March 19, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
455 
had some hard hunts and many long tiresome 
tramps, but the walk that day in water most of 
the time up to my knees was the banner one of 
them all. The sun was hot and the water all 
around reflected back its rays in the face and 
irritated and blistered the skin, dazzled the eyes 
and parched the lips. With acres and acres of 
water all around us there was none fit to drink. 
Occasionally we scooped up some of the stale, 
hot stuff and took a few swallows, but it failed 
to quench our thirst. It was wet, and only in 
this way did the fluid resemble water. The dogs 
were about as badly used up as we were and 
hunted but little. 
Charlie and Alf reached camp somewhat later 
than the others, the former with a fine large 
buck across his horse’s back. They were riding 
back toward camp when they discovered a fresh 
trail leading through a dense clump of palmetto. 
Charlie went around the clump, and the dog 
chased the buck from his 
snug retreat among the 
saw palmettos. Charlie 
brought him down with 
a bullet the second jump 
he made, but he strug¬ 
gled on some distance 
further before giving up. 
That evening the cook 
added venison to our 
menu. 
Around the camp-fire 
that night some lively 
stories were told, for 
George and Frank are 
old deer hunters and their 
experiences have been 
many and various. One 
by one, however, we 
dropped to sleep, when 
all of a sudden Frank 
sprang up from his blan¬ 
ket, grabbed his gun and 
rushed out of the tent, 
creating quite an uproar 
as he did so. He had 
heard a deer whistle right 
outside the camp and even 
yet we could hear the water splash as he ran 
away, but although the moon was shining very 
bright, we could see nothing of him. Investi¬ 
gation showed that he had walked right into 
camp. Next morning I remained in camp while 
the others repeated the tactics of the day be¬ 
fore, but without success. The deer appeared 
to be moving to the higher lands, so we decided 
to move camp again. 
We packed the wagon and moved toward a 
large body of timber land known as the Horse¬ 
shoe Cypress. Alf and Frank took all the dogs 
save one pup and hunted the ridges, Charlie 
drove the team, while George and myself hunted 
on some distance ahead of him. The pup finally 
struck a trail and followed it beautifully, finally 
jumping the deer in a clump of saw palmettos. 
George shot twice at it and I hit it hard as it 
passed quartering by me. I gave it another shot 
as it plunged into another palmetto clump and 
it fell after a few more jumps. 
After dressing the deer we pushed on to the 
Horseshoe Cypress, where we went into camp. 
That evening several of us took stands at likely 
places around the northern part of the cypress 
while Alf proceeded to drive it out with his dogs. 
My stand was on a small dry mound, studded 
with cabbage trees and surrounded on all sides 
with a foot or more of water. The edge of the 
cypress swamp was no more than twenty-five 
feet away and a small path led back into it. 
About a year before on a similar hunt the occu¬ 
pant of my stand had three deer attempt to run 
by him, but being a good rifle shot he succeeded 
in killing them all. This time, however, we 
failed to start a single deer and were obliged 
to wade back to camp empty handed. 
Daylight ne^t morning found us again on the 
stands, each man taking the one he had occu¬ 
pied the day before. George started two deer in 
the thick cypress on the way to his stand—one 
of which he declared was the “biggest buck in 
all Florida”—but failed to score. I remained 
on my stand a long time without seeing a deer. 
I was not alone, however, for hundreds of beau¬ 
tiful song birds flitted about among the trees, 
while big blue cranes and other aquatic birds 
splashed about in the water all around me. All 
of a sudden I heard a deer running toward me 
in the cypress. I was alert at once with gun 
ready, but the deer suddenly turned aside and 
dashed out over the prairie full speed, almost 
running into the horses at camp a quarter mile 
from my stand. He paused just long enough 
to take a good look at the tent, and then tore 
away at his best pace, the dogs strung out be¬ 
hind him in a long line. He soon outran them 
and disappeared in the distance. The boys now 
came in and we prepared dinner. The dogs ap¬ 
peared upon the scene several hours later, one 
of them so sick that we despaired of his re¬ 
covery, but after some careful nursing and dos¬ 
ing with medicine which his master happened to 
have along in his camp kit, he rapidly grew bet¬ 
ter and was apparently as well as ever by night¬ 
fall. 
We now broke camp and started for home 
passing through a dense hammock where the 
dogs flushed three wild turkeys which made their 
escape unscathed. Nothing further occurred 
worthy of note and we returned home. 
C. A. V. 
Was it a ’Coon? How Many? 
Aitkin, Minn., March 12.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: I would like to hear of the experience 
of some sportsman of real experience, such as 
Manly Hardy, for instance, of the diving ability 
of the raccoon. Last fall at the opening of the 
deer season I filled the magazine of my rifle and 
started after deer. My course led along the 
bank of a bayou that had once been the bed of 
a river. Many logs lay here and there along 
the edge of the water where trees had fallen 
from the bank in years past. As I passed along, 
my eye caught a glimpse of some animal perched 
on one of these logs. At the same instant it dove 
and started for a line of reeds sixty yards away. 
The water was shallow and its course was easily 
traced by the wake. From the size I took it to 
be an otter, as I had seen signs before near there 
and threw a cartridge into the chamber of my 
rifle, taking aim at the 
front of the wake. The 
head came up about forty 
yards out and turned to 
look at me, but before I 
could put the fine rifle 
sight on the center of the 
head, it dove again, and 
this time gained the reeds, 
and I never saw it any 
more. I got only a brief 
glimpse of the head, but 
it was the head of a 
’coon. 
I never knew that a 
’coon could dive like that, 
though I have had occas¬ 
ional adventures with 
them since near fifty 
years ago when in com¬ 
pany with a larger boy, 
who was “home on a fur¬ 
lough,” resting by per¬ 
mission from his labors 
in a Southern field, which 
finally resulted in the free¬ 
ing of that other “ ’coon.” 
We cut down a large 
tree where we had located a ’coon. We had from 
early morning to prepare in, but the traditional 
time to hunt ’coons is in the night, so we waited 
for night to cut the tree. We built an immense 
fire which lit up the woods for rods around and 
worked till after midnight before the great tree 
came thundering down. Running to the hole in 
the top where the ’coon had gone in, we waited 
with clubs, but no ’coon came out. At last we 
got a long pole and prodded in the hole, but 
still nothing stirred. Concluding the ’coon had 
come down and gone off early in the evening, we 
went back to our fire to talk it over. As we 
stood there we heard a scratching as of bark, 
and looking up saw a 'coon run along the pros¬ 
trate tree and out on one of the branches where 
it disappeared in the darkness. Again we 
watched and prodded without result. Again re¬ 
turned to the fire and again we heard scratching 
as of bark and again saw a ’coon come out and 
run off as before. This was repeated until five 
’coons had come out and disappeared in the dark¬ 
ness. Then we plugged up the hole and cut into 
the tree about where we thought the nest would 
be. We found the nest, but the last ’coon had 
gone. E. P. Jaques. 
