Fifty Years a Hunter and Trapper Part 25

First, we split out shakes and repaired the roof and the door. We then split c.h.i.n.king block out of a ba.s.swood tree to renew the c.h.i.n.kings that had been gnawed and eaten up by the porcupines. After the c.h.i.n.king was all replaced and fastened in place by making wedges and driving them into the logs, one at each end of each c.h.i.n.king block, we gathered moss from old logs and calked every crack, pressing the moss into the cracks with a wedge-shape stick made for the purpose. The calking was all done from the inside.

After the c.h.i.n.king and calking was done, we dug into a clay bank and got clay, which we mixed with ashes taken from the fire then added sufficient water to make a rather stiff mortar. We filled the s.p.a.ces between the logs, going over every crack on the outside of the shack.

Now and again Frank would notice a mink or c.o.o.n track along the creek, while he was gathering moss from the old logs. These tracks would drive Frank nearly wild, and he would double his energy so as to get the shack finished so we could hit the trap line.

After we got the shack in good shape, we went to work getting up a good supply of wood, sufficient to last through the season. We had an open fireplace, so we cut the wood about three feet long. The wood was now up near the camp door, ranked up in good snug piles. We then cut crotched stakes and drove them in the ground on each side of the ranks, and laid poles in, then placed cross poles on and covered with hemlock boughs.

Frank was so anxious to get to work on the trap line, that he at first objected to putting in so much time in getting up the wood, saying that we could get the wood at odd times. But when told that there are no odd times on the trap line, he then worked the harder to get the supply of wood, including a good supply of dry pine for kindling fires, which we got by cutting a dry pine stub.

The camp now being in good shape, we hit the trap line and began building deadfalls for marten. We went onto the ridges into the thick heavy timber, where the marten were most likely to be found. We would select a low hemlock to build the deadfalls under, so the trap would be protected from heavy falls of snow, as much as possible. Some of the traps we would drive crotched stakes and lay poles in them and then cover with hemlock boughs to keep the snow off.

After we had several lines of marten traps built, we went onto the stream and branches and built deadfalls for mink and c.o.o.n.

Nearly every day we saw deer, but the weather was still too warm to keep venison any length of time, so we did not carry our guns with us. When Frank would see a deer he would make grave threats that he would carry his gun the next day. We were about two miles from the stage road. The stage made only one trip a week, so there was no way of disposing of a deer as long as the weather was so warm. It took but little persuasion to convince Frank that it would be poor policy to kill deer as long as we could make use of but a small part of a single deer.

After we had gotten out a good line of deadfalls for marten, mink and c.o.o.n, and as it was now about the first of November and time to bait up the deadfalls, and set out what steel traps we had for fox, I told Frank that we would carry our guns with us and try to kill a deer for bait and camp use. Frank could hardly sleep that night; he was so delighted to think that the time had come to quit the monkey business, as he called it, and begin business.

We climbed the ridge where we knew there were some deer, following down the ridge, one on each side, along the brow of the hill. We put in the entire day without getting a shot at a deer. That night it snowed about an inch, so that in the wooded timber, one could see the trail of the deer in the snow; but in hemlock timber there was not enough snow on the ground, so a track could be followed. We had killed a squirrel or two, and had a little prepared bait, so we concluded to bait a few traps until we struck a deer trail.

We did not succeed in finding the tracks of any deer until well along in the afternoon. It so happened that I got a shot at a deer that was nearly hidden from sight behind a large tree. I shot the deer through, just forward of the hips. We followed it only a short distance when we found the bed of the deer, and there was blood in it, so it was plain to be seen in what manner the deer was wounded.

All still-hunters (excuse the word still-hunt; the word stalking does not sound good to a backwoodsman) of deer know that when a deer is shot well back through the small intestines, that if conditions will allow, the right thing to do is to leave the trail for a time and the deer will lie down. If left alone for an hour or two the hunter will have but little trouble in getting his deer. So in this case, as we were not far from camp and it was nearly sundown, I told Frank that we had better let the deer go until morning, when we would have more daylight ahead of us, and we would get the deer with less trouble.

