
FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 30, 1907.} 


GA\M[ls DAN ANID GUN 





ment 
whole 
rob rative 
permeates 
being; 
my 
cor- 
evidence 
in abundance can 
be readily obtained 
from many hundreds 

of sportsmen who are 
qualified by a large 
experi- 
ence in different 
localities to give ex- 
and varied 
pert testimony as to 
Ss. T. HAMMOND, ; 
its truth. 
In the silent watches of the night, while 
camping out on the broad Iowa prairies with my 
companion and three strangers who had joined 
us at sunset, I answered, in response to the ques- 
tion as to how I liked Western shooting, that 
among the dear 
England was worth weeks on the treeless 
One of the strangers hand 
s tingle, another 
arms around me aah a fervent, “God 
bless you,” while the third gave by far the most 
flattering and impressive indorsement of the 
opinion I had expressed by hastily drawing his 
hand across his eyes as he arose, and with bowed 
one day forest-crowned hills of 
New 
plain. 
2 eraseed my 

with a grip that made my finger 
threw his 
My Friend the Partridge 
Memories of New England Shooting 
By S. T. Hammond 
[Stephen Tillinghast Hammond may fairly be called the Nestor of American sportsmen. This does not 
mean that he is the oldest of these, but that in our belief he has had more experience in wing shooting than 
any other man in the country; that is, he has devoted more years to it, and more time each year than any one of 
whom we know. He is one of the most expert of expert wing shots. 
Mr. Hammond was born in Webster, Mass., Dec, 21, 1831. A year or two Jater his family moved to Dudley, 
Mass., and, when he was a little more than nine years old, moved again to Pomfret Landing, Conn. It was near 
Pomfret that he killed his first partridge, caught in a snare in 1842, when he was elevn years old. Since then 
he has hunted them every season, more or less, but usually more. 
In 1853 or 1854 he went to Davenport, Iowa, leaving his home the day after Thanksgiving, and reaching it 
again the day before Thanksgiving in the following year. He went out West—for then Iowa was the West—in 
order to shoot, and during his stay he had experience with nearly every sort of game found in that section; from 
deer to cottontail, from wild turkey to quail, from swan to butterball, and from sandhill crane to jacksnipe; 
in fact, here he enjoyed more and better shooting than ever he had heard or dreamed of. He has shot many 
seasons in the South, especially at quail and wild turkey. 
In 1861 Mr. Hammond was married. He has had eight children, of whom four are living. For many years 
he was a successful business man, but too heavy investment in real estate carried him down in the year 1878. 
In 1881 he became the kennel editor of Forrest AND STREAM, a position which he occupied for ten years. 
He was an acknowledged authority on field trial and bench show competition, and was a regular attendant at 
all such great events in this country in the years while he was kennel editor. 
He is the author of several books that have had a wide popularity among sportsmen. These are ‘Training 
vs. Breaking “Hitting vs. Missing,” and “Nursing vs. Dosing,” as applied to dogs. These volumes are not 
only charming in style, but have proved most useful to the younger generation of sportsmen. 
Of late years Mr. Hammond has resided in Springfield, where he has worked in the United States Armory. 
Two years ago, while. at work he fell from a bench and smashed his ankle so: badly that he will be a cripple 
for life, but he hunts partridge just the same.-— Epitor.] 
THERE is a charm in the pursuit of New head walked away. I afterward learned that this 
England upland game that appeals to the heart man was born among the Berkshire hills in old 
of the sportsman, that fills his soul with a Massachusetts, where he had spent many happy 
sweet content and davs in pursuit of his favorite sport, and it was 
delight that seldom is description of the wondrous beauty of the 
comes to him in _ locality that led me a few years later to one of 
other, even the best, the fairest sections of country for the sports- 
game sections of man that I have ever seen. When I gazed upon 
this broad land. his former home surrounded by the everlasting 
Faith in this state- hills, and feasted my eyes upon the beauties of 
nature fn its rugged wildness here displayed, I 
could not doubt that the well-springs of his heart 
were stirred to their utmost depths when on the 
bleak and desolate prairie he heard from stranger 
lips ardent words of praise for the old home of 
his youth so fondly loved. 
I was once 
sippi in 
in the dense canebrakes of Missis- 
search of the elusive turkey, with a 
genuine swamp angel for a guide. When our 
barren hunt was over I changed my shells, and 
by quick work succeeded in bringing down sev- 
eral woodcock. The “angel” rolled up his eyes 
at me and queried, “Is you a Yank?” Telling him 
in the words of the immortal Whittier that “TI 
gloried in the name,’ he “Dat’s 
right, boss; dat’s right. Jess like de one was 
here lass week. We done killed seben turks on 
dat sandbar when he tole me dat de shootin’ up 
norf was a heap better dan down here, and dat 
dere was right smart more fun in de pattige dan 
dere was in de turk.” Thinking that perhaps he 
did not quite understand why this should be so, 
I made everything as plain as possible by ex- 
plaining that the “pattige,’ as he called it, was 
not only a gallinaceous bird, but a herbivorous 
and gramnivorous one as well, and that its pro- 
pulsive power was such that at times its momen- 
exclaimed, 





