

FOREST AND STREAM. 

game qualities of this fish; to play and land one is busi- 
ness; but just what three lusty fellows will. do with a light 
one hand rod, and other light tackle, no one can imagine 
unless he has ‘‘been there.”. Small spoons nicely dressed 
with red and white feathers are alsoa killing bait for the 
bass. A very few only are caught by still fishing out of an 
anchored boat. The black bass in this lake are many of them 
very large, some having been caught weighing more than 
seven pounds, few less than three pounds. All our fish here 
are takén near’ the shore or in the shallow water on the 
bars, except the walled eyed pike. The season is not al- 
ways favorable. If there has been a great fail of snow to 
the west and north, then we look for high water until late 
in the season, perhaps until August. But very few fish will 
be taken until the water is moderately low and clear. In 
very low water there is no end to good fishing. Minnows 
are very abundant and easily obtained. 
D. C. Esre3, M. D. 
ee 
SHOOTING AT LITTLE CREEK LAND- 
ING, - DELAWARE. 
= BEd 
Epiror Forest AND STREAM:— 
For the past two or.three years the law of Kent county, 
Delaware, has been very stringent in regard to game of all 
kinds, as wellas in reference to trespassing, all non-resi- 
dents of the S.ate being looked upon and treated as market 
shooters. Andit becomes necessary to have the permis- 
sion of the land owner, as well as the company of a person 
knowing the country and the dividing farm lines, before 
- sport can be had with safety and pleasure. The game law 
has had the effect of making quaii unusually plenty, and 
on the west side of the county, adjacent to the Delaware 
Bay, one can enjoy at the same time and on the same trip 
quail, woodcock, snipe, and duck shooting. 
We had been invited by a friend, who did not profess to 
be anything of a sportsman, to visit an acquaintance of his, 
the owner of fifteen hundred acres of good land, under 
splendid cultivation, a few miles from Dover, Delaware, 
and the 3d of November was decided upon as the day of 
starting. We were disappointed enough to find our friend 
could not accompany us, but as all preparations had been 
made, furnished with a letter of introduction to Mr. H——n, 
Sr., at Dover, who was to present us to his son at Lit‘le 
Creek Landing, George C n and myself made our de- 
parture with a brace of setters—‘‘Grouse” and “June” — 
the dog a liver and white, and the bitch roan colored, and 
both of unquestioned strain and staunchness. 
On reaching Dover, we were carried by Mr. H PISS, 
to his son’s house and presented. Being perfect strangers, 
we had intended stopping at a public house, and were em- 
barrassed, indeed, when it was insisted upon that we should 
stay at the farm. It was proposed that afternoon so soon 
as we could don our shooting clothes, and inasmuch as our 
dogs required toning down, that we should try a covey or 
two of quail that harbored directly back of the house, and 
whose feeding ground was a buckwheat stubble not far 
distant. H n’s dogs (both setters) were as staunch and 
fine as ours; more practised, perhaps, for they had been 
used several times the present season—‘‘Scott,” a dog of 
five years, and “Tip,” a youngster in his second No- 
vember. 
A short walk brought us to the ground where we ex 
pected to find the birds. It now being three o'clock, we 
judged they would be feeding. » ‘‘June” gave us the first 
indication that a trail had been struck, as she stopped near 
some undergrowth on the south of the buckwheat, which, 
by the by, savored strongly of woodcock, and which I de- 
termined to beat out after we had gotten through with the 
quail. Carefully following the scent, she passed across the 
stubble and drew up firmly on the edge of a grass field bor- 
dering the buckwheat, the three dogs backing staunchly. 
Whirr, whirr, and up they bustled, each of us knocking 
over a bird. And here let me speak of the importance of 
the sportsman singling his birds on his side of the covey, 
be it right, left, or centre in shooting in company, for in 
this instance two of us at least would have bagged a brace 
had we not covered the same birds. A passable beginning 
only, for the covey contained twenty-five or thirty. 
