"SCRATCH a sportsman,” says Ken Niles, who tells about his “Jackson Hole Jackpot” in this issue, “and you’ll find a ham—a fellow who must crouch and grimace behind the love seat to demonstrate how he stalked that deer, and must actually cast in the living room to show his audience how he outsmarted that big rainbow.”
BEAR brevities. Three bears busted into larder of Berry family, The Forks, Me., hijacked 6 lb. butter, 6 lb. salt pork, 5 lb. bacon. Head of family shot the little bear, but the great big bear and middle-size bear took it on the lam. OPA allowed Berry enough points to cover loss . . .
ANY SPORTSMAN'S SUBJECT YOU'RE INTERESTED IN? WE PRINT AS MANY OF YOUR LETTERS AS WE CAN
Duck-lake Death Trap
Jennings Theory Baffles
Pin-ups—and a Frame-up
Skunk That Was Different
EDITOR Outdoor Life
MY CANDIDATE for the most fearless of our wild animals, with the exception of the stupid porcupine, is the mink. My reason for this nomination is an adventure I had in Ontario several years ago. My guide and I were going from lake to lake, canoe-fishing as we went.
YOU SAY, in “The Incredible Antelope” (OUTDOOR LIFE for September, 1943), that these animals can carry a lot of lead. No doubt you know a lot more about the characteristics of game animals than I do, but you may be interested in the following: As you probably know, in the fall of 1942 South Dakota had her first antelope season in years, and I was lucky enough to get one of the 500 permits issued, which were good for a buck apiece.
Outdoor Life's expert on arms and ammunition has just returned from a successful hunting trip in the Canadian Rockies. This exciting story of stalking a giant Alberta bighorn is his first report of that trip. Other stories about the hunt will appear in future issues
JUST what that big Alberta ram had done to be so in wrong with whatever or whoever controls the destinies of the wild things of the mountains, I do not know. But he certainly was in Dutch! If Lady Luck had come down in person, and led me by the hand to the ridge from which I finally shot him, it couldn’t have been plainer that I was exactly right, and the ram exactly wrong.
An open letter to the few who have yet to learn that consideration is one of the first rules of the game
DEAR FISHERMAN: I wish I knew your name. I'd rather sit down with you and discuss this man to man. But since I do not know who you are, I am taking this means of communicating with you. It's hard to believe that you spend much time digesting the high ideals of sportsmanship advocated by our fishing and hunting magazines, or you'd never pull a stunt like the one you uncorked yesterday morning.
BIG-GAME HUNT IN A MILLION—MADE BY A RADIO ANNOUNCER WHOM YOU HAVE HEARD MANY TIMES ON COAST-TO-COAST PROGRAMS
ME HIT a jackpot? Me? Ha—very funny! I’m the guy who pays for all those slot machines. I heat them up to that degree where you fellows drop in a lone quarter and the coins flood all over the floor. I ventilate a punch board till it’s self-air-conditioned, then that quiet observer at my shoulder says, “Let me try just one,” and he promptly goes home with two boxes of candy and a dozen cigars.
HAWLEY was out in the middle of the Snake River, in Idaho, at a point where four feet of bank snow jutted over the end of an island bar. He was burrowed into his woolens, and there was enough ice in the guides of his rod to make sherbet. Periodically he’d lift a mittened hand and run his mackinaw from elbow to cuff along the muzzle end of his nose.
A TRUE world citizen is the mallard duck, so beautifully pictured on the opposite page by Francis Lee Jaques, famous bird and animal artist, in the fourth of OUTDOOR LIFE’S series of full-color portraits of North American game. It is Wild Duck Number One not only of North America but of the world.
He'd never tried for a deer—but he knew those broadheads could kill
E. STANFORD ROTH
AMMUNITION SHORTAGE doesn’t bother the bowman big-game hunter. As long as he can get tough, springy wood for his longbow and arrow shafts, as long as he can collect scraps of metal for his broadhead arrows, so long can he bring down his game. When I saw that buck thirty-five yards from me in that Pennsylvania forest, I had no doubt that my arrows could kill.
