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FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 14, 1908. 
Imported Pheasants in New York.^I 
Albany, N. Y., Nov. 4 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Several correspondents have called 
attention to your article in the issue of Oct. 31 
entitled “Imported Pheasants.” We do not have 
the favor of an exchange with the Rural New 
Yorker, and therefore did not see the original 
to which your correspondent refers. Judging, 
however, from the quotation given, it would 
appear that the writer was at least misinformed. 
One of his sentences states that “the State 
turns thousands of ravenous pheasants out on 
the grape owner.” As a matter of fact the num¬ 
ber of pheasants released in Yates county—the 
correspondent writes from Penn Yan—was but 
eleven cock birds and eleven hens during the 
entire period of distribution. Allowing the ordi¬ 
nary rate of propagation, it is hard to see how 
this number of birds would reach “thousands” 
even if all the surrounding counties were con¬ 
sidered. It is a matter of record that the Forest, 
Fish and Game Commission stopped the distri¬ 
bution of pheasants in 1904 after but seven years 
of this work. In that entire time the State dis¬ 
tributed only 612 cock birds and 579 hens in 
fotty-seven counties of the State. 
For the benefit of those interested in this 
record, it may be stated that the distribution 
in Yates county and the bordering counties was 
as follows: Yates county, 1902, one cock and 
one hen; 1904, ten cocks and ten hens; total, 
eleven cocks and eleven hens. Ontario county, 
1900, six cocks and six hens; 1901, five cocks and 
five hens; 1902, two cocks and two hens; 1903, 
two cocks and two hens; total, fifteen cocks and 
fifteen hens. Seneca county, 1904, one cock and 
two hens. Steuben county, 1898, four cocks; 
1899, nineteen cocks and eleven hens; 1900, 
fifteen cocks and two hens; 1904, fifteen cocks 
and thirteen hens; total, fifty-three cocks and 
twenty-three hens. This makes a total distribu¬ 
tion for Yates county and the bordering counties 
of eighty cocks and fifty-four hens. Exactly 
what the natural increase would be in this case 
is not known, but it certainly could not be “thou¬ 
sands of ravenous pheasants.” 
The commission has frequently received claims 
for the destruction of grape crops from growers 
in various counties in the State. A fair sample 
is the letter received a year or so ago wherein 
the claimant asserted that four tons of grapes 
had been eaten by these birds. An investigation 
showed that there could not be a hundred birds 
in the entire county. It is regretted that the 
imagination of correspondents of agricultural 
papers should so warp the truth as to require 
such correction. If the farmers of the State 
in the counties wherein pheasants were distri¬ 
buted would inform such a paper as Forest and 
Stream fairly about this matter, undoubtedly a 
much better understanding would be had among 
all concerned. John D. Whish, 
Sec’y Forest, Fish and 
Game Commission. 
What an Angler Saw. 
Berlin, N. Y., Nov. 7 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: One of the pleasures of trout fishing 
is the glimpses of wild life sure to come to the 
still fisherman. 
Standing by a large pool just back from the 
edge trying for the king of the pool, my atten¬ 
tion was attracted by a slight rustling in the long 
grass a few feet away. Looking down, I saw 
the slim head and long body of a mink. The 
animal stopped as I turned, hesitated for a sec¬ 
ond and then disappeared in the direction from 
which he had come, but without haste and evi¬ 
dently not frightened. Soon after I heard a 
low barking up the stream and discovered a 
family of four minks playing along the shore 
and in the water. As they came down stream 
with the current, they passed under my extended 
rod and two left the water and came over a 
little spit of land almost at my feet, and then 
the whole family passed out of sight around a 
bend, chasing each other, barking, diving and 
playing. 
In a mountain hollow I was kneeling on the 
bank of the stream—only a few feet wide—and 
a gray squirrel passing up the other side stopped 
on a tree trunk and carefully inspected me. 
Two birds ran down the bole of a tree by my 
side, and one captured and disposed of a spider; 
then they flitted on. At my feet were the 
feathers of a waxwing, which had furnished a 
feast for an enemy. 
