Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1885-06-03

THE DESPERATE STRUGGLE OF HUNTER WITH
A WOUNDED BIRD ON BALD MOUNT.
From the New York sun,


WOUNDED BIRD ON BALD MOUNT.
From the New York sun.
hunter named Jasper Wiltsey had an ex-
citing experience with an eagle on the summit
of Bald Mount the other day, the details of
which he told to the Suns correspondent as fol-
lows:
81 was roamin' around on the top of the
mount one day last week shootin' crows an
hawks an SIGH kind O small an wuthless
game, when heerd an onearthly screechin' an
Gavin a little ways off from where was takin'
a rest on rock an lookin' down into the val,
round a tarrible big eagle, an ev'ry now an
then divin at it an fightin' il fur all they was
wurth. As near as 1 could guess there was
forty or fifty crows in all, an ev'ry one on 'em
was pitchin' at the big bird an tryin' to down
him: He screamed an Topped his wings an
ON to him like files round a boss in summer
time, only gittin out o the way when he made
,em: The crows made the air hot fur the big
bird, an he had all he could do to keep 'em of,
FUR they tackled him as If they meant to eat
him up. They was as mad as wasps, an they
Went fur him with vengeance.
"The big bird didn't pear to see anything but
the crows, an he flew low down as he came
toards the cliff where was. Ipulled my rifle
on him an hit him in the left wing. The crows
got away fast crows kin fly soon as
they heerd the shot, an the big bird tumbled to
easy matter rt to kefc him them but when
up to take hold of him he dartcd at me an tried
to pounce on me with both feet. see that
one side bout quick as did in my life,
an made Il move to grab one of his wings. He
didn take any stock in my familiarity, an
struck at me agin'. This time he cawed ut me
an looked wild an mad. l wanted to ketch
him alive, fur he was a noble bird, an the way
he showed fight made me admire him. | had
piece o strong cord in my pocket, an. while
was keepin' out o the way o his claws an
wings, made a Slippin moose out q il, thinkin
that might git it over his head an cool him
down a little, an i'll that way bring him to his
senses. But he kept movin' round so lively
that ev'ry time l throwed the moose ut his
head it come within bout yard of the
mark l tried this game half Il dozen
times, an then he got as mad Satan an
went fur me- He tore one of my pockets out
an come mighty near strikin me in the face
| had laid my gun down on tn rock, not s'pos-
in I'd need to load it agin, fur didn't want to
kill the bird. DO all l could couldn't ketch
hold o any part of him. l was willin to be
drew blood on my hands an struck at me to
kill. got out o. his way, but he follored me
up fur ten or fifteen rod, when picked up Il
dry stick an hit him over the wings an back.
The blow broke the stick, but it didn't make
him vince q bit. He was mighty strong bird,
an see that he bound to git the best of
me unless done sOmethin' to cool him down.
But couldn't git him TO understand how felt
towards him. He jumped at me agin an tore
out 'nuther pocket, an then turned an run.
But he was after me, an made as good time as
o breath, an couldn't stand such work much
longer. see had to kill the poor Teller, an so
| pulled out my revolver an put Il bullet into
his breast / hated to do it, though. He
measured more six foot from one wings end
to tn Other.''