436 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, ii, 1909. 
From the Atlantic to the Pacific 
( gplt ) 
SPORTING POWDERS 
ARE USED BY 
THE HIGH AVERAGE WINNERS 
High Score on all Targets Including Doubles 
AT 
SOUTHERN,GRAND AMERICAN, 
EASTERN, WESTERN AND 
PACIFIC COAST HANDICAPS 
held during 1909 was won by shooters vising 
(MP 
SPORTING POWDERS 
The Powders for Particular Shooters 
wm 
HUNTSM 
Keep) 
conditi 
52-P 
JOSEPH DlXOl 
:ED DIXON’S graphite 
lock mechanism in perfect 
ite. Booklet 
JERSEY CITY. N. J. 
Sam LoveFs Boy. 
By Rowland E. Robinson. Price, $1.26. 
Sam Lovel’s Boy is the fifth of the series of Danvis 
books. No one has pictured the New Englander with 
so much insight as has Mr. Robinson. Sam Lovel and 
Huldah are two of the characters of the earlier books 
in the series, and the boy is young Sam, their son, who 
grows up under the tuition of the coterie of friends that 
we know so well, becomes a man just at the time of the 
Civil War, and carries a musket in defense of what he 
believes to be the right. 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO. 
Pigeon Shooting 
By CAPT. A. W. MONEY 
A standard book on the sport by a 
recognized expert, covering all phases of 
live-bird and clay-pigeon shooting with 
much that is of value to every man who 
wishes to be complete master of his gun. 
Covers position, guns, ammunition, 
handling, sighting, field shooting, trigger 
pulls, technique and practice. _ This book 
will soon be out of print. Listed to sell 
at $1. Our price, while they last, 
75 cents, postpaid 
FOREST AND STREAM PUB. CO. 
Danvis Folks. 
A continuation of “Uncle Lisha’s Shop” and "Sam 
Lovel’s Camps ” By Rowland E. Robinson. 16mo. 
Price $1.26. 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO. 
partment. Three years ago Jim was captured 
by George D. Bourcy, a sportsman who was 
hunting quail a few miles from the suburbs of 
Brighton Beach. Attracted by the kindly beam 
in the eye of the creature, the hunter withheld 
his bludgeon, and in gratitude the snake fol¬ 
lowed the man home. That night a fire broke 
out in the Bourcy home and the lives of the 
occupants of the house were saved by the alarm 
given by the rattler. The next morning the 
gentle serpent was presented to the city fire de¬ 
partment, and since that time Jim has aroused 
the sleeping fire fighters—and, indeed, the resi¬ 
dents for blocks around—whenever conflagra¬ 
tion threatened this fair city. 
Jim had but one fault. He would wander 
away from his post of duty on hot days. 
Yesterday Jim slipped down from his rack on 
the fire station wall and the path of rectitude, 
as it were, and crept silently away. Jim’s only 
other failing was dreams. The only false alarm 
Jim ever sent in was during his dreams. His 
humiliation afterward was most touching. Jim 
crept into a cool spot beneath the home of Mrs. 
V. P. Stewart, where he fell into profound 
slumber. Jim dreamed a fire threatened the new 
Museum Des Beaux Arts. “Br-r-r-r-r-r-r! 
Whiz-z-z!” etc., went Jim’s rattles. 
The rest is almost too sad to write. E. A. 
Ulrich didn’t recognize Jim and the town loses 
its pet. Jim was nine years and one button old. 
EUDYNAMIS HONORATA. 
Koel shooting is a sport which, perhaps, gives 
the man behind the gun a keener enjoyment 
than any other form of shikar. To my mind 
it is extremely doubtful if the successful shot 
at the ibex you have stalked for hours can ex¬ 
ceed in pure delight the flop of the aggressive 
koel on mother earth, when you have been 
awakened by him at 4 A. m. and have had to 
wait, listening to his braggart asseverations until 
5 :30 a . m. in order to see your rifle sights clearly. 
That he is a parasitic bird does not weigh with 
me in the least, one way or the other, says a 
writer in the Asian. Indeed, his ability to hood¬ 
wink such a genius of evil and astuteness as the 
Indian crow, and his success in getting Lady 
Crow to hatch out his, or rather his consort’s 
eggs and then to feed and bring up his progeny, 
is his one claim to my respect, and I could for¬ 
give him much on that account. But his voice is 
more than “much”; it is “much” with a “too” 
prefixed. 
Never yet have I been able to discover when 
the koel sleeps. On moonlight nights I have , 
known him take his perch on the topmost bough 
of a millingtonia tree, within ear-splitting range 
of my bed. and set forth his immodesty with un¬ 
tiring stridency until daylight, and my attack 
have either brought him low or—as the Irish¬ 
man said—“made him lave that.” 
Let not the tyro, misled by his first few sue- 1 
cesses, think that koel-shooting requires no skill. 
T grant that the opening of the season inclines 
one to look down on the sport, but once establish 
your reputation among these feathered fiends as 
a koel-hunter and you will not have to bemoan 
the facility attending your achievements in the , 
way of a bag. Every koel in this neighborhood 
knows me intimately, and nothing but the fact 
of my owning the loftiest tree in the vicinity . 
and of my being exceptionally susceptible to 1 
the irritation of their vocal devilment tempts 
them to enter my compound. There is a very 
curious fact connected with my pursuit of this j 
bird. No matter how many I shoot, three are 
always in my big pipal tree, five cocks and one 
hen, the first thing every morning; that is to say 
at 4 a. m. As soon as it is sufficiently light I J 
arise in slippers and proceed to stalk them. 
Directly my pajamas appear from under my 
mosquito curtains one of the birds shrieks out: 
“Line those trees. Scatter,” or words to that J 
effect, and they dart out in all directions, and 
from the security of my neighbor’s trees shout 
out insolent derision. My neighbors have sigm-, 
fled their approval of my campaign, and' would 
never object to my pursuing the quarry into 
their domains, but the bird knows full well the 
