[May 23, 1908. 
814 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
that time were hi-u-quash, that they should be 
hunted later in the mating season, during the 
next full moon. 
The comparative dimness accompanying the 
snowstorm restricted the vision and made hunt- 
ing'very difficult, especially if the wind favored 
the quarry. Reluctantly we folded our tents 
and left to his fate the ram which I had wounded 
and pursued so long and industriously. At a 
lower altitude we found the snowfall lighter and 
the weather milder. On our way to the goat 
range, I secured with my bird rifle some speci¬ 
mens of ptarmigan, a most beautiful bird, also 
delicious to eat. I had good luck and fine 
sport on the ranges of the white goat and mule 
deer, especially the latter. I bagged a superb 
stag on a high bare mountain. His head is a 
fine one. 
Considered as a whole, my trip was quite 
successful. Experience demonstrated that I had 
gone through the right kind of training and 
my wind and seasoning were both quite up to 
expectation. A twelve-hour continuous tramp 
over rocks with an experienced mountain 
climber was not too much for me. Sleeping 
out in the open, without tent, agreed with me. 
Changes of the weather did not affect me, al¬ 
though I had left my coat at home. I en¬ 
countered plenty of snow, ice and rain, also 
beautiful fair days and frosty nights. 
One particularly trying day was when out 
hunting deer a cold rain began in the fore¬ 
noon and soon found its way through our 
shirts. On the return to camp we encountered 
a canon through which a big creek plunged. 
We had to wade a long distance up this with 
the cold water striking us above the belt, care¬ 
fully climbing over the rocks and frequently 
crossing from side to side. After having been 
thoroughly soaked for several hours, we arrived 
at camp and much to my disgust I found that 
the Indian had had all of my garments washed 
and hung out in the rain and I had nothing dry 
to put on except a shirt and pair of socks. 
Brent Altsheler. 
Taking Care of Game. 
Wymore. Neb., May n. —Editor Forest and 
Stream: There is one feature of the outing of 
the sportsman that is seldom touched upon in 
the literature of the field and stream, but which 
is becoming very important, and should have 
attention. This is getting the game home, 
where it can be made useful, and a source of 
delight to the hunter and his friends. This 
branch of the outing business is becoming more 
and more important, as the sportsman is yearly 
being compelled to go further and further from 
home to find the game. 
With a little care and labor, at the right time, 
game can be taken long distances and be in 
perfect condition when the hunter has arrived 
at home and sits down at his own table to a 
game dinner, with a few good old friends, who 
have been denied the pleasure of the outing, but 
who enjoy a double pleasure in eating the game, 
and hearing the doughty sportsman tell of his 
delightful experiences in the faraway fields, 
where he alone had the pleasure of finding and 
bringing the game to bag. 
The grouse and prairie chicken of the West¬ 
ern plains and sandhills, are generally killed in 
the fall months, and when the weather is warm, 
and to keep them and get then! home in fine 
condition is quite a task, and the result quite 
uncertain, unless the proper care and labor are 
bestowed at the right time. 
The first step is to pull your grouse as soon 
as you can get to it. If pulled as soon as shot 
and given a good shake, all of the blood will 
have left it; then as soon as you get to the 
house, hang it up by the head. If you throw 
your grouse into the wagon and depend upon 
drawing it at night when you get to the house 
or camp, the game has become thoroughly cool 
and will not bleed when drawn, and if the 
weather is hot, you need not try to take it 
home, it will not be good. Allowing the bird 
to cool with the entrails in it detracts very much 
from its quality when you come to eat it, no 
matter how soon afterward. This is especially 
true of the sandhill grouse, which get no grain 
to eat, but live upon the weed seed, and bugs, 
grasshoppers, etc., that they pick up. 
When ready to pack for the home trip, do 
your packing in the early morning. Wrap each 
grouse in newspaper, and pack not less than 
twenty-five grouse in a telescope or grip, which 
can be roped tightly. 
I have brought home fifty grouse from the 
sandhills, each year for the past six years, and 
kept some of them for a week after arriving at 
home and never lost a bird. The above state¬ 
ment needs a little qualification, as in 1906, the 
weather being exceedingly hot during the first 
week in October, I salted down twenty-five of 
my grouse and brought home only twenty-five 
with the feathers on. 
In October, 1906, after a delightful week spent 
at the ranch of Judge Stilson in Cherry county, 
Nebraska, in company with H. O. Wilbur, of 
Philadelphia, and T. J. Liles, of Aurora, Mo., 
who had joined me here at my home for this 
outing, we each had twenty-five grouse salted 
down in milk pails, and twenty-five with the 
feathers on, pulled and packed as above. 
