14 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 7, 1911. 
Gilbreth’s Cove. It was easy to keep behind a 
stone wall until he reached some low sumacs 
that would screen him until near enough to 
shoot. The bird flew up sooner than he ex¬ 
pected, but within possible chance, and he tried 
a long shot, wing tipping it. Avoiding its spiked 
bill, he secured it without further injury, and 
tucking it under his arm, kept on his way. 
I have said he was a born gunner, and had it 
in his blood. Such men love a joke that relates 
to their sport. He thought of a capital trick to 
play on one of the other boys at the shanty, so 
keeping out of sight from it till he reached a 
favorable spot on the shore, he put the bird 
between his knees while he searched his pockets 
for a string. Finding some he tied one of the 
birds’ feet to a short stick, which he then thrust 
well into the ground. Leaving the bittern there, 
he went on to the shanty. 
The game of seven up was in progress. Lom¬ 
bard had just dealt, and it was Louis Lander’s 
beg when Sumner came in. “Where’s your 
fowl?” they all asked. “Didn’t get it,” he re¬ 
plied. “Heard you shoot,” said one. He put 
away his gun, took off his wet coat and drew 
up to the stove and watched the card players. 
After waiting a reasonable time he rose and 
went to the door, remarking: “I believe its let¬ 
ting up, boys.” Going out he walked a few 
steps to where he could see the bird standing 
by the peg as he left it. The others had fol¬ 
lowed to the door to see how the weather was. 
This was what he wished, and affecting a cau¬ 
tious stoop, he drew back toward the building, 
saying: “I see a hern.” The others took a cau¬ 
tious look and Lombard went for his gun, say¬ 
ing: “I’m going to get him, boys.” 
When he came out, gun in hand, the others 
began to advise him how to approach his game. 
“You’ll have to crawl across Handy’s field and 
keep the bushes in range of him,” they said. 
Off he started in a half bent slouching walk 
along the wall until he hid the bird behind the 
bushes. Then he began a tedious crawl across 
the field, the wet grass adding to the unpleasant¬ 
ness of it. At length he reached the bushes and 
carefully worked through them, the boys in a 
group watching with an interest that Sumner’s 
evident excitement in no wise lessened. Pres¬ 
ently a shot rang out and the bird collapsed. 
Lombard burst through the screen of brush in 
front of him and ran up to his game. Not 
heeding the fastening he snatched it up by a 
wing before making the discovery that it was 
tied to a peg all the time. 
A loud shouting from the crowd about the 
shanty assured him that the joke was appre¬ 
ciated. Walter B. Savary. 
Aeroplane Duck Hunting. 
San Francisco, Cal., Dec. 30. — Editor Forest 
and Stream: The California duck season, owing 
to the continued lack of rain, has not been a 
great success so far, but the duck hunters are 
taking a lot of interest in the proposed air ship 
hunting of ducks. So far as known only one 
duck has, as yet, actually been killed from an 
aeroplane, but plans are under way for at least 
one other attempt. Hubert Latham, the French 
aviator, who is at present in Southern Califor¬ 
nia, has the honor of bagging the first duck 
from an airship, a bluebill, which he brought 
down with the first shot on Dec. 22 on the game 
preserves of the Bolsa Chica Gun Club on the 
ocean shore fifteen miles from Los Angeles. 
Latham secured permission from the club to 
make a try at the ducks from his Antoinette 
monoplane, and left the aviation grounds at Los 
Angeles shortly before noon. He covered the 
intervening fifteen miles at about a mile a 
minute. After flying along a lagoon for a half 
mile or more without getting a fair shot, he 
made for the ocean and headed for a big flock 
of ducks which had fled from the lagoon. A 
few hundred yards from the shore he hazarded 
his first shot, bringing down a bluebill which 
fell into the water and was fished out by the 
club members present. Latham then pursued 
the ducks to sea for a mile or two and back 
again, shooting occasionally, but without further 
success. The ducks were quicker on the turn 
than the aeroplane, and either altered their 
course or flew high in the air whenever the 
pursuer got within shooting distance. Altogether 
about a dozen shots were fired by the aeronaut 
before he gave up the sport and alighted in the 
yard of the club house at Bolsa Chica. 
During the coming week F. E. Scotford and 
Paul W. Beck, of San Francisco, chairman and 
secretary, respectively, of the Business ’ Men’s 
Aviation Committee of San Francisco, will be 
taken on an experimental goose hunt in the 
Sacramento Valley by R. R. Young, represent¬ 
ing the Curtiss Bi-Plane Company, and Roy 
Knabenshue, of the Wright Company. Local 
hunters believe that the geese will have a harder 
time dodging airship hunters than the ducks had. 
