April, 1918 
FOREST AND S T R E A M 
209 
on a dead run for the swamp. And a 
turkey for the first quarter-mile can go 
just about as fast as a fast horse, and 
do it through a tangle too. So I leave it 
to you, what use there was to follow. 
We made a fire, cooked our lunch, and 
sat down to wait for the turkeys to come 
to us. In fact, that is what we ought to 
have done before. Instead of trying to 
walk them up, we should have lain low 
and let them come in range. It was 
about as sane to try to stalk these turkeys 
as to stalk a red Indian with a brass 
band. 
At that, we waited till the sun warned 
us we had barely time to get back to 
camp, before dark shut down on us in that 
■wilderness of swamp and thicket. 
We were going through a nice ham¬ 
mock of palms and small brush when we 
came upon as fine a covey of quail as I 
ever saw in my life. Big ones, so big that 
I did not recognize them for a moment. 
They looked for all the world like rab¬ 
bits on their hind legs running with in¬ 
credible rapidity. But soon I realized that 
we needed supper and sent 
two shots after them, get¬ 
ting three with two shots 
—just one apiece. 
It was sundown when 
we reached camp. So we 
hastily got supper and 
went to bed, thoroughly 
tired after our tramp. 
Do you remember read¬ 
ing in the newspapers 
about the unprecedented 
frost in Florida this last 
season? Well, we can tell 
you about that frost. We 
lay down practically naked 
on our blankets, it was so 
warm, and with a bright 
fire of pine cones and tur¬ 
pentine roots, we smoked 
and contemplated while the 
dogs chased the hogs away 
from the camp food. Then 
we went to bed with heat 
lightning flashing far off to 
the northwest. 
You will recall that our 
camp was just a shed roof 
held up on stumps. There 
were no sides to it at all, 
and under this we lay to 
save the trouble of putting 
up the tent. It must have 
been about eleven o’clock 
when I fell sound asleep, 
and some time after I was 
aroused by a souse of cold 
water right on my face. 
Jumping up, I saw the 
whole world lit up by vivid 
flashes of lightning. The 
wind was snoring through 
the shed and the rain fall¬ 
ing in sheets. Before we 
had everything under cover 
we were deluged. And 
then came the frost. The wind whistled 
through that shed, and tore at our covers. 
Our guide, had not brought even a 
blanket, or an axe, just his clothes and 
his old gun, and it was freezing cold. 
We built up a fire, but it was like a single 
warm potato to warm the feet of three 
freezing men. I don’t recall a night in 
which I suffered more cold. I thought 
morning would never come. 
Next morning everything was frozen. 
Half an inch of ice on the,waterbucket 
and ice and frost everywhere. The ba¬ 
nana trees were laid flat. The budding 
foliage looked as it had been touched with 
fire, but when the sun had been up an 
hour everything was warm and bright 
again, just like our Indian Summer days. 
So we went after the turkeys again. 
This time we solemnly agreed to find 
their “using” ground, and then lie behind 
a blind and wait for them. Se we set 
forth with new hope. It was on a little 
patch of dry land on the edge of a swamp 
that we came on them—not turkeys, but 
our first real razorbacks. I saw Lem run 
along till he got the smell, and then strike 
off at a sharp angle with his flag flying 
and his heart set on solitude. That ought 
to have warned me, for Lem is a wise 
Florida Cracker dog. But the sight of 
that pair of hogs, a fine brindle boar and 
a smaller sow with four cunning little pigs 
the size of a cat, was so interesting that 
I drew near to get a closer view. Imag¬ 
ine the boar just bristling, his eyes snap¬ 
ping fire, his ivory tusks clashing, and his 
whole body instinct with such energy that 
it seemed as if electric sparks were snap¬ 
ping from the end of every bristle. Im¬ 
agine his mate, a little smaller, not so 
massive in the head and not so heavily 
tusked, standing side by side with him, 
grunting with short, barking grunts, and 
gleaming eyes. Imagine the four baby 
razorbacks beneath the sow’s belly, and 
you have the picture with its background 
of thicket and palmetto and swamp. I 
came up to them witji a slow uneasy 
dawning of an idea. I supposed of course 
they would run, like all the wild pigs so far 
had done. So when they made rushes 
forward I merely said “Shoo,” and walked 
on. Still I was uneasy. The space nar¬ 
rowed down to twenty feet and still there 
was no sign of a flush from the hogs. 
They not only stood but they came on, 
and they came on in such a businesslike 
fashion that the idea percolated suddenly 
—it was a case of fight or run. So I 
promptly ran—hard. In fact I was reel¬ 
ing off the ground in record style, just 
burning daylight, when I rounded a clump 
of bushes and saw the Veteran, Cumming, 
with a look of mild wonder on his face. 
No man likes to be seen in plain un¬ 
dignified flight so with a swift glance to 
the rear to be sure the hogs were not too 
close, I slowed up and put 
a question, 
“Say, Cummings, I was 
hurrying up to tell you 
there is a pretty sight back 
there.” 
“What is it?” 
“A pair of razor-backs 
with four young ones. 
Wouldn’t you like to see 
them ?” 
“Sure.” 
“Come on.” 
We went back by a dif¬ 
ferent route, to come at the 
hogs at the back of the 
thicket instead of in front. 
We could hear a confused 
trampling. At last 'I could 
see them again, and called 
the Veteran. But the in¬ 
stant I called, those razor- 
backs came on a dead run, 
breaking through the 
thicket and clashing their 
tucks in movie film style. 
I gave one eager look 
and then fled, and the Vet¬ 
eran got the idea just 
about the time I did. It 
was a close race but we 
won out by a few yards, 
and behind a safe deep 
ditch and thicket, stopped 
to discuss. 
“Oh, pshaw,” said the 
Veteran, “do you suppose 
they really would fight ?” 
I did suppose it. In fact I 
was sure enough to suit me 
that they would. But we 
went over the deep broad 
ditch, and back again, the 
razor-backs coming to meet 
us. I picked up a root and 
hit mother razor-back on 
the snout. The two of 
them came on right to the edge of the broad 
ditch and stood there challenging us and 
swearing in hog language fervent and 
real. We decided that the hogs were 
happier alone, and went away. 
Somebody remarked one day that hogs 
were being stolen, and the rangers were 
(continued on page 242) 
Turkey hunting in Florida is satisfactory sport 
