June 15. 19c;.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
935 
ing hither and yon about the meadows, whistling 
their different calls and acting as though un¬ 
decided where to go or what to do. 
At short intervals, never more than five 
minutes apart, a flock swept over the decoys and 
away, but not before I had taken toll from them, 
sometimes one and oftimes a pair paying the 
price of the venture. 
It was not what you could call the best of 
shooting. The birds were wild and would only 
swoop over the decoys without the least intention 
of stopping, but I had so many shots, at times 
hardly getting the opportunity to reload my .gun, 
that it was thoroughly enjoyable. 
Wet through, I sat there, hardly taking the 
trouble to crouch down when a flock approached, 
for they- did not appear to notice me, and shot 
until ray shoulder ached. With the failing light 
the flight gradually ceased until only an occas¬ 
ional wanderer crossed the meadows. Satisfied 
with the day’s sport, I gathered my decoys, 
packed my game in the almost empty shell bag, 
and in the tw’ilight wearily dragged across the 
meadows to the skiff. Once in the comfortable 
little cabin of the Rambler I supped and then 
dozed off over a soothing pipe, dreaming of an¬ 
other day like unto the one that had just passed. 
Frederick Arthur. 
Wildcat and Boar. 
Parkersburg, W. Va., May 1 .—Editor Forest 
and Stream: While whipping a trout stream in 
the mountains of West Virginia one autumn day 
with more than ordinary success, I saw a big 
2-pounder dart across a pool at the foot of a cliff 
of mossy, vine-covered rocks, and I determined 
to get him as a fitting finish to my day’s work. 
Below my feet the mountain fell away in a series 
of terraces, dotted here and there with thickets 
of laurel, blackberry bushes and clumps of may- 
apple, through which the stream dashed. About 
a hundred yards directly below me stood a chest¬ 
nut tree, which, though not over fifty feet in 
height, was literally covered with burrs, many of 
which were open, showing that they had cast 
their fruit. While I was looking at the tree and 
admiring its beautiful proportions, a full grown 
wildcat with two kittens so small that they were 
barely able to keep up with the mother cat, 
emerged from a clump of underbrush a few yards 
below. The .old cat was doubtless giving her 
young a lesson in woodcraft, but she had com¬ 
mitted a serious error in bringing her little ones 
to that particular spot, as she seemed to realize 
in a moment; for, after a few sniffs at the ground 
and in the air, the hair on her back went up in 
a line from the top of her head to the end of her 
short, stubby 'tail. Then, catching one of her 
kittens by the loose skin on the back of its neck, 
she sprang up the chestnut free as quick as 
thought and deposited the kitten upon a limb 
close up to the bole of the tree. 
Leaving the startled kitten there she quickly 
scrambled back to the ground and caught up the 
other young one just as an enormous old half 
wild razorback boar, with tusks at least five 
inches long, dashed out of the brush not a dozen 
feet away, closely followed by a wild sow with 
a litter of pigs about the size of a rabbit. The 
cat barely made her escape, for before she had 
ascended the tree ten feet, the old boar was stamp¬ 
ing and grunting in baffled rage at its foot. 
After depositing her kitten in the crotch of a 
limb, the cat descended to one of the lower 
branches, overhanging the ground, but out of 
reach of the wild boar, who was tearing around 
the tree, foaming at the jaws and snapping his 
great teeth with rage. Neither of the animals 
saw me as I peered through the brush of laurel 
above them, and as I was on the leeward side, 
they could not scent me at that distance, and I 
sat there forgetful even of the big trout I had 
climbed the mountain to catch, and looked on 
wondering what the old cat was up to, for that 
she had some particular object in view when she 
took up her position so close to the ground I 
was satisfied. 1 hat she intended springing upon 
the wild boar and fighting it out then and there 
I could not for a moment believe, for I knew— 
and she must have known even better than I— 
that she was no match for an animal that a full 
grown bear would have hesitated to tackle. But 
. S»' ? 
I i s-s«1 si; 
* £ $.'&:*.$ i t 
■?s ric? i -t 
THE OLD TATHAM SHOT TOWER FROM BROOKLYN BRIDGE. 
the old wildcat had no intention of testing the 
fighting qualities of the boar, though she kept a 
close watch upon his movements. Meanwhile 
the sow and her pigs seemed to become satisfied 
that as long as they had the protection of the 
boar they were entirely safe, and in a little while 
they began to feed upon the chestnuts which 
literallv covered the ground beneath the tree. 
Closer and closer some of the young pigs ap¬ 
proached to the ground beneath the limb upon 
which the cat crouched, until at last one of the 
pigs, while rooting around among the leaves, 
worked its way to a spot a little to the right 
and almost beneath the crouching cat. I caught 
a slight movement of the latter as she crouched 
lower and lower, and a second later she sprang 
out and landed upon the unfortunate pig. Then 
an agonized little squeal from the pig and the 
cat was bounding away with the wild boar in 
pursuit, the cat carrying her victim in her mouth, 
much as a pointer dog carries a fallen game bird, 
bounding along the mountain shelf in plain view, 
seeming barely able to keep out of reach of the 
formidable tusks of the boar. Over fallen logs 
and rocks they ran, the boar sometimes so close 
that it seemed to me he would overtake her in 
another second; then around a clump of brush, a 
big log or rock, they would disappear for a 
moment, to reappear with the cat still ahead. 
How long the chase had lasted I do not know, 
so interested was I, but I saw her at last at the 
foot of a ledge of rocks a couple of hundred 
yards away. One glpnce must have convinced 
the old cat that she could not ascend the cliff 
weighted down with the body of the pig, for she 
gave it a vicious crunch and threw it aside just 
as the old boar crashed through the brush a few 
feet away. Then, with a screech of rage and 
victory, she sprang up the rocks and disappeared, 
leaving her enemy champing and frothing over 
the body of the dead pig. 
Turning my attention now toward the chestnut 
tree, I found that the sow and her family had 
also disappeared in the undergrowth, and while 
1 was still looking the old cat crept out of the 
brush and sprang up the tree to reappear a minute 
later with one of the kittens in her mouth. Drop¬ 
ping the little, bobtailed fellow at the foot of the 
tree she reascended and again returned with her 
remaining kitten; then after fondling and purr¬ 
ing over them a few minutes, for ail the world 
like an old house tabby, she trotted off followed 
by her family and disappeared in the forest. 
Blennerhassett. 
Passing of an Old Land Mark. 
Tn 1856 Richard McCullough, the pioneer shot 
manufacturer of New York city, erected at his 
place of business, 82 Beekman street, a shot 
tower that was then a marvel to all who saw it 
from either the outside or the' interior. It was 
150 feet in height, 15 feet at its base and about 
5 feet at the top. Octagonal in form, the frame 
work was iron and the casing brick, with win¬ 
dows here and there on the various landings. 
. At that time shot of all sizes up to the dimen¬ 
sions of marbles were made, and the various 
floors utilized, the lower ones for small shot and 
the upper landings for large sizes, but as the 
years passed the demand for the latter became 
less brisk, though it remained steady for sizes 
used in bird shooting and for trap work. Few 
improvements were made in the method followed, 
although in late years several processes have been 
patented which do away with the need of high 
towers and water tanks. 
Charles Tatham & Brother succeeded McCul- 