We started for camp and had gone only a short distance when Frank said he would work along the ridge a little and see if he could not kill a partridge.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FOOT OF TREE SET.]

I went on to camp and when dark came I couldn't see nor hear anything of Frank. I ate my supper, and as I could get no word from Frank either by shouting or firing my gun, I climbed to the top of the ridge so I could be heard for a greater distance, but still I could get no answer. It had turned warmer and what little snow was on the ground had melted. I could not follow his trail in the dark, so went back to camp and built a good big fire outside of the camp in case Frank should come in sight, he might see the light and come in. At intervals of half an hour, I would call as loud as I could. I kept this up until midnight, when I lay down to get a little sleep, knowing that I could not help matters by staying up.

At daylight the next morning I was on the ridge at the place where I last saw Frank, and by close watch managed to follow his trail while he was in the hardwood timber, where there was a heavy fall of leaves; but when he struck into the heavy hemlock timber, I could no longer track him. However, I had tracked him sufficiently far enough to see that he had gone back to look for the wounded deer. I made tracks in the direction I expected the wounded deer would be likely to lie down. After some searching I found the bed of the deer, also tracks of a man, which I knew to be Frank. But I could only follow the trail a short distance from where he had driven the deer out of its bed. There were plenty of deer tracks all around, but knowing that the wounded deer would naturally work down the draw, I worked my way along the hollow, keeping a close lookout for any signs of the wounded deer that I might chance to cross. At different times, I found a few drops of blood, but no signs of Frank.

I had worked down the hollow some ways, when I ran onto the wounded deer; it staggered to its feet, but was too near gone to keep its feet. I finished it by shooting it in its head. I removed the entrails as quickly as I could, bent down a sapling and hung the deer up, and then made tracks down the stream the best I could shouting and occasionally firing off my gun.

We were in a big wilderness. No roads or inhabitants west of us for many miles, and this was the course I feared Frank was most likely to take.

I now began to think that I had a serious job on hands. I kept up the search all day without getting the least trace of Frank and returned to camp late that night.

Starting early the next morning, and taking a good lunch with me, I crossed the head of Winfall Run and over the divide onto the waters of the Hamersley, continuing to shout and occasionally firing my gun.

I had worked down the run some six or eight miles, when I heard some one hollow two or three times in quick succession. I was quite positive it was Frank. It was miles from any inhabitants in a dense wilderness, and hunters were not common on those parts in those days.

I immediately answered the call, and soon I could hear Frank coming down the hill at breakneck speed, giving tongue at every jump.

We at once started for camp, Frank eating the lunch I had brought in my knapsack, and telling of his trials, as we made tracks the best we were able to for camp. Frank, in telling his story, would cry like a baby, and then laugh like a boy with a pair of new boots. But he cut no more boy tricks.

We finished the season's hunt, catching a goodly bunch of fox, marten, mink and c.o.o.n, as well as killing a good bunch of deer. Had fur and venison brought as much in those days, as at the present time, we would have bought an automobile, and put an end to this hoofing it.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

The White Deer.

I do not remember whether I have told the boys of the H-T-T the story of the white deer, which I had the good luck to get, and the picture of which was shown in one of the sporting magazines a few years ago.

The picture was sent to the magazine by Mrs. Prudence Boyington, Roulett, Pa., who was the owner of the deer at the time, and I believe a daughter of Mrs. Boyington still has the deer.

It was in the spring of 1878 or 1879 that a doe and a white fawn were seen on the hill just south of Lymansville. The fawn and its mother were seen almost daily in some of the fields near the village, and often were seen in some one of the pastures with the cows. The fawn would run and play about like a lamb.

It was plain to be seen from week to week that the fawn was rapidly growing, and as the open season for hunting of deer drew near it was generally understood that the white fawn and its mother should not be killed. When the winter came on, the fawn and its mother were all at once missing. The general supposition was that they had been killed, but when spring came the doe and the white fawn (now a yearling deer) again appeared on its old haunts of the year before. They had merely gone back into the more dense woods to winter.

