FOREST AND STREAM. 
649 
HUNTING AT MOHAWK, FLA. 
A TROPHY OF THE RIFLE. 
is fun in itself, irrespective of the bag or the 
• catch, and I am mighty certain he will sing an 
entirely different song. 
My wife saw me come back from a trip to 
Jackson’s Hole with two fine elk, two fine 
antelope and a big bear. She “couldn't see 
what fun it was killing those beautiful animals'’; 
but since her awakening she realizes that the 
pleasure of that trip was being in the heart of 
the grand old Rockies; waking up in the 
middle of the night under those cold, hard 
stars with the wonderful moon turning night 
into a sort of dreamland day; riding stiff-legged 
bronchos down precipices on which a man could 
hardly keep his footing; trying to learn the 
mysteries of the diamond hitch; seeing with 
glasses how the antelope would “spot” 11s as 
soon as we were in their range of vision, no 
matter how far away they were; in short, the 
real pleasure consisted in simply living the life 
I have read about ever since I have been able 
to read; and getting game was entirely inci¬ 
dental. 
I have obtained some fine specimens, and if 
luck favors me, I hope to get a few more, such 
as a grizzly, a sheep and a goat, but since I 
have been old enough to understand, I have 
made it a point to reduce my killing to the 
lowest reasonable amount, photographing game 
wherever possible, and taking just enough for 
food, and the best specimens for my collection, • 
and I can truthfully say that the further I have 
followed that practice, the more real pleasure I 
have had from my outings. 
It is no particular pleasure to think of killing 
that wildcat in Florida in front of a hound, but 
when I think of Ben, the setter, at Mohawk, 
while going along at a fast trot, without a sec¬ 
ond's warning simply turning to stone, then I 
can really feel a thrill of pleasure. 
In the same way the memory of killing my 
forty-point caribou whose picture is in the Reid- 
Newfoundland guide book, affords me very 
little pleasure, but I do love to remember that 
quiet evening on a little lake in the Temagami 
district, when my wife and I saw two big. 
tawny wolves chase a cow moose fifty yards into 
the water, when they saw us and retreated, 
while the moose, evidently less afraid of us than 
of the wolves, hung around the shore tor half 
an hour. But if I get really started on animals, 
I may never stop, so I had better call a halt 
right here and tell the poor, patient reader, if 
any has lasted so long, what I am driving at. 
My theory is that the difference is not in the 
people themselves, but in the point of view they 
adopt in respect to outings. The man who goes 
to the woods to kill a deer will have anything 
but a good t ; me if he gets none, or if he has 
to work himself out every day for two weeks to 
get one. But the man who goes out for a 
couple of weeks in the open will enjoy himself, 
no matter what happens. He would not wear 
out his nerves worrying about not getting any 
game; neither will he hunt for fish where con¬ 
ditions are unfavorable. If he misses a shot, he 
would not spend a sleepless night, but the song 
of a thrush or the leap of that big fish will give 
him something to think over for many a long 
day. And I firmly believe that the reason 
outers have increased so tremendously in num¬ 
bers in the last few years is that the various 
sporting magazines have succeeded in changing 
their own point of view, and consequently the 
peoples’. 
Formerly the height of an outer’s ambition 
was to be photographed with five times as many 
fish as he should have caught. Now that same 
man would be ashamed to have his likeness 
taken under such circumstaqpes. 
It is not my desire to criticise any old-timer, 
but let the reader glance at any outdoor book 
published a dozen years ago and compare it 
with Dr. Van Dyke’s “Days Off.” I have be¬ 
fore me a book, considered good in its day, 
published in 1893, which is full of things like 
this: 
“Considering the number killed, ten dozen be¬ 
ing bagged in four hours, and the pleasure in¬ 
cident to their pursuit, etc. The sportsman con¬ 
cealed a few-yards away, fires one barrel as they 
sit on the water, and a second as they rise 
* * * as many as twenty or thirty birds are 
killed at one time.” 
The author even tells with evident pride how, 
when a boy “with a score of urchins he pursued 
with eager enthusiasm these capricious little 
creatures.” He is writing of gray squirrels. Fie 
goes on: 
“When not molested they frequent the same 
localities every year; the habit enabled us to 
locate the game whenever we sought a victim 
for our amusement. When we had discovered 
a squirrel, the tree in which it had sought safety 
was immediately surrounded, the best climber 
ascending as nearly as possible to the spot 
where the game had retreated; then with shouts 
and shaking of the limb, he compelled the 
squirrel to jump. On alighting, it was im¬ 
mediately besieged with a volley of missiles, 
sticks, stones and hats, with the hope of dis¬ 
abling it or to imprison it.” 
I wager this gentleman, for he is a gentleman 
and a sportsman, is sorry he ever did such a 
thing or wrote about it afterward. Could he be 
a boy again, he would doubtless be in the tree- 
top with a camera, risking life and limb to get 
a photograph of his chattering little friend. And 
the picture, framed and hung up in his den, or 
perhaps published in some magazine, would 
give him more pleasure than all his killings 
combined. * 
Formerly the people who enjoyed themselves 
at these outings were made up almost entirely 
of the rare class who care to pursue for the 
mere sake of killing. Of course such con- 
spicious exceptions as Burroughs and Thoreau 
need not be considered. To-day, as a result of 
the new point of view, the mildest man or 
woman has the most glorious time imaginable 
as soon as the last trace of civilization is out 
of sight. 
And in the name of all genuine outers, what¬ 
ever their particular hobby, I ask any of our 
disparagers to spend one week close to nature, 
with no other object than to see if there is not 
a wonderful opportunity for a new pleasure, 
knocking all unsuspected at their doors. 
The series of rodmaking articles printed in 
these columns recently will during the present 
month be published in book form by the Forest 
and Stream Publishing Company. This will be 
Vol. I. of Perry D. Fraser’s “The Angler’s 
Workshop,” and will deal zvith “Rodmaking for 
Beginners.” The book 'contains 180 pages and 
besides the zvorking drazvings, will be illustrated 
zvith several half-tone plates. Orders may be 
sent at any time, and the book will be sent post¬ 
paid for $1. 
