Hunting and Trapping in Cameron County.
It will be remembered that when Mr. Earl (or Bill, as I preferred to
call him,) and the writer followed the bear from the Kinzua in McKene
County, through Cameron County, that we saw signs of bear, deer,
marten and other game quite plentiful in the region of Baley Run,
Salt Run and Hunt's Run, and that we concluded to pitch our camp in
that quarter. As there were no huckleberries in the vicinity of our
homes, we decided to kill two birds with one stone, that was to pick
some huckleberries and build our camp for the next season's hunt.
Accordingly about the last days of July, we took a team and our
outfit for camp building and started for Hunt's Run by way of the
Sinnamahoning and Baley Run. At this time the country in that section
was an unbroken forest of pine, oak and hemlock with a goon
sprinkling of chestnut. As the saying was in those days, "God owned
the land in that section," so all we had to do was to go into the
woods, select our camp site and proceed to build. (Boys, let me stop
long enough to say it is different nowadays; you must go through a
whole lot of red tape and get a permit to camp and the permit only
lasts two weeks, when you must get a renewal.)
The site we selected for our camp was on the left-hand branch of
Hunt's Run. We rolled up the usual box log body, about 10 x 14 feet.
We put up a bridge roof, putting up about four pairs of rafters and
then using three or four small cross poles for roof boards. We then
peeled hemlock bark, making the pieces about four feet long, which we
used for shingles to cover the roof with. After the roof was
completed, we felled a chestnut tree which we split into spaults
about four feet long. With these we chinked all the cracks between
the logs, striking the axe into the logs, close to the edge of the
chinking and then driving a small wedge in the slot made by the axe
to hold the chinking in place.
Next we gathered moss from old fallen trees and stuffed all the
cracks, using a blunt wedge to press the moss good and tight. We then
begun on the mason work. We found a bank of clay that was rather free
of stones and made a mortar by using water, making the mortar about
as stiff as mortar usually used in house plastering. The chinking and
mossing had been done from the inside, while we now filled the space
between the logs good and full of mortar, or rather mud.
The next work was to take the team and haul stones, which we found
along the run and put up the fireplace. Considerable pains was taken
and we done a pretty good job, as we hoped to use this camp for a
number of seasons. After the fireplace was completed, we hung a door,
using hinges made of blocks of wood and boring auger holes through
one end. Shaping the other end on two of these eyes to drive in two
holes boring into the logs close to the door jams. The other two eyes
were flattened off and made long enough for door cleats as well as to
form a part of the door hinge. Now a rod was run through these eyes
or holes in these pieces. This formed a good, solid door hinge. Then
a door latch was made from a slat of wood, which worked on a pin in a
hole bored in one end of the slat and a hole bored through the door.
A small hole in the slat and a string tied to latch and run through a
hole in the door furnished the means of raising the latch. A loop for
the latch to work in and a catch on the door jam and the door was
complete.
We next put in the window and made a bunk or bedstead from small
poles and the hut was completed. I think we were about four days
doing the work including an hour or so each day spent in picking
huckleberries enough for our special need. Now as the camp was
completed, we began to search for a place where we could find berries
more plentiful than we had found them near camp. On the hillsides
facing the river, where there were barrens, we found more.
While searching for huckleberries we found a deerlick or salt log,
which the deer were working good. Bill said he guessed we had better
appropriate the loan of the lick for one night to our own use, and
see if we could not get some venison to take home with us as well as
huckleberries.
When the sun was about an hour high, we took our guns and went to the
salt log. There was no blind made to get in to watch them. We
selected two jack pines that stood near together and we each climbed
into a tree, breaking some of the boughs out that obstructed our view
in the direction of the lick and laid the boughs across some limbs to
sit on. We had scarcely got our seats fixed when I heard the crack of
a limb off to our left. I whispered to Bill and pointed in the
direction I had heard the breaking of the limb. Bill shook his head,
to indicate that he had not heard anything, but had hardly done so
when I saw Bill begin to cautiously shift his gun from the way it was
pointed and slowly move it so as to shoot to his left. When he had
the gun worked around so it pointed in the direction in which he
wanted it, he began to raise it slowly to his shoulder. I thought to
myself, that means venison for breakfast. I thought right, for when
Bill touched the trigger and his gun spoke, I saw two yearling deer
jump into sight and my gun came to my shoulder from habit, but there
was no need to shoot.
The second jump that the deer made one of them fell dead, the other
one ran a few rods, stopped and looked back to see what had become of
his mate. Bill's gun came to his shoulder like a flash, but I
hollowed, "Don't shoot." Bill dropped his gun and said, I came
dog-on-nigh making a fool of myself. We got down from our perches and
dragged the deer (a yearling buck) out away from the lick, removed
the entrails and Bill made a knapsack of the carcass and started for
camp.
The sun could still be seen shining on the highest peaks of the
hills. Bill said, "That fun was over with too quick; I had one of the
most comfortable seats I ever had. I had no time to enjoy it, when
you called my attention to those little bucks and spoiled all my
comfort." We got to camp before dark and stripped the skin from the
deer, spread it out, cut all the meat from the bones, layed it on the
skin, sprinkled some salt over it, then wrapped the meat up in the
skin, saving out a few choice pieces to frizzle over the coals and
eat with our lunch before bunking in for the night.
We had seen some parties, while picking berries during the day. They
told us that there was a man by the name of Sage living down on the
river near Emporium, who had a large clearing on the hill only about
a mile from where we were, or about two miles from our camp. He told
us in which direction we would find the field, and said that we would
find Mr. Sage there, as he was up there cutting oats. As the grub
stake for the horses was getting rather low, and as we were not yet
ready to go home, Bill said that if I would stay and jerk the venison
(for here we cannot keep venison by hanging it up in a tree, or on a
pole, as you can on the Pacific Coast or in the Rockies), he would go
and see Mr. Sage.