Along in June it was noticed that there were three deer instead of two. Another fawn had appeared on the scene, this time an ordinary spotted fawn. They were again daily seen during the summer the same as they were the year before. Now it had been strongly urged by the people all about the country that these deer should not be killed, and there was none that was more strongly in favor of this than I was. The deer were regularly seen again all summer and up to the last days of October, when they again disappeared and all were anxious for spring to come to see if they would return as usual. When spring came the deer came back as before, but in June "the whole bunch came up missing," and it was generally thought that they had changed their haunts or they had been killed. The latter was strongly suspected.

I had taken a scout through the woods on the hills back of the locality where these deer had been frequenting and had seen signs that convinced me that the white deer, at least, was still alive, although it had not been seen for a number of weeks. Here I wish to explain that Coudersport is two miles from Lymansville and it is on the hill between the two places that the white deer had been seen most, and it was in the former place that the loudest cry for the protection of this white deer came from.

Now about this time I had killed a deer in the big woods where several of us had been on a fishing trip and I took a piece of this venison to a friend in town. It so happened that one of the side judges of our court (Stebens by name) was at the house of my friend.

A few days later I was in a store belonging to a brother of the Judge, when the Judge came in and accused me of killing the white deer. Of course I denied, and told the Judge that I would wager two dollars that the white deer was still living. The Judge said "Very well," and at the same time handed a two dollar bill to a man standing by, by the name of Abison, who was listening to our conversation, which was quite heated. I told the Judge at the very first opportunity I would kill the white deer.

The white deer was not seen in the woods any more, and I was charged with killing it. I said nothing in regard to the charge, for I had now made up my mind to kill it if I could. One day three or four weeks after I had made the wager, Mr. Abison came to me and handed me two dollars and said that the Judge had got his money and told him to give me my money back as he (the Judge) did not want to take the money, that I had killed the white deer all right.

Now I was quite positive that the Judge had learned that the white deer was still alive. I had heard that the white deer had again been seen in a field near town. Now this made me all the more determined to kill the white deer. I will explain that I had learned that several of the sportsmen of Coudersport, the Judge included, had had dogs after the white deer several times the previous fall, but it so happened that there were no watchers at the place where the deer came to the creek.

That fall as soon as the first snow fell I went after the deer. I did not strike the trail until quite late in the afternoon, and as the deer left the woods where it had been accustomed to staying and went into the big woods farther south, I left the trail for that day. I would have got a shot at the deer if my attention had not been called in the wrong direction by the chirping of several blue jays which I thought were excited over the presence of the white deer.

I was working the trail to the best of my ability and knew that I was close to the game, when my attention was drawn by the chirping of those blue jays which were down the side of a hill. I was working the trail so as to be on vantage ground and could see from where I was standing that the trail had turned slightly down the hill along the side of a fallen tree and in the direction of the chirping of the jays. This led me to think that the jays were scolding the deer, so I cautiously advanced a few steps down the hill, expecting every moment to see the deer. While I was watching down the hill, I heard a slight noise to my right and partly behind me. I looked in the direction in which the noise came from and was surprised to catch a glimpse of the deer jumping the log near where I had last seen the trail. The log hid the deer from my sight so that I was unable to get a shot at it.

The deer had lain down close to the log, and had I taken a few more steps in the direction I was going instead of giving attention to the jays I would have seen the deer and made my word good the first time.

It was too late in the day to follow the trail farther at this time, knowing that the deer would run a long distance before stopping. As I had a team engaged to take me to my camp and I was anxious to get there on the first tracking snow, I concluded to give the white deer a rest a few days until I returned from camp in the big woods. I was in camp only a few days when the snow went off, so I came home. I had only been home a day or two when a man by the name of Hill came to my house in great haste. He had been cutting logs en a hill, and looking across onto a hill opposite where he was working, saw the white deer, so came to tell we what he had seen. I at once took my gun and started after the deer. I went up the hill in the direction that Mr.

Hill had seen the deer until I was quite sure that I was well above the deer, then cautiously worked my way down the side of that hill.

There being no snow on the ground and the deer being white, I soon discovered it lying in its bed. I cautiously crept up within shooting distance and fired, killing the deer instantly.

