1014 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Dec. 25 , 1909 . 
a swamp. The cover on each side was extremely 
thick. Four birds rose. Mac knocked down the 
first. I missed the second, but redeemed my¬ 
self by killing the third bird. This was my 
only chance for a double on the trip and I 
should have scored both birds. Unfortunately 
we were unable to find Mac’s bird, although 
■we hunted a long time. We needed a good 
retriever badly. 
The next day we determined to try new 
ground and drove several miles to other quar¬ 
ters. We found very few birds and only got 
two shots. The first was at a bird which was 
flushed by Vic on the opposite side of a gully. 
Notwithstanding it was a long way off and I 
had but a glimpse of him, I fired—as the bird 
disappeared. I did not go to look to see if I 
had killed, but kept on hunting my side of the 
gully, then crossed over and went to where I 
had last seen the bird, intending to get his 
line and follow him. To my surprise Vic 
promptly pointed and there on the ground lay 
my bird stone dead. This was a great fluke. 
With the other bird I was also lucky. I had 
been standing talking to my companion upon 
the top of a high bank under a tree with very 
little foliage. We stood there several minutes 
discussing our plans and I started for the bot¬ 
tom of the hill. As I did so a partridge flushed 
from the very tree under which we had been 
standing and sailed straight away, giving me 
an easy shot. I was so surprised that I nearly 
missed. My shot broke the end of his wing, 
turning him like a pin wheel. Dropping the 
gun below him I gave him the second as he fell, 
and it was well I did for he was a lively cripple 
when the dog caught him. 
That was all we did that morning. In the 
afternoon we were walking along a railroad 
track through a large swamp. A partridge 
flushed on our left and a puff of feathers an¬ 
swered Mac’s quick shot. The bird had fallen 
down the side of a hill and some trouble was 
experienced in retrieving it. 
While Mac and his dog were thus engaged 
I walked a short distance down the railroad. 
In the soft white sand I saw the tracks of a 
partridge headed toward some open ground on 
ae right hand side of the road. There was very 
^Ue cover here—a few scattered scrub oaks 
^Lfern—so I concluded the bird was on his 
Hp the heavier cover a couple of hundred 
^^^^\way. I started after him and had gone 
^ort distance when the bird flushed in 
Labout twenty yards away, giving me 
kind of a shot. “Like shooting 
y^v.ms,” was my comment as I tucked 
^^pocket. 
another shot I carelessly loaded 
8 shot instead of the sixes we 
Inching the railroad I was walk- 
<^^Mac when a partridge flushed 
the road and started down 
shot was about forty yards 
^At the crack of the gun 
the partridge turned at 
Ho the tops of the trees 
swamp. Getting Mac 
in vain for the bird. 
Hi in this manner. Had 
lid either have missed 
it clean. Partridges 
to kill and I believe 
rhis is especially true 
early in the season when the foliage is still on 
the trees. 
We separated then and I did nothing of in¬ 
terest for some time. Three birds flew across 
the railroad without giving me a shot. They 
were perfectly safe as long as they stayed in 
the swamps, and they knew it. We had tried 
hunting in that swamp before and found it im¬ 
possible. Hunting the edges I found a bird 
which had been crippled by us the day before. 
The bird was in good condition and would prob¬ 
ably have gotten well. Coming back to the 
railroad I was fortunate enough to secure a 
bird by a quick shot as it dived into the brush. 
I did not know I had killed, for it was only a 
snap, until the flutter of its wings in the dry 
cover told the story. 
Upon joining Mac we found another par¬ 
tridge track on the sand in almost the same 
place as the other bird I had killed earlier. 
This bird gave us quite a hunt before he flushed 
from a little scrub oak bush, the easiest kind 
of a shot, which I accepted. Mac had killed 
another bird and missed one. 
We lost a bird here through my fault or 
rather reluctance to shoot at a bird which an¬ 
other had shot at. When I shoot at a bird I 
do not want any help from anyone else, and I 
try to make the plan work both ways and re¬ 
frain from shooting at another man’s bird. 
Mac started two birds and shot at one which 
came through the brush toward me a couple 
of hundred yards away. When I first saw the 
bird I did not know Mac had shot at him, but 
as he came near, it was evident that he was 
hard hit. I hesitated about shooting. I did 
not want to lose the bird and likewise I did 
not want to shoot at Mac’s bird unnecessarily. 