1 he duck season is still decidedly backward, 
and while a few good bags are secured most 
of the local shooters have only moderate luck. 
The lack of rain seems to be the cause of most 
of the trouble. The wildfowl are still confined 
to the marshes and sloughs and to the game 
preserves, and continued shooting has made 
them decidedly wild in most localities. Along 
the San Francisco Bay marshes the hunting is 
probably holding its own as the season ad¬ 
vances, but there is practically nothing doing 
at the inshore shooting grounds. Canvasbacks 
and bluebills have been most abundant. Sprig- 
tails have nearly all left the Alameda marshes, 
but spoonbills are beginning to come in and are 
in fine condition. 
Goose shooting is now good in many locali¬ 
ties in the interior of California. In the coun¬ 
ties of Glen, Colusa and So’ano in the Sacra¬ 
mento Valley the plains are alive with them. 
There is no limit to the number of these that 
may be killed, and some large shoots are re¬ 
ported. One shipment that came in to the San 
Francisco market, including bags from Colusa, 
Maxwell and Willows contained over 1,000 birds. 
A wildcat weighing forty pounds was trap¬ 
ped in Golden Gate Park last week by a boy, 
the nephew of Prof. Barron, the curator of the 
park memorial museum. The cat had been de¬ 
stroying quail, rabbits and other small life in 
the park for three years, and many attempts to 
take or kill it had failed. The boy finally rigged 
a plain box trap baited with fresh meat, and 
succeeded in catching the intruder. After ex¬ 
amination the animal was pronounced by the ex¬ 
perts a hybrid wildcat. A. P. B. 
All the game laws of the United States and 
Canada, revised to date and now in force, are 
given in the Game Laws in Brief. See adv. 
About Foreign Game Birds. 
Bridgeport, Conn., Dec. 10.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: The mania for the importation of for¬ 
eign birds for American shooting still continues 
in this State, and I wish with all my heart that 
our public here would come to their senses again 
and see things as they really are. 
Recent numbers of Forest and Stream, and 
especially the quotations from the new book, 
“American Game Bird Shooting,” have more or 
less explained the odd mental attitude which is 
at the basis of this craze. 
Gunners in different States who pay money 
for licenses are disposed to insist that a portion 
of this license money be expended in the pur¬ 
chase of birds that may be shot, and at the pres¬ 
ent moment the bird in fashion is the European 
partridge, more commonly known as Hungarian 
partridge. These birds cost $6, $8 or $10 per 
pair, and, if turned out and shot, each bird 
killed costs the State $3, $4 or $5. To be sure 
not all the birds are shot at once, but sometimes 
are cared for over a season or two in the hope 
that they will multiply. In some cases it is re¬ 
ported that they are shot almost immediately; in 
still others, the birds are received in poor con¬ 
dition after a long voyage, are turned out weak 
and little able to care for themselves among 
strange surroundings, and soon disappear, fall¬ 
ing a prey to wild animals, to hawks or to the 
elements. 
I recently talked with a man who has had 
much to do with receiving and putting out these 
birds, and from him received considerable en¬ 
lightenment as to the way in which they reach 
this country. 
It appears that the birds come in large crates 
five or six feet square, but very low—less than 
a foot high. These crates are slatted at the 
sides, have solid board floors and are covered 
with ordinary bagging or gunny sacking. Each 
crate holds eighteen or twenty birds, and each 
is commonly divided into six compartments, so 
that there are only three or four birds in each 
compartment. Around the outside of the crate 
runs a little trough for food and water. These 
crates are packed for shipment one on top of 
another, perhaps five in all, and are then inclosed 
in an outside crate which holds them firmly at 
the corners. Each of these large collective crates 
then is likely to hold from ninety to one hundred 
birds. In placing one of the small crates on top 
of another, it is evident that the floor of the 
top one would be immediately against the bag¬ 
ging cover of the one below, and that birds dash¬ 
ing themselves against this sacking cover would 
practically be dashing themselves against the 
boards of the crate above. To provide against 
this probability of injury, the packers place over 
each compartment of each inferior crate a little 
whisp of straw, rolled or tied up, so as to keep 
the sacking away from the solid boards above it. 
These birds, thus crated, are often five or six 
weeks on their journey. Confined in this small 
space, they become very foul; they jump about 
in their small quarters, and when frightened 
throw themselves against the roof of bagging. 
Frequently this roof of bagging is worn through 
by this action, and as this wearing takes place, 
gradually long threads of the sacking begin to 
hang down into the birds’ quarters. These 
strings or threads often get wound about their 
legs, heads and wings, sometimes killing the 