"All-time 4-F fisherman"—that's what this man called himself that Black Friday. We all have such days—or do we? At all events, you won't often enjoy a funnier piece than this
KICK-in-the-slats, kick-in-the-slats, kick-in-the-slats. That was the sound of spinning train wheels, made of gold. They were rolling me away from the valley, and I was pleading with the conductor to turn the train around and take me back because I still had two days of trout fishing to do on the Ausable River below Wilmington, New York.
The amazing story of a world's-record salmon, taken on rod and reel, that got away after it was caught—and stayed away for thirty years!
EARL W. BRIDSON
DID YOU ever listen to a whopper of a fish story, then wink at your nearest companion and wonder if the teller expected you to believe his yarn? Sure you have—all sportsmen have. But I doubt if many have heard the granddaddy tale of them all: the story of the largest landlocked salmon ever to be taken on rod and reel, and how it got lost for thirty years.
BEAR, CARIBOU, MOOSE-THESE TEXANS GOT THEM ALL, THE FIRST TIME OUT!
Miner's Wood-duck Plan
C. F. WOOD
WHEN we left our camp in Alberta that September day, season before last, the ground was covered with snow, and the branches of the spruces drooped under the load. As the sun came over the mountains the snow melted, and it was like riding through a rain.
MY FRIEND and I stood in the warm sun of a Kentucky autumn and watched Betty, a setter bitch, as she worked out a ragweed field just beyond us on a hillside. Boldly she ran, working into the crisp fall air. As she neared the top of the hill, without the least hesitancy she froze on point.
Race against a blizzard! The prize? Half-day hunt with the folks, and home-fried rabbits
ROB F. SANDERSON
DYED-IN-THE-WOOD sportsmen will travel thousands of miles for a shot at a lion or a rhino. They'll go many hundreds of miles to hunt bear, or moose, or even deer. Only the completely daft, however, would travel 2,400 miles, round trip, for an afternoon of rabbit and squirrel shooting.
They were wet through. Worse, the river seemed to be fished out. Yes, they'd had enough—until the one trout they'd caught gave them ideas. Good ideas!
BIDDE-ZUMPITY-ZUMP! said the rain on the tarp. All through the long High Sierra night it pounded while Les and I cowered in our clammy sleeping bags. The bleak undertone of wind in the trees and the sullenly increasing roar of the rising Kings River had me uncomfortably wide awake at dawn.
Out to Remnants and Scrap: A DE LUXE CASE FOR YOUR HANDGUN
Modify it to carry tools, toilet articles, or what not—and you will own a fitted bag to brag about
WALTER E. BURTON
ALTHOUGH the case described here was built primarily for convenience and protection when carrying a target revolver to the range and back, it is really a conservation project that protects the gun at all times, and prevents the loss of hard-to-replace accessories.
This account of a river-float duck hunt is prescribed reading for dads with a small son, and for those who once were boys
KENNETH H. SMITH
MENTALLY groping into foggy consciousness, I fuzzed out of a dream wherein I'd just knocked a fat mallard into a tailspin at eighty yards. “Hey, dad! Dad! Quit snoring. Is it time yet?” Like frost leaving a windshield in the blast of a heater fan, the situation cleared itself.
Jack Van Coevering has taken thousands of nature photographs in the last ten years. Asked to pick the best in the lot, he chose these eleven. They have never before appeared in any magazine. Van Coevering is wildlife editor of the Detroit (Mich.) Free Press—a job which enables him to spend much of his time in the outdoors.
THE SUBJECT of accuracy is at once one of the simplest in rifle literature —and one of the most complex. Boiled down to its essentials, it means causing the bullet to do the same thing each time and in the same way. The basketball player who tries each free throw a little differently never becomes good at it.
SCOPE MOUNTS of American manufacture are many and various. Some click, others are known for their silence. Some are so streamline that if the owner is pursued by a bear he can take his rifle along without getting hung up in the brush. Many are low— in position, price, or both; and we have been warned so consistently against pre-Nazi varieties of European high ’scope mounts that we avoid them whether we know why or not.
