FRED H. HARRIS, the author of “Extra Trophy,” probably is best known as the man who popularized skiing in America. As founder and first president of the Dartmouth Outing Club, he introduced the sport to that college, from which it soon spread throughout the rest of the country.
NO PLACE for nervous person. In the four months from March 15 to July 16 this year, 113 poisonous July 16 this year, 113 poisonous snakes were killed at the Aliceville, Ala., state fish hatchery... Oven for pheasant incubator. W. Carlson, Michigan farmer, killed hen pheasant while mowing, found her nest with four eggs in it.
JUST back from 18 months in the South Pacific, where I observed how American soldiers hunted the wily Jap on Guadalcanal. (Being an Army chaplain, I couldn’t join in.) Except for fishing, there was very little in the line of sports there.
RESTIGOUCHE, MAGIC WORD FOR DEER, PARTRIDGE, TROUT—AND CONTENTMENT
FRED H. HARRIS
LOOK! There's a deer—no, two of 'em!" And Jack McCarty, my guide, nudged me gently as we crouched behind a deadfall. My heart jumped. I looked in the direction he was pointing. There, sure enough, were two deer, feeding slowly in our direction, and one was a buck.
Calling game is an old art, but calling fish—well, we give up!
HARRY H. EDEL
A BLEAK November dawn broke as we crossed the last ridge of the Kittatinny Mountains and dipped into the Delaware River Valley from the New Jersey side. “For one coming into his promised land,” Hugh O’Connell remarked, “you’re mighty quiet all of a sudden.”
The author was proud to say he'd never tagged a deer he hadn't shot—and prouder yet of a chance to break his rule
HAVE you ever had your partner “wipe your eye” on a deer hunt ? Have you ever hunted for a week, driving swamps, sitting on runways, stalking, turning out at daybreak, coming in at dusk, sweating, freezing, arriving at the last day empty-handed—and then had a pal kill a good buck for you fairly under your nose?
TWENTY FEET under the surface of the Caribbean Sea, just off Jamaica, a United States Marine armed with a handmade spear was cautiously stalking a strange-looking tropical fish. Weird-shaped coral growths covered the ocean floor, and schools of small transparent fish scattered before the hunter.
HERE'S A GRIZZLY THAT WAS DIFFERENT, AND A HUNT THAT WAS DIFFERENT—BUT YOU'LL AGREE THAT IT WAS EXCITING!
FOR a couple of days, now, there had been some argument between Scotty and Hank—which is to be expected, I suppose, when two old sourdoughs have been associated as long as they have in the pursuits of trapping, hunting, prospecting, and guiding.
KUK! KUK! KUK! A brilliantly colored bird with long and streaming tail jumps from the thick, rustling dried weeds and rockets away like a rainbow-hued comet, cackling as it does so with the unpleasant voice of a tavern tenor. The cock pheasant does the talking, in his family, while his sober-colored mate makes a worthy pattern for loquacious females of the human species to follow.
The writer of this pleasant little sketch—telling of a woods foundling who was adopted by the U. S. Army—is the wife of Lieut. Gen. Simon Bolivar Buckner Jr., commanding general since 1940 of the Alaska Defense Command
ADÈLE BLANC BUCKNER
MOLLY had whiskers at six months and a nose that could do no female critter any good. The document legalizing her adoption said, in regard to her diet, “Please feed milk and brush”! No meat, eggs, candy, batter cakes. Clover was out; grass was out; dandelions were out; daisies and such were poison.
As his owner claims, he's the kind they'll tell tall tales about, down Mississippi way
TOM GILRUTH Jr.
TERELL and I, together with neighboring sportsmen, were gathered around a big log fire, on a Mississippi fox hunt one October night. In the distance, the mellow, bell-like baying of the Walker hounds had died away. A golden harvest moon emerged above the tree tops, and the quiet chill of the night air gave promise of frost.
OUT THERE AMONG THE TEXAS LILY PADS, THINGS HAPPEN!
JOE AUSTELL SMALL
EAGLE LAKE, in Colorado County, Texas, is the only place I ever saw that looks better than a fisherman’s dream of heaven. It’s an exact replica of everything you’ve ever waked up dreaming about. There are 2,500 acres in this piscatorial wet spot, and every one of them has too many fish!
