Jan. 25 , 1908 .] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
’35 
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mg colors. We usually worked the run from the 
imber up, for nearly all the birds found there 
would fly that way. But this old fellow would 
go in any direction so that it was away from 
jjs, and he would take such long flights and make 
such curves that we had given up looking for 
aim after he had once started. 
While shooting one day in this vicinity in com¬ 
pany with the late Prof. Colburn, we struck the 
run at the upper end. As the wind was in the 
right direction, we wmrked it down toward the 
imber. We had gone but a short distance when 
old Mack came to a point some distance ahead 
af us, and I proposed to my companion that he 
make a detour and get in ahead of the bird, 
while I would w : ait the proper time and then go 
to the dog. In case the bird'should prove to be 
our old friend, we would stand a chance to take 
a rise out of him. 
My companion took his departure, and after 
waiting until I thought him in position, I started 
for the dog; but had not gone more than half 
way to him wffien I heard the bird rise, and a 
few seconds later the report of my friend’s gun. 
Soon he signalled for the dog. I started toward 
him and motioned for Mack to go, and as he 
understood the signal he was off at speed. When 
I joined Mr. Colburn he explained that he had 
winged the bird, that it had run too fast for 
him, and.that Mack had gone on the trail. Just 
then he came back with the bird and upon ex¬ 
amination we found that both wings were shot 
off below the first joint from the body, and that 
otherwise the bird was unharmed. 
The only explanation of cause is that the 
grouse was but a short distance away, and that 
the charge had not gone far enough to spread; 
and as he had held a bit too high it caught both 
wings when they were extended up. 
I have often shot off a wing or head or leg, 
but never saw anything just like this. The bird 
was one of the largest I have ever seen, and 
proved to be our wild friend; at least, we have 
never since found one in that vicinity that has 
caused us to believe to the contrary. 
The Novice’s Grouse. 
Whenever I recall this it brings to mind an 
anecdote that Mr. Colburn related to me at that 
time. Two friends were out with him shooting, 
one of whom had not had much experience. As 
they were walking along a cart path in the woods 
Mr. Colburn saw a grouse standing in the path. 
Pointing out the bird to his inexperienced friend 
he bade him shoot it. 
This was the opportunity of his life. Stepping 
two or three paces in front he tightened his grasp 
on the gun, and bringing it to his shoulder he 
turned his head around toward his companions, 
and with beaming countenance exclaimed, “Boys, 
this is the first partridge that ever I shot, and 
when we get back to town it’s my-by George, 
oe’s gone!” It is perhaps needless to add that 
when they got back to town it was his-. 
The flight of the partridge when it gets fairly 
?oing as a rule is in a straight line, but we once 
Parted one that flew in a half circle of about ten 
"ods in diameter. My companion winged it the 
irst rise, but brought it down on the next 
rial, when we found that its right w r ing had at 
iome time been broken midway between the body 
md first joint, and that the ends of the broken 
none had slipped by each other an inch and one- 
naif, tlvs shortening her wing. The bones had 
grown firmly together in this position, enabling 
her to fly fairly well, but only in a circle. I have 
occasionally found W'ing-broken partridges, but 
with this exception all the fractures appeared to 
be of recent occurrence. 
The wing-broken partridge is often an adept 
in hiding from its pursuers. It will occasionally 
escape the most rigid search by crawling into a 
crevice among the rocks of any convenient hole, 
where it will remain for a long time, sometimes 
until the next morning. For I recall two instances 
where this was the case, as was proven beyond 
doubt when I lost a wounded bird in this man¬ 
ner. I made it a point to visit the locality within 
a few hours, or if it was late in the dav I 
was usually there early the next morning, and 
in most cases succeeded in finding the bird. 
Winged Birds. 
I had one experience with a winged bird that 
gave me quite a time and very nearly threw my 
little brother into fits. As the incident comes 
back to me I again hear his many shouts of 
laughter echoing through the woods. 
There was an abnormal streak of fun in the 
makeup of this boy that endeared him to every 
one who knew him, for there was always some¬ 
thing doing in his vicinity. I had winged a bird 
that fell near a large log. There was a hole in 
the log that for quite a distance I could see the 
bird, and standing my gun against the log I got 
down on all fours and reached into the hole for 
it, but it evaded my grasp by crawling further 
in. I then cut a stick four or five feet in length, 
leaving about four inches of a branch at the end 
for a hook. With full confidence in the result I 
resumed my recumbent position and pushed the 
stick into the hole, intending to pass the hook 
beyond her and yank her out. The grouse 
avoided the hook and the more I tried the 
further it crawled in until I could not reach her. 
