*54 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 24, 1908. 
week had flooded parts of the road and we had 
to get out and seek drier going across country. 
At the entrance to a great open field, covered 
with tall, thickly matted grass we stopped to 
take our guns from their covers. These fields 
are called locally paconales and in some respects 
resemble a stretch of alfalfa. 
No sooner had we unlimbered our guns than 
the dogs were off, and before we had a chance 
to load Turin had pointed and Bizar had 
plunged in front of him, flushing a covey of 
birds I had never seen before. The young 
rascal followed them at a gallop as far as he 
could, head in the air and quite unmindful of 
where he set his feet, so that he went stumbling 
and rolling, presenting a most ridiculous sight. 
The birds flew in a great circle and then 
alighted about a quarter of a mile away. 
“What were they?” I asked, turning to my 
host. 
“Martineta capetudas,” he replied, “and a bird 
that you’ll find much pleasure in hunting. This 
covey flushed so easily because of Bizar’s un¬ 
expected appearance and because the grass was 
not very high, but, as a rule, a dog has a lot 
of trouble in getting them to rise. They will 
run before him with the speed of a rabbit and 
bring out some very pretty work. I’ve seen a 
lively young bird give the best of dogs a good 
five-minute chase, at times, and although it is 
nothing to shoot them after they have been 
flushed, hunting them certainly affords ample 
opportunity to enjoy the skill and ingenuity of 
your dogs.” 
“Are they plentiful?” I, asked next. 
“Only fairly so,” he said. “They are in¬ 
digenous to the country, not migratory, and this 
locality has been pretty well shot up, a veritable 
regiment of sportsmen coming down from 
Rosario every holiday. But if you go into the 
interior you will find them by the hundred. 
Why, only a few days ago a farmer in Arias, 
about three hundred miles from here, wrote 
begging me to organize a hunting party to rid 
his neighborhood of them. They have de¬ 
stroyed half his crops and he’s frantic. They 
invaded the sown fields, and digging up the 
corn and wheat that had been planted, undid in 
a few hours the work of days of slavery. To 
show me how the birds overrun the place he 
told me how he had seen about twenty near a 
well of his, and not having a gun handy, had 
thrown 1 a heavy cudgel at them and killed two. 
Instead of rising in fright, the others trotted 
off to the nearby field just like barnyard fowl. 
Of course I declined with thanks his invitation 
to plaj r exterminator, because I don’t enjoy 
slaughter for the sake of a big bag, but it will 
tell you how abundant these martinetas are.” 
“And how about our own prospects for to¬ 
day?” I asked. 
He laughed. “Don’t worry. There are plenty 
left here, too. The hens lay from eight to ten 
eggs apiece, twice a year, and the territory is 
too big for pothunters to clean it all out. Be¬ 
sides which partridge are very plentiful all 
about here, and unless the rain has quite flooded 
their feeding grounds, we may even get a few 
snipe.” 
The dogs were quartering the field, Turin at 
a slow, careful gait, Bizar at a mad gallop, hav¬ 
ing the time of his life, but without the slightest 
idea of what was wanted of him. Presently the 
older dog stopped to investigate a scent with 
nose high in the air, then pointed, advanced a 
few steps and pointed again, this time steadily. 
“Partridge,” whispered my companion; 
“better hurry to them before Bizar gets in their 
midst.” 
I hastened toward Turin, but Bizar was there 
first, thundering into the thick of a big covey of 
partridge that flushed wildly, the puppy giving 
ardent chase. I was afraid to shoot because 
he leaped up over the grass every few strides, 
but Signor Podio waited his chance and with! 
perfect control brought down as pretty a right* 
and left as it was ever my privilege to see. 
Turin retrieved the two birds one after the 
other, while Bizar jumped at them, evidently 
enjoying the frolic immensely. 
“Ate you not afraid of the puppy’s interfer¬ 
ence spoiling Turin’s form?” I asked. 
He roared at the idea. “Nothing could spoil! 
Turin,” he said; “the old sinner is proof, and 
just at present he’s probably glad to see the 
youngster begin to take interest. You mark 
my words, before evening he will be teaching ! 
his offspring to point and retrieve.” 
As we proceeded the grass became higher, 
and when the next birds rose—four fat mar¬ 
tinetas—we were able to shoot without fear of 
singeing Bizar. My host waited until I had 
fired both barrels, bringing down my first 
martineta, and then with a coolness that was a 
joy to see, scored another faultless double, the 
remaining bird alighting at the edge of a bit 
of swampy ground. 
It was a handsome bird that the dog de¬ 
posited at our feet, in size and built very much 
like a female English pheasant but darker in 
color and with beautifully marked feathers. It 
weighed about two pounds and my companion 
told me they often went as high as ome thou¬ 
sand two hundred grams, or nearly three pounds. 
On our way to the swamp Turin pointed again 
and Bizar flushed a covey of partridges that 
flew up one by one, in every direction. With his 
usual courtesy Signor Podio waited until I had I 
chosen my bird, a lively hen, and brought her 
down with my second barrel, before he added 
another pair to our growing bag. 
As we reached the marshy ground our boy 
was instructed to tie the puppy up, as we ex¬ 
pected to find snipe and we knew that with 
that young devil floundering around in the 
water there would be small hope of getting 
within range. We did find snipe, and here I 
was in my element. Turin pointed a pair that 
went off rather wildly to a resounding “Scraip! 
scraip!” but I was ready for them and tumbled 
them over in quick order. At the noise of the 
shots a third got up fully thirty yards away, 
but it collapsed suddenly as the little sixteen 
beside me spoke. 
That proved to be the end of the snipe. The 
feeding grounds were under water and the 
birds had been forced to seek other homes. 
As we returned to the paconales, Bizar was 
again given his liberty and we took him to 
where we had seen the lone martineta alight, and 
his master, pointing to the ground, whispered 
to him, “Trova! trova!” For the first time that 
day he seemed to understand and set up a 
diligent search, following the scent with signs 
of anxiety and going right back to the starting 
point every time he lost it. He was finally 
lucky enough to find the bird, and after an un- j 
certain point of a few seconds, he flushed it, and 
I knocked it over for him. He was on it like a 
shot and was worrying it to pieces when Turin f 
took a hand in the game, and butting him aside, 
picked up the bird and walking very slowly, 
actually showing the puppy how to do it, l- 
brought it to hand. It was as pretty a lesson 
as I ever saw given. 
A little way further on Bizar flushed a 
partridge in one of his crazy gallops, and after I 
had missed it and my host had shot it, the 
ON EQUAL. TERMS WITH THEIR MASTERS. 
Photograph by Herbert Reeder. 