High up in the Montana Rockies, on a sheer cliff above the snow line, a huge old billy took two faltering steps and—But read it yourself, it's one of the most absorbing big-game hunting stories we've run in a long time!
GEORGE W. GRUNKEMEYER
THE BLUE SMOKE of the stove in the cook tent spiraled lazily up into the quiet morning air as Jim and I packed our lunch preparatory to taking off for the final day of Rocky Mountain goat hunting. Our camp, located at timber line on the head of Route Creek in the Montana Rockies, was bustling with activity.
LAST season my setter came to a point in a wet meadow, where the grass in places grew in tufts. With gun at ready, seeing that the point was definitely directed at a tuft of dead grass just ahead of the dog, I slowly walked forward until I stood by the setter.
Rationed gas meant sticking close to home—but that wasn't the half of it!
NO MATTER where I go, or what I do, somehow the last day of migratory waterfowl season always finds me with John Martin. And somehow that day has never dawned upon us in any spot we ever hunted before. One year it is in a drowned swamp in Arkansas; the next in the limitless bayou country of Louisiana.
BUCKSKIN has always been, and probably always will be, an important staple of the wilderness. Fashioned into a jacket or hunting shirt, this velvety, buff-colored material will wear for a quarter century. Moccasins made from it are tough and comfortable—requisites for sure-footed stalking that cushion the rustle of dry leaves, and enable one to glide through the forest without breaking a twig.
OF THE seven most Southerly states east of the Mississippi, and the eleven states occupying the middle section of the country, west of the Mississippi, only one state—Iowa—has an active, continuing program for the purchase or lease of frontages on fishing waters.
TWICE BEFORE—in September, 1942, and in February, 1943—OUTDOOR LIFE has presented a notable series of photographs illustrating the step-by-step development of modern firearms. Close-ups of the various mechanisms—clumsy or clever, as the case might be—were obtained by visits to the great private collection of Albert Foster, Jr.
THE PRACTICE of quoting prices on double-guns with double triggers, "non-automatic" ejectors, and those dizzy little slivers known as "conventional” fore-ends may be necessary, competition being what it is. I’m always reminded, though, of the auto manufacturers who used to quote a base price for each model, with such things as spare tires, headlights, and self-starters “extra.”
HAVE you ever had a shot at that chance of a lifetime, a buck as big as a barn standing silhouetted against a clear sky—and missed? It has happened to lots of good people, but it needn’t happen twice to anyone. Take time out to make yourself into a practical pedometer; and then if you ever get a look at that deer again you will be ready for him.
WHENEVER I hear some slighting reference to Remington bronze-point bullets it puzzles me, for I’ve never used a rifle cartridge that produced such unfailingly good results. In 1929 I bought a Winchester .30/06, Model 54, factory sights; and for my purposes the Remington 180-gr. bronze point never let me down.
THIS hunting season, sportsmen of northern Illinois are being rewarded for their summer’s work on farms in a most unusual way—they are permitted to hunt on the land they helped cultivate. A year ago, when the landowners of that area were crying for help on their farms, a group of city hunters formed the Progressive Sportsmen’s Club of Du Page County.
Question: In an automatic rifle, what causes recoil? Is it the force of the gas pushing the bullet out of the barrel, or does the recoil come after the bullet has left the barrel?—Serg. W. K. P., U. S. A. Answer: Recoil is principally due to the overcoming of the inertia of the bullet.
Deer hunting can hold real danger—when you blunder into a nest of angry snakes!
W. H. NICKELS
ONE beautiful late-October morning about 4 years ago, a friend and I were trudging up a steep, rocky, cedar-covered hillside to take up our positions at a deer crossing in the Carrizo Mountains in central New Mexico. This, as many Westerners know, is the very heart of the mountain diamond-back country.
RECENTLY, in at least two of the sporting magazines, a question has been raised as to the corrosive effect of moth preventives upon guns that have been stored away. These questions were asked by young men entering the armed forces and they were apparently concerned about the preservation of guns during their absence.
THE vast number of buffaloes that once ranged on the plains is well known. But what isn’t so well known is the market hunting that wiped out millions on millions of the great animals within the space of a few years. The year 1872 spelled the finish of the great buffalo herds, for in that year it became known that buffalo hides would fetch $3.75 each in the market.
