290 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 25, 19”- 
The dogs, pretty well tired out, went promptly 
to sleep, but were easily awakened to eat the 
crumbs that fell from our table. 
It was about the middle of the afternoon when 
we went into the woods, which were high and 
dry though interrupted now and then with little 
swamps, and which led directly back to the road 
opposite Harley Warner’s house. As we went 
along, Joe was on the extreme right of the line, 
I was in the middle, and my brother on the left. 
The woods were open and from my position I 
could see both my companions and usually their 
dogs. I happened to be looking toward my 
brother and saw him walking carelessly along, 
his gun over his arm, while Rex was but a little 
ahead of him. Presently the old dog trotted up 
a rocky knoll just ahead, and as he reached the 
top he instantly sat down, while from two or 
three yards in front of him a great cock par¬ 
tridge sprang up and flew off along the line we 
were taking. My brother being behind the knoll 
could not see the bird, but I saw it and was 
amused by the hungry look that old Rex cast 
after it. The bird flew far beyond my sight, and 
1 could only take the line that he was following. 
A little further on True made game, and as he 
followed up the bird’s trail I could see that it 
had been alarmed and was running. The dog 
followed it at a quick walk, pausing cautiously 
from time to time, and then without any warn¬ 
ing left the trail, ran off to the right and gal¬ 
loped away out of sight ahead of us. I had 
seen him perform this same act before and did 
not interfere with him, understanding very well 
what he was trying to do. He had left the 
trail and was starting off on another line in 
order to try to pass the bird and get ahead of 
it and stop its running. I followed along on the 
line that I had taken, keeping midway between 
my companions and looking out sharply ahead 
for the dog. 
Presently, without any warning, a partridge 
rose with a roar between Joe and myself and 
a little behind us both, and flying low went back, 
without being shot at, to the ground which we had 
just hunted over, and a moment later I heard 
my brother talking to his dog, which was evi¬ 
dently working on a trail, and presently the 
bird got up, and after apparently being caught 
two or three times in the bushes and falling 
back, escaped from this entanglement and also 
went off low, my brother shooting at it without 
effect. Here were three partridges that we had 
seen in this piece of woods and none of them 
brought to bag. 
A little later Joe called out to me to be on the 
lookout, for his old dog was following a trail. 
A moment after T saw the white dog stop and 
the puppy back him, and then came the roar of 
a partridge, a shot from Joe and the triumphant 
exclamation, “Got you that time, old fellow." I 
hoped that this had broken the luck. By this 
time I was carefully looking out either for Tiue 
or for the bird that he had stopped, and a few 
minutes later 1 could see the dog fifty yards 
away standing apparently on a point, his head 
directed toward me. I went forward slowly 
and carefully, but before I had gone half the 
distance, the grouse rose from the foot of a 
great red maple, twisted around the trunk and 
flew straight over to Joe. I shouted, Mark 
with all my lungs, and watched the bird, and in 
a few seconds saw him slant down to the ground 
and the sound of Joe’g shot reached my ears. 
Until he was full seventy-five yards away, this 
partridge had kept the tree trunk between him¬ 
self and me, and though I stepped to one side 
to get a view of him, the movement was in vain. 
Many men who have owned good ruffed grouse 
dogs have seen them perform the maneuver that 
True used on this occasion. It is done as a rule 
only by dogs that have had much experience, and 
that are earnestly and honestly hunting to the 
gun. Men who have traveled in the North and 
have seen the forest Indians of Hudson’s Bay 
and the Western Canadian Provinces hunt moose 
and sometimes grizzly bears in a tracking snow, 
know that the successful hunter of these ani¬ 
mals often acts on this same principle. The 
moose or bear makes it a rule, after he has 
finished feeding or traveling, to circle out from 
the line of advance that he has been following 
and to lie down somewhere in such a position 
that he can look over his back trail. Also he 
is likely to go to the leeward of this trail. Thus 
he is quite sure to see or to scent any enemy 
that may be following it. Understanding this 
habit, the Indian hunter does not follow the ani¬ 
mal’s trail, but makes a series of loops from it, 
returning to the trail from time to time to see 
whether or no he has passed beyond the rest¬ 
ing place of the game. As he travels he keeps 
himself as much concealed as possible and care¬ 
fully scans the snow-covered ground in the hope 
of seeing the game. As the trail becomes fiesher 
he goes more slowly and carefully, and in one 
of his loops is very likely to detect the animal 
which lies there, not looking for enemies any¬ 
where save on its trail, upon which its attention 
is concentrated. Now, a few of the best ruffed 
grouse dogs, having discovered that it is a com¬ 
mon habit of the grouse to run ahead of the dog 
until some point favorable for a hidden flight is 
reached, have devised the scheme of going out 
to one side, getting ahead of the bird and thus 
after a fashion surrounding it. A bird cut off 
in this way is very likely to crouch, and finally 
to be walked up by the following gunner. 
