344 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Published Weekly by the 
Forest and Stream Publishing Company 
Chas. A. Hazen, President Charles L. Wise, Treasurer 
W. G. Beecroft, Secretary 
22 Thames Street, New York. 
CORRESPONDENCE: —Forest and Stream is the re- 
lognized medium of entertainment, instruction and in- 
ormation between American sportsmen. The editors 
nvite communications on the subjects to which its pages 
are devoted, but, of course, are not responsible for the 
views of correspondents. Anonymous communications 
cannot be regarded. 
SUBSCRIPTIONS: $3 a year; $1.50 for fix months; 
10 cents a copy. Canadian, $4 a year; foreign, $4.50 a year. 
This paper may be obtained of newsdealers throughout 
the United States, Canada and Great Britain. Foreign 
Subscriptions and Sales Agents—London: Davies & Co., 
1 Finch Lane; Sampson, Low & Co. Paris: Brentano’s. 
Entered in New York Post Office as Second class matter. 
SILVER OR WHITE BASS. 
The return of silver bass in waters where they 
have not been captured in many years is the 
subject of jubilant articles in various newspapers 
of New York State. Enthusiasts of the rod and 
gun may well hail this intelligence with delight, 
because the silver bass, or white bass, affords 
the sportsman much pleasure, and is a tooth¬ 
some dish. The Conservation Commission of New 
York State proposes to give this gleaming member 
of the bass family more attention than this 
worthy fish has received at the hands of the 
State authorities heretofore. The commission 
hopes soon to propagate this valuable species in 
large numbers when the proper pond facilities 
are available. State Fish Culturist Bean says 
of the silver bass: 
“The fish is more generally known as white 
bass, and it is a near relative of the celebrated 
striped bass of our sea coasts. It may be readily 
distinguished by its lengthwise blackish streaks 
on the side, which are eight or more in number. 
The body is deeper than in the striped bass. The 
general color is silvery tinged with gold on the 
sides. 
“The white bass abounds in the region of the 
Great Lakes. In Oneida Lake the Conservation 
Commission collected more than 700 of the fish 
recently in gathering black bass for its breed¬ 
ing ponds at Constantia. The fish has been in¬ 
troduced into many lakes in which it was not 
native. The white bass prefers the deeper parts 
of rivers, and is also well adapted for lakes and 
ponds. It is said to be a good fish for artificial 
pond culture. It spawns in April and May near 
the shore or in the river mouths. 
“This bass swims in schools while feeding or 
migrating and thus becomes a ready prey to the 
angler. It is caught with the fly or with a min¬ 
now, and it will bite freely in the night. It is 
not unusual to score a hundred white bass in 
a few hours. It feeds naturally upon min¬ 
nows, crayfish and other fresh water Crustacea, 
small mollusks and the young of fishes. A white 
bass one foot long will weigh about one pound. 
In the Ouachita River, Arkansas, it is said to 
reach the weight of five pounds. It is one of 
the best of food and game fishes.” 
MARTHA DIES IN JAIL. 
She was a rare old bird, was Martha. For 
twenty-nine years she suffered silently in cap¬ 
tivity, simply because she had the misfortune 
to be the only surviving passenger pigeon. For 
some years she has tottered upon her perch, 
sighing along with other caged exhibits, for a 
stretch outside the prison walls of the Cincin¬ 
nati Zoo. This, however, was not for her. She 
must live on and hanker for communion with 
nature because all her fellows, supposedly, had 
been taken away from her. How much she 
longed for the open world only may be told 
by other caged wild creatures or by a convicted 
felon from behind the doors of captivity. This 
rare old bird would have answered every pur¬ 
pose of science and relieved humanity of the 
charge of cruelty, had she been killed, stuffed 
and placed in a museum, instead of teetering in¬ 
to old age in a cage. Such is the penalty of be¬ 
ing a specimen “sought by and of value” to sci¬ 
ence. In another column is given the biography 
of “The last surviving passenger pigeon.” 
GOOD NEWS FOR CONSERVATION. 
