destroy it. 
Progeny increases while the game decreases. 
I know of one place where a few years ago 
possibly half a dozen shot for market, and 
not altogether in public places at that, and 
now there will be fifty trying, as they put it, 
to make a living. They fail, of course, the 
game having been exterminated by reason of 
over-shooting, and then they demand sympathy 
because of their failure, and they blame the game 
laws and the owners of posted lands and en- 
Virginia’s Needs 
By XPER 
