54 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 8 , 1910 . 
Along with the cigars came the inevitable 
game of seven-up and then early bedtime. 
Charley bunked with us on the car, and on 
awaking next morning complained of a jump¬ 
ing toothache. It became so bad that he had to 
give up shooting and take the tram to Detroit 
to have the troublesome tooth attended to. 
We went in a new direction Saturday and 
were thrown on our own resources. We drove 
five or six miles to some old lumber camps 
near the hardwood timber. The hardwood had 
been burned, but was lumbered after the burn¬ 
ing, so that there were many beech tops lying 
around, and we were encouraged by seeing the 
numerous tracks of partridge in the snow. 
They were not fresh, having been made within 
a day or two, but it plainly indicated that some¬ 
where in that locality we would find birds.. It 
was a beautiful day, rather warm for tramping, 
and the snow was melting, so that it was very 
slippery. The two boys concluded to stay with 
the sleigh again. Hough went with Morley and 
I went alone. There were places where the 
traveling was so bad that we could not attempt 
the swamps, but along the edges of the roads 
and into the little bend where the beech tops 
were an occasional bird was put up. Hough 
got three, and although I put up several I did 
not get one until about noon. It was one of 
those days when they did not give a fellow a 
chance; the dogs would be pointing on one side 
of a tree top and out of the far side a bird 
would flush unexpectedly, either too far for a 
fair chance or too much brush in the way to 
see them. 
Sometimes I would merely hear the birds or 
catch a glimpse of them fifty or sixty yards 
away. It just happened so, for I have had 
days when, in getting up as many birds as on 
that day, I would put eight or ten in my pocket. 
I wandered off down a ridge that the pine had 
been taken from. It was bordered by a fire- 
killed .tangle and swamp into which Pat was 
bound to go. Old Pat was always a great fel¬ 
low to work in the edges of the swamp. 
Although out of my sight, I heard him stop. I 
watched a moment, and as I neared the edge 
of the swamp, three grouse got up a long dis¬ 
tance off. By good fortune I stopped one with 
my first barrel and waited with the second bar¬ 
rel for the laggard that I thought would get 
up, and in less time than I have taken to tell 
it, the one nearer started away and I cut him 
down nicely. It was the worst tangle I ever 
tried to get into; one fire-killed tree had piled 
on top of another until they lay four and five 
deep, so when I climbed in to assist the dogs 
iu finding the birds at times I would be eight 
or ten feet above the water and ice; then, with 
the breaking of rotten branches, I would tum¬ 
ble through the brush heap. Pat found one of 
the birds; the other one, wing-broken, Rex 
found, and after more hard work I got back to 
hard ground once more. I was tired out try¬ 
ing to keep upright on the slippery snow and 
went over to the sleigh, where I found the 
others had come in and reported no luck since 
the early part of the day. I estimated that I 
had put up seventeen partridges; they had put 
up six or eight. 
In coming out on the road a mile or two 
back, we had noted a ridge fringed with pop¬ 
ples and fairly well covered with short scrubby 
oaks that looked attractive. I proposed that 
we drive there as soon as possible and see if 
there would not be an hour before sunset left 
to us to try that ridge. Morley was discour¬ 
aged and his dog had not been very satisfac¬ 
tory, but he consented, and Hough and f 
started off together with hardly an hour of sun¬ 
light left. We hurried along, and in the cedar 
swamp we found numbers of partridge tracks 
in the snow. 
These sand plain oaks of Michigan are noth¬ 
ing more than scrubby bushes covered with 
leaves that are not shed until spring. They 
seemed to have borne a large crop of very 
small acorns, and we had not gone far ere Pat 
came to a staunch point. I sent Hough a little 
way to one side where he could get a good 
view, then we waited a moment. 
Rex came up and behaved very well by not 
infringing on Pat’s ground. It seemed as if 
we ought to see a bird if it was there, but we 
could not and Hough doubted the point, but 
I knew Pat too well. When he froze I knew 
there was a bird there and he had good reason 
to make the point. There were two or three 
little clumps of oaks between Pat, Hough and 
myself. I walked across from one side of the 
opening to the other and back again and began 
to be a little doubtful myself that there was 
anything there, when suddenly two birds got 
up with a roar right under our feet. I tum¬ 
bled the first one over and gave the second 
one my left barrel and hit it hard; it pitched 
into the jackpines. Then the third bird jumped 
— the best shot of all. Hough was a little bit 
hurried, I think, for he missed it with both bar¬ 
rels, and by that time I had gotten one shell 
in my sixteen-gauge and fired at the bird, but 
it was too far away. We picked up our bird, 
and before starting in the direction taken by 
the two grouse, looked to see if there was not 
another. Pat made game at once and took us 
off about 200 yards, where he came to a good 
staunch point. A single grouse flushed a good 
way ahead and that was bowled over, making 
a mighty good shot. I guess that one, too, 
belonged to me. 
