FOREST AND STREAM 
1227 
BIG GAME ON THE HIGH ALLEGHENIES 
GOOD DEER RECORDS MADE IN PENNSYLVANIA, WHICH 
BELIEVES AND PRACTISES INTELLIGENT PROTECT ON 
By Frank Harris. 
F -* OR over seventy 
yeurs I have 
lived in sight of 
the Alleghenies in cen¬ 
tral Pennsylvania; and 
for many years I 
have read Forest and 
Stream. Ever since I 
became old enough to 
handle a gun I have 
never missed a year 
that I did not spend 
some time hunting and 
fishing. Sixty years 
ago a man seen with 
a gun or fishing rod 
was considered a “no 
good," and yet at the 
risk of being classed 
among that class of 
citizens, my love for 
the forests and the 
streams has grown 
upon me, and upon 
looking back over the 
years I do not now 
regret the time or the 
money spent as a 
sportsman. As a boy 
living on the farm, 
what I spent was 
mostly time, and that was generally on wet days. 
The guns and fishing tackle I then owned were 
very rude and inexpensive, and the money with 
which they were purchased was earned by hard 
work. My first gun was a Harpers Ferry musket; 
and yet with that old relic I killed hundreds of 
wild pigeons, squirrels, pheasants and other small 
game. When I grew to young manhood I bought 
a double muzzle loading shot gun. I owned that 
gun in 1876, when I came to Clearfield to make 
my home. Then A 1 Walters and John Howe 
were the leading sportsmen of the town and 
they were the leading spirits in all the side hunts, 
so prevalent in that day. 
I was the new school teacher and a stranger 
to most of the local hunters. But I butted n 
for the hunt and succeeded in being chosen the 
last man on one of the teams. The woods were 
strange to me, but game was plenty, especially 
pine squirrels, which were rated high in the 
count, and on the Saturday morning of the hunt, 
by daybreak I was two miles from town with 
my old shot gun after game and to make a rec¬ 
ord. That evening when I reported to my cap¬ 
tain I laid down 26 pine squirrels, 6 grays and 
blacks, 2 pheasants, .2 porcupines and a ground 
hog and was credited with the second highest 
score on my team. I had made my reputation 
as a successful hunter of small game, thanks to 
my training on the farm. 
Some time after that I took a month’s salary 7 
and purchased a double Remington breech 
loader. That gun was full choke and would kill 
more game than any other gun I ever owned. 
Years after that I felt that I was entitled to a 
finer gun, sold my old Remington and bought 
a Parker, and to-day “I would be happy with 
either were the other dear charmer away.” 
I have owned or had the use of several rifles, 
flint lock, muzzle loaders and modern breech 
loaders; but up until about 1902 I never owned 
my ideal rifle. I was then temporarily in Har¬ 
risburg and brought home with me a 32 special 
take down. It took me forty years to find a 
rifle that just fit me, never missed fire in all these 
years, and that made a reputation for its owner. 
I once lost this old companion of many hunts in 
Clearwater Lake in Canada, have given it the 
hardest kind of usage, and yet to-day, although 
battered and scarred, would not bring three dol¬ 
lars in a junk shop, it is absolutely safe and re¬ 
liable, and could not be purchased for gold. 
And now, with apologies to the editor and the 
reader I want to tell you the story of four rifle 
shots on the mountains of my native county. I 
have heretofore spoken of our hunting camp on 
the top of the Alleghenies, 2,000 feet up and but 
eleven mi’es from the beautiful town of Clear¬ 
field. This camp or bungalow is located on the 
water shed overlooking the headwaters of Lick- 
Run, Laurel Run and 
Moose Creek. By the 
courtesy of the Game 
Commission we have, 
on our own preserve, 
elk from the Yellow¬ 
stone, deer from New 
Jersey and Michigan 
and plenty of the 
original Pennsylvania 
deer, the finest in the 
world. 
The first shot that I 
shall speak of was fired 
during the fall of 19x2. 
The deer season was 
then from November 
15th until December 
1st, and the limit for 
each hunter was then, 
as it is now, one buck 
deer. There was a 
nice tracking snow on 
the mountain, and the 
program for the day 
was to drive the Gor¬ 
don Thicket. This 
thicket lies to the west 
of the Penfield Road 
and that road furnishes 
a fine watch for the 
men who do not drive. The first drive was a mile 
to the west and away from the road. I didn’t 
care to walk so far but sat down by the wayside 
to wait results. I was alone and had been on 
the watch but a short time when I saw a fine 
spike buck coming up through the thicket and 
approaching the road, and under full sail. For 
some reason he turned square off to the right, 
having scented danger. 
I fired as soon as the deer reached an open 
place in the thicket, hitting him through the 
liver and lungs. Because of the thick brush the 
deer disappeared and gave me no opportunity 
for a second shot. I followed his trail about 
three hundred yards and found him done for, 
but had to shoot him through the neck, hang 
him up, and left him for the boys to carry to 
camp. This deer was a splendid spike buck, 
weighed 130 pounds, and his beautiful head now 
hangs in our camp. 
The deer season for 1913 opened on Novem¬ 
ber 10th and extended until November 25th. 
We were ready for the hunt when a fine track¬ 
ing snow fell to help us to locate our game. A 
crew of twenty hunters struck the trail for the 
Gordon Thicket and the Penfield Road. Pos¬ 
sibly on account of the color of my hair and my 
years the boys very generously permitted me to 
go as I pleased. This was exactly to my liking, 
as I have always preferred to still hunt for 
