THE HUNTING SEASON.
BY W. A. LINN.
The boy whose fortune it is to live in the country looks forward to the advent of autumn with eagerness, if happily he belongs to that large class of boys who have a passion for hunting. There are some people who object to this trait in the character of boys, as indicative of cruelty, but I doubt if they fully understand the trait. Very few hunters, old or young, take pleasure in the mere act of killing birds and animals. If this was the chief end in view, they could secure it without days of toilsome tramping. A hunter's pleasure is made up of a great deal more than success in filling his bag. If he is to be really an expert in his work, he must study carefully the habits of the game which he pursues, become acquainted with the country over which he is to hunt, and submit to long practice with his gun or rifle.
The most common object of pursuit with boy hunters in our New England and Middle States is the rabbit. The more mature sportsman may look with scorn on the "cotton-tail" if he pleases, and rejoice more over one dead quail than the capture of a dozen rabbits. Not so the boy. With boys, size counts in a good many ways. Then, too, in rabbit-hunting, boys get a variety of sport. They can find time after school to set a few snares or dead-falls in the nearest thicket. Or on a Saturday, taking such dogs as they own or can borrow (most dogs, like most boys, seem to be ready to hunt rabbits), they can set out for the brush lots and stubble fields, and revel in excitement as the sharp bark of the dogs lets them know that a fresh track has been struck.
When cold weather and snow come, the rabbit is apt to desert his snuggery in the fields for a home in some well-built stone wall. Then the boy hunter lets the rabbit betray himself, and very plainly he does it; for no boy who is once shown a rabbit track in newly fallen snow can ever mistake for it the track of any other animal: two dots before, and two behind, like this, · · :, are the rabbit's handwriting, and a little skill soon traces him to his hiding-place.
To secure game birds requires more skill with the gun, and a more intimate knowledge of their habits. Our principal game birds in the Eastern States are the woodcock, the quail, and the ruffled grouse, or, as it is called in some States, the partridge. Of these the woodcock is the most mysterious, and by epicures the most highly prized. It is the only one of the group that seeks a warmer climate in winter.
With the first advent of spring weather the woodcock returns, often nesting so early that the spring floods destroy its eggs. By the first of July the young birds are almost grown, and in too many States the law allows them to be killed after that date. The summer woodcock is, however, no such bird as it will become if allowed to moult, and then to grow fat in the corn fields and brakes. October finds it strong of wing, ready for a night flight of many miles; then it may be sought not only in the low grounds, but on the alder-covered hill-sides.
The quail is the best known of all our game birds, because of its remaining with us all the year round, because of its easily recognized note, "Bob White," and because, timid as it is, it loves civilization, and lives on cultivated lands.
The ruffled grouse may be called the king of our Northern game birds. Delighting in mountains and thick swamps, wild, and strong of wing, the hunter who brings one down when under full headway must be of steady nerve, quick sight, and skillful with long practice.
If a modern artist were to draw a sketch to illustrate an article on our hunting season, it would have to differ very much from the pretty picture on the preceding page. The spear and cross-bow are weapons unknown to modern American hunters, and instead of the winding of the horn, there is only the shrill note of the dog whistle. And we may say, Alas the change! The spear was not always thrown aright; it and the arrow hit but one object at a time, and had a limit to their flight. But nowadays, with our highly trained dogs, and our ever-loaded breech-loading guns, able to mow down a whole flock at once, what chance has bird or animal, however well provided by nature with means of safety?
Little is the wonder that our game grows scarcer year by year. With no vast landed estates, as in England, to be kept stocked and preserved, it will not be very long before woodcock, quail, and grouse will be curiosities even to the farmers' boys, who will have to invent some new pleasure to take the place of the hunting sports of which their grandfathers will tell them.
CLAVICHORD.