that every girl and woman in that 
locality was picking the long feathers 
out of the birds and men packing them 
in barrels with ice, loading them for 
New York City. 
There was a freight train of forty 
cars about ready to start which they 
called the pigeon train. How many 
more cars were loaded with these birds 
we do not know, probably another 
trainload at least. 
Should you have the records of the 
two years when they nested near South 
Haven, I should be very glad to have 
you advise me. Also have you any in¬ 
formation as to their sudden disap¬ 
pearance? P. Appeldoorn. 
PET COYOTE 
Dear Forest and Stream: 
HIS female Coyote was captured in 
a trap on the desert at Camp 
Kearny, California, by a group of dis¬ 
abled soldiers. 
Through kind treatment and atten¬ 
tion, the Coyote became very docile and 
later was given to a rancher near San 
Diego, who made a pet of her. 
Coyotes, while wary of man and ex¬ 
ceedingly crafty in evading him in 
their native state, may often be tamed 
if captured when quite young. Pup¬ 
pies, especially, are amenable to kind 
treatment, and while they will not be¬ 
come as loyal and affectionate as dogs, 
nevertheless they will prove interesting 
and intelligent pets. 
Burl Ray Tuttle, 
Soldiers’ Home Annex Hospital, 
Sawtelle, California. 
COMMON FISH SUPPLY 
SPORT 
Dear Forest and Stream: 
J T is not given to all of us to fish 
wherever we wish. 
For those who stay at home or are 
denied the pleasure of the bass or 
“muskie,” I am telling of an old friend 
who gets a lot of fun with that bony 
old denizen, the Carp. 
Near his home is a typical southern 
river with a low dam. Below this dam, 
and especially where two currents 
merge, the carp loves to feed and play. 
That most perfect fisherman, the boy 
of 10 to 14, comes down and with his 
cane-pole and “doughball” takes his 
toll. 
I noted and shared his anguish when 
he lost the biggest one of all, and when 
his small pal also hooked and, sad to 
say, lost another of perhaps four 
pounds weight; it was too much for 
them. 
Presently an elderly gentleman came 
along, very calmly put together a light 
bamboo casting-rod about six feet in 
length, on which he mounted a beauti¬ 
ful old reel, a counterpart of one I had 
seen on the upper water of Licking 
River in Kentucky. His line would not 
have stood an eight-pound test. 
After carefully adjusting a “perfect 
doughball” on a moderate-sized hook 
he stepped carefully out into the edge 
of the pool and made a cast of perhaps 
thirty-five feet at an angle of about 
forty-five degrees with the current; 
the “bait,” together with the half-ounce 
sinker, settled into the water just above 
the convergence of the two currents. 
In less than thirty seconds I noted 
the line moving slowly up stream and • 
he struck. 
The next five minutes were as ex¬ 
citing as some I have experienced with 
a twenty-pound “muskie.” 
That carp had the range of a pool of 
perhaps a half acre in area, and he 
was all over it. The old gentleman, 
playing him skilfully away from 
“snags” and rocks, and, finally, swim¬ 
ming him carefully alongside, reached 
down and “gilled” him just beneath 
the surface of the water. 
It is hard to say who enjoyed it the 
most. The old gentleman, who gave 
the carp the longest odds and won, the 
two boys who carried the monster (it 
must have weighed at least eight 
pounds) home, or I, the interested spec¬ 
tator, who has fished pretty much over 
the world. 
It seems, to most of us, that “far 
fields are greener,” and I wonder if 
sometimes we don’t miss a good deal 
of pleasure simply because it is not 
called to our attention. 
Perhaps this will be the means 
whereby someone who cannot enjoy 
Wisconsin lakes may get the thrill of 
a heavy fish on a slender line nearer 
home. A. E. Willahan, 
Shreveport, La. 
GAME PLENTIFUL 
Dear Forest and Stream: 
I AM informed by a well-known local 
guide and sportsman that all wild 
game birds in this locality are more 
plentiful this season than for years 
past. On my farm, % mile from R. R. 
station, deer were seen during August 
browsing on grass in my orchard not 
more than 500 feet from the house. 
Another crossed the road within 75 
feet from my horse in a trip to the 
station. William McLaughlin, 
Martindale, Columbia Co., N. Y. 
ONE OF MANY 
Dear Forest and Stream: 
E arrived in the village just at 
dusk—the oil lamps were lighted 
and sent their notes of cheer out into 
the gloom of the coming night. 
It would be difficult to find anything 
especially attractive in an odoriferous 
oil lamp with soot-begrimed chimney, 
and yet, to the old-timer, trudging home 
after a long day of sport, there is noth¬ 
ing more cheering. Its rays, feeble by 
comparison with modern lighting, have 
a certain ruddy thinge that is lacking 
in the present-day light. Seen through 
a blinding snowstorm, or late on a cold 
November night, it is suggestive of 
home and cheer—warmth and comfort, 
with door fastened for the night, a 
blazing wood fire on the hearth—a 
smoking dinner all ready to serve, and, 
afterward, apples, cider and chestnuts, 
and then—a smoke. How does that 
strike you, old-timer—a bit all right— 
what? 
It was a cold November night—the 
moon shone with a cold brilliance that 
made the fields gleam with that peculiar 
soft whiteness that is refracted only 
from frost-rimmed stubble. Far away, 
a hound bayed the moon, while the con¬ 
tented stamp of horses came occasion¬ 
ally from the barn where they munched 
their oats complacently. 
Such pictures have become history 
in the seaboard states—they are of the 
past—they remain fixed in the memory 
like landmarks as they are, and those 
whose good fortune it was to have 
lived at that time, even with its incon¬ 
veniences, have nothing to regret—save 
that they are no more. 
Early retiring was the order then, 
and up under the eaves, with plenty of 
blankets and a soft bed, sweet dreams 
and slumber were a nightly occurrence. 
The gray dawn crept through the 
windows — the air was nipping and 
one’s breath was plainly visible. A deep 
Page 697 
