Nov. 27, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
857 
In addition to duck shooting there has been 
some fine sport with snipe, and some fine strings 
of these birds have been brought in of late. 
Many of the birds that have been killed to date 
have been locally bred waterfowl, but the north¬ 
ern birds are now commencing to make their 
appearance in great numbers. Widgeons have 
been prominent in the bags of late and recently 
canvasbacks have made their appearance. The 
first limit bags of these that have been reported 
were brought to th.s city by Frank Maskey and 
Captain Seymour. A very few bluebills have 
been secured, but these are expected from the 
north in large numbers soon, as they follow the 
canvasbacks. 
At Alvarado the sport has been cornered by 
F. M. Smith, “the Borax King.” He has a 
preserve there with the only fresh water in that 
locality and keeps it well baited and cared for. 
He shoots on week days and on Sunday the 
pond is alive with birds, they having learned 
that it is safe there when the other ponds are 
disturbed. The only way the hunters can secure 
any kind of a bag is to shoot into the pond 
from a distance with a rifle and then pick off 
the birds when they circle outside the preserves. 
Some miscreant has been busy attempting to 
destroy the birds that are being raised at the 
State game farm at Haywards. Some of the 
pens were opened recently and several hundred 
birds allowed to escape, and following that, 
poisoned grain was thrown into the pens and 
thousands of quail, partridges and pheasants 
killed. A reward of $500 has been offered for 
information leading to the arrest and conviction 
of the guilty parties. 
Arrangements have been made to stock cer¬ 
tain parts of the State with wild turkeys, and 
some of these will be liberated in Napa county. 
A. P. B. 
Scottish Stags. 
A summary of the deer stalking results in 
Scotland, printed in the British Sportsman, 
shows that about 6,300 warrantable stags were 
shot, without counting smaller ones for the 
larder. Four were 15-pointers, fifteen were 14- 
pointers and nine exhibited 13 points, while 146 
were royals. Lady Walker shot the best stag 
of the year—a stag of 24st. 9lb.—345lbs. This 
handsome animal was secured in the forest of 
Inverlochy, Inverness. The next best was a 22st. 
stag shot in the Duke of Sutherland’s forest of 
Loch Choire. The Prince of Wales obtained 
the third best stag in the forest of Ballochbuie, 
its weight being 21st. I2lb. The general opinion 
is that the sport has been very good this season, 
and that heads are gradually improving. The 
introduction of new blood is, however thought 
desirable. 
Fox Hunting. 
Soft sift the snowflakes through the silent air 
Until the barren heath and hill’s rough side— 
Whose mighty oaks have centuries defied— 
Alike are wrapped in mantles white and fair; 
Then wakes the huntsman at the dawn’s first ray, 
And from their kennel routs the foxhounds all, 
Who quickly come, responsive to his call; 
Nor will unbid to distant borders stray: 
Well taught alone the fresh-run track to heed, 
And then with joyous barking off they go! 
Repeated echoes wild their notes prolong; 
One staunch old guide the willing pack doth lead; 
Above the rest his voice sounds clear and strong— 
How sweet it is to hear mid winter’s snow! 
Henry D. Atwood. 
The First Fall of Snow. 
Utica, N. Y., Nov. 18. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: There is something mysterious about 
the first fall of snow. It is portentous. Stand¬ 
ing in awe you watch the flakes, you wonder and 
you say it means, of course, that there is to be 
a change in the whole spirit and countenance of 
the woods. It means winter, to be sure, yet 
you stand there in fixed attention and wonder¬ 
ment. 
The whole north is black and from it come 
white, feathery flakes stealing silently in a way- 
THE FIRST SNOW IN THE FOREST. 
ward course to the ground. Now and then one 
of them touches your cheek in a cool, melting 
kiss. You watch them eddy and swing quietly 
around the tree trunks and then touch the curled 
brown leaves to melt. Beyond the woods are 
dark, and only at intervals the snap of a twig 
breaks the silence. The sky becomes blacker 
and blacker and you can just see in the dark¬ 
ness that the snow is falling in greater earnest. 
The first snow storm of the year, silently and 
mysteriously, grasps your whole being. 
Then you hear from the camp, “What are 
you doing out there? Why don’t you come in 
and eat supper?” 
You are thus brought to yourself and you 
think: “It’s winter coming, of course; it’s the 
first snow, that s all,” and then you call to your 
companions, “I’m coming. Say, did you know 
its snowing? Good tracking to-morrow.” 
In this manner you collect yourself and for 
the moment throw off the charm of the first 
snow. But you think of it as you lie down to 
sleep and you are wafted away to your dreams 
with it still on your mind. 
In the morning you rise to look out and find 
everything covered and whitened. Unable to 
clear yourself from the spell you tell your com¬ 
panion that you are going to hunt alone off to¬ 
ward the ridge, and with your gun over your 
arm you start away. 
Two inches of snow has fallen and what a 
change! "1 he hemlock and the spruce are draped 
with glistening finery; the thread-like limbs of 
the graceful birch are thrice their normal size. 
Everything is pure and bright. As far as you 
can see among the trees, whitness prevails. Yet 
when you come to the lofty growth of spruce 
and hemlock monarchs you find that they have 
kept their floor clear of snow. Their great 
trunks rise from the ground touched only here 
and there by a patch of white. 
At the foot of the Stillwater and tamarac 
swamp you linger. The sun and snow are daz¬ 
zling. It is a broad outlook, for here you are 
not hedged in by the trees. For a moment you 
wonder at the beauty of it all. Only the faint¬ 
est quiver stirs the surface of the pure water. 
Close at hand at the edge a clear sheet of ice 
has begun its certain march across the surface. 
You might stand here for hours, but you snatch 
yourself away and dive into the woods. 
Again the undergrowth of witch hopple and 
other shrubs, all covered with snow, meets your 
gaze. All at once, like a puff of smoke, a white 
cloud of snow bursts into the air on the side 
of the ridge. Then it puffs up again and again 
and you catch a glimpse of the blue coat of a 
deer leaping to cover. The next instant he is 
gone. “How the snow flew from the brush as 
he went through it” you say to yourself. Then 
you are more careful and think that next time 
you will be on your guard. 
As the day progresses the snow falls in masses 
from the limbs to make grotesque tracks on the 
ground. As the limbs are freed from this bur¬ 
den, the woods become darker. The snow re¬ 
mains on the ground only in the shady portions 
of the forest. Here you find tracks of squir¬ 
rels, a fox, perhaps a marten. After you have 
eaten your lunch and approached camp in the 
afternoon you come upon what at first sight 
you think to be a moccasin track. But you soon 
see the dents of the toes and the marks of the 
claws in the snow. You know then that it is 
a bear track. 
That completes the wonder and the charm of 
the first fall of snow. The inexpressible ‘spirit 
of the woods, the piysterious promises of the 
falling snow, the great footprints of a monster 
—they all go together. E. A. Spears. 
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