Nov. ii, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
709 
He was an old dog fox, and with him and 
the tired but happy dogs we sought our homes 
at three in the morning, a well pleased lot of 
fox hunters. 
We are having any amount of fun; plenty of 
foxes and an ideal season to hunt them in. This 
section of country has no large game, but foxes, 
’coons, opossums and squirrels are in great 
abundance, quail are numerous and all anyone has 
to do to get all the quail and squirrels he wants 
O NE evening, early in August, a friend and 
I were waiting for the dove flight, and 
he was telling me of the beauties of 
Feather River canon, where he had spent two 
years with the engineers on the construction of 
is to take a good dog and gun and go after them. 
As I write this, Arthur is out in the yard 
scraping the hair from the finest opossum I have 
seen in a year, fat as he can be. To-night he 
will repose on the roof until he freezes, and to¬ 
morrow, covered with several potatoes in an oven, 
he will be baked and served for dinner. This 
can be repeated any time that we go into the 
woods with the dogs and spend a few hours in 
this delightful sport. 
also found that we could not get a pack mule, 
so we loaded our stuff on our backs, crossed the 
river and took the trail upstream for about a 
mile and a half to the mouth of Chips Creek, 
where we sampled a mineral spring and found 
find a track. That night we sat close to the 
fire, for its gets cold there at sunset. 
The next morning we fished again and caught 
more rainbows, all about ten inches. We did 
not get a brook trout out of that creek. The 
fish were very shy and would take nothing but 
grasshoppers and butterflies. That afternoon my 
friend announced that he was going to climb 
the mountain and hunt the top of it. I took a 
good look at it, and went fishing. As I worked 
up the creek I saw a natural bridge of some 
sort, and on investigating found it to be snow. 
There must have been a tremendous slide, for 
the altitude is only three thousand feet, and it 
was the middle of August. A little higher up 
there was another one, but it w T as smaller and 
caved in while we were there. 
My partner reported deer and bear tracks thick 
on the top of the range, so we tried it the next 
morning. There were lots of grouse and moun¬ 
tain quail and plenty of tracks, but no big game. 
I did not go up again, and though my friend 
tried it twice more, there were no results. 
Our week was over before we knew it, and we 
were on our way back. Notwithstanding the fact 
Feather River Canyon, Cal. 
By CHARLES COIL 
A SNOW BRIDGE ACROSS CHIPS CREEK. 
POWER COMPANY'S DAM AND AN EXCELLENT FISH LADDER. 
the Western Pacific Railroad. The result was 
that in the evening we planned a trip there. 
Our vacations began the middle of August 
and we started at once with a light outfit, as we 
were uncertain as to whether we could get a 
pack mule. A short train ride took us to Oro- 
ville, and the next morning at five we climbed 
on a Northern Pacific freight and started up the 
canon. The train entered the canon at once, and 
it is beyond description. At Los Plumas we 
passed the plant of the Great Western Power 
Company, and twelve miles up the river, the in¬ 
take where they take the water through a tunnel 
to the plant. There is a dam here and an ex¬ 
cellent fish ladder of which we got a picture. 
Finally we arrived at Belden station and 
climbed off, eager to be on our way. There is 
a hotel and a store at Belden, so we got a good 
meal and provisions for a week’s stay. We 
learned that the fishing was poor at that time, 
though it had been fine until a week before. We 
it excellent. Then we took the trail up the creek. 
Our idea was to go up far enough so that the 
fishing and hunting would not have been spoiled 
by the crowd at Belden. It was a steady climb 
and those packs were heavy. We made eight 
miles by sunset and were ready to quit. The 
only incident of the hike was when I stumbled 
over a rattler in the trail. He ran, but a .30-30 
bullet stopped him. 
We were out early next morning, and after 
three miles more found our camp, a deserted 
miner’s cabin, a good spring and plenty of 
wood. The cabin was in good shape, we put 
our stuff away and then out came the rods. It 
was the middle of the day and the fly was of no 
use, but grasshoppers landed four ten-inch rain¬ 
bows. Then we did have a dinner. 
We met an old miner that afternoon and he 
to'd us the deer were all up on the tops of the 
ranges. We hunted the flat and springs that 
afternoon and agreed with him, as we did not 
that we got no game, it was one of the best 
trips I have ever had. The game is there, too, 
and I am going to try it again; soon, I hope. 
Preserves the Thing. 
Hunting preserves are becoming popular in 
this section of the country, with the ever increas¬ 
ing army of hunters overrunning all the likely 
shooting grounds and making it a matter of 
chance whether the gunners succeed in securing 
a respectable bag of game. 
The choice hunting grounds of this section 
are within comparatively short distances of 
Omaha and Council Bluffs, and when a gooa 
duck day comes, hundreds of shooters head for 
the blinds. The wise ones go early and seize 
upon the best spots. Many times the real en¬ 
thusiasts, determined to get on the ground early, 
have gone to the blinds at night and remained 
there until morning.—Omaha News. 
