A Florida Quail Hunt. 
Jacksonville, Fla., May 15. — Editor Forest 
and Stream: The past hunting season was un¬ 
satisfactory from the quail shooter’s view¬ 
point. During the entire season but little rain 
fell, and the weather was unusually warm. I 
think there- were more birds than for several 
years past, but owing to the unsatisfactory 
weather conditions, they were hard to get. The 
cypress ponds and smalt branches having gone 
dry, the birds ranged close to the large creeks 
and impenetrable swamps, and when flushed 
usually made safe cover at the first flight. There 
is every reason for believing that, with ordinary 
weather conditions during the next three 
months, there will be an abundance of quail 
next season, for the coveys were not shot out 
to any extent during the past season. 
Weeks before the season opened, Will and I 
planned that on the opening day we would 
start out on a week’s hunt across country, but 
after waiting till the middle of January for 
decent hunting weather, we decided to wait no 
longer, for if it continued dry we were afraid 
the territory over which we wished to hunt 
would be fired by the naval stores operators 
and cattlemen—.a yearly practice. 
Driving out from the city about seven miles, 
we left the main road to cover a piece of coun¬ 
try in which we expected to get some good 
shooting, but the greater portion had been 
burned over and the dogs found but one covey, 
out of which we got four birds. Just before 
reaching the spot where we were to camp, 
Nellie came to a point within a few feet of the 
wagon, and was backed by Pete in good style. 
We each scored a bird on the rise, and mark¬ 
ing them down at the edge of a cypress pond, 
followed them up and killed four. As that gave 
us ten birds, we quit hunting for the day, as 
the weather was too warm to keep over any 
surplus game. 
We made camp in a clump of pines near a 
small creek, and it was the work of but a few 
minutes to stretch the 7 x 9 A tent between two 
trees and unpack our duffle. While Will was 
looking after the horse and getting wood, I 
dressed the birds and started supper. Our ap¬ 
petites were pretty sharp, and we did justice to 
a meal consisting of fried quail, baked beans, 
sweet potatoes, bread and coffee. 
When we turned out next morning the fog 
was so thick that we could see but a few yards, 
so we took our time over breakfast and in 
breaking camp. We drove up to the St. Mary’s 
River that day, sometimes following a road, at 
other times driving through the woods, but we 
found few birds.' It was about 5 o’clock when 
we drew up at the house of a farmer friend, and 
we were given a hearty welcome. The gather¬ 
ing after supper about the large fire-place in 
the living room was a pleasant one, and many 
were the stories related in the cheerful glow 
of the big open fire. We spent several days 
most pleasantly with these friends, hunting with 
indifferent success. All too soon came the 
morning for our departure. 
On the return trip we took a route that 
carried us through country new to us, and while 
it was good looking quail woods, we had hard 
luck with the birds that day, finding two or 
three coveys that would not stand for the dogs, 
but flushed wild and made long flights to 
swamps where we could do but little with them. 
.About the middle of the afternoon we met a 
woods rider for a naval stores company, and he 
told us of a good campsite and a boiling spring 
at the foot of a big black gum tree. We found 
the place without trouble, and soon had the 
tent up and a quantity of dry oak leaves inside, 
over which we spread our poncho and blankets. 
We were astir early the next morning, for we 
had to be back in town that night. The day 
was a warm one, and though Nellie and Pete 
ranged well and ■ faithfully, they found but few 
birds. Shortly after noon we struck into a sec¬ 
tion that had been burned over but a few days 
previous, and as this burning covered a large 
area, we ended our hunt and headed for town. 
In the screen bird rack under the wagon were 
twenty-six quail, a poor showing, considering 
the territory covered on the return trip. 
Geo. a. Irwin. 
Did You? 
Did you ever go duck hunting 
When the air suggested frost— 
Just a hint of winter coming 
And the heat of summer lost? 
Wade out through the mud and water 
To a rat house that was hid 
In the cat-tails and the rushes?— 
You’ll remember if you did. 
Sit there squinting through the rushes. 
Looking all four ways at once. 
Did you ever try to do it— 
Ever do those little stunts? 
Stay there maybe for an hour, 
Looking up and down the slough. 
Till you saw a big flock coming 
Straight toward you—mallards, too, 
’Member how you hugged that rat house? 
How your heart thumped in your breast? 
How you blazed away—and missed them? 
Never mind. You did your best, 
’Member, do you, when you got one. 
How you hustled out to it? 
Got your hip boots full of water— 
Wet way up to where you sit? 
’Member when you got ’most to it. 
That you found it wasn’t dead? 
When it swam away and left you. 
Do you recall what you said? 
Honest, now, do you remember. 
Just how many ducks you got? 
And the awful way you stretched it 
M’hen you told the number shot? 
Please don’t think I’m asking questions 
Of you, my dear sir, too free. 
It is only that I’m looking 
For some one to hunt with me. 
—J. R. Hollister in the Vernal Express. 
Wild Game on a Rifle Range. 
Boston, Mass., May 13. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Apropos of the proposed open season 
for deer shooting in Massachusetts, it is of in¬ 
terest to record the presence of wild deer on 
the range of the Massachusetts Rifle Association. 
Yesterday morning I was on the range with E. 
E. Patridge, a former president of the United 
States Revolver Association, when some men 
employed on the range hailed us and pointed 
at a deer browsing in the meadow between the 
lines of fire of the 500-yard and the 1,000-yard 
ranges. It was a doe of moderate size and she 
seemed to be alone. She was perhaps 150 yards 
from us, about 100 yards from the 500-yard 
target pit, and the same distance from the work¬ 
men. 
The doe’s attention had been attracted by the 
shouting of the workmen, and she stood look¬ 
ing at them for perhaps two minutes. She then 
ran a short distance and stopped, looking back 
for a minute or two more. Finally she disap¬ 
peared in the woods in the rear of the 500-yard 
targets. At no time did she show any such fear 
as she would have been likely to show if she 
had been in the depths of the great Maine wild¬ 
erness and had heard the shouts of men. 
The range is at 'Walnut Hill in the city of 
Woburn, about ten miles north of Boston. Deer 
have been seen many times of late in the Middle¬ 
sex Fells, a park domain between Walnut Hill 
and Boston, and in the vicinity of the Fells, but 
it is more likely that this doe came from the 
north, a large tract of wild land in Wilmington 
and Redding, five or six miles north of the rifle 
range, offering ample browse and a reasonable 
degree of seclusion for such animals. 
There was no shooting in progress on the 
range at the time of the deer’s visit, but it is 
estimated that more than 15,000 rounds of ammu¬ 
nition have been used on the range in the past 
week, for, in addition to the usual association 
shooting, large squads of bluejackets and marines 
from the battleship Missouri, now lying at the 
Charlestown navy yard, have been engaged in 
practice at Walnut Hill, using six or eight 
targets at the 200-yard and 500-yard ranges. 
Pheasants have for several years been plenty 
on the range premises, and before the shooting 
of them was stopped by legislative enactment a 
}iear ago, a fine specimen was shot for me by 
the range keeper, and its brilliant plumage now 
adorns my dining room wall. These are the 
English, or ring-necked, pheasants introduced by 
the State several years ago and allowed to 
propagate in the Middlesex Fells and other 
covers. They are easily killed and so many fell 
victims to market hunters that they are again 
under protection at all times. That they are by 
no means exterminated, however, is evidenced 
by their calls, frequently heard at the Walnut 
Hill range. Twice within the past month I 
have heard them, while shooting was in progress 
on the range. I could not see them, for they 
were lost in the underbrush over which the long 
range marksmen were shooting, and a disinclina- 
