Dick first looked at them and then at 
me the thought struck me to knock one 
down to see what effect it would have. 
As one flew quite near the shore I 
killed it dead, and with a bound Dick 
entered the water and made quite a 
fuss trying to swim, striking the 
water with his paws, being much ex¬ 
cited. When he reached the coot he 
tried to take it in his mouth, but it 
swerved away at the contact of his 
nose. But soon getting down to busi¬ 
ness, he succeeded in seizing a leg of 
the coot and swam ashore, bringing the 
bird to me. If ever a dog expressed 
exultation and gratification he certain¬ 
ly did, and I was not slow in praising 
and congratulating him. When the 
ducks began to fly and several were 
stopped over the decoys, Dick began to 
feel at home with them, and retrieved 
them in good shape and almost as well 
as the other dogs could have done. He 
also got down to the proper way of 
swimming, and from that single lesson, 
self taught, he was soon regarded as 
the best duck dog on the lake. I took 
him home with me and for several 
years he was my faithful ally by lake 
and marsh. Like my old black setter 
Boss he never required a lesson in the 
field. I have sometimes wondered if 
the black color had anything to do 
with it. 
SQUIRE 
“gQUIRE” was a thoroughbred Irish 
water spaniel, a handsome dog 1 , 
with a dark brown, long and curly coat' 
and long, pendulous ears. My home 
being on the bank of a lake, he was 
nearly always in the water. He was 
a fisherman, turned over flat stones for 
crawfish which he caught and placed 
on the pier for whoever might need 
them for bait. One day he caught a 
six- or eight-pound pike in a weedy 
cove back of the stable which he car¬ 
ried to the kitchen. He was fond of 
children, but had an antipathy for some 
bronze turkeys, and killed two turkey 
hens with their broods and took them 
to the cook, but he was afraid of the 
big gobbler. 
The gobbler was missing for a week 
and it was supposed that Squire had 
killed him; but we discovered him one 
day under the back steps of the stable, 
where he was sitting on the stolen nest 
of a leghorn hen, containing a dozen 
eggs. The eggs were taken away and 
the nest broken up. I have always 
been sorry that he was not allowed to 
complete the incubation. Among other 
fowls I had a black-breasted game cock 
and three hens. It happened that the 
rooster got out of his enclosure one day, 
and in a fight with Squire he was killed. 
I knew an English gamekeeper who 
was living at Waterloo, Wis., some 
forty miles distant, who on a recent 
Page 639 
visit to England had brought back 
several pairs of English pheasants. 
As I had read somewhere that the 
pheasant cocks in England sometimes 
strayed into barnyards and mated with 
chicken hens, I purchased a cock from 
the gamekeeper and put him with the 
game hens. 
The next day I saw the cock walking 
up and down the wire fence looking for 
a hole to get through. He was an ab¬ 
ject, naked and forlorn object, most of 
his feathers having been pulled out by 
the game hens, only the long, beautiful 
tail feathers remaining. As the unfor¬ 
tunate bird paced up and down along 
the fence, Squire lay outside watching - 
him, and as they also serve who wait, 
his patience was at last rewarded, for 
one day the pheasant escaped through 
an open door and Squire bit off his 
head and carried him to the kitchen. 
The cook plucked out the long tail 
feathers for her hat, and had only to 
singe off the remaining fuzzy feathers 
to prepare him for the roasting pan. 
When in charge of the Federal Fish¬ 
eries Station at Bozeman, Montana 
from 1896 to 1909, I owned quite a 
number of dogs, but will mention but 
a few of the most remarkable ones. 
PHILLIPS 
JDHILLIPS, or as he was usually 
called “Flips” for short, was a 
fine Irish setter, with a silky coat of 
mahogany-red. He was a large dog 
of splendid form and feather, and was 
well trained on mountain grouse. I 
never knew his pedigree, as he was 
grown when I bought him, but from 
his form, color and intelligence he was 
without doubt well bred and a real 
Irish gentleman, one of the rale owld 
stock. 
My wife was a botanist and an ex¬ 
cellent artist, especially in water-color 
sketches of flowers. On her excursions 
to the foothills and mountains in search 
of wild flowers, Flips was her regular 
attendant, always at her side; not even 
the scent or flight of a grouse could 
lure him away. He would not permit 
her to approach too near a precipituous 
cliff or other dangerous place, but 
would plant himself directly in front 
of her and stay her progress danger- 
ward. So whenever she departed for 
a ramble with Flips at her side I knew 
she was safe from harm. 
Once, when we were in camp at Soda 
Butte Lake, in the northeast portion 
of Yellowstone Park, collecting trout 
eggs, my wife was in camp with Flips, 
as the lake was a fourth of a mile 
away. Our horses were picketed with 
a long rope around the ankle. They 
were on a side hill, and one tripping 
over his rope fell with his head down 
hill and the rope taut so that he could 
not rise. Flips was much excited and 
barked vociferously. My wife wrote 
a note for my immediate return, fast¬ 
ened it to Flip’s collar and sent him 
to me. He was out of breath when he 
reached us; we returned in haste and 
relieved the horse. 
MINX 
“jyjINX” was a puppy, just weaned, 
when we got her. She was born 
m Bozeman. Her parents were light¬ 
weight pointers, liver and white. She 
grew to be a small, dainty animal, as 
ne as silk. Her ears were almost 
translucent at the tips, and her tail 
thin and straight. She was chestnut 
and white in color, very evenly marked. 
She was proud, or rather vain. When 
praised or complimented she would 
walk on the tips of her toes, as who 
should say, “I know I’m handsome.” 
She was easily trained on mountain 
grouse and spruce partridge. Exercis¬ 
ing her feminine prerogative, she took 
charge of the poultry, and about sun¬ 
down she rounded them up and drove 
them into the henhouse enclosure, to 
protect them from minks, coyotes and 
bob-cats. One evening a hen with a 
newly-hatched brood of fourteen chicks 
could not be found by my sister, who 
happened to mention the fact. “Minx ” 
overhearing the conversation, went out 
to find them, and it was not long before 
she was seen coming down the foothill 
back of the stable driving the wander¬ 
ers before her. 
She came to me one day looking very 
much ashamed and foolish. I found 
she had been rather inquisitive regard¬ 
ing a young porcupine, and her nose 
was bristling with its spines an inch 
or two long. She was very glad to get 
rid of them, though it was a painful 
operation to remove the barbed objects. 
Whenever she heard the term “hedge¬ 
hog” mentioned her ears and tail would 
droop in sad remembrance. Although 
she was self - conscious and efficient 
when hunting alone with me, she al¬ 
ways deferred to “Flips” when he was 
along, and preferred to back him in¬ 
stead of pointing, but when the bird 
was dropped she was the first to reach 
it and fetch it to me. She also accom¬ 
panied my wife and Flips in search of 
wild flowers, and would sometimes 
point a large and showy one. She had 
a feminine taste for service berries and 
wild strawberries, and often regaled 
herself with the lucious fruit when 
others were picking them. 
SPORT 
S PORT” was a large or heavy¬ 
weight pointer whom I owned in 
partnership with a sportsman friend. 
We bought him in Minnesota. He was 
{Continued on page 642) 
