The turkeys would, at length, come to a stand, by taking refuge on the trees—thus leaving the hounds in a quandary, and the hunters in something approaching to a passion.
I knew, moreover, that the wild turkey rarely takes to wing—and then only when compelled by the necessity of crossing a river, or escaping from some dangerous pursuer, that has got too close to the tip of its tail.
Guided by these lights, I was not without some glimmer of a guess as to the nature of the sport upon which we were setting forth.
My considerate friends, not wishing that I should be taken by surprise—and in order that I should have fair play in procuring my share of the spoils—gave me a full account of the modus venandi, as we rode on towards the ground.
The prairie towards which we were proceeding—a noted haunt of the turkeys—was of that kind known in Texas, as a “timber” prairie; that is, a plain, interspersed with groves of great trees—at a greater or less distance apart from each other—with here and there small copses—in Texan parlance, “islands,”—intervening.
Sometimes the larger clumps of timber are so far apart as to be nearly out of sight of each other; while the verdant surface between exhibits a mottled aspect of darker tints, caused by the “islands,” with here and there some solitary tree—a giant evergreen oak—standing apart, as if disdaining to associate with the humbler growth constituting the copses.
On the prairie towards which we were proceeding, the timber growth was principally trees of the genus juglans and carya—among which the pecan was conspicuous—sometimes forming islands of itself. Of the delicious nuts of this last-mentioned tree, the wild turkey is what the French term friand—preferring them to all other food.
In the winter these nuts, having dropped ungarnered from the branches, lie neglected upon the ground—that is, by human beings, although not by the wild denizen of the prairies.
At such time the turkeys go in search of them—making long journeys beyond the more secure fastnesses of the great forest; and while straying among the pecan copses, and far out upon the open prairie, they become fair game for hounds and horses, and can be run down by either.
The mode of proceeding is to “approach” ah near as possible without giving the birds the alarm; and then, calling out the “view halloo” to the dogs, and spurring the horses to their highest speed, the chase sweeps onward.