The Squirrel Hunters of Ohio; or, Glimpses of Pioneer Life

by N. E. Jones

The hunters returned with sorrow and disappointment. One of their number, a prominent lawyer and ex-member of Congress, came in with the loss of one eye and otherwise disfigured for life by the explosion of his gun.

At the close of the War of the Rebellion a large amount of uncultivated, wild land, owned by non-residents, was sold in small farms to settlers; and a general disposition prevailed, from high prices of produce, to improve much of the better class of timber lands every-where, underbrushing for pasture, or deadening the large timber for corn, and this had some influence in decimating game. Still the game resorts, uninhabitable in this way, amounted to little compared with influence and facilities increased railroads gave the pot-hunter to go on with his work of extermination in those mammoth parks of forests in the eastern and southern borders of the state, where the deer, turkey, grouse, and wild-pigeon should have found protection and a home to the end of time.

And with a diversified and wild section of country large enough to accommodate and furnish annually thousands of game, beasts, and birds, some are entirely extinct, and others scarcely known within the limits of the state. Such destruction is truly an injustice to a beneficent creator that fed the hungry, clothed the naked, made pioneer homes happy and a savage wilderness a desirable habitation for the pilgrims of a better civilization.

It is more to be regretted that in the general destruction the grandest bird in the world—indigenous alone to America—and whose love for “liberty” exceeds all other species, should be denied room enough among a liberty-loving people for a home. It seems a pity Benjamin Franklin had not been more than “half in earnest” when he suggested this bird as the emblem of our national independence. But as it is, in other ways he has advanced civilization and been a benefactor to the human race. His surpassing size, tender, juicy, and gamey-flavored flesh, places him far above all other gallinaceous birds; and his goodness and greatness are known over the world, and those who occupy his native country have secured for his name a place among the saints, to be chanted annually on a day set apart for thanksgiving and praise.

Railroad facilities enabled pot-hunters to flood the country, to shoot for eastern saloons and cold-storage houses, until the rapid decimation of valuable game gave reasons for serious apprehension that both birds and beasts will become exterminated or taken from the sources of food supply. An annual depletion of the quantity of game in a given locality is generally borne well, and is, to a limited extent, beneficial. They usually stand assessments of numbers much better than encroachments upon their borders. And it is sometimes singular where they all go to, when the woods in which they have always lived become cleared up, so they are obliged to transfer their possessions. An estate in the Military District, consisting of two thousand acres, remained wild until 1862. The agent at this date had the land cleared of the young growth of trees and bushes and put in grass.

Two years after, while riding along a road that led through this piece of timber, the writer saw a stately wild turkey, with head erect and measured steps, marching through the open timber, occasionally stopping, as though looking and listening for former companions. On the same road, after several hours, we again saw the disappointed bird on his way back to tell the sad story.

The wild turkey is now exterminated in Ohio, and the indications are he will soon be as little known as the Dodo. During his stay in the aid and interests of civilization, thousands of Squirrel Hunters were made happy, and for nearly three hundred years he has been placed at the head of the feast with all the compliments bestowed upon him in 1621 by Priscilla Holmes: “The foremost of all delicacies—roast turkey—dressed with beech-nuts.”

The quail, another valuable game bird, has, until within a few years, been an abundant, permanent resident of the state. It is scarcely necessary to say a word in his praise, for Bob White is a smart little fellow, an early riser, and worth millions to agricultural interests while living, and unequaled on toast when dead.

At the date of the first settlements in the territory the bird was undoubtedly very retired, as well as few in number. The extensive and dense forests, covering almost the entire country, made it ill adapted to his nature; and those which were enabled to perpetuate existence occupied some of the limited open tracts of land found here and there over the country. Bob White is really a bird of civilization. He flourishes most near the abodes of man. The cultivation of the soil and settlement of the country increases his numbers. In support of these conclusions we will here refer to the fact contained in a statement made by a gentleman who, with family, settled in Ohio in the spring of 1798, and located on the border of a small prairie—seemingly a favorable situation for the bird. He resided several years in that locality, raising wheat, corn, and other kinds of produce, without hearing the voice of the quail. He had about abandoned the anticipation of quail shooting, and questioned if it would ever be recognized as a sport in Ohio.