t Willow Grouse in Newfoundland. 
St. Johns, N. F., May 5 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: Years ago willow grouse or partridge 
were very numerous in Newfoundland. A 
decade ago they were plentiful enough on the 
local grounds, and sold readily in St. Johns for 
forty or fifty cents a brace. 
In some of the outposts, they were so numer¬ 
ous, that they were sold for a nominal price. 
A business man in Placentia informed the 
writer, that on one occasion lie bought a whole 
barrel full of partridge for twenty cents per 
brace, paid in powder and shot. On the 
Placentia and St. Mary's grounds they bred in 
large numbers. Their decrease there was coin¬ 
cident with the arrival of hunters from other 
parts of the island, who killed large numbers 
and sent them to St. Johns grocers for sale. 
Those hunters not only had all the sport they 
wanted, but also paid their expenses with the 
result of the shoot. Many other causes are as¬ 
signed for the present scarcity of birds, each 
sportsman advancing a different reason. 
In conversation with one of our leading 
sportsmen, whose modesty is only equalled by 
his marksmanship, I gleaned the following par¬ 
ticulars, which will be of interest to readers of 
Forest and Stream, who are interested in the 
scarcity of partridge in various parts of America; 
For the past few years our grouse (the willow 
grouse), locally known as the “partridge,” has 
been decreasing in numbers. Bags became 
smaller and smaller; one ground failed after 
another, till to-day the scarcity of the birds is 
universally recognized. Many causes are as¬ 
signed and many theories are advanced; wet 
and cold weather in the early part of the year, 
which is said to kill the young birds, and to 
prevent the hatching of the insects upon which 
the young are supposed to depend largely for 
their spring food supply; over-shooting and 
illicit out-of-the-season shooting; disease; the 
increase in the number of crows, which have 
the reputation of robbing the nests and killing 
the young birds; all no doubt with more or less 
truth. But the fact remains that no one knows 
what the cause is. This much, at least, is known 
that on practically all shooting grounds the 
birds are so scarce that there is no shooting 
worth while, and in places where the grouse 
swarmed before there is not a bird to be seen. 
Disease is, of course, what one would consider 
the most likely trouble, but it is curious that 
no dead birds have been found, at least as far 
as I can hear—and while the other reasons are 
more or less sound as regards certain localities, 
they do not explain the scarcity in others. I 
have been told that in one place where grouse 
abounded a few years ago and where now you 
will not see one in a three or four days’ journey, 
the birds disappeared since the rabbits came. 
There is a good deal of talk, more or less vague, 
of large movements of birds from one part of 
the country to another, but this appears to be 
chiefly conjecture, based on one or two known 
instances of such movements in small areas. 
Legislation has been adopted from time to 
time: a year’s close season; postponing the 
opening of the season until Oct. I, from Sept. 
15, shortening the season at the other end, etc., 
but apparently without avail, though no doubt 
it will prove of value eventually in the more 
peopled districts, where over-shooting would be 
a factor. 
It looks as if some wide-reaching natural 
cause was at work, perhaps several causes. 
Altogether the problem is a most interesting, 
as well as a most pressing one; and we should 
be extremely glad if any of your readers could 
throw any light upon it. 
Rabbits also have been very scarce during 
the past year or so, but it is pretty generally 
understood that these are ravaged by disease 
periodically, and there seems little doubt that 
one of these periodical decimations has taken 
place. W. J. Carroll. 
An Afternoon’s Ride. 
New York, May 1 6 .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: On Tuesday last I arrived at the little 
Connecticut village in which our old farm is 
situated, and about four in the afternoon, hav¬ 
ing changed traveling clothes for boots and 
breeches, started out on my gray polo pony for 
a ride in the meadow. 
The day was warm in spite of a strong wind 
from the southwest, and after an hour’s brisk 
trot and gallop I gave the pony his head and 
let him walk. The surroundings were similar to 
many of the lush mountain meadows of the 
northern Rockies, rolling prairie land inter¬ 
spersed with scattered trees, and not a house 
or fence for nearly five miles, for all this land 
is flooded in the spring and autumn. 