Hearing a noise behind me, I turned my head, 
RESULTS OF A SEASON’S ’COON HUNTING. 
Photograph by R. S. 
and on a bank above me three young ’coons 
were playing about an old log. An old ’coon 
came down to a clear space on the bank and 
was dipping its forepaws in the w r ater as though 
it was washing something. 
’Coons abound in this country, and the only 
dog of any value in town is a ’coon dog. Last 
season its owner captured twenty-three ’coons; 
so far this year he has secured twenty-one. 
Our bee hunter located several swarms in the 
early fall and has secured forty-five pounds of 
honey. The combs are irregular and are specked 
with bits of wood. The honey contains bee 
bread, but to my taste is sweeter than the domes¬ 
tic product. 
Few game birds have been taken this year. 
They are plentiful, but a dog is a necessary ad¬ 
junct to the sport. For each bird shot, prob¬ 
ably one hundred are snared. One offender was 
caught red-handed and fined $48. A young 
woman, who was snaring a few miles south of 
us, went to Albany and confessed judgment for 
$25. 
There is a special game protector located here 
now, and his presence will insure an increase 
in fish and game. R. S. 
All the game lazvs of the United States and 
Canada, reznsed to date and now in force, are 
given in the Game Lazvs in Brief. See adv. 
A Story of the Woodduck. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Not far from Long Island Sound there is a 
trout brook, which, rising in the hills, runs 
brawling over ledges and boulders to tumble 
down into the lowlands in a series of cascades 
and falls, finally pouring over the dam of an 
old mill pond. From here on, the little brook, 
fed by tributaries, becomes a small sluggish 
river, passing for four miles through soggy 
land, most of which is covered by a dense tangle 
of swamp oak, alders and bull briers. Now the 
clear water has taken to itself the color of old 
port wine, in the sunlight, which deepens in the 
darker places into an inky blackness. Finally, 
running under a bridge, the stream loses itself 
in a small pond. The road over this bridge 
goes through a tiny village surrounded by 
farms, the larger part of their acreage claimed 
by the forest. 
Near the bridge lives a young man whose 
knowledge of this river is profound. There is 
not a yard of its banks from its source to its 
mouth that his feet have not passed over in 
pursuit of the big lazy trout that lie in its 
depths or later in hunting after the “pats,” 
woodcock and gray squirrels that seek its 
covers. Working for a living in the usual 
fashion only a part of his time the rest is util¬ 
ized in breeding English and blue Belton setters, 
breaking the pups to sell them when trained to 
those that can afford a good animal. 
Over two of these dogs on the fifteenth of 
October were flushed twelve woodcock, ten 
falling to his gun without a miss. The other 
two birds were impossible shots, flying through 
briers to dense thickets. This is not the story 
I have to relate, but is mentioned only to sug¬ 
gest the young fellow’s expertness with a shot¬ 
gun. 
From the middle of October until the middle 
of November small flocks of ducks occasionally 
drop into the swampy river for rest and food. 
Our hunter is keenly on the outlook for these 
transient visitors. 
Last week on rounding an elbow of the river 
in the heart of the swamp, he caught a glimpse 
of thirteen woodducks swinging in a compact 
body, with heads suspiciously erect, toward the 
further shore. They were thirty yards away; 
quick as a flash his gun roared and four small 
beautiful bodies turned on their backs to float 
silently down stream. At the report their com¬ 
panions, springing into the air, winged their 
swift flight to safer quarters. A second shot 
brought two more of them to the water before 
they were out of range. 
The dogs had been left at home, and it was 
necessary for the young man to be his own re¬ 
triever. Wading out up to his middle, the 
whole six were soon cunningly hidden away in 
a hollow stump. He followed after the flock, 
well knowing that the woodduck, reared in 
some quiet retreat in the North, would not fly 
far on this its first introduction to man. This 
confidence was not misplaced, as he soon found 
the diminished flock scarcely a quarter of a 
mile away. Creeping upon them with the skill 
of an Indian scout, they were soon within 
range. With the report of the two barrels three 
were killed, two on the water and one in the air. 
Bagging these in the same cold manner as be¬ 
fore, the pothunter pursued his relentless way. 
