FOREST AND STREAM 
801 
Shantying out for Bears, Deer, and Grouse in Southeastern Adirondacks 
The Extermination of Bucks Theatened 
Grisly Ocean, Essex County, N. Y., Nov. 30 
Shantying out among the bears, deer, lynxes, 
grouse, foxes and raccoons is now the pastime 
of many city sportsmen. The word shanty, our 
Canuck guides stoutly affirm, comes from their 
patois “chienfe,” a dog-house. But, however 
badly derived, the Adirondack lumberman’s hut 
or shanty is anything but gruesome; indeed, it 
often becomes quite a thing of beauty when 
touched by woman’s magic hand in these remote 
regions. The Christmas trees stand at your door 
all the year around, and today their dark green 
boughs are weighted with driven snow—not 
strings of popcorn, as in town. From their limbs 
hang the woodland cheer, like grouse, and sad¬ 
dles of venison, with a big snow-white hare by 
way of accent. For this newly discovered life, 
any old deserted lumber camp will answer, proF 
vided it have a good shingle or well battened 
roof. The sides can be filled in with birch bark 
or building paper. Many of these old structures, 
which now offer a welcome haven to the still- 
hunter at the end of his day's quest for game, 
are located on lands which have lately come into 
the Forest Preserve, and, of course, are free to 
all. It is astonishing, too, how few of these 
ancient lodges are ever destroyed by fire. Your 
old deer and bear hunter knows their value too 
well to allow any neophytes to be careless with 
matches or pipes. 
And to think, that in this old and well-, ettled 
locality, where until of late years a deer was 
scarcely seen—much less shot, a neighboring 
farmer-guide, passing through the old trail in 
his “buckboard,” drawn by a trusty horse this 
morning, could shout: “Come; take yer rifle 
an’ git aout. I’m goin’ for a bear.” 
It is no dream, that the hunting days which 
our grandfathers used to enjoy—and brag about, 
are back again. During the last few days of the 
deer-hounding—excuse me, I mean deer-hunting 
season, our shooters in this locality did well, and 
the copious supply of venison will make up for 
the usual beef and pork menu in many a mod¬ 
est citizen’s house this fall. 
One farmer with a large family of children, 
and who has been drawing pulp wood from the 
Eagle Lake section, lately decided to “knock off” 
work and try for a deer. He went up Puffs 
Pond way with a lad of 14 years, the only gun- 
bearer he could scare up, and, after a day’s 
scouting around old Treadway Mountain, killed 
a fat buck, getting it into a shack late Saturday 
evening, for, with those lynxes usually denned 
up in the Bear Mountain cliffs above Pyramid 
Lake around and active, hanging up a deer in 
those woods would be folly. 
Walking behind his two cords of three-foot 
“popple” pulp wood on the way to the mill yes¬ 
terday, this hunter became talkative, for a won¬ 
der. “Yes,” said he, “I was out Saturday and 
Monday, and killed a buck each day. The first 
deer weighed dressed just 180 pounds. There 
was a pile of fat on him. It was fully three 
inches thick in places. He had been eating acorns 
and beechnuts, which are awful thick this year. 
Do you know, the partridges eat them, too? But, 
shucks, what do birds amount to when a man 
has a 38-55 Winchester smokeless cartridge in 
his gun? It would blow one to dust. 
“It’s wonderful how much shooting that buck 
could stand. Of course, he was jumping when 
I first see him, and I fired away through the 
birch saplins as fast as I could whenever I 
seen hide or head. He made a getaway, but I 
soon found blood on the track, so I let him rest 
for a spell and then follered him up. Wall, 
up he got again behind an old log and I let him 
have it once more. That fetched him. The ball 
went in just behind the fore shoulder, worked 
around forward and cut his windpipe clean in 
two. That settled it. I found he had been hit 
in 3 or 4 other places, but the fat would close 
up the big bullet holes and hardly a drop of 
blood came out. When we dressed the buck w? 
found all the blood inside the carcass. Any one 
of those shots would have killed him finally. 
“There's an awful lot of deer of all kinds 
left in the woods to die, beause you have to 
take them on the jump so often, and can't plant 
your bullets in a killin’ place, like behind the 
foreshoulder or just below the ridge of the back, 
the best places to aim at, if you want to make 
’em drop in their tracks, as I always try to do. 
The little feller got a shot at a ‘Spike-horn’ 
the second day. He hit him all right, but I put 
a good word in for him and got the deer. 
“'Going out Saturday, I saw two neighbors’ boys 
cornin’ in from the desolate section with a fine 
buck, and Abe -, got a shot at a big black 
bear out that way, but missed him. 
“Deer are queer critters. You know when 
crossin’ from one mountain to another they al¬ 
ways takes the same path. We call them run¬ 
ways. Makes no difference how near to a farm 
house their way is, either. 
“Ye'ars ago when hounding was allowed, there 
was an old popple tree standin’ in the road leadin’ 
to Put’s Pond, it’s cut down now, but in them 
days every deer the old dog put up on Fernette 
Mountain would come right for the old Chilson 
farm and pass within 10 feet of that tree. I’ve 
shot many a deer from that stand. And, if 
doggin’ was the fashion to-day, they’d come right 
there now. Wasn’t it funny? Oftentimes a 
little sucklin’ spotted fawn would come a trottin’ 
across the pasture straight for that old popple. 
1 know it had never been that way before, be¬ 
cause it had been raised 10 miles back, but 
some bow it knew that run-way, just as though 
it had been there a dozen times- How do they 
leain just where to cross and always near the 
same objects. Of course there was no path at 
all. But why they can do it every time and 
never miss, is one of the wonders to me. Can 
anybody tell why? I give it up. 
“These game laws ought to be changed, now 
that we have a new governor. There’s more 
deer in the woods this year than I’ve seen 
around here for 40 years. They have been in¬ 
creasin’ for the last 5 years, but this year it’s 
all does—20 to one buck. I’ll bet I’ve seen 70 
deer this year off and on. I don’t believe half 
a dozen of them were bucks, and what there 
was were little yearlin’s or spike-horns. A man 
don’t see a decent set of antlers around here 
Seeirf things at night 
R. H. is the " new peril that makes the game tak 
notice--it makes their fears work overtime. 
If you are having trouble with the game—if they don 
come when you call, take heart anew and load up wi 
eWMIy^-ATRlUST 
AMMUNITION 
“KICK MINUS — SPEED PLUS” 
R. H. is loaded with Robin Hood progressive combustion 
smokeless powders. That means less kick because there is no 
sudden explosion. The force is gradual, and greatest as the 
load leaves the gun. 
Most dealers sell R. H. Shot Shells and Metallics. 
Send for new, free booklet, “Powder Puffs.” 
Robin Hood Shot Shells are also furnished loaded 
with any of the Standard Nitro Powders. 
ROBIN HOOD AMMUNITION CO. 
O Street, Swanton, Vt. 
