FOREST 
Vol. XCIV No. 12 


December ~ 1924 
Quail Hunting With Proctor Brown’s Jake 
Shooting Over a Dog Who Has Made Good, Is a Rare Pleasure 
, SK anyone in a certain small 
A town in Indiana who are the best 
hunters in that locality and they 
will tell you without a moment’s hesita- 
tion, Scott and Homer. — Both stalwart, 
outdoor men, they have studied care- 
fully the haunts and habits of all kinds 
of game. 
We were attracted to these two men 
during the squirrel season when we 
went to this town to try our 
luck in the fine beech woods 
around there. After a poor 
day’s sport, we looked them 
up and they kindly invited us 
to go with them the next day. 
Not only their very keen eyes 
and alert ears but their wary, 
Indianish way of going noise- 
lessly through the woods with 
sure aim, brings them results. 
The few times we had been out 
after squirrels, we always 
found a comfortable log to sit 
on where, a prey for greedy 
mosquitoes, we remained pa- 
tiently until we heard scamper- 
ing in the treetops or saw a 
little fellow leaping from tree 
to tree or heard one barking. 
No still hunting for these men. .- 
They are always on the move 
and where others pass and see nothing, 
they come out with squirrels. That 
day we enjoyed real sport. 
We could hardly wait until the open- 
ing of the bird season to satisfy our- 
selves that they were just as expert on 
quail as they were on squirrels, for the 
hunting is entirely different. They in- 
vited us to come down and'see for our- 
selves, so we took advantage of our first 
opportunity. 
AR HE morning we arrived, Homer had 
work on hand but promised to meet 
us at noon by the river. Scott had 
with him his two year old setter, Cot- 
ton, a personal dog, I called him, for 
he had been trained by his master and 
they understood each other thoroughly 
and always brought back birds. He 
was a close going dog, a careful hunter, 
slinking up on game with a low body 
Page 707 
From a painting by Edmund Ost! 
‘champion in a very short time. 
. originally picked for his attractive and 
“earnest field work, he has gone through 
By ANNE WILLIAMS GIBLON 
but he made attractive points and was 
fine on locating crippled and dead 
birds. He had never been out in a field 
with another dog and we were anxious 
to see how it would affect his work. 
Gib and I had with us Proctor 
Brown’s Jake, a liver and white pointer, 
bench show conformation along with 
field trial qualities, full up of speed, 
range and endurance. This hunt was 


Champion Proctor Brown’s Jake 
taken last fall before Proctor Brown’s 
Jake had been shown at any dog show, 
but every reader of dog news no doubt 
followed with interest his many suc- 
cesses this winter which made him a 
He was 
the indoor bench show with flying colors 
and now he will continue his life’s work 
in the great outdoors. When Scott saw 
him cover a lot of territory he said, “I 
don’t care much for them long fielders.” 
He had never hunted over a dog of 
Jake’s style and class and his opinion 
was entirely changed by the end of the 
day, for Jake found many covies for us. 
The two dogs worked in such a dif- 
ferent manner that it was avery artis- . 
tic combination and kept us admiring 
them all the time. Jake, holding a high 
head, dashing and bold, had that pointer 
air about him of “You had better fol- 
low me. I’ll find them.” He was al- 
ways on the move and worked in circles. 
Taking a large, open space in leaps and 
graceful swings, every move stylish and 
snappy, he would work directly towards 
the birdy places, the thickets and the 
woods that edged it. If he came back 
and changed direction, you could be 
satisfied there were no birds there for 
he covered the ground thor- 
oughly and intelligently. He 
saved us a lot of unnecessary 
walking which counts in a long 
day’s hunt. If you could not 
see him in the distance or hear 
the leaves rustling underfoot, 
you could look for him on 
point. He feared no rough go- 
ing and_ ploughed through 
thorn brushes with reckless 
abandon. 
We started to work out a 
large field of rag weed—prom- 
ising territory. If you have 
ever examined the craw of a 
quail you have undoubtedly 
seen one stuffed tight with 
these small, bulletlike seeds. 
There had been a heavy rain 
the day before and the fields 
were soggy and full of puddles. 
A leaden sky made of the horizon a 
purplish veil of haze and a biting wind 
stung our faces. 
“Jake’s going for the woods,” said 
Scott, “and that’s where they’re likely 
to be. They won’t be moving much if 
the sun doesn’t come out.” We fol- 
lowed. Cotton had also disappeared. 
We stopped to listen. The crowing of a 
rooster in the distance with a nearer 
one answering, the baying of a hound, 
the cawing of startled crows, a farmer 
up the road yelling at his team and 
the wind moaning in the bare tree tops! 
When Jake was gone for any length of 
time, Gib always yelled, “Hold ’em, 
Jake!” And so he did now. 
UT Jake appeared coming from the 
far end of the woods. “Gib, that 
dog’s been on point a long time. I think 
he left those birds when you called him. 
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