So far, Joe seemed to be getting all the shoot¬ 
ing, but a little later a partridge—perhaps the 
one that had given old Rex his surprise earlier 
in the day—rose near the edge of the covei, and 
though flying low under a wall, exposed him¬ 
self at one point, and was killed by my brother 
by a remarkably good shot. Presently also 
True suddenly stopped on the side of a little 
knoll on which grew a dozen hickory trees, 
whose yellow leaves strewed the ground, and 
almost as he paused, a great red woodcock 
whirled up into the air and was turned over 
just as he was about to steady himself in flight. 
It seemed a long way back to Warner’s and 
I think we were all feeling rather lazy, but 
there were three or four small covers to be 
worked out on the way where we might hope 
to pick up several woodcock and a partridge 01 
two. Joe hurried us along, and after a shoit 
walk we reached a low hillside of second growth 
timber, interspersed with many springy spots, 
and faithfully passing through this at last 
reached the road from which we could see the 
cheerful lights of the farmhouse shining out. 
We had done a good afternoon’s work, killing 
five woodcock and four partridges, and I know 
that one of the party was so weary he could 
hardly drag one leg after another, while the 
dogs followed at heel with lowered heads and 
drooping tail, all except True, who performed 
his usual and quite peculiar feat of running ahead 
a hundred yards and lying down in a ball where 
he remained until we had left him long behind 
when he started on again and passed us to take 
another prolonged rest. All the afternoon it 
had been drizzling and by this time a steady 
rain was falling. We were glad to get to the 
house, to dry our things and to sit down to the 
meal. After it was over, while my brother and 
I sleepily smoked our pipes, Joe went to the door 
to look out at the weather. As he stood there 
we could hear a dog barking in the distance and 
presently Joe asked Harley what dog that was. 
“That’s Nate Tomlinson’s dog,” was the 
reply. “He’s probably got a ’coon up a tree 
over there by the pasture. He is a great ’coon 
dog.” By this time my brother and I had gone 
to the door and were listening, and presently 
Joe said, “Come on, boys, let’s go and get that 
coon.” 
When he said this, the laziness which had en¬ 
veloped us as a garment fell away, and we were 
eager to start out on the ’coon hunt. In a few 
minutes we had put on our rubber boots, and 
Joe carrying his gun, and I a lantern, we started 
across the fields toward the balking dog. The 
rain had stopped and the air was cool, fresh and 
full of moisture. In the pasture lot the foot 
sunk into the soft soil, and I recall even now 
the pleasure of the walk over the lots, across 
the fences and up the hill. As we approached 
the dog his barking became more excited. The 
tree by which he stood was an oak of consider¬ 
able size standing in a field by itself, and with 
a number of branches starting from the trunk 
only twelve or fifteen feet above the ground. 
When the dog saw us near him he withdrew 
for a short distance, for he did not recognize 
us, but a little talk and coaxing brought him 
back. He made friends and then renewed his 
former occupation of looking up into the tiee. 
For some little time we walked about the- tree, 
holding up the lantern in the hope that we might 
“shine the eyes” of the ’coon, but as we could 
see nothing of him, I volunteered to climb the 
tree if someone would give me a back up. Once 
among the branches it was easy getting about, 
though the bark was soft and mushy with the wet. 
Carefully scrutinizing each branch I climbed 
higher and higher, until at last on one of them 
I detected a dark form, and calling Joe s atten¬ 
tion to the spot, he worked around for a little 
while, and at last got a reflection from the eyes 
of the ’coon and fired at it, when it fell to the 
ground to be worried and killed by the excited 
dog. 
Although Harley Warner had not been in¬ 
terested enough to go with us after the coon, 
he was in a high state of excitement when we 
brought the animal back to the house, and it 
was 10 o’clock or after—a late hour for that 
country—before we separated for bed, and the 
dreamless sleep that seized us as our heads 
touched the pillow. 
The next day we drove back to Joe s, and 
separating went our several ways. Late that 
night on my way to my city home I wondered, 
as I walked along the streets of New York 
carrying on my shoulder a gunny sack, which 
held forty-six birds and a ’coon, whether or no 
I should be taken for a returning burglar and 
be stopped by a policeman, and what that police¬ 
man would say when he investigated the con¬ 
tents of my sack. 
