2 I 8 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 8, 1908. 
he whirled around, and as the bird was passing 
within ten feet of his head he fired, and although 
he never touched a feather he scared the wits 
out of the grouse and it blundered into a dense 
low-growing apple tree and came to the ground. 
With a gladsome shout he exclaimed, “I’ve got 
him 1” and threw his gun more than twenty feet 
and made a dive for his victim, which he grab¬ 
bed, but before he had straightened up that “dead 
bird” came to life again, and worse than that it 
got away wijh the loss of a little plumage and 
came straight for me, flying within six feet of 
my legs. 
Now, it is my pride and boast that I am always 
keyed up and ready to shoot, but I am forced to 
confess that time I scored a lost opportunity, for 
I did not realize that a bird was in the air nor 
that I had anything like a gun in my hands. I 
was rolling on the ground almost in a fit until 
the thought came to me that I would surely 
burst a blood vessel, when I partly straightened 
up just as my companion broke cover with the 
most indescribable look upon his countenance 
that I ever beheld. As he glanced at m« and 
then at the three tail feathers—that he still 
grasped in his hands—I was again rolling on the 
ground. 
After quite a search the old gun was found 
standing straight up with the muzzle sticking 
in the soft ground. 
Lost Opportunities. 
I once scored a lost opportunity that afforded 
my two companions lots of fun, although I must 
confess that I did not more than half like it. 
There was a large rock just ahead of me that 
was ten or twelve feet square, nearly six feet 
in height, and flat on top. When we came to 
it I passed on one side and my companions 011 
the other. I had nearly reached the end, and 
as I crowded against the rock to avoid a scrub 
bush that was in my path, a partridge rose from 
the edge of the rock within a foot of my head, 
and with a roar brushed my hat with her wings. 
Although there was scarcely a tree or bush in 
the way I never saw her except the fleeting 
glimpses that I caught as she rose from the rock, 
for I turned in the wrong direction and I have 
no doubt that the peculiar circumstances of the 
case rattled me just a bit. My companions in¬ 
sisted that I had turned completely around at 
least four times, as was clearly demonstrated by 
the muzzle of my gun at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, describing just that number of erratic 
circles, for this was all the proof they had as 
they could not see me, the rock being between us. 
My companions appeared to enjoy this very 
much, and chaffed me unmercifully. Of course 
I joined in their mirth, although for the life of 
me I could not see much to laugh at. That 
evening, when I jotted down in my note book 
another lost opportunity,” I again firmly re¬ 
solved that this should be the only lost one. 
A few pages further on, however, I find there 
is mention of another lost opportunity, but a 
calm reconsideration of the matter assures me 
that this is a misnomer. 
I had flushed a partridge in front of the dog, 
and it had dodged behind a tree. As I side 
stepped to beat the move, a woodcock rose at 
my feet and flew between my arm and the gun. 
My companion very nearly had a fit; even the 
dog laughed at the performance and plainly 
showed that he enjoyed it. I still have a hazy 
recollection that I must have done something 
abnormal to have aroused both man and dog, 
but I cannot remember the particulars well 
enough to give an intelligent description of the 
affair. I feel, however, that instead of jotting 
down in my note book another “lost opportunity” 
I should simply have recorded a miss with both 
barrels. 
Conclusion. 
It was indeed a true sportsman who said, “It 
is not all of shooting to shoot,” for amid the 
thronging memories of bygone days, when sport 
galore was sure, it is often the case that the 
big bag secured is dwarfed almost to insignifi¬ 
cance by some unexpected occurrence that will 
ever remain a source of pleasure. Even the mis- 
ELM TREES IN WINTER. 
hap that caused pain and wounded my pride, 
when pain and chagrin have taken flight, is often 
remembered with something very near akin to 
pleasure. This at least is the case with me, for 
when in pursuit of the partridge I have always 
tried to round up the many haps and mishaps 
into a satisfactory and pleasing whole, and I am 
very pleased to say with almost perfect success. 
Any one who is a passably good shot can, 
with practice and perseverance, become fairly 
successful in the pursuit of the royal ruffed 
grouse, but to him who understands the whisper¬ 
ing of the lofty pines and can interpret what the 
ragged rocks are ever saying, whose soul is 
tuned in harmony with the melody of the laugh¬ 
ing waters and whose heart is filled with love 
for all that makes this beautiful world so bright, 
skill with the gun is of minor importance and 
trifling mishaps are as naught. 
S. T. Hammond. 
Deer Seeking Shelter. 
During recent storms several cases were re¬ 
ported of deer being seen in bams and among 
the cattle on farms. 
Gun Licenses. 
. Little Falls, N. Y., Jan. 25 .—Editor Forest 
and Stream: A bill has been introduced into 
the New York Legislature to tax hunters for 
taking guns or rifles into the woods. I believe 
the idea of a hunter’s license hopelessly bad and 
inadequate. Of course most sportsmen will not 
agree with me on this question, but I am willing 
to tell why I do not like the idea. 
The more the woods are hemmed in by laws, 
licenses, fences and watchers for law breakers, 
the less beautiful they become. Of coarse there 
must be laws to protect game, and there must 
be game wardens; but that is enough. Fences 
through the Adirondack wilderness are an out¬ 
rage, and licenses would be a nuisance well-nigh 
intolerable. Let us have only three days’ deer 
hunting, if deer cannot be kept from extermina¬ 
tion in any other way. Give Chief Protector 
Burnham a watcher on every township if need 
be to enforce the laws, but let every man and 
woman, boy and girl go into the woods with¬ 
out feeling like criminals in case they have guns 
on their shoulders, and do. not let us have a square 
yard of whereas and resolved, section so and 
chapter thus, plastered and pasted and signed 
and witnessed paper in a yellow envelope a foot 
long. I had a gun license once and I never find 
it among my papers without impolite remarks 
upon the people who invented them. 
When one has to pay a fine for the sake of 
going into, the woods, then the woods lose their 
charm. Neither the wildest nor the swiftest 
partridge can take away the feeling of the man 
who has paid for the right to shoot, that he is 
shooting barnyard cattle, or brooding hens. This 
is not the idea a man wants in the woods. No¬ 
body goes to the woods to kill mere broils and 
stews and potpics, He goes into the woods to 
get away from convention, red tape and society, 
lie wants to feel that he is coping with the wild¬ 
erness—with wild life. Shooting game by grace 
of a license is like catching trout at so much a 
pound in some private fish pond where the fish 
are fed every morning on ground liver. 
There is more than mere sentiment to be urged 
against the idea of charging hunters so much 
for a fall’s hunting. If this is done many a youth 
will not have a chance to learn to shoot. Prob¬ 
ably half the boys on the edge of the Adiron- 
dacks could not afford to pay the dollar odd 
necessary to get a license in this region. Boys 
learn to shoot when they are ten or twelve years 
old. They grow up with a knowledge of guns 
and nature which it is of the utmost value for 
the community to have them know. Every hun¬ 
ter becomes at heart a game preserver sooner or 
later. The fewer hunters, the fewer game pre¬ 
servers, the fewer people to love the wilderness. 
This is not far fetched. The only people of my 
acquaintance who care a snap of their fingers 
for the game, or know anything about the woods 
from the inside” are those who [earned to hunt 
when they were boys. When boys are stopped 
from hunting, as a license demand Avould stop 
them, then the Adirondacks lose half their 
friends of twenty or thirty years hence. It is 
hard enough now to give boys a chance to learn 
about the woods, to Study nature, to love the 
wilderness without placing expenses in their way. 
I am not inclined to favor the license method 
of adding $100,000 a year to the spending money 
of the Forest, Fish and Game Commission. It 