Psychology may be having her own way in 
toying with business, wars and other things, 
but she deserves some little credit for at least 
two joyous works. In one short month we 
witness the downfall of that great dealer in open 
seasons for jailbirds, Governor Blease of South 
Carolina, and the resignation of the man who, 
with a judge in Missouri, so much desired the 
quashing of the Federal Migratory Bird law. 
The federal bird law will remain on the statute 
books and most states have made their laws con¬ 
form with the federal ruling. Thomas Car- 
mody, has been succeeded as State attorney gen¬ 
eral by James A. Parsons. We wish the new 
incumbent every success and offer our services 
in conection with the work of conservation, pro¬ 
tection and propagation in the Empire State. 
TRAP SHOOTING AS AN ADJUNCT TO 
AIRSHIP DESTRUCTION. 
News item in the daily papers is to the effect 
that the reason Zeppelins are able to fly above 
Antwerp and Paris and escape the rifle fire of 
the guns below is because the riflemen shoot di¬ 
rectly at the flying machines instead of leading 
them by several hundred feet, to allow for the 
speed of the flying target and the time required 
for the leaden missle to reach the object. While 
this reason for the non-destruction of the gas 
bagged Zeppelin doesn’t seem reasonable, since 
we know that English riflemen have shown their 
expertness in competition with American rifle¬ 
men at Wimbledon, yet it brings to notice the 
value in war time of the clay target and wild 
fowl shooter. The first thing one learns in 
either of these sports is the absolute importance 
of leading the bird, studying the relative speed 
of shot and target. Of course, it is not pre¬ 
sumed that one could bag a Zeppelin at two 
thousand yards, with a shot gun, and while, with 
few exceptions, the scatter gun artist is far from 
expert with the rifle, yet the proposition opens a 
lane to the suggestion that it might be a good 
scheme should the state militia and infantrymen 
in the United States army be given a course in 
clay pigeon shooting, along with their rifle prac¬ 
tice, for, while several American warships carry 
trap shooting outfits and although naval stations 
in the Philippines and Alaska, as well as some 
army posts nearer home, are outfitted for aero- 
saucer destruction, it might not be amiss if ev¬ 
ery army post and ship in the navy had its scat¬ 
ter gun equipment for pleasure and profit. 
OUR INFORMATION DEPARTMENT. 
If the railroad folder has spoiled your vaca¬ 
tion by sending you to a much lauded resort 
where the fishing, so highly spoken of by the 
publicity man, consisted of angling, in competi¬ 
tion with the man across the table, for a cod 
fish ball for breakfast, just think before you 
take your fall hunting trip and write our in¬ 
formation department for some “where to go” 
information. He has it on tap for Forest and 
Stream readers—and it’s free. 
GAME PLENTIFUL IN NEW JERSEY. 
Reports from all over New Jersey show an 
abundance of game this season and indicate a 
successful shooting year, especially to those who 
get out early. Quail, pheasant and rabbit have 
thrived and propagated satisfactorily. Commis¬ 
sioner Napier and his worthy associates, 
apparently, have solved the game problem and 
are deserving of full measure of gratitude from 
those New Jersey sportsmen who have given 
their support. 
MY HOLIDAY. 
There’s a tramp of mailed armies on the roads 
across the world, 
There’s a crackling rain of musket shots, the 
flash of sun on steel, 
There’s a blue-eyed lad made weary with a bul¬ 
let in his breast, 
But me — I’m goin’ fishin’ with a yellow dog 
at heel! 
There’s a white faced mother watching at the 
window by the road, 
There’s a great gray cruiser lifting through 
the crimson tattered fog— 
There’s a fellow lying with a lance blade 
through his heart, 
But me — I'm goin fishin ' with a fly-rod and 
a dog! 
The world is mighty good to us; but fearful 
dark to them— 
Poor devils in their ditches, they must fling 
their lives away! 
They must lie upon their bellies with their gun 
stocks to their cheeks, 
But me — I’m goin’ fishing at the dawnin’ of 
the day! 
There’s horror and there’s anguish on the roads 
across the world, 
For me there lies a little path spun shining 
through the wood— 
And they must storm the iron hills, and sweep 
the scarlet field, 
But me — I’m goin’ fishin’ and my world is 
mighty good! 
DANA BURNET, in N. Y. Evening Sun. 