I will explain how it happened that these deer disappeared so suddenly at the time Judge Stebens accused me of killing the white deer and the wager was made between the Judge and your humble servant. A man by the name of Frank Williams had shot the deer breaking a foreleg at the knee joint, and this caused the deer to remain hidden away until it recovered from the wound. The leg or joint was stiff when the deer was killed and the force of the bullet was so spent that it lay against the skin after shattering the knee joint and I still have the ball which I took from the knee. I had the deer mounted and Mrs. Boyington took it as she was collecting freaks and curios of this country.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

A Day of Luck.

Every hunter of long experience could tell of the ups and downs along the trail consisting of good, bad and indifferent luck and as usual tell of our hits and let others tell of our misses, I will tell of a day of good luck. It was in November and there was no snow on the ground. I was camping on the Holman branch of Pine Creek in Pennsylvania and one night, just at dark, a party of several men came to my camp and asked to stay over night. They stated that they were going to camp on the opposite side of the ridge on the Sinnamahoning waters. My camp was small but I made room for the hunters the best I could.

This party was going into a section of country where I had several bear traps as well as a good number of smaller traps set for fox, mink, marten and other fur animals. As I wished to look these traps over the next day before this party got scattered about the woods where my traps were, I got up early the next morning, ate a hasty breakfast and put a lunch into my knapsack and was ready to start out before the party of hunters was up. I cautioned the hunters to see that the fire was safe when they left camp and then started on my day's hunt without the slightest idea that I was starting on one of the luckiest days I ever had.

I had to climb a high ridge, then my route was for some distance on a long ridge, which I would follow for a distance of a mile and a half, when I dropped off the right hand side of the ridge into a ravine where I had a bear trap set. This ridge was a clean open one of beech and maple timber. I knew it would keep me busy the entire day to get over the trap line, the best that I could do, so had no intention of spending any time looking after deer. When I got to this open ridge, I took a dog trot along the ridge.

I was making good time when on looking ahead along the ridge I saw a good-sized buck come from the left hand side of the ridge. He would take a jump or two then drop his head to the ground and then take another hop or two and again drop his head to the ground. I knew that he was on the trail of other deer. I had hardly time to bring my gun to my shoulder when the buck wheeled and disappeared back over the ridge from where he had come. I started on a run to where the deer had gone out of sight, thinking that possibly I might catch him before he got out of range down the side of the hill. Imagine my surprise when just as I reached the top of the hill, where I saw the deer disappear from my sight, I almost ran against the buck. He had turned back to cross the ridge when I met him. He whirled down the hill but I was too close onto him and I caught him before he could get out of reach. I took out the deer's entrails and bent down a sapling and hung the deer up, then I crossed the ridge and started down the ravine to look after the bear traps.

I was hurrying down the hill near a jam of fallen timber, when all at once out jumped five or six deer from this timber. In an instant the whole bunch was out of sight behind the jam with the exception of one large doe. I could see, one of her hips standing out from behind a large hemlock tree. Without hesitating a moment, I fired at what I could see of the deer and it dropped out of sight as the gun cracked.

I hurried through the jam of timber to where I saw the deer and there the doe lay, trying to get on her feet. I soon ended her misery by shooting her in the head. I soon had her entrails out and hung up as I had the buck. It was the trail of this bunch of deer that the buck was on when he ran into me.

After I had hung up the deer I hustled on down the ravine to the bear trap. When I got to the place where the trap was set it was gone. The trail led down the ravine and was easy to follow as I hurried along and I soon found a small bear tangled up in a thicket of small brush.

It was only the work of a moment to fix bruin in shape to skin. After I had the hide off, I cut the bear up into quarters and hung the meat up in the trees. I toted the trap back up to where it was set and reset it then I went back down the hollow to where I had left the bear skin and took it on my shoulder and made tracks down the hollow to the main creek where I had a string of deadfalls set for mink and c.o.o.n. The bear skin was about all the load I cared to tote, but I had not gone far down the creek before I had the skins of two good sized c.o.o.n and one mink tied to my load. The c.o.o.n and mink skins I could get in my knapsack so they did not bother much.