774 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 25, 1911. 
Some Mixed Bags 
By C. A. V. 
hunt the stags, and will go forward to Lilooet at 
once. On top of the range again to get out of 
the dead timber, and away across the wide top 
of the mountain in thick falling snow, where 
only Jack can find the way. Then down again 
four thousand feet to North Fork Bridge River, 
to camp in a cabin at a nice little ranch twenty- 
five miles from Lilooet, where two hospitable 
young Englishmen gave us a lot of nice fresh 
apples to eat. This ranch is two thousand feet 
above sea level. Said Jack as we thawed out 
and dried out before the fire: “Oh, dese warm 
sock is make my feet laugh.” 
Sept. 30.—One of our hosts was suffering 
from rheumatic fever, and we left him all our 
quinine and aspirin. It was clear and fine over¬ 
head again this morning, and we swung away 
down the river trail at a lively trot, upon the 
last lap of our long trek. 
“For we’re booming along on the old trail. 
Our own trail, the out-trail; 
We’re sagging south on the long trail, 
The trail that is always new.” 
Bluebirds, robins, magpies and crows again. 
Miners sluicing gold along the river bars. 
Rattling down the North Fork, in mid-after¬ 
noon, we struck again the pass through' which 
“the mighty Fraser pours out her yellow flood.” 
Below every whirling rapid the waters were 
full of salmon, crowding so hard into the pools 
just at the edge of the white water as occasion¬ 
ally to actually push the upper ones above the 
surface of the water, so that one might almost 
walk across upon the fish. If you do not be¬ 
lieve it, I have a picture which shows it. 
Just at sunset we trotted smartly up past the 
telegraph office and general store and seven 
saloons, to the little hotel at Lilooet, to re¬ 
ceive our mail and telegrams and congratula¬ 
tions upon our safe return after a trip of 600 
miles on horse and foot. 
While waiting for the train at Lytton next 
evening I picked up an old Vancouver paper, 
and my eye fell upon these words: 
“Mere restlessness, they say. I only know 
That something drives me forth to lands of snow; 
To watch the sands drift on the desert bare; 
To see the clear, cool dawn in countries fair; 
To feel the lift of alien seas that swing, 
And bear strange ships; 
The touch of winds that bring 
A fragrance sweeter than the winds I knew, 
A wilder tang than ever breath I drew.” 
[THE END.] 
Cormorants Shot by Anglers. 
While ornithologists seem puzzled as to the 
habits of the cormorant, or shag, in relation to 
fish, anglers generally have made up their 
minds, says the “Sydney Herald,” that the bird 
is very destructive, and should be kept down. 
It is interesting to note that while on a recent 
afternoon Dr. H. L. Maitland and C. H. Gor- 
rick shot off a hundred birds in the Centennial 
Park rookery, on the same evening L. Harrison, 
during the course of a lecture to members of 
the New South Wales Rod-Fisher’s Society, put 
in a plea for inquiry into the cormorant’s habits, 
as it was quite possible that the bird, instead of 
being harmful to fish life, was exactly the re¬ 
verse. Ocular demonstration as to the enorm¬ 
ous fish-eating ability of the black cormorant 
has, however, been so frequently afforded 
anglers that no one will be able to whitewash the 
bird’s character. 
T HE flat pine woods of the South Atlantic 
coast plain offers to the bird hunter a great 
and endless variety of wing shooting such 
as few localities can afford. The pine and pal¬ 
metto-studded plains offer forage and cover to 
millions of bobwhites, snipe are abundant along 
the innumerable marshes and wet prairies, and 
once in a whiie that kingly and fast vanishing 
game bird, the woodcock, may also be flushed. 
Ducks winter here in great numbers and are 
to be found along any good-sized pond or savan¬ 
nah. Great flocks of doves feed along the sand 
“the judge's” trophies. 
ridges or sit about among the branches of the 
tall pines during the warm hours of the day, 
sallying forth at eventide to quench their thirst 
at some nearby watercourse. Not unlike the 
wild turkey, the dove loves to feed along an old 
burn in the forest, where the flames have licked 
up the grass and bushes and left a stretch of 
barren, blackened sand waste behind. Here they 
will scratch and wallow day after day and the 
shooter is given some lively and difficult work 
when he sets forth to secure a good bag of these 
birds. The sandhill crane also offers an oppor¬ 
tunity for careful stalking and long, difficult 
shots. 
In November it is yet quite warm at times in 
South Florida and the three ensuing months 
offer better sport and more comfortable condi¬ 
tions for both dog and man, yet there are few 
hunters who can patiently wait for weather con¬ 
ditions to get just right, and November is apt 
to find almost as many men in the field as in 
the more favorable months. 
For a long time the woods and prairies had 
been parched by drouth, ponds had dried up, 
many streams had ceased to flow, and all bird 
and animal life seemed dormant; even the noisy 
mosquito was strangely missing. Deep in the 
recesses of the hammocks and cypress swamps 
water was yet to be found, and here the game 
birds congregated in great numbers. The open¬ 
ing of the quail season was a period of violent 
down-pouring of rain and high winds. For two 
weeks this continued, and when the weather 
cleared, the woods were again alive with quail, 
a few straggling snipe and ducks were occas¬ 
ionally dropping down among the freshly filled 
ponds, and the long absent mosquitoes were with 
us again by tens of millions. Nevertheless when 
neighbor Tom bantered brother and I for a quail 
hunt, we readily agreed. 
We found the water shoe-top deep at places, 
and at times we were compelled to wade sloughs 
which were knee deep. Occasional rain squalls 
and the constant and irritating attacks by the 
mosquitoes made it unpleasant in the extreme. 
Tom remarked that “no one would be fool 
enough to work on such a day,” but that “hunt¬ 
ing was different and therefore excusable.” The 
usual rainy day loafers at the country store were 
out in force and made many remarks as to our 
sanity for venturing out to hunt on such a day, 
but we answered their friendly banter in like 
manner and splashed on through the woods. 
Our dog hunted fairly well and presently 
found a covey of bobwhite for us, and we began 
the attack. Three birds came to bag and an¬ 
other crippled one fluttered into a gopher hole 
where he was safe from us at least. We could 
easily see him, but had no means of reaching 
him to pull him out. No doubt he eventually 
furnished a meal for some big rattler or gopher 
snake, both of which frequently inhabit these 
gopher turtle holes. We moved on, routed up 
the scattered birds and bagged a number. Near 
the cabin of a homesteader we raised a large 
covey from the top of a fallen pine and secured 
a few good shots. The balance flew into a near¬ 
by marsh and concealed themselves among the 
small clumps of saw palmetto which thickly 
dotted the marsh like little islands. 
The dog proceeded to the center of one of the 
clumps and pointed. Brother and I pushed in 
after her and heard two birds flush on one side 
of us, giving us no shot at all. Both birds flew 
directly over Tom, who failed to score on either 
one. Loading again and complaining somewhat 
of his ill luck, he started on, when another bird 
arose at his feet, offering him the prettiest kind 
of a shot, but although he fired both barrels at 
it, it escaped unharmed and the rest of us en¬ 
joyed a good laugh at Tom’s expense. The dog 
pointed again at the edge of the clump, but the 
bird refused to lie, and arose wildly ere we 
could get into the open. Brother arose on tip¬ 
toe and took a snapshot through the top of the 
palmettos which brought the bird to earth. The 
dog trotted on, and again came to a point in a 
clump of pines. Flushing the birds, I dropped 
one with my first shot and crippled another with 
the second. It flew a short distance and alighted. 
I marked it down, and while my companions and 
the dog were busy with the balance of the flock, 
T tramped up my cripple and finished it. 
