12 
FOREST AND STREAM 
movement. Game 
pockets in the coat of 
course. Keep game at 
back as much as pos¬ 
sible. It hinders less. 
Trousers. Heavy can¬ 
vas with reinforcement 
at front of thighs ex¬ 
tending down below 
knees. You must at 
times wade through 
briers. Two thicknesses 
of canvas make good 
protection. Keep them 
on and up by means of 
heavy suspenders. A 
belt for holding up 
trousers is uncomfort¬ 
able. Leggings. Heavi¬ 
est, stiffest canvas knee 
leggings you can get. 
Light, flimsy, wrinkly 
leggings are a “cussed” nuisance. You will 
appreciate this if you have a pair and they 
begin to settle down and crumple about 
your ankles. A crack on the shin will win 
a vote for the heavy canvas. 
Footwear. Ordinary shoes. By this, I 
mean if you have an old pair of comfort¬ 
able shoes, not heavy as lead or uppers 
full of holes for twigs or chestnut burrs 
to get in and put you out, they are just 
the things. Either have the shoes tapped 
with rubber soles (never rubber heels—I 
tried that out and the edges of the rubber 
heels were quickly torn away by stubs 
and rocks and my ankles were rolling in 
all directions) or put on a pair of thick 
soled storm rubbers. You must at times 
crawl up or down ledges, over walls, etc. 
You must feel —be sure of not slipping. 
If rubbers cause your feet to unduly per¬ 
spire, then by all means use rubber taps 
on the shoes. There is one advantage in 
using storm rubbers. Your leggings come 
down and just cover the tops of the rubbers 
so you can wallow through quite a mud 
hole and not get your feet wet. Lace your 
leggings tightly at the knees and ankles 
to keep out sticks. Don’t use buckled leg¬ 
gings as they seem to have a well developed 
apparent perversity, and will reach out for 
a branch or bull-brier just to fetch you up 
with a yank, when you don’t want to be 
yanked. 
Carrying ammunition. Carry your shells 
in a leather belt fitted with a shoulder strap. 
Shell vests, shell bags, coat pockets are all 
good but not as good as the belt. Get a 
belt that you can crawl through—by this 
I mean get one large enough to go around 
you and hang slack. Attach belt having 
buckle at right side of waist above the hip. 
Let the left side sag down outside the left 
hip. Tighten shoulder strap so as to take 
most of the strain. This is a good ar¬ 
rangement. You won’t lose your shells 
when you crawl through a wire fence or 
when you take a drink out of the brook. 
If you carry a variety of loads, 
they won’t get mixed. Let’s 
see, we’ve got our clothes on 
now, haven’t we? Next, our 
gun and shells. I am using at 
the present time, a 16 gauge 
double, 26-inch barrels, right 
cylinder, left modified, six and 
one-quarter pounds. For loads 
I carry 2]/ 2 drams bulk smokeless, 1 ounce 
No. 8 shot (chilled if I can get it). Later 
in the season I substitute 7)4 shot for some 
of the 8s. That is a trap-shooter’s habit. 
When I get sufficient money stored up, 
I am going to get a 614 lb. 12 gauge double 
with 25 inch barrels, right cylinder, left 
modified. I will us 2)4 drams 1 ounce to 
1 Va 8s. I’m not what you might term in 
want of a 12 gauge gun as I have two at 
present, but we are of no use on this earth 
when we arrive at the point where we have 
no further desires. 
Now, let us get into the woods, or better, 
go over my last Saturday’s hunt with me. 
My hunt was for the afternoon only and 
when I arrived home for dinner, I dis¬ 
covered a real calamity. It was roast 
■ chicken, potatoes, turnips, celery, gravy, 
squash pie. Of course it was a calamity. 
Think of attempting to enjoy such a feast 
when your mind is made up to go hunting 
—when your thoughts are upon Plain Hill 
where the throbbing of a distant drumming 
grouse drifts faintly to your ears. Of 
course you couldn’t enjoy it. Neither could I. 
I soon was rigged out and on my way. 
Generally I am a very careful, considerate 
driver, but it’s not when I’m going hunting. 