On the morning we were to start home we 
packed our grouse in three telescopes, twenty- 
five birds in each, wrapping each grouse in 
newspaper, and strapping the packages very 
tightly. Then we started upon our forty-mile 
drive to the railroad, where we arrived at about 
seven o’clock in the evening, and took our train 
for home. I arrived at home Wednesday at 
noon; Mr. Liles arrived at his home on Thurs¬ 
day at noon, and Mr. Wilbur arrived in Phila¬ 
delphia, two thousand miles from where his 
game was killed, on Friday afternoon at three 
o’clock, and, as he wrote me, found his game 
“cool and sweet as a nut”; in fact, we all got 
our grouse home in fine condition, and did not 
lose a bird. 
When I had gotten my grouse home I invited 
in a couple of old friends, who hunted with me 
thirty years ago, but whose hunting days are 
past, and we had a grouse dinner, and for the 
second time I was enjoying my outing and 
listening to stories that I had heard them tell 
many times before, of the good old days when 
game was plentiful, and could be killed at one’s 
own door, and of one goose hunt in particular 
which is never forgotten where one of my 
friends, back on the Wabash, in Indiana, killed 
sixteen large Canada geese, that would weigh 
twenty pounds apiece, and could have killed a 
hundred, but was satisfied. 
A. D. McCandless. 
A Rabbit Hunt in Virginia. 
Norfolk, Va., May 2.— Editor Forest at 
Stream: Plave any of you ever hunted tl 
rabbit in old Virginia? If not, my friends, y( 
have missed something. It was my pleasure c 
I might say, privilege, to have been the guest 
a party of sportsmen on such an occasio 
While reading before the open fire-place 
the residence of mine host at Norfolk 01 
December day, I was called to the telephon 
and over the wire a friend of my host introduci 
himself, “Are you D. M.? I’m John Etheridg 
I’m told you’re fond of hunting. Would y< 
care to go with us—a party of five, to-morrow 
rabbit hunting? The ground is quite wet, b 
we will have a day’s outing.” 
“Yes,” I said, “I would be delighted.” Ai 
after a few commonplace remarks, regardii 
size of shot, etc., I was told to be on hand 
South Norfolk early the following day. 
Before daylight the next morning I was ast 
and after breakfast with horse and buggy pr 
ceeded to the place agreed upon. I had wait< 
but a few moments, when a top wagon, or carr 
all, containing two men, wearing the unmista 
able garb of sportsmen, drew rein alongsid 
and Mr. Etheridge, after making himself know 
introduced me to his companion, Capt. Hancoc 
In the rear of their conveyance was a be 
which contained a mass of moving anima 
which, I discovered, were beagles. I could n 
count them, but Mr. E. “reckoned he had nil 
there,” and they were the sleekest, smoothes 
best-behaved little brutes I ever saw; but tl 
box interested me further, for it played a ve 
important part in the doings of the day. Of 
more later. Mr. E. told me to wait for a c 
that would arrive in a few minutes and meet 
Mr. Banks, who would ride with me. He ai 
the Captain would go on, as they had the loa 
I soon had the pleasure of meeting Chari 
Banks, and we lost no time in following tl 
others over the worst road I have ever drive 
Good company makes an easy road, and v 
thoroughly enjoyed the ride toward Prince 
Anne. After going some distance and heard 
a voice behind, Mr. Banks turned, and sai 
“Here comes Downes and Tatum. He’s got 
roadster.” Sure enough he had, for he passi 
us as if we were anchored. With a “Hell 
Charlie! see you later,” he soon disappeared 
a turn in the road. 
In about an hour we met in the edge of 
pine forest, where we quickly tethered 01 
horses. In the meantime I was introduced 1 
he of the roadster, and his companion, M 
Tatum. A trap door was opened in the top 
the dog box, and therefrom were lifted tl 
nine little dogs, each being called by name ar 
caressed by Mr. E. before being set free. W 
were ready for the fray; the dogs immediate 
got busy, and in a very few minutes they hi 
jumped a cottontail and were away in full cry- 
delightful music to the sportsman’s ear. Insi< 
of ten minutes a report was heard and M 
Downes had scored the first prize. I ran 1 
where the rabbit had been shot to see the do; 
come up. They were certainly a pack. All : 
a string they came, looking like one elongate 
dog, nose to tail and howling like a lot of lift 
demons. Mr. D. lifted the rabbit from tl 
ground and on its discovery by the pack, the 
hovered about him like buzzards. 