As usual he who hesitates is lost, but this time 
it was the bird which was lost. Before I could 
make up my mind what to do the bird fell with¬ 
in twenty yards of me, but we never found it. 
Two men and two dogs searched for that bird 
for half an hour without success. 
The next day our first bird was flushed by 
Vic on the edge of a clearing. Following on 
Vic nailed him fast. He rose with a great 
roar, flying high to get over the brush. Both 
guns cracked, but Mac was a little in advance. 
Too late to stop pressing the trigger, I saw the 
bird fold up as the shot struck him. Politely 
Mac said, “Your bird;” to which I responded 
nothing, but giving Mac a cold stare left him 
to carry the bird. My first bird was secured 
along an old wood road. Mac’s dog pointed 
and I stepped out into the open to command 
the situation while calling to Mac to come up. 
The bird did not lie well. When he flushed he 
came past me not ten feet away, giving me my 
usual fright. The first shot did nothing more 
than startle him, but the second stopped him 
well. 
Let me give you a little tip which an old 
hunter gave me on the trip: When a par¬ 
tridge comes at you, turn before he gets to 
you. This will give you an easy shot. If you 
wait until the bird has passed you before turn¬ 
ing, the shot is much more difficult. 
After a long hunt we stopped at a spring for 
a drink and a smoke. When ready to go the 
bitch had disappeared. We found her fast on 
a point, and when the bird arose I scored with 
my first barrel. The next shot was one long 
to be remembered. We had separated so that 
when Vic pointed near an old log, hollowed 
out by the fire, I walked up alone. At; first I 
could not start anything. Vic took a couple . 
of steps and then froze solidly at the fallen 
log. Nothing could urge her on so I stepped 
up on top of the log. As I did so I heard the 
flutter of a partridge, but could see none in the 
air. Puzzled, I took a step or two and out 
from the hollow of the log, which I had cov¬ 
ered with my foot, went the bird. Turning, I 
caught him fairly with the first and the bitch 
brought him in with a pleased wag of her tail. 
This bird had evidently tried to fly when I 
stepped on the log, but was imprisoned by my 
feet. 
Thursday morning Mac went to the railroad 
track, where we had been successful before, and 
I tried walking a road between two swamps. 
We did not take the dogs, our idea being to 
catch the birds as they left the swamps for 
their morning feed. It began to rain and I only 
saw one bird. This fellow was in the road 
about fifty yards away when I first saw him. 
Walking up within about twenty yards the bird 
started to run. Fearing he would get into the 
brush before flying I began to shout to flush 
him. It was a ridiculously easy shot, absolutely 
nothing in the way, and yet I managed to miss 
him with both barrels. Excuses were naturally 
in order and I persuaded myself that the miss 
was due to the dim light—it was just after day- ] 
break—and the difficulty of seeing the brown 
bird against the brown background through my 
mist-covered glasses. At any rate I had not 
potted him on the ground. 
When the rain ceased in the afternoon we 
started out again. Both dogs pointed staunchly 
and when the bird arose, Mac killed it with his 
first barrel. When ordered to retrieve, both dogs 
started and I was a little bit afraid they would 
mouth the bird between them, so I hustled in 
after them. As I did so another partridge rose 
and flew back of us. Mac was caught with his 
gun open and I only had a hasty snap which pro¬ 
duced nothing. He fooled us completely. 
Profiting by our former experience ' we 
avoided the heavy covert and hunted only the 
edges and open ground adjacent. Vic pointed 
in a narrow strip of popples which ran out from 
the main swamp into the field. We could not 
raise the bird, but upon separating to command 
both sides of the thicket, Mac killed with a 
long shot when the bird flushed wild. Hardly 
had the bird been retrieved when another par¬ 
tridge rose at Mac’s feet. I was a little to one 
side and it seemed to me as though every shot 
in the gun had taken effect. There was a cloud 
of feathers and the bird fell dead. 
“I have waited nearly a week for that shot,” 
was Mac’s comment. “The first easy shot I 
have had.” These birds had evidently left the 
swamp to feed in the open where there was the 
same cover that one would expect to find quail. 
It was rapidly becoming dark, so we hardly 
expected anything more, but we were again for¬ 
tunate. 
A little further along there was a high bank 
sloping toward the river. We were at the top 
and the bitch was hunting along the bottom. I 
heard a querulous little bark from her and 
thought she had flushed a bird. Sure enough 
I saw one crossing at least fifty yards away. 
I had my cigarette case in my left hand try¬ 
ing to get one out. Without dropping it I 
