896 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June io, 1911. 
Camp in the High Mountains. 
Las Animas, Colo., May 28. —Editor Forest 
and Stream: I have sometimes been entertained 
by reading lists of the camp equipage considered 
necessary to reduce packs to a minimum by per¬ 
sons going out for an outing of from one day 
to two weeks. I do not wish to be considered 
a critic of these lists, for I know little" of the 
conditions in the East, never having lived east 
of the Missouri River, but I am surprised in¬ 
variably by the lightness of their bed. 
In the West, whether the camper be young or 
old, the main thing is the bed. A number of 
old timers in Colorado living on the plains west 
of the Rockies—many of us in sight of them— 
feel obliged each season to have a few days or 
weeks in the “hills.” Our beds and guns we 
take from home. If the guns are “take downs,” 
they are rolled up in the beds; if not, they are 
carried in the car we ride in. Our destina¬ 
tion is usually a point on or near the Continental 
Divide, and our supply point for grub is either 
at Pueblo, Colorado Springs or Denver where 
we enter the mountains. We generally expect 
to make a stay of several weeks and supply 
ourselves at these places with fifty pounds of 
flour, a sack of salt, baking powder, coffee and 
bacon. This stuff we ship by express to our 
destination. A frying-pan is in our bedding; our 
bedding is checked as baggage. When we reach 
our station on the divide—which is a water tank 
and telegraph office—we take our pack on out¬ 
back and within a mile or so find our camp. 
Our bed consists of plenty of quilts, rolled up 
in a bed canvas or wagon sheet. This canvas 
stretched over the bed rope, which is tied at 
either end to a tree, serves as a shelter tent in 
a storm. The old-time blanket has been dis¬ 
carded for cheap quilts, which are much softer 
to lie on and warmer. This bed is the heaviest 
part of our outfit. It is not considered complete 
without a hemlock or pine branch mattress. At 
the station, where we disembark, an old tin can 
is picked up for a coffee pot, and our col'apsing 
cup is carried in our pocket, as we have been 
educated to beware of the “lunger.” 
Our bread is mixed in the flour sack, thus 
doing away with a bread pan. With the trout 
we catch and the game we kill we manage to 
eke out an existence until time forces us to bid 
farewell to the invigorating forces of mountain 
and valley that have inspired us, and that will 
be in our thoughts for many a day. 
F. T. Webber. 
A Brood of Partridges. 
New York City, June 5 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: On Saturday, June 3, I had an experi¬ 
ence quite worth relating. About mid-day with 
a companion and followed by a dog, I was pass¬ 
ing through a piece of woods. As I stepped 
over a little rise of ground my eye caught, about 
twelve feet before me on the dry leaves with 
which the ground was carpeted, a dark object 
that for an instant I did not recognize. As I 
came in sight this object rose from the ground 
and ran round in front of my companion and 
myself, holding its body close to the ground and 
with its wings quivering. It was a ruffed grouse. 
Before I could seize the dog, it had rushed 
toward the bird which swiftly ran away, and 
from the place where she had been sitting, hover¬ 
ing her young, fifteen or twenty tiny ruffed 
grouse chicks streamed out in all directions. A 
dozen of them ran over the naked dead leaves 
for fifteen or twenty feet to a patch of ferns 
in which they disappeared. One ran to me and 
disappeared, apparently between my feet. It was 
impossible to watch all the birds and we were 
too excited to select one and keep our eyes on it. 
Presently the dog, at which I had been shout¬ 
ing, came back and I got hold of it. My com¬ 
panion tiptoed very carefully toward the ferns, 
and pushing them apart with a long stick, tried 
to see some of the chicks, but the fear of step¬ 
ping on them put an end to this, and we pre¬ 
pared to move off and let the family get to¬ 
gether again. My companion took the dog by 
the collar and dragged it toward the brook, but 
before she had made more than two or three 
steps, a little chick in front of her rose to its 
feet, and running a foot or two, crept under a 
dry leaf which completely hid it, but I could see 
that it kept pushing with its feet as if to get 
further under the leaves. We took this little 
bird in our hands, where it sat quiet, looking at 
us unwinkingly. The little wing quills were 
three-quarters of an inch or more long, and 
were brownish mottled with pale gray, and the 
down on the back was rich chestnut, smooth and 
polished like the coat of a well groomed horse. 