tum was phenomenal. I was intending to gif 
him more of the life history of the bird, but tl 
in which he received my remarks lf 
me to stop speaking, for the way that count 
nance worked, and the whites of those ey 
dilated as the long words fell upon his ear wh 
a study for an artist. When I stopped he look«; 
up to me with an expression that plainly show«d 
me that he was now convinced, and ejaculaten 
“Well, I speck dat Yank was ’bout riglt 
and I reckon you ’uns must think a heap of dott 
pattige,.” i 
The love of that for the sport to 1) 
found in the home of his childhood, gave me % 
sympathetic feeling of brotherhood with the wi 
known stranger, and as I meandered through tli 
tangled canebrake, thoughts of glorious days wi'! 
the “pattige’’ among the forest-crowned hills «i 
beloved New England came to cheer me, arti 
soon the poignant feeling of regret that I hz 
not held a trifle further ahead on that big gobblih 
mellowed down into a fading and rather pleasaii! 
remembrance 
S 
manner 







































































































boss, 


Yank” 
of the great black living pictutf! 
that had so swiftly crossed my path. 0 
This for the shooting in New Englar/ 
is not merely love for the sport in itself, but. (0 
a far deeper, feeling than ever comes {i 
him whose joy in the life of the field is inspire? 
by success. A profound appreciation of the beat! 
tiful in nature, for the grandeur of our ever-neyit 
ever-changing panorama of hill and mountain, ci 
sequestered nook and lovely dell, of laughinit 
brook and bubbling spring, of whispering pin! 
and stately oak, of balmy air and deep blue skill 
creates and fosters this love until it permeate! 
the whole being. a 
There is an endless diversity of happenings, aé 
well as surroundings, when in pursuit of ou| 
game birds that adds much to our enjoymer 
when summing up the pleasures of the day. iit 
many sections different varieties of game are t/ 
be found in the same coverts, and there is ofte 
a glorious and deeply interesting uncertainty all 
just what bird it is th 
your dog. The “partridge crank” g 
with firmer clasp as he walks in 88 Gnch “tal 
bird, fondly hoping to hear the thunderous roail 
of the swiftly beating pinions of his favorite 
The man who best loves the royal woodcock ad} 
vances with eager step, dreaming of the viviile 
music of that querulous whistle and the gentl | 
swish of the silken wings so pleasing to his eat 
while he whose choice is the gamy quail, witli 
satisfied smile is reveling in thoughts of thi 
tumultuous rush and roar of the startled bevyill 
and by faith he sees the air thickly dottectt 
with the flashing forms of the little bird he lovent 
so well. Who shall say that this glorious uncer |i 
tainty is not almost the best of the whole tt 
Surely not I, for I have enjoyed these pleasingid 
sensations too many times to deny their power|( 
I have no choice as to the bird I would flush, fore 
my first favorite is that best of all game birdsi 
the ruffed grouse; but I so love them all that; 
I am cheerfully content with what the gods prot 
vide, and am truly happy when either of the 
beautiful trio blesses me with its presence, ancl 
I spend no time in vain regret for a bygone “it 

love 
holier 




> 
I 