Being between them and the woods spoken of, they 
pitched into the Indian grass, which made the prospect of 
killing almost the entire number excellent. Our dogs soon 
found them scattered singly through the field, and lying 
like stones until almost trodden upon, and Iam satisfied 
(they gave little or no scent, and lay just where they bad 
pitched) that had we not marked them down exactly it 
would have required more tramping to have killed half the 
number we did. We pocketed eighteen birds from this 
covey, and began hunting the second, which we were as- 
sured was in the immediate neighborhood, intending to 
find the remainder of our first friends as soon as they had 
moved alittle, so that our dogs might wind them more 
readily. To the north of the buckwheat lay a peach or- 
chard, and towards this we started as the most likely place 
to find them, and it was not long before the puppy came to 
a point, June, Scott, and Grouse standing fifty feet distant, 
and the sport began again. 
Cc n here made a fine double shot; H——n likewise, 
with but one quail credited to myself. This covey took to 
the undergrowth and sprouts, where June had winded the 
first. The s,ooting became more difficult, and missing was 
indulged in. Say what you, will, a single quail in the thick 
woods isa hard thing to kill; nevertheless, we did quite 
well, fourteen being bagged. At the lower end of these 
sprouts we fell in with woodcock, and before leaving had 
killed eleven or twelve, the dogs working admirably on the 





new game. We found the balance of the first covey quite 
easily, and added two more to our score. 
Satisfied with our afternoon’s efforts we turned towards 
the house, and before dressing for supper attended to the 
hanging of our birds ‘‘by the heels” in the cool, dry céllar, 
for in this position game will keep fresher double the length 
of time they would if hung by the head. This I have 
proven beyond question, and although not presenting so 
smooth and unrufied an appearance, one can depend on it 
they will be fresh. As for the epicurean idea, that game 
should be a “‘little high” before cooking, let them have it. 
Every sportsman, at Jeast, should wish his birds free from 
taint. 
After supper, and it was a royal one, our campaign for 
the morrow was planned, and we retired to rest, hoping we 
would find the snipe our host had told us were so numer- 
ous the day before we reached his house. 
At daybreak we were awakened by a knoeking, and an 
urchin of sable hue stood at our door with warm water and 
towels, and handed us our boots, which had been dried at 
the kitchen fire during the night. A clear, bright day 
erected us as we strolled to the stable to look to our dogs, 
and the prospect of huge sport seemed very flattering. We 
were not long in eating our breakfast, and it was ordered 
by Mr. H n that a servant should meet us at’a place ap- 
pointed at noon with our dinners. The carly morning we 
intended devoting to quail, taking in the snipe meadows 
before noon on our route, giving the first portion of the 
afternoon tothe long bills also, and the evening again 
to the quail. We found our first covey feeding, as is usual 
at this time of the day, and after killing four gave the bal- 
ance up, as they had taken to an almost impenetrable 
swamp after being shot at. The sportsman knows what a 
Maryland branch is—this was worse. With a second bevy 
we were more successful, for they took shelter in an open 
woods, which afforded almost as clear shooting as the field 
from which they were started. June’s exploits with this 
covey were wonderful, her finding of single bird after sin- 
gle bird, and the carefulness with which she worked, was 
truly beautiful. C——n killed a brace ,of woodcock over 
Grouse in this wood, and with already a fair bag we neared 
the road leading to the meadows, and found another fine 
bevy just before testing our dogs on the long bills so soon 
after quail. 
The ground was just in the proper condition for snipe— 
neither too wet nor dry, and with a breeze blowing briskly 
from the southwest. We entered the meadows, the wind 
being nearly at our backs; a capital plan, for snipe invari- 
ably rise and head right into the wind, thereby presenting 
a better shot than if shooting with face to the contrary di- 
rection. Our dogs required to be curbed somewhat, as the 
long bills were found in abundance, and shooting would 
have been quite as good without as with dogs, were it not 
for the great assistance they rendered usin retrieving. A 
right merry time we made it for them. Becoming sepa- 
rated from my friends, and working towards a pond in the 
meadows, I sprung a pair of sprig-tailed ducks, and 
knocked over the drake at long range—a beautiful bird, 
and a very lucky shot. 
