The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1913-11-13
A STRANGE HUNTING EXPERIENCE
A Newspaper Man SELDOM Well
He Never Lies.

=
the following interesting account of
hunting trip in his paper of last week:
The editor of this paper once had
T similar experience to that of Mr..
Garlitz. 1t happened when the editor
was lad Is years old. He went gun
ming for wild ducks along the Cassel-
man river, near Salisbury, Pa, one
day when the elements ragged in their
fury and snow and rain fell at inter
walls all day long.
Locating big flock of ducks on a
big stretch of dead water known as
FlOg Pond, he stealthily crawled
through the tall swamp grass of an
adjacent meadow until he came in
range of the ducks. Raising his head
and sholders foot or two from the
ground, he aimed at the ducks through
some brush growing near the waters
edge, and fired.
The result was surprising, for he
killed three ducks on the water and
about halt-dozen quail that were in
the bushes through which the shot was
fired, but unobserved by the youthful
hunter until some unframed ones in
the flock began to fly away, and the
dying ones were noticed fluttering in
the bushes.
Reader, imagine if you can the
IL fail b,,oTnrJe NJ fAo&
moment! He had read the life of
Meshach Browning, the great hunter
who figured so prominently in Garrett
county during the early days of
Western Maryland, and up to that time
regarded him as the greatest man
that ever lived. But after firing the
shot from the old shotgun that FILLED
three ducks and about twice that many
quail at the same time, Meshach
Browning, the idol in the writer's
Youthful mind crumbled and fell. No
more was he a hero. but rather an
object of pity, if not actually of con-
tempt, in the estimation of the youth
full hunter.
Soliloquizing, ne said: Did Mes
bach Browning ever kill that many
birds in one shot?" And he answer
ed: Nav. bet yer life he didn t!'
And it is ,aIsafe bet that old Meshach
never did But how to get the ducks
was the next question. They were in
mid stream, where the water was
about 10 feet deep and very wide. A
strong gale was sweeping up stream,
and the dead ducks seemed to remain
almost stationary Now, be it known
the writer never was blessed Tor
should we say cursed?l with a very
large stock of patience. He wanted
those ducks, and being good swimmer
almost from the time he was knee
high to a duck, a graduate from the
old deep hole" near Little Crossings
bridge, below Grantsville, he just
yanked off all of his clothes, except
underwear,s of which he had none to
yank off, as boys in those days had no
use for such Injuries. Yes, he I'M
dressed while the now-fakes were fall
ing thick and fast. and into the icy
waters he leaped and soon had the
ducks out on the bank,
Whether God tempered the wind to
the "shorn lamb" or whether the
boys enthusiasm kept him warm. he
never knew nor never cared. 1t just
seemed like those dead ducks were
saying: The waters fine, come in'
And really it was fine, so refreshing,
ugh! and the experience was along
Meshach Browning lines. Did the boy
catch cold or get sick? Not on your
life! He didn't know how to get sick,
those days, and he enjoyed the swim
ming so we'll that he played dog for
another hunter the balance of the day,
bringing ducks out of the water when
ever the other fellow killed any, which
was pretty often.
This is also true story, for editors
never-well, hardly ever lie, and this
is one of the instances where the
truth is more interesting than re-
lated hunting incident that never
| happened would be.