after the grey and then the grey one 
after the black and at different times 
they all would go in the same hole. 
After watching them for at least fif- 
teen minutes I decided to kill what I 
could, and while I was trying to get a 
clear view of them, they saw me and 
all ran into the same hole. It was at 
least one-half hour before they came 
out and they all emerged at once. One 
grey came out, then the black and 
finally the other grey. 
After they all went out into the tree 
I shot the black and one grey and the 
other grey went back into the hole, so 
I did not wait for it but moved on out 
into the woods a little farther and 
killed two more greys and some more 
blacks and that being the limit, I de- 
cided to go back to camp. Several 
times on that occasion I saw the greys 
and the blacks playing together and 
going into the same hole. 
N. E. GUESMAN, 
Rices Landing, Pa. 
Catching a Record Pickerel 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
[é has often been said that fishing is 
a disease and although it is a harm- 
less malady, once you are numbered 
among its victims, there is no way to 
shake loose except to take your rod 
and reel and go forth to the nearest 
fishing grourfds. 
When summer time comes round, 
such a feeling seems to penetrate my 
whole system and in order to eliminate 

Sylvester Cavanaro exhibits his big 
pickerel 
738 

this feeling, it has been my custom 
for the past number of years to go 
fishing and to talk fishing as long as 
the season remained open. During this 
time, I have enjoyed many pleasant 
fishing trips with well-known anglers 
on this part of Long Island and they 
all agree that my experience with the 
capture of the largest pickerel ever 
caught on eastern Long Island was 
very unusual and should be interesting 
from an angler’s standpoint. 
During my many fishing trips, I 
have always taken along an Indian 
guide called. “Big Feather,” a direct 
descendant of “Sitting Bull.” They 
live on the Shinnecock reservation 
which is located about fifteen miles 
from Riverhead in the Shinnecock 
Hills. “Oscar” is the nickname we 
have given him. He has followed the 
woods and water all of his life and can 
almost smell a fish cooking long before 
he has cast a line into the water, so 
sure is he of his skill as an angler. 
With all plans made, I started out 
from home before daybreak the first 
day of the Bass season, in company 
with Oscar and another angler, arriv- 
ing at what we call the “Mill Pond” 
just before dawn. Starting out in the 
boat, we rowed until we were near the 
center of the pond and started in to 
east. After we had been casting for 
some time with little success, I felt a 
sudden jerk on my line and the clear 
water soon turned to the color of mud 
from the churning up of the waters. 
My reel began to spin and about 75 feet 
of line was let out when suddenly out 
of the water jumped the most beauti- 
ful pickerel I had ever seen. 
He started at once to put up a stiff 
fight, jumping at times nearly three 
feet out of the water. It must have 
been at least thirty-five minutes before 
we could subdue this prize, as we had 
to do so without the aid of a landing 
net. 
Upon weighing the pickerel we found 
it to weigh five and three quarter 
pounds, which is considered to be the 
largest ever caught in this section as 
most of them only weigh from between 
two and one-half to three and three 
quarter pounds. 
The equipment I used was an Abbey 
and Imbrey rod (6 ft.) with a Cutty- 
hunk linen line and a Julius Vom Hofe 
Pivot Reel. For bait I used a Heddon 
Minnow No. 8509M. 
In closing I might say that the land- 
ing of this large pickerel made me 
leave for home well satisfied with my 
early morning catch, and Oscar showed 
his delight at the “Paleface catch” by 
doing an Indian war dance without the 
aid of his usual moonshine. 
SYLVESTER L. CAVANARO, 
Riverhead, L. I. 
Duck Hunting in Louisiana 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
EING an ardent reader of your 
magazine for the past few years, 
I have enjoyed many good hunting 
stories related to your magazine by its 
readers and followers. 
After reading ‘Possibilities of the 
.410-Bore Shotgun,” by Dr. Vance, and 
“Goose Hunting on the Canadian 
Prairies,” by Mr. Arneson, it recalls to 
me some of the many hunts I have 
enjoyed in the past few years in 
Louisiana. 
Although it is a very hot afternoon, 
the mercury hovering around 92 deg., 
I will relate several hunts taken last 
year in the vast sea marshes along the 
Gulf of Mexico. 
One Saturday afternoon last Decem- 
ber, while working on our duck-hunting 
Ford, some one said “Hello, Warren, 
what about a little duck hunt to-mor- 
row?” He knew that I never turned 
one down unless I was sick in bed ‘or 
for some other good reason. I said, 
“You know me, Al,” although this gen- 
tleman’s name happens to be Jess, one 
of the best sportsmen I have ever had 
the pleasure of meeting when it comes 
to hunting ducks. Although he is get- 
ting up in years it takes a very good 
hunter to set a pace for him to follow 
in a duck marsh. 
I had had a good many hunts already 
that year and had killed as many as a 
dozen or more ducks, but that isn’t con- 
sidered a real good hunt in this part 
of Louisiana, for the ducks are very 
plentiful. Jess promising that I could 
get this limit when we went, I was very 
anxious to go. So I started for his 
home. He met me with a big grin on 
his face like a child, and said: “Boy, 
I’m going to get the limit to-morrow, 
and if you don’t get as many I’m going 
to make you walk back to town.” 
We left town about six o’clock, and, 
without any trouble, arrived at the 
hunting grounds at about 8 P. M. We 
unpacked and soon had supper ready. 
After supper we sat around the stove 
and exchanged hunting stories. About 
ten o’clock we looked our guns and 
shells over and arranged everything 
for an early start next morning, then 
we stepped out to look at the weather. 
There was a very mild north wind 
blowing, and occasionally you could 
hear an old mallard hen call from the 
marsh. Jess said, “Things are looking 
very good for to-morrow.” I agreed, 
and set the Big Ben for five o’clock 
and went to bed feeling like a child on 
Christmas Eve. 
After a real snappy breakfast of 
bacon, eggs and hot coffee, we shoul- 
dered twenty-one decoys and guns, then 
started for our blind, 
