The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1902-02-15

lntently IOr the SOUND OF the Snlpplng
bills. In the hills the almost absolute
quiet is broken only by the cawing
of some distant crow winging its way
homeward and showing b1ack1y
against the Redeemed western sky, or
by the barking of some impudent
squirrel which knows itself to be safe
and takes advantage of the fact.
In the deep clefts there is no wind.
The branches stand out starkly and
unswayed. A rabbit may lope leis-
urely away in long leaps, or red
headed sapsucker hammer merrily
and aimlessly upon some trunk. The
air is SO light, so cold, so pure, that
man feels a longing to stop and
drink it in with gulps.
Suddenly the clicking is heard and
the man with the gun knows that he
is within a few rods of his game.
He knows. too. that it can be in only
the gorge. se"4
He redoubles his caution, placing
one foot down before he lifts the
other, as slip or tumble might be
fatal. Crouching, using each tree as
a shelter from which to peer warily,
with one ear muff removed and that
ear cooked forward, avoiding loose
stones whose points project above the
snow, he goes on.
Then, poking his face slowly around
the side of some crusty old oak which
has clung to the gorge for hundred
years or more, he sees ahead an IRON
wood in which the birds are feeding.
They have not heard him.
Eagerly, voraciously, swiftly they
are seizing the buds in their bills and
yanking them from their sheaths with
a vicious sidelong jerk of the head.
Time is flying and they must have
full craws by dark.
In the fading light they look like
black balls perched on high. There
is, of course, no opportunity for speci-
ally expert craftsmanship. No man
could consistently shoot his birds
through the head at that distance
shooting tame chickens through the
head in a barnyard and ruffed grouse
through the lead in the woods are
different things-besides the grouse
heads are never still.
So, taking the lowest bird as be-
ginning he sights at the plump body
and presses the trigger strongly and
evenly. There is sharp, snappy
crack, not loud but spiteful, and on
the snow below a whirling mass of
brown is in its death agony.
The birds above stretch their necks
upward for an instant, shift uneasily
from one foot to another and go on
tearing at the buds. Out of a covey
of eight it is generally possible to get
FIVE in this way if the birds are ex-
ceptionally hungry and the conditions
favorable, all of them may be killed.
This, of course, allows for some
misses. The best man that ever ham
died rifle misses occasionally and
when he is shooting near dusk in
temperature of ten degrees below zero
his misses will be frequent.
This is butchery, but it is also sport
of a certain kind that can not be
denied. The man must know how to
approach it and he must know how
to shoot straight and fast after he
finds it.
He feels a certain sense of satisfac-
ton in the use of the knowledge,
though some sportsmen would furi-
ously denounces him as game hog.
Probably he is aware, also, that the
same sportsmen might like to take a
crack at the ruffed grouse themselves,
even though they used small rifles
and began on the lowest bird and
snaked half OF the covey off the tree.
-Wew York .Snn Con- eS60ndent.