Question: I’m having trouble getting 180-gr. Silvertip ammunition for my Model 54 Winchester .30/06, but have been told that Government-issue M-l boattails, with the tips filed off to expose the lead core and make it open up on impact, will be O.K. on deer.
The contributor of this little story makes no claim to originality; he's passing it along only because he enjoyed it and thinks others will too
MAN and boy, I’ve knowed Peter Fiddleton for nigh onto fifty year. Doggondest coon hunter we ever had around. Where coons was concerned Pete had the eye of an owl and a nose that would shame a bloodhound. Ain’t the man he used to be, of course, and besides he ain’t got Major no more.
HERE is a “bandage” for the fore-end of a double-gun which offers so weak a grip that the shooter feels a certain sense of insecurity whenever he fires the gun. It’s easy to build up that splinterlike fore-end that seems to be standard for most guns, so that it will feel more like a handful when you grasp it.
THIS is about the time my buddy Raye and I visited Mr. Moose right in his own front parlor, and sampled his special brand of backwoods hospitality. It was in 1932, way up in the bush tangles of Quebec, where I was spending a few weeks after undergoing a sick spell.
WILD turkeys, not indigenous to Wyoming, have been successfully planted in that state. This experiment in acclimatization of the big game bird is almost if not wholly unique in its success. The history of the turkey is one of lost but not gained ground.
THE YELLOW PERCH, both as sport and food, deserves consideration by anglers, particularly during wartime. True, every fisherman knows this fish, but many ignore if not despise it. Certainly trout and bass are finer prizes and provide greater sport.
BEN EAST’S article, “Blue Print for Free Fishing,” was of especial interest to the undersigned. I note that he gives credit for the establishment of public fishing grounds to the Michigan United Conservation Clubs, of which I have been a member for many years.
FOR mass fishing hysteria, and catch-as-catch-can methods, with no holds barred, the draining of Parrish’s Pond, east of Graymont, Ga., made a record. The pond originally covered 700 acres, but its owner wished to drain it in order to install a new mill wheel and make repairs on the mill.
ACCORDING to an old joke, a packing house uses every part of a pig but the squeal. The quip serves to remind us that valuable parts of game are often wasted, and that in these days of scarcities, we sportsmen would do well to emulate the thrift of the packers.
This old-fashioned recipe makes big-game meat or beef quite tasty. 5 tbsp. brown sugar 6 tbsp. salt 1 tsp. saltpeter This will cure a 5 to 6-lb. chunk of lean meat. Mix ingredients with enough water to cover meat. Pour over the meat and let stand two days.
MOST sportsmen are familiar with fox-hunting prints—those gayly colored pictures of red-coated riders on spirited mounts racing across an English countryside. The well-known Bachelor’s Hall series of six scenes, for example, appropriately adorns lodges and homes of outdoor men the world around.
NO OTHER type of boat affords more pleasure for its cost, or is better suited to present conditions, than a canoe. The initial investment is not large; the yearly upkeep is practically nil; and, all-important now, a canoe can be used on waterways too small for larger boats—on waterways which are not likely to be affected by wartime regulations.
UNDER that title a 48-page illustrated handbook has recently been published by Johnson Motors. Though offered neither as an instruction book nor a service manual, it will help the novice and the old-timer alike to understand the fundamentals of outboard-motor construction, operation, and care.
LAST MONTH this department indulged in a good old-fashioned gabfest on a subject that will never become old-fashioned. Seated around the big pot-bellied stove in Steve’s general store, we had our little say about gun dogs and hounds and, between pulls at the old black brier, I dubbed pointers, English and Irish setters, foxhounds, beagles, and greyhounds the Big Six among some 40 breeds of sporting dogs.
Question: My pup has one ear that does not stand up properly. I have heard that painting a dog’s ear with collodion would strengthen the muscles, and would like to know if your advice is to do so.—M. D. W., Wis. Answer: Sometimes, by just massaging the ear while in its proper position, this condition can be corrected in time.