GAME Breeder & Sportsman, for February, 1945 
CHAPIN GAME BIRD 
KERNELS 
Chapin Game Bird Kernels 
Lay All fed daily to your 
game birds will build up the 
necessary body strength re- 
quired for a good egg produc- 
» tion in the Spring. 
When game birds are in 
“4 small breeding pens or where 
cover is sparse, we recommend 
* our 25% Protein Lay All Ker- 
‘ nels for the best results. 
This year many of the larg- 
est game farms have fed Lay 
All Kernels during the Winter 
Write for prices and free samples of Kernels. 274 Spring with the mest sat- 
isfactory results. 
CHAPIN & COMPANY Dept. G. B. Hammond, Indiana 

Game 
Management 
By 
Aldo Leopold, Consulting Forester 
With numerous drawings by Allan Brooks, 35 figures and 53 tables 
A text for those practicing game management or stidying it as a profession. 
It interprets for the thinking sportsman or nature-lover the significance of some 
of the things he sees while afield with gun or glass, or does in his capacity as a 
voting conservationist. 
It explains to the naturalist, biologist, agricultural expert, and forester how his 
own science relates to game management, and how his practices condition its 
application to the land. 
An authoritative, exhaustive, and thoroughly illustrated description of the art of 
cropping land for game and its integration with other land uses. 
481 pages, with bibliography and glossary. $5.00. 
GAME Breeder & Sportsman Book Dept. 1819 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 
FIFTH GAME BIRD SHOW 
The Eastern States Avicultural Society 
PUBLIC AUDITORIUM, CLEVELAND, OHIO 
March 31- April 8, 1945 
C. T. ALDEN, Roslyn Heights, N. Y. Manager 
GAME Breeder & Sportsman 
1819 Broadway New York 23, N. Y. 
Gentlemen : 
Please enter annual subscription to GAME BREEDER & Sportsman 
for which I enclose $2.50* 
*3 Years Namen Boel, o> OP See Re ee ee ee 
for $6.00 AMAT ESS. 5 sc cede ok fe ed Oe ee 

22 


The King 
(Continued from page 15) 
‘The moment I could get my gun om 
the great bird, I pulled trigger. But to 
my chagrin, he took the air. I was in 
no position for a wingshot. I was cold 
and cramped. Of all times, that huge 
bird, instead of floundering up, exe- 
cuted one of those grouse get-aways. 
He corkscrewed low through the thick 
timber. Yet at my shot he fell. As I 
knew I had fired rather blindly, I real- 
ize now that hitting him was just dumb. 
luck. 
Climbing out of the little ambush. 
where I had been hidden, with an extra 
sweater and overcoat over my left arm 
and my unloaded gun in my right hand, 
I eased through the thickety woods to 
retrieve my prize. Sure enough, there 
he lay up against a pine log, the after- 
noon sun glinting on his regal plumage. 
I could see he was not dead, but 
thought, of course, he was done for. 
1 walked right up to him, laid my gun 
against the log, and leaned over to pick 
him up. 
{n a flash that old bird righted him- 
self and ducked into a thicket of black- 
berry canes. I saw his wing was broken, 
and I knew I had to shoot him again. 
But before I could rid myself of all the 
clothes I was trying to carry and had 
grabbed up my gun and loaded it, he 
was out of range, yet still in sight, 
wabbling a good deal, yet making off 
through the woods. And the trouble is. 
that when a wild turkey starts to run, 
you never know where he will stop. 
I tried to follow him. I hunted him 
for two full hours, and never saw him 
or any sign of him. Mournfully I re- 
traced my steps to the place from which 
I had shot. “I just don’t understand,” 
I kept telling myself, “how I missed 
him on the ground and shot him down 
flying through the woods. I think Ill 
go back to where he was scratching, 
just to see if there isn’t a feather.” 
When I got there, a huge gobbler 
lay dead at my feet. There had been 
two; and when one rose at my shot, I 
supposed it was the one | had fired at. 
‘Two things, I guess, we might learn 
from this experience: One is that when 
a hunter approaches wounded game, he 
should be ready to shoot again; and the 
second is that it often pays to scout 
around a little before wholly abandon- 
ing a search. The other gobbler, by 
the way, I picked up two days later, 
alive and in perfect condition save for 
his broken wing, within a few hundred 
yards of my home. He had followed 
the river bank all the way from where 
I had shot him. 
Courtesy Field & Stream. 
(To be continued ) 
