1240 
FOREST AND STREAM 
lODTO^QAtL ©DIMIMlIEimr 
on happenings of note in the outdoor world 
Better Sport Near Home—Why Not? 
O center of population in the United States 
is so congested that it does not possess, 
all around it, areas of comparatively wild 
land or waters that are capable of supporting 
an abundant natural life. 
It is also stating only the truth to say that 
in the immediate zones adjacent to these centers, 
there is no wild life worth the name, from the 
sportsman’s standpoint, either on the land or 
in the water. 
Why? The answer is so simple that there is 
no necessity of taking up space here to talk 
about it. 
Waste, waste, waste. That is the reason— 
the answer to the question. We are coming to 
a better realization of the situation these days. 
There are abundant signs that the crimes, the 
neglect of the past, are to be remedied, in part. 
It is time that this ^should be so. The reform 
has been too long on the way. Who, other 
than the sportsman, should carry forward the 
work? Let him ask himself these questions: 
Is there any logical reason, or cause within 
the realm of natural history, why the fresh 
water lakes within a twenty-four hour return 
excursion reach of a city as big as New York, 
for illustration, should not yield a certain, even 
if a moderate, catch to the casual angler? 
Is there any reason why there should not be 
opportunities for small game shooting next door 
to urban centers? 
If we start by citing the present lamentable 
condition of affairs as an answer, we are only 
begging the question. 
The answer, dear brother sportsman, is you. 
It is because you, or those who preceded you, 
have not given enough attention, concerted at¬ 
tention to the subject. 
Therefore you are depriving yourselves, or 
are being deprived, of the sport that otherwise 
you might have. And this condition will endure 
until 3'ou make some effort to better it. 
Are you associating with those who are work¬ 
ing unselfishly and often at personal sacrifice to 
put better game laws on the statute books, or 
endeavoring to secure the enforcement of the 
laws already there? 
You no doubt fared forth this year with rod 
or gun, and we trust in all sincerity that a real 
sportsman’s reward was yours. 
But have you gotten in touch with the man 
who helped to make this possible? Have you 
given your moral, if not financial, aid toward 
rendering a continuance of this sport a cer¬ 
tainty? There are such a lot of you in this 
class that it requires only a fraction of your 
influence, an infinitesimal portion of your time, 
in conjunction with that of others, to work 
wonders. Isn’t it about time to begin? 
By the way, do you know how your legislative 
representatives voted last winter on game and 
fish matters? 
It might surprise you to learn that these men 
are actually anxious to discover your views on 
the game situation. 
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If The object of this Journal !| 
will be to studiously promote 
a healthful interest in outdoor 
recreation, and to cultivate a 
refined taste for natural objects. 
jj —Forest and Stream, Au g . 14 , 1873 fl 
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Natural History and Fashion 
HOUGH fashion as a topic is far removed 
from the domain of Forest and Stream, we 
have to confess that it has taught the Na¬ 
tural History Department something new within 
the past year. Our readers, careless perhaps of the 
vagaries of the feminine mind as regards appar¬ 
el, must have had impressed upon them the fact 
that women seem to have agreed among them¬ 
selves that one fur is indispensable. 
We refer to the craze for red fox. How many 
hundreds of thousands—we were about to say 
millions—of the gentler sex are going about 
with the skin of Sir Reynard wrapped about 
their necks, or worn coquettishly in other form 
we will not attempt to say. The total is tremen¬ 
dous. Every woman in the land appears to be a 
walking evidence of the fact. 
Now, to the ordinary hunter the fox is not a 
common animal. His cunning has been cele¬ 
brated in fable and story from the time, almost, 
since the first low-browed cave dweller heaved a 
piece of flint at him—and missed him. Even the 
rpodern trapper pays respect to his sagacity, and 
as for the amateur hunter, with dog or dogless, 
the fox is no mean prize. 
But that means nothing. The women have de¬ 
cided that they want his scalp, his pelt, and 
brush as well, and Brer Fox, though he lay low, 
is well on the way to join the Dodo, the Dino¬ 
saur, and others of the extinct relation tribe. 
If he does go there will be scant mourning for 
him, for he stands accused of being the worst 
enemy of the partridge and all other birds in 
the land as well. Still, there could not have 
been enough birds in the entire scientific check 
list to have supported alive the number of foxes 
the pelts of which are at this moment encircling 
the necks of our women. Perhaps Brer Fox ate 
something else than birds. Mayhap he subsisted 
on field mice and small vermin of like ilk. 
Be that as it may, there will be more of the 
meat on which he subsisted, to bless or curse the 
land from this time on, for the fox population 
has been decimated. 
The wanderer in far places, as he looks out of 
his tent on the shimmering frosty moon-lighted 
landscape, will miss the ringing toy dog-like bark 
on the near hillside; even the farmer, accustomed 
to being aroused from slumber by commotion in 
the poultry yard, will have less occasion to take 
down Old Reliable, used by Grandsire at Lex- 
in’ton or by himself at Gettysburg, and turn its 
deadly contents loose chickenward, but—serious¬ 
ly, some strange things, from the natural history 
standpoint are apt to disclose themselves if this 
craze for fox furs keeps up. To those who 
adhere to the “balance of nature theory” we have 
only one consolation to offer. Being femininely 
fashionable now, fox will be the most let alone 
adornment in the category of style a year hence. 
Sir Reynard may thus “come back.” 
Good Hunting, All! 
FTER months of waiting the hunting sea¬ 
son is here. September’s golden glow has 
given way to Indian summer. In the big 
game regions of the north there have been spits 
of snow that herald the reign of the fast-coming 
winter. But it is the glorious season, neverthe¬ 
less, and the hunter as he draws in deep breaths 
of the exhilarating air would be content to have 
it always so. 
There is reason to believe that the game sea¬ 
son is to be the best in recent years. For one 
thing, the laws are better, and are getting still 
better. Game is no longer regarded as something 
to be destroyed at the whim and will of him who 
recognizes not the property right of his neighbor. 
The people of America have come to the con¬ 
clusion that wild life is a valuable State asset, 
and are protecting it. This spells perpetuation— 
more than the mere zoological preservation—an 
actual increase in the supply of food, and the 
continuance of a form of recreation that makes 
for national manliness of character. 
Just remember as you go into the fields and 
woods this year that the happy condition of free 
hunting you enjoy is a privilege that does 
not exist everywhere. No class restrictions bind 
you. The game is yours to take, and the reason¬ 
able regulations that have been imposed by your 
fellow citizens are to perpetuate your pleasure 
as well as that of your neighbor. 
The State is not an abstract political theory. 
It is you. 
In these days of increasing population, good 
hunting means wise and appreciative citizenship, 
for it is only through the exercise of these qual¬ 
ities that we can have hunting at all. 
If your reward of game this year is larger, 
you deserve il. If it be poorer, can you blame 
anybody but yourself? 
But good luck to you, whether your choice be 
the duck blind on the gray storm-beaten coast, 
the sunny slopes where the upland game bird 
gathers, or the great wilderness that holds forth 
promise of a prize that all true sportsmen hope 
for, and are entitled to achieve. 
TO THE NUTHATCH. 
N sombre gray, 
When other birds have flown away 
You spiral down the frozen boles 
The livelong day 1 
The noxious, slumb’ring larvae is your quest; 
You search each shag and crevice, without rest! 
No silvery song is yours, no coat of gorgeous 
hue 
Proclaims the work Dame Nature set for you 
Of making safe the life-sap now unseen 
That clothes the trees in spring, with living 
green! 
Will C. Parsons. 
