A Thanksgiving Turkey. 
If the reader would be interested in my opin¬ 
ion, let me say to him that to my mind there is 
no other form of enjoyment with the gun equal 
to still-hunting. To be sure there is a charm 
about brush shooting behind the dogs not easily 
to be equalled, and an exhilaration to the chase 
after the hounds quite without parallel in many 
ways, yet on the whole the still-hunt with the 
rifle, in the solemn solitude of the great timber, 
meeting and knowing the wild life of the woods 
in its native fastnesses, with abundant oppor¬ 
tunity to observe and study it undisturbed, is 
with me the height of sportsmanship. I enjoy 
best of all a day with the rifle in the deep 
woods. 
That able and interesting writer, T. S. Van 
Dyke, has well described the attractions of this 
method of hunting in his well known treatise, 
“The Still-Hunter,” now become a classic with 
all lovers of the gun. He depicts with a thor¬ 
oughness and vividness not to be excelled all 
the incidents associated with this particular 
method of securing game. One cannot but be 
thoroughly engrossed as he follows him through 
the pages of this attractive book. And yet, it 
seems to me, that one phase of the subject, 
nevertheless, he has sorely neglected. Through¬ 
out his volume he confines himself entirely to 
the stalking and tracking of deer, seeming to 
overlook the fact that there are other forms of 
still-hunting quite as pleasing and enjoyable as 
this. Not that I'would say a word in disparage¬ 
ment of deer hunting, which I trust I appreciate 
equally with this noted writer, but that 
I would speak kindly of this second pleasure 
also. 
Consider how proud and majestic this noble 
bird, the turkey, is; how gorgeous in plumage 
and commanding in carriage; how knowing and 
artful also, and difficult of capture, trying to the 
utmost the woodcraft and sportsmanship of his 
pursuer. His haunts, too, are always the choicest 
parts of the deepest woods, and it is into the 
most secluded fastnesses of the forest with their 
impressive grandeur that he lures the hunter. 
He who would follow him must be a woods¬ 
man and know and love the woods. 
To be sure, these lordly birds are not numer¬ 
ous, but like the deer they are still to be found. 
It need not always be in vain that one should 
go after them. Years ago they were more 
abundant, and a day after them was sure to 
prove a memorable one. 
On one occasion, several years ago. T was in 
northern Michigan on business. It was late in 
the fall and I had made up mv mind to have 
a turkey hunt at Thanksgiving time, come what 
might. For that purpose I had taken my rifle 
with me on the trip, as well as a few trappings 
for use in the woods. These I hastily got to¬ 
gether and took a train for R., a small place 
on my route, for I was familiar with the neigh¬ 
borhood about it, and believed my chances for 
finding turkeys there were hopeful. 
It is always well for the hunter to keep his 
business to himself when he goes still-hunting 
for turkeys; at least, the less he says about it 
beforehand, the fewer embarrassing apologies he 
will be under the necessity of making afterward 
should his quest prove unsuccessful, for the best 
of friends usually consider themselves at liberty 
to indulge in good natured gybes at the expense 
of the disappointed hunter. Consequently, I said 
nothing as to the purpose of my visit to R., and 
few noticed me that morning as, with my gun, I 
slipped out of the village by a side street and 
out across the pastures. 
The season had been an open and backward 
one that year. No snow had fallen as yet, and 
the day was quite comfortably warm, with a 
mild wind blowing softly from the south; alto¬ 
gether an ideal day to be in the woods. Every¬ 
where was the dull brown of late autumn, save 
for the green of the pines and hemlocks, and the 
sombre hues blended well with the dull, leaden 
aspect of the sky, for the clouds hung low, sug¬ 
gestive of rain, while an all-pervading quiet, so 
peculiar to these conditions of wind and sky, en¬ 
shrouded the woods. 
It seemed almost sacrilegious in me to invade 
the solemn, silent fastnesses of the woods and 
tread upon the fresh-fallen leaves, so crisp and 
clean, and for a time I felt quite like an in¬ 
truder as I trudged along; and a saucy grouse 
gave me quite a start as he bustled up into a 
neighboring treetop and there sat and insolently 
stared at me in evident displeasure. A splendid 
mark his outstretched head and neck would 
have made for a bullet from my rifle, but I was 
after bigger game than he that day, and not for 
a good deal would I have disturbed the peaceful 
quiet of the woods with the crack of my gun. 