THIS HERE Alphonse was the most puny fellow I ever did see. He barely scaled 100 pounds. I was his guide for two weeks of bird shooting up at Fire Lake. The only thing that wouldn’t knock him down when he fired was a .410. Yep! Come up from the city and took pills so he could sleep.
BULLETS, when they reach the shooter’s hands, represent the best that brains and experience, over a long period of trial and error, have been able to produce. By and large, they’ll do whatever work they’re meant to do, and then some—yet at times they’ll do peculiar things.
THE COMMON CARP is despised by most American sportsmen. Yet those who have fished for it on rod and reel—even devotees of trout and bass—admit that it has its points. For one thing, it is found in many waters where game fish are lacking; and for another, angling for it has a technique all its own.
DURING November the best time for fishing in northern climes is usually from 10 a.m. until just before sunset; the best days for fall fishing are sunny but hazy, moderately warm, and dreamlike in quality. Artificials for bass may still get results, but in my experience, worms and minnows are most productive at this time.
Question: I would like to get some information about bass fishing in a stone quarry. For more than 4 years I have been fishing in a deep, clean quarry, and have taken some nice bluegills but only one small bass. Now, there are bass in that quarry that I know would weigh a good 8 lb., but though I have used everything in my tackle box they just won’t hit a thing.
THE FISHING AND HUNTING PICTURE LOOKED BLACK, BUT AFTER TEN SHORT YEARS ALL THAT IS CHANGED
George W. Heinold
FOR MORE than 10 years I have been actively engaged in wildlife and fish conservation work for a modernthinking sportsman’s club, the Madison Rod & Gun Club of Madison, Conn. During that time I have seen many of the coÖperative policies your magazins has advocated put into actual practice—and succeed!
THERE is something restful about the Ozark Mountains country. Too, it has some wonderful streams, and those of us who have gone there for the bass fishing need no other excuse to return year after year. Those who have never wet a line don’t seem to know what keeps calling them back—they just go anyway.
REPLACING guides or wrappings of a fly rod has always been a problem to the average fisherman. Now that we have to make our equipment last for the duration, and are learning to make our own repairs, here are a few hints. The main problem in wrapping a rod with winding silk is to get the right tension on the thread.
AT THIS season, when skies are often overcast, days are crisp, and nights really cold, it is important that your camp be equipped with proper facilities to keep it warm and bright. Nothing will make a tent or cabin more cozy and homelike than a good light and a crackling fire.
Use cooked oatmeal left over from breakfast. 1 cup oatmeal 2 tablespoons honey 2 tablespoons melted shortening 1 cup milk 1 beaten egg 2 cups flour 3 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon salt. Mix oatmeal, honey, shortening, milk, and egg, and pour into sifted dry ingredients.
Question: How can I paint my decoys black, so that when I place them out on the water they won’t glisten?—B. W., New York. Answer: I have used two methods with success. The first way is to paint the decoys with ordinary black house paint or a semigloss mixture.
JUDGED by its past record of increased interest, no sport has a brighter future for postwar development than boating. In the half decade that preceded Pearl Harbor, each succeeding year saw more and more fishermen using boats, more hunters turning to small power craft to get back into isolated areas, and more campers discovering that the best way to see really wild country is with a canoe or car-top boat.
SO MANY readers have written to inquire just how to make a truck-tube rowboat like the one Clyde Ormond told about in “Rainbow Ration” (OUTDOOR LIFE, September, 1943) that a detailed description will doubtless be of general interest. Ormond’s friend Vis, you remember, got his idea from seeing a newsreel of a rubber life raft.
AS THIS is written, we cannot say with any certainty just what will happen to field trials next spring, or foretell the fate of bench shows for the season of 1943-44. As we all know, both sports have been considerably curtailed already, and it’s dollars to a dunked doughnut that the lopping-off process will continue as wartime conditions demand further belt-tightening all along the line.
Question: I have a 2-year-old golden Labrador bitch that I would like to breed, but the only golden male around these parts is her mother’s brother. Is this too close breeding? There are plenty of black Labradors here, but I prefer goldens.—W. K., Mont.
Question: The pointer I now have is the best dog I have ever owned. Last season he pointed 42 pheasants. When I was training him he liked to range out, and seemed to hunt better that way. He holds a perfect point. Never flushes a bird, and has a wonderful nose.