Los Angeles herald., 1892-11-06
DEER STALKING IN THE FAR WEST
RecOllectiOns of Olden Days by
Flood and Field.
With Dogs and Rifle Over the Lonely
Pine-clad Hills.
The Droves of Antelope in Pioneer Day
on the Sacramento Rivera Race
with an ELK on Stony
Greek in 1854.

Creek in 1854.
81 rose at the dawn, with my dog for a guide,
From mountain to mountain l bounded
I breasted the billows of Tweeds foaming tide,
And heard at distance, the liighland9rs
song"
For man that was not trained to the
vocation of lumberman the late Gerald
Robertson of Portland, Ore, was the
hapdiest man l ever saw. "Confound
your tents for canoe trip" he would
say. "All want is some fir trees and a
hatchet, and it can rain as hard as it
likes" 1t wasEin the company of this
peerless gentleman, whose loss | shall
never cease to deplore, that spent three
consecutive summers in the trackless
woods; and such camps as they were.
Everybody had some work to do. One
man looked after storing the baggage in
the canoes; another did the cooking,
while third was dishwasher for both
meals; and the fourth mah was the
watchman of the camp for that day. No
matter if the trout fshed upwards
from the foaming eddies like falling
stars on dark winters night; no mat
ter if great focks of blue-rock pigeons
lighted in the hazel thickets across the
creek, till the limbs cracked under their
weight, and no matter if the bay Of the
deep-throated staghounds resounded
through the moss-grown dells on the
steep hills above the camp, the camp
keepers duty was plain one-he must
stay in camp for that day. But with
broad branching cedar boughs above one,
a novel in your hand and good pipe in
your mouth, what did you care whethe +
stocks were up or down. Diana and
Plutus were at swords points and Plutus
threw up the sponge.
x*x
What camps those were, to be sure.
If there was the slightest sign of a
cloud or the purring of south wind
through alder thickets, the lazy,
Oriental face of Gerald blazed with
fire in moment. He would grasp his
Ratchet and begin hewing bark from
some recently fallen forest monarch. In
less than an hour he would have fir
bark shanty built and, when the rain
came, he would say: "Boys, thank the
skipper for a good breakfast and me for
dry bed," and then he would lie down
on his blankets and blow into thin air
all the fancies of his light and joyous
heart. 1t was in the early winter when
he died and I did not miss him that
wear. But when the next summer came
and there was no Gerald to go to the
woods with me, [ began to realize my
bereavement. | had just returned from
a sea voyage of 1900 miles and July
1f Au foy
month in the forest, But my dearly
loved companions handsome brown
eyes were closed in death and the charm
OF camp life was at last vanished joy.
x*x
began deer hunting in 1854. before I
was OF age. l remember the first deer
l shot in Mill valley, at the foot OF
Tamilpais. Thirty-eight years ago
How many gallant fellows have gone
over to the majority since then.
sneaked through the brush on that clear
mountain creek and killed him with a
shotgun. Since then the rifle has
served me for nine out of every ten.
The first buck ever killed in California
was about a mile below Autenreith's g
ferry, not far from the present site of
Duntmore station, on the Oregon
branch of the Southern Pacific. l rec
ollect how he sprang to his feet with an
expiring effort, though shot through
both lungs, and made an effort to gore
me as l showed my long bowie knife
away down his gullet l can hear him
groan now, as he sank lifeless on the
sod and well. too, / remember, how |
had to disembowel him before / could
lit him upon my horse.
W.
was village schoolmaster then in a
little mining village called Churntown,
in Shasta county and the allied cannon
were still playing upon the dark redans
of Sevastopol. The world had not then
heard Of Jessie Brown and her keen ear
Tor the 'slogan O. the Macgregors," and
Nena Sahib had not yet made Cawnpore
synonym for terror over all the world
AS bright and fair country as Califor-
mia then was will never again be eeen.
There were no very rich men in those
days, and none absolutely poor. The
forests between Yreka and Red Bluff
still sheltered the brave Taschastas and
Modocs, while the crafty and cruel
Wylackas of Pitt river still made their
predatory incursions upon the helpless
settlers Of Hat creek and Portuguese
fiat. In those days roamed the woods
for weeks together with rifle and q
revolver. In my pocket was trout
line, and the first halle bush furnished
me rod worthy Of Fowler or Devine.
NV
Would I live the same life over if 1
could again? Just try me on. The
schoolboys who kindly bade me adieu at
the little schoolhouse door on the clos
ing day of the five months term wore
no more joyous faces than did. And
30, while other men were rolling up
shekels and accumulating wealth, | was
put down as an idler. Well, most Of
them are dead now, and the rest are
dead broke, while | am hale and hearty
at 5S and as fond of the chase as ever.
The blacktailed deer is the most COM
mon of all the cervus tribe in California,
and so scarce has he become, owing to
the depredations of the skin hunters.
that it has become necessary to protect
him by legislation. Not 30 in my cal
low days, however. l can recall the
time when Capt. Tom Stinson, on whose
boat l was a Waterman, came down out
of the pilot house and took rifle away
from passenger who was standing on
the upper deck and shooting antelopes
on the bank, just below old Billy
Moons. In those days elk were very
plenty about Chico landing and the
mouth of Stony creek, and have heard
a story that George Furman, who died in
this city some years age, actually rode one
of his unce's thoroughbred mares after
an elk and palloped him TO a standatill