The game might have been up for me for the 
day had I done so, and I was taking no chances. 
I wanted a Thanksgiving turkey, and felt sure 
that some were not far off, for during the early 
fall a woodsman friend had informed me that 
he had seen a flock of them on the ridges back 
of the great hemlock swamp, and it was in that 
direction that I was now heading. 
As I left the highland and plunged into the 
swamp, my surroundings grew more weird and 
unnatural with each advancing step. On every 
side were giant hemlocks, with here and there 
a tamarack or cedar standing like grim veterans 
among the smaller growth about them. Some¬ 
times a little group of them would be dead, from 
what cause I could not guess, and as they held 
out their withered, weather-beaten branches to 
the sky, appeared odd and fantastic enough, 
relicts of a forest grandeur of ages past. 
Carefully I picked my way along among the 
hummocks, avoiding, as far as I could, treading 
upon the decaying limbs about or brushing 
against the undergrowth, lest my presence be 
thus betrayed, meantime keeping my eyes and 
ears on the alert for any indication of the pres¬ 
ence of my quarry. Thus hour after hour 
passed, and I was at length out on the highland 
again, beyond the swamp. Wild life of one 
kind and another I had seen and watched and 
allowed to pass undisturbed, my presence unsus¬ 
pected; squirrels, jays, crows, two more grol 
a pine marten and a rabbit, still in the brcl 
I wanted none of them that day. 
“Quit! quit! quit!” What was that! jj 
heart stood still with excitement and expel 
tion, and every nerve was strung to its utirl 
Surely that was the danger note of the loi 
bird of which I had come in search. For \| 
seemed to me an hour, I stood motionless, lisl 
ing and watching. It was a test of patience, ijl 
Which would betray his presence to the c| 
first? Twice, at long intervals, I heard the 
cluck of the bird, as he doubtless peered 
way and that from his lofty perch, const 
of danger at hand, yet doubtful as to wha 
where. 
At length my long wait brought its rev 
By an incautious move the great bird revtj 
his whereabouts to me. There he was, out 
against the sky, perched in the upper brat 
of a hemlock, not thirty yards away, 
large he appeared, as my eye caught his jj 
tour! He seemed altogether disproportiona 
his surroundings up among the treetops, all 
remember wondering that the limb on vl 
he sat did not bend beneath his weight. || 
could I possibly miss him? No, not unkl 
chance twig should deflect the shot. 
Slowly and cautiously I raised the gun I 
took careful aim. I should have but one chi 
that was sure, and should I miss with til 
might whistle for another shot that day. jil 
I knew that my bird would not wait to be | 
at twice in the same township. If my aim si 
prove false he might grace someone else’s I 
that Thanksgiving, but not mine. 
As these and similar thoughts passed thil 
my brain, I drew a fine bead and presse 1 
trigger firmly, then lowered the piece til 
more clearly, and advanced a few paces. I 
an instant there was no motion in the trej 
Then the bird fell from branch to branch |i 
outstretched wings. What a beauty he wl 
he lay there before me in all his glory. I | 
not but stand and admire him for some mol 
before laying hands upon him and bearing 
triumphantly homeward. 
And did I escape all observation as I etl 
town on my return? Oh no. Up the pril 
street I went with my prize, a bevy of si 
boys at my heels. All the curious and sfe 
ing who wished to look and wonder were P 
abundant opportunity, and perhaps there | 
a few who might not have caught sight <| 
and my capture but for a possible earnejj 
on my part that they should. 
Two choice friends dined with me I 
Thanksgiving and eagerly listened while | 
lated all the incidents of my late hunt, cji 
buting such experiences of their own asK 
thought of interest and appropriate to the j* 
ion. Both agreed that they had never f 
partaken of a more agreeable and accel 
Thanksgiving dinner; and as for myself, | 
never since sat down to one which I r*| 
more. 
Rupe Bar ' 