I was about to go for a longer stick when 1 
heard a very lively ruction at the far end of the 
log. Before I realized what was up, the partridge 
hopped out of the hole like a cork out of a bottle, 
and notwithstanding that I put up my very best 
gait I missed her clean. It was then that the 
unexpected happened, for while I was flat on 
the ground and entirely helpless an evil-minded 
rabbit, following close behind the bird, came out 
of that hole and struck me squarely in the face; 
then turning a somersault he gathered himsel f 
together and with the most phenomenal speed 
took his departure for more congenial scenes. 
I was just a bit riled, and springing to my 
feet, I grabbed the gun and cut loose at the 
streak, but missed him with both barrels. Then 
I sat down on the log and gave my undivided 
attention to the vaudeville that boy was perform¬ 
ing, Soon my slightly ruffled plumage was in its 
normal condition. I even began to believe that 
we had had lots of fun, but his statement that 
the rabbit had done nothing more than could 
have been expected under the circumstances, and 
that the somersault—there were two of them 
when we arrived home—belonged to me led me 
to doubt as to the entire truthfulness of his ver¬ 
sion of the affair. 
[to be continued.1 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained from 
any neivsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supply you regularly. 
Game in the Imperial Valley. 
El Centro, Cal., Dec. 30. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: There are millions of ducks in, the 
Imperial Valley, and for good and sufficient rea¬ 
sons the State law forbidding night shooting is 
ignored by the settlers and by visiting hunters. 
Before the waters of the Colorado River were 
brought here to reclaim the land this region 
was the Desert of Colorado, and was so arid 
that waterfowl never came near it. Now there 
are hundreds of miles of irrigating canals, thou¬ 
sands of acres of irrigated land, and an inland 
sea, formed by the runaway Colorado two years 
ago, covering 400 square miles, known as Salton 
Sea. Salton Sea is full of fish, and at this sea¬ 
son multitudes of ducks, geese and swans swim 
upon its surface. At night the ducks leave the 
sea and come to the cultivated fields to feed. 
They come in such numbers that they are a 
serious menace to crops. They turn a forty- 
acre barley field bottom side up in a night, and 
it is not an uncommon thing for a farmer to be 
obliged to seed a field three times in order to 
get a crop started. Therefore, the farmers en 
courage night shooting, and officers of the law 
do not stop it. Conditions are similar to those 
which existed in the Sacramento Valley thirty 
years ago, when it cost the Glenn ranch $10,000 
a year to keep the ducks off the wheat fields. 
Night shooting does not result in large bags, 
but it keeps the ducks on the move and saves 
crops. Two or three men post themselves in 
a field, preferably on a night when there are 
light clouds to diffuse the moonshine and serve 
as a background for flying ducks. The shooter 
depends mainly on his ears to give him notice of 
the approach of birds. A swish of wings is 
heard, and in a moment a flock passes overhead 
like a fleeting shadow. It is difficult to judge 
distance, and if the shooter can see the shadowy 
forms at all he blazes away and usually gets 
nothing. The ducks circle the field, and the guns 
pop all along the line. So far as I have been 
able to judge it takes about twenty shells to 
bring one duck to the bag. I have stood in a 
field for two hours, heard the rush of wings and 
crackling sound made when the birds sharply 
change the direction of flight, and seen but one 
flock near enough to shoot at. A flight of mal¬ 
lards silhouetted against the moon, too high to 
be reached and going at a mile a minute clip, 
was a sight worth the waiting, however, and 
everyone saluted them as they swept along. 
The big bags are made in the early morning 
on fields where the ducks have been busy all 
night putting a rancher out of business. When 
they are put up they fly low in solid masses, 
thousands in a bunch, and the guns do execution. 
Sportsmen prefer the morning shoot, but the 
farmers do not think much of it. 
Below the Mexican line there are large areas 
of land overflowed by the annual rise of the 
Colorado, and many sloughs and shallow ponds 
remain throughout the year. That country is 
the ’ wnnter resort of countless multitudes of 
w'aterfowd, and there is nobody to trouble them. 
If one has influence enough to get a gun past 
the Mexican custom house at the border he 
may have all the sport he can digest ovet the 
border on the million acre ranch of the Califor- 
nia-Mexico Company. 
The valley is full of quail from the northern 
limit of cultivation clear to the Gulf of Cali- 