We then took the direction of the wounded 
bird as well as the one Hough had shot at. 
Here again old Pat got the point after we had 
gone 300 or 400 yards. The bird was one of 
those low-flying fellows that do not get above 
the ground more than three or four feet, and 
it went like chain lightning, but just as .he 
touched the edge of the clump of oak leaves I 
fired at him and had the satisfaction of seeing 
the bird fall. This made three for me. This 
undoubtedly was the bird that Hough had 
fired at. 
The wounded bird we did not find, as it was 
lapidly getting dark. We turned toward the 
team and had not gone far before two birds 
jumped from underneath an oak. The light 
was bad; one of them I could not see to shoot 
at and I missed the other one, but Hough was 
more fortunate. We knew now that we would 
have to hurry to reach the team, and although 
we felt that we were in a locality for a day’s 
sport, we would have to put it off until the next 
day. This made five birds for me and four for 
Hough, not a bad day, after all. 
Morley’s pugnacious dog had corraled a por¬ 
cupine in a hollow log, so that George, instead 
of hunting, was pulling porcupine quills from 
the dog’s mouth. Back to the car we went, 
and the evening was delightful; the stars shone 
brilliantly, the moon came up, the air was crisp 
and cold but clear. Briggs had been hunting 
bv himself with Ben Grant’s Irish setter that 
he had fetched along. He had not found a bird. 
The next day broke rainy with the wind from 
the north, and we thought we were in for a 
bad storm. We told the teamster to watch the 
weather and if it cleared off, or the rain 
stopped, to come for us. At half-past. 9 he 
came, and while it threatened more rain, we 
started out; Briggs and the boys remaining in 
the car. Morley, Hough and I hunted together. 
We went down to the dam, missed the road 
and fetched up on the creek two miles below, 
making about a six-mile drive. .While it was 
cold, it was nice walking. The rain had melted 
nearly all the snow and the storm was over. 
We got into some mighty good looking part¬ 
ridge ground, but found two or three camps of 
deer hunters. Undoubtedly the birds had been 
frightened back into the swamp or something 
had happened, for Hough and I, in hunting 
together, put up only three. The first episode 
was when we were walking along the edge ot 
the swamp and in a leafless bush of ilex a 
grouse was sitting. Just before we were within 
shooting distance, it jumped down and ran into 
the cedar swamp, while two other birds that 
we had not seen arose. We bowled one over 
and saw it fall into the swamp. Hough and I 
both shot at it and both hit it, but try as we 
would we could not find it. There was so much 
down stuff too rotten to walk on and too tough 
to break through that we could not get in, and 
the dogs could not crawl through it. Old Pat 
fairly cried once because he was blocked by the 
tangle. We kept going back toward the rail¬ 
road track along the edge of the swamp. 
George got three birds during the day, Hough 
and I none. I know I struck one bird in the 
head on a long shot because it altered its 
course, turned away, began whirling and went 
out of sight over the open plain, but we were 
in very bad country all day, for the fire had 
swept everything clean to the edge of the swamp 
and there was nothing for the birds to come 
for. if they were there, which I doubt. I think 
we. put up about a dozen birds all told during 
that long tramp, fully six miles back along the 
edge of the creek and swamp. 
A log train pulled our car out to the main 
line and we were home bright and early Mon¬ 
day morning. Four men and two boys, two 
pointers and two setters, three days hunting, 
fourteen birds. I say fourteen, for Briggs got 
one and put up three or four birds a mile west 
of the car. 
In the old days I used to get sixty or seventy 
partridges in a season in the three or four times 
I went out. Three or four years ago it dropped 
to about thirty, and last year, I think, I killed 
nine. Unless there is an improvement in the 
partridge conditions in Michigan, it will not 
pay to keep a bird dog. The State should set 
aside eighty to 160-acre tracts of brush land in 
a half-dozen localities in the State, protect the 
partridges and quail thereon, kill off the ver¬ 
min, allow no shooting whatever, feed the birds, 
allow no fire to get in and plant clover. Then 
we would have a bird crop once more, and no 
better investment could be made by the State 
of Michigan than in doing a thing of this kind. 
W. B. Mershon. 