After dinner we left the wet. grounds and determined to 
hunt out a damp woodland, interspersed with sprouts, 
called the ‘‘pig pen,” which H——n informed us was a fa- 
vorite feeding spot for woodcock; and we were not at all 
disappointed, for we killed twenty of the largest birds I 
have ever seen, several of them weighing nine and ten 
ounces each, and one as much as eleven ounces. 
As I look back to our trip to Little Creek Landing, I do 
not remember ever having seen game so abundant, or such 
magnificent cover and feeding grounds. I was greatly as- 
tonished at what I was informed in regard to the duck- 
shooting on the bay shore only a mile distant. I learned 
that decoys were never used, and that but one shot from 
the shore in ambush was all that could be gotten at ducks 
feeding close to the bank, and that seldom if ever more 
than a pair could be counted upon as the result of a day’s 
shooting. Iam satisfied from the number of ducks I saw 
passing up and down the bay that a sportsman well hidden 
in his skiff, hauled in among the myrtles, and-with a dozen 
or more stools, could enjoy huge sport at this place. I was 
told that it never has been tried; next season I shall at- 
tempt it. 
We remained at Mr. 0 n’s the following day, and 
were favored with success, returning to Philadelphia with 
as fine an exhibit as could be wished. Comparing notes 
with friends we had met on our way southward, and who 
were now homeward bound as ourselves, we found our bag 
outnumbered them all. “Tomo.” 



So 
A Frew Rapspits.—According to the testimony of a Mr. 
Muirhead, an extensive English dealer in game, in Man- 
chester half a million rabbits were consumed, in Birming 
ham 350,000, in the Potteries 300,000, in Nottingham 200,- 
000, and in Sheffield, Newcastle, and Leeds 150,000 each. 
The quantity of food obtained from the total number of 
these rabbits would be nearly 2,567 tons, worth at a shilling 
each £115,000. There is some secret about where a pecu- 
liar kind of rabbit skin—the silver greys—goes to. They 
are selected for Russia, and it is supposed they come back 
to England as Siberian furs. The total number of hares 
and rabbits produced in the United Kingdom is stated to 
be 30,000,000, supplying 40,000 tons of food. 
i 
—The impulsive clerk who accidentally deposits a shovel 
of snow down the back of the rural pedestrian, was in the 
drug store, Saturday evening, negotiating for a bottle of 
liniment.—Danbury News. 
| return. 

SPORTS IN CANADA. 
: . 
LAC A BELLE TRUITE, 
“Bien! Charlo,” I exclaimed, ‘‘here we are at last,” as far 
below us through the trees I caught the glimmering of 
water, and in a few moments more we stood on the borders 
of Lake Tontari, which I deseribed to you in my last on 
“Winter Sports in Canada.” Throwing down our packs 
Charlo proceeds to hunt up the rafts which are to convey 
us to the opposite shore and have been drifted away from 
their moorings by the last northeasterly storm. While 
Charlo is searching for the rafts I collect together some dry 
bark and wood, and lighting it and my pipe envelope my- 
self in a cloud of smoke, and safe from the attacks of those 
pests, the black flies, which are hovering around in swarms, 
watching their opportunity to pounce down and gorge 
themselves on my innocent person, I patiently await his 
The Indians seem to be the only living creatures 
that enjoy an immunity from their attacks. Their 
smoked tanned skins set them at defiance. Mr. black fly, 
frustrated at all points, quietly lies down and dies from 
pure chagrin. Charlo returns with the raft which, let me 
here add, is rather a primitive affair, simply three logs 
about thirteen feet in length, joined together by birch withes, 
two shorter pieces placed crosswise upon it form the seats, 
and in the centre a large corseau of bark forms a safe re- 
ceptacle for the fish. Ican assure the reader though, that 
-these rafts are better adapted for fly-fishing than any canoe 
T have ever fished from. Their broad, flat surface affords 
a secure foothold, and being elevated but a couple of 
inches above the water makes an easy landing for the trout. 