Then I hit only the high spots, and where 
but a moment before, you could have seen 
my striking figure huddled behind the 
wheel, nothing but a smell of burned gaso¬ 
line tinged with cylinder oil remains. That’s 
me going hunting. 
D OWN into the pasture I went, having 
left the car at a friend’s house. I 
slipped an old soft flexible gauntlet 
glove over my left hand. My right hand I 
keep bare. When working your way 
through thick brush, you use your left hand 
to open a way and to protect your face 
from scratches, that is why I wear the 
glove. A gauntlet glove is best as no briers 
or twigs get up your sleeve. At a time like 
this, you are compelled to hold your gun 
with one hand. Hold it by the grip just 
back of the trigger guard and in a ver¬ 
tical position, barrels pointed upward. If 
at any time you should stumble or fall, 
never, never let go of your gun. 
A clump of white birches surrounded by 
bay-berry bushes caught my eye and into 
them I went. Whirr! Out went a ruffed 
grouse not even giving me a glimpse of 
her. My ear told me the general direction 
that she had'gone in, so I made my way 
after her. Remember, when you start a 
bird, always follow that bird. There may 
be others but you don’t know for sure 
where they are. The one you have flushed 
you are pretty sure of starting again if you 
go after her, and you may start others. 
That whirring grouse did the business, 
for immediately I was keyed up to the 
point. With the fore-end of my gun rest¬ 
ing in the palm of my left hand, I grasped 
the grip with my right hand having my 
index finger on the for¬ 
ward trigger — “safe” 
off of course. In other 
words, ready to shoot 
almost instantly. Tak¬ 
ing the general course 
of the fleeing grouse, I 
zigzagged through the 
brush with eyes and 
ears wide open. I 
emerged into an old 
lane way, and if there 
is one thing that a 
grouse cannot resist, it 
is to fly along an open 
stretch such as an old 
roadway offers. I took 
the cue and stepped 
along right briskly. 
Don’t sneak up on a 
bird. I should have 
said don’t try to sneak 
up on a bird, for you are very likely 
not to make a success of it. As I walked 
along the lane I noticed a thick bunch of 
brush off to one side and a clear space lead¬ 
ing to it. “If I was that bird, I’d have 
cut through there and hid in that brush 
pile.” That is what I said to myself, so I 
just stepped in that direction to see. 
A rustle and a whistle in front and up 
in the air is a woodcock. “Bang!” goes 
the right, miss! “Bang!” goes the left, 
got him! Before I take a step, I break my 
gun and put in fresh shells. I have been 
caught that way—empty gun—too many 
times. With an empty gun you go to find 
your bird and you flush another one nearby 
and are unable to shoot. After reloading, 
I had just smoothed down the feathers on 
the “long bill” and packed him in my pocket 
when a second one flushed. I was ready 
and the first shot dropped him. Then I 
heard my ruffed grouse rise out ahead of 
me but still out of sight. 
I had gone not more than a hundred 
feet before another woodcock flushed but 
before I could get into action he had got 
behind a scrub oak and escaped. Only a 
few more steps and up jumps another 
which I bring down with my left after 
shooting holes in the air with the right. 
No more woodcock being in the vicinity, 
I took after my grouse. Walking down 
through the brush I entered a chestnut 
grove and after working through every 
likely spot, I missed a good chance at a 
woodcock and then flushed my grouse or 
one of its companions. I was plenty near 
enough for a good shot, but the bird rose 
from behind a large tree trunk and kept 
behind it till out of range. 
The sun was now getting down towards 
the western horizon and if I wanted a 
grouse, I’d have to get busy. On 'I went and 
over in one corner of a nearby pasture 
was a couple of old apple trees. Wild 
grape vines ran over the trees and made 
a good place for birds. I stepped in under 
the trees and two grouse went 
out of the tree tops back of 
me. Wheeling, I let one of 
them have the right barrel at 
about twenty yards and missed 
clean. I swung after him, 
pressing the rear trigger just 
as the barrel swept past the 
fleeing bird. It was a good 
shot. I had my bird. 