Slowly we ascended a rise overlooking a pond 
now filled with water, but where in summer the 
mower will drive his machine. I was dream¬ 
ing of other rides like this in Wyoming, Idaho 
and Montana, and under the influence of the 
scene could almost imagine that I heard the 
shuffle of the pack train behind me, and that a 
backward look would disclose the broad hat 
crowning the six foot five of old Ed, my guide 
and companion of many a long trail. 
Suddenly the wiry little horse stopped, his 
ears thrown forward, and at the same instant 
my right hand was clutching at space where 
the butt of the rifle should have thrust itself out 
from the scabbard, for there within thirty yards 
stood a whitetail deer. 
The involuntary grab for the rifle and failure 
to grasp it brought me back to the present again, 
and slipping quietly off the pony I crouched by 
his side and started him walking quartering to¬ 
ward the deer, a well grown doe. As the wind 
was in my favor and the ground soft* she did 
not become aware of our presence until I ap¬ 
proached to within twenty paces, when she heard 
us and turned to look. At first she seemed more 
curious than alarmed, but on my drawing closer 
she gave two or three great leaps into the air, 
then trotted off a little way and stopped again. 
Mounting the pony again, I loped after her, 
whereupon she started off in earnest for a bit 
of woods a half mile away, and thinking she 
might have a fawn hidden there I halted the 
pony and watched her until she became but a 
blur of yellow in the bright May sunshine. 
This, my first encounter with a native deer in 
Connecticut, being over, I rode on past many a 
pool and through some of them, for the freshet had 
only subsided the week before and every depres¬ 
sion was filled with water. Bobolinks I saw in 
hundreds, white larks, bluebirds, redwing and 
long-tailed blackbirds were more numerous than 
I have seen them for years. Once I surprised 
a fat old woodchuck and cut him off from his 
nearest burrow. I was tempted to shoot him, 
for I had my revolver, and the woodchuck holes 
are a danger and a nuisance to the horseman, 
but he looked such a jovial old party as I circled 
about him that I let the rascal go. 
Shooting from horseback, by the way, with 
revolver, shotgun or rifle, is rather a favorite 
pastime with me, and many a crow, a few snakes 
and sometimes a duck have I secured since 1 
taught the pony to stand fire, and at first the 
teaching process was highly exciting. 
The shadows were very long and my ride 
almost over when, happening to glance up, I 
saw a bunch of five woodducks passing over my 
head and watched them settle down close to the 
river bank. Rather late to see a flock, for I 
should suppose they would be paired off. 
Crossing a rude bridge I rode out of this bit 
of the wild that is still with us and in a few 
minutes was on the highway trotting home to 
fresh shad and asparagus. 
Joseph E. Bulkley. 
Successful Wolf Catching. 
Hynes, Iowa, May 18. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: Inclosed please find clippings from 
last week’s issue of Monroe County News, pub 
lished at Albia, Iowa: 
"Tyrone, Iowa, May 10.—Saturday afternoon, 
after a day’s hunt for wolves north of this place 
and about a mile west of Stacyville, in the brush- 
clad hills, J. F. Moffat and J. H. Pitts were re¬ 
warded by finding a den of gray timber wolf 
cubs consisting of two males and four females. 
The animals are about one-third grown. This 
makes the second catch for Mr. Moffat, who 
took in six cubs and the old female wolf last 
week in the brakes south of here along Morman 
branch, where he also bagged a den of five 
foxes. He is fast gaining a name as a nimrod. 
They do not intend to £*?ply for the bounty 
offered by the county for the scalps of this catch 
as they can realize more for them for zoological 
specimens. 
“John Moffat brought in some more wolves 
Saturday which he had caught on his farm two 
miles south of Tyrone. There were six little 
ones in the litter and he sold them on the street, 
getting three dollars a piece for them, which 
brought him more than the bounty for them. 
They were about a month old.” 
Clyde Haddon. 
' 