Anxious to get away from the place for fear 
of doing some harm, we put the little chick on 
the ground, crossed the brook, and on the knoll 
just beyond it stopped to look back. As we did 
so we could see the mother grouse hurrying to¬ 
ward where her young ones were, her crest 
erected and the black tufts on the side of the 
neck standing out. As she hurried along, she 
uttered a clucking sound, and seemed wholly to 
disregard her human neighbors, who were only 
twenty-five or thirty steps from her. When she 
reached the edge of the patch of ferns she hopped 
up on a large chestnut stump, and stood there 
beneath a cluster of sprouts that had started 
from it, clucking constantly. Interesting as it 
was to watch her, and as it would have been 
to have seen the family gather together again 
and walk away, it seemed better to leave them 
to their own devices and to remove all cause 
for care and anxiety, so we went away. 
In my time T have seen many broods of par¬ 
tridges and have often seen the chicks for a 
moment and then had them vanish from sight, 
but I never before saw a dozen or twenty chicks 
running around over the dead leaves, each one 
apparently anxious to reach cover and more or 
less careless as to whether or no it was observed. 
With some care and patience at least half a 
dozen of these birds could have been captured, 
but of course there would have been great dan¬ 
ger of killing some of them. G. B. G. 
Bears Troublesome. 
Raleigh, N. C., June 3.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Jones county farmers are making a 
regular campaign against the bears, which are 
giving hog raisers no end of trouble. A year 
ago some of the farmers bought a couple of 
bear dogs, from which they have raised a pack. 
Almost daily hunts have been conducted, and 
the nine hounds have never failed to get a bear. 
Last week there was a hunt on Mill Creek, in 
which two score men participated, and these were 
delighted to see the skillful way in which the 
dogs handled the bear, the latter, true to his 
fighting style, sitting upon his haunches and fight¬ 
ing. Henry Oliver finished the bear with a bul¬ 
let. The leading bear hunters are V. A. and W. 
H. Bender, who are the owners of the pack. In 
that section there are many small swamps, with 
a thick growth of bay and other trees, in which 
bears and deer take refuge. It is a capital hunt¬ 
ing ground for Northern sportsmen in the win¬ 
ter. Fred A. Olds. 
Young Wild Ducks on the Bronx River 
New York City, June 3.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Walking by the Bronx River the other 
day I was interested to see several flocks of 
young wild ducks. Some of them were pretty 
well grown, but others did not appear to have 
been long out of the shell. They were all, of 
course, accompanied by their mothers, and it 
was amusing and interesting in the extreme to 
watch their antics. Hither and thither they 
darted with the utmost eagerness as if they 
could not get too much out of their brief sea¬ 
son of youth. Once a fluffy little fellow being 
too reckless in his mad pursuit of pleasure got 
separated a considerable distance from the 
flock. Then realizing his situation and ap¬ 
parently panic stricken, he set up a piteous 
“peeping.” The attentive mother heard him and 
gave a reassuring quack or two. The little 
fellow was quick to understand and immediately 
began to paddle full speed in the direction of 
the flock. 
While the youngsters thus disported them¬ 
selves the grave mothers continued to give ob¬ 
ject lessons in food-getting, filtering the water 
through their bills, or tipping up to reach the 
bottom. The more developed of their progeny 
appeared to be apt pupils, but in attempting 
the tipping up feat often came to grief in a way 
that was really laughable. 
It is evident that those young ducks are 
hatched along the river, though I have never 
found a nest. But, indeed, I have never made 
any particular attempt to find one, and the gray 
plumage of the mother duck harmonizes so well 
with the bank of the river in early spring that 
one might look on her without seeing her, so 
to speak. 
Another interesting sight that I witnessed 
during my walk was the battle of three drakes 
for a female. It occurred on the little mere 
above the old stone bridge. At first one drake 
was alone with the female on the mere. Sud¬ 
denly two other drakes swooped down from 
above. The issue was joined at once, the drake 
in possession attacking the newcomers with 
the utmost fury. While the battle was raging 
the female, as if to afford her mate a better 
chance, took wing. The three combatants 
ceased their fight and rose after her. For a 
while they circled over the mere, each drake 
trying his best to get alongside of the duck. 
At length the latter plunged down again upon 
the water and dived. The three drakes dived 
after her. When they reappeared one had pos¬ 
session of the duck, and as well as I could 
judge, it was her original companion. The 
other two went for him again, but it was no 
use; he beat them off valiantly and finally swam 
away in peaceful possession of his mistress. 
Frank Moonan. 