It is propelled with small effort, and if wind favors, a sail 
made from a blanket materially assists its progress. 
Piling our packs in the centre, but retaining my gun by 
my side for astray shot at a duck, with which these inland 
lakes teem in spring and_early autumn, we scize our pad- 
dles and our united efforts soon land us at our old camp on 
the opposite side. These summer camps are very similar 
in construction tothe winter ones, with the exception of 
the stockade, which is here dispcnsed with. Charlo gath- 
ers together the remnants of our old flre, and soon has the 
kettle boiling for our tea and some pork gréllades hissing be- 
fore it, which throws out an aroma grateful to hungry 
men. After satisfying the inner man bountifully we light 
our pipes, and throwing ourselves down before the fire 
subside into a quiet contemplation of the outlook before 
us, until aroused by the following inquiries from Charlo: 
“Did you ever hear, sir, of laea Belle Trwite?” 
At this unexpected question I roused myself, and sitting 
up exclaimed, ‘‘Heard of Belle Truite? What an idea!” I 
had dreampt and talked of it the past six months, ever 
since Etiennes had come into the settlement with a corseau 
of fish, such as had rarely been equalled. All inquiries 
as to whence they had come only elicited the laconic 
reply, Belle Truite, and as no one knew anything of Belle 
Truite, no one was much the wiser by his answer. Now 
as I had visited Etiennes’ camps last winter and made my- 
self somewhat familiar with his haunts, I felt within my- 
self a glowing ambition to go and discover Belle Truite. 
Afteralong discussion—for many elements entered into 
the question—as to how we should arrange the expedition, 
it was decided we should make the attempt and start forth- 
with and sleep that night at Etiennes’ first camp and com- 
mence our search from there on the morrow. Ihave faith 
that Charlo’s knowledge of woodcraft will enable us to 
discover its whereabouts from the bearings of the country. 
We resume our places on the rafts, and passing through 
the inlet that connects the lakes, we emerge into the second 
one, Rising abruptly from its shore some hundreds of 
feet is Caribou Leap, amountain so named from an event 
which happened many winters ago. Charlo’s father and 
companion, while hunting here one day, started a caribou 
far above the lakes. The snow was deep and yielding, and 
they rapidly gained upon it. The caribou made for the 
mountain, his pursuers still following closely, and a shot 
from Clarlo’s father wounding it, it dashed wildly toward 
the precipice, and with one bound sprang from its edge and 
fell lifeless at its foot. 
At the entrance to the third lake we disembark, and haul- 
ing up our rafts for greater safety against our return, as- 
sumed our packs, and picking up the line of blazes, we 
reach Etiennes’ first camp at dusk, and were only comfort- 
ably domiciled ere the raincame down in torrents. Our 
fire spits and sputters in it, but burns up fiercely neverthe- 
less.. We sit back under the comfortable shelter, and hay- 
ing improvised a checker board and checkers from birch 
bark, we wile away the few hours before it is time to turn 
in. I slept soundly, lulled by tho incessant patter of rain 
on the bark roof of the camp and the fatigues of the day’s . 
tramp. : 
The morning broke fair, and we started out to try and 
discover the mysterious lake. The bearings are taken and 
we finally make a bold push, and ere noon I was rewarded 
by a sight of our Eldorado—a pretty little sheet of water 
embosomed among the spruce-covered mcuntains, about 
two miles from camp. It would scarcely cover twenty 
acres in all, and its size certainly could be no criterion for 
that of its trout.. In years past a family of beavers formed 
a dam across the outlet, which flooded the few level acres 
around it, denuding them of trees and underbrush. The 
capture of this interesting family and the destruction of 
the dam caused the subsidence of the waters to their former 
level and left them bare; but now a rich covering of coarse 
wild grass affords a famous feeding ground for the caribou 
as we found numerous fresh tracks and dung. « These in- 
teresting little creatures, the beaver, have left many evi- 