In the morning I began preparation to jerk the venison, while Bill
went in search of grub for the horses. There was no road, but there
was but very little down timber in the woods in those days, only
occasionally a wind jam, which you had to work your way around. Bill
found the clearing all right, and got oats in the bundle for the
horses. Bill also made arrangements with Mr. Sage to bury eight
bushels of potatoes and leave them on the hill where we could get
them as we wished. Bill also killed a large rattlesnake on his way to
the field, which he brought to camp, where we skinned and took out
the oil. When we were skinning the snake Bill remarked, "that he
thought the fur rather light on the varmint, but it was a pretty
cuss." Let me say that at our place on the head waters of the
Allegheny we had no eels, rattlesnakes or wartelberries, so we
concluded that we would stop one night on the Sinnamahoning and get
some eels to take home with us.
While Bill was gone for horse feed I was busy jerking the venison. I
gathered a good hill of dry hemlock bark from the logs, burned it to
a good pile of live coals. I now made a rack or gridiron by driving
four crotched stakes in the ground about the embers and then laid
small poles across in the crotches to form a rack to spread the
venison on over the coals. I stood hemlock bark up about the rack,
freshly peeled from the tree and covering the top over also with
bark, which forms an oven. It is necessary to remove the top or cover
occasionally and turn the meat, and say, boys, next June when you are
out camping just kill a small deer and prepare the meat as described.
Is it good? I guess yes.
Having our work completed at the camp, the next morning after we had
got the horses fed and the venison prepared, we drove back onto
Baleys Run. Here we camped near the mouth of the run, and that night
we set fifty eel hooks, some in the run and some in the main
Sinnamahoning. I think that we caught twenty-two eels and some trout.
As we were now in a section where there were some barrens, which
contained good huckleberry picking, we put in the next day picking
berries until near night, and drove home at night, a distance of
about twenty miles. All the time while picking berries, setting eel
hooks and trout fishing, of which we did enough to supply our needs,
we kept a close watch for signs of animals that we intended to take
in later on.
We saw signs of mink, coon and where an otter had been at play on a
steep bank of the run. We saw signs of bear in several places where
they had torn old logs to pieces in search of grub and ants. We saw
at one place where a bear had dug out a woodchuck, and I should judge
by the amount of digging he had done that he earned his chuck. We saw
considerable signs of bear in the huckleberries, and of them will
have more to say later on.
* * *
About October first, Bill and your humble servant again started for
camp, which we found all right. From all appearances it had been
occupied for several days by someone, probably berry pickers, and as
usual they had burned up what wood we had cut. Bill made a little
kick, and said they were welcome to the camp, but he would be
"dog-on" pleased if they would cut what wood they burned. Our first week
in camp was spent in cutting a good supply of wood and mudding the
shack a little in places where we failed to do good work the first
time.
Being located well up at the head of the streams, it made it
necessary for us to do a good deal of traveling to get from one
stream to another where the water was of sufficient size to afford
good trapping ground. Steel traps being none too plenty with us now,
we started in to build deadfalls. The territory so far as trapping
was concerned was left to Bill and I, and we took in the waters of
Baley Run, the Portage, Conley Run and Hunt's Run, as well as several
lesser streams. As the Baley was the farthest from our camp, Bill
said we would put up the traps on that stream first. Bill said that
we would go at it man fashion, for we would be compelled to get our
grub from the trap line, for there was no chance to take a wood job
in that section of the country. I suggested that we might get a job
at the lumber camp, where we sold the deer the year before, and get a
few beans and a little pork. I guess that Bill did not like the idea,
for I remember he only gave me a grunt for an answer.
Say, boys, the question of pork and beans leads me to ask how many of
you who have a fireplace in your camp have a bean hole? Now, Bill and
I had one in our camp, and I tell you we thought it fine and we did
it in this way. We dug a hole in one corner of the fireplace about
two and a half feet deep and about eighteen inches in diameter, using
the regular old style of bake kettle. This is merely an iron pot,
with a close fitting flange lid so as to seclude all dust and ashes,
and we used it in this way. We would first rake a good lot of live
coals from the fireplace into the bean hole, having the beans already
in the kettle. Then we would put the kettle down in the hole and rake
the hole full of live embers, being careful to cover the hole over
with plenty of ashes.
We prepared the beans about in this fashion: After washing we soaked
them for about twelve hours. The water was drained off and the beans
were then put into the kettle with the necessary trimmings, which
consisted of a good chunk of pork put in the center of the beans, and
two or three smaller pieces laid on top, a pinch of salt providing
that the pork was not sufficiently salty. A spoonful of brown sugar
or rather a little baking molasses and a little pepper. Now this
kettle was allowed to remain three or four days in the hole without
disturbing farther than to cover over occasionally with hot embers.
You ask if beans are good baked this way--we guess yes. We have heard
a great deal about the famous Boston baked beans, but we wish to say
that they are not in it compared to beans baked in a bean hole.
Well, to get back to the trap line. We took the Baley waters first.
This was about six miles from camp, and as it was still a little
earlier in the season than we cared to begin to take fur, we would
build the deadfalls and have them ready to set when we thought that
fur was ripe enough to begin to gather. Bill used a good heavy axe,
and would cut the dead pole and bed pieces and the stakes and fit
them all ready to put up. He would then go on and select a place to
build another trap and get the material all ready as before and then
move on to the next place. I would follow him up and build the trap,
make the bait pen and have the trap all ready to set when the right
time came. The triggers we would make evenings in camp. We always
used the three-stick trigger, for then we could adjust the trigger so
that we were sure that the front legs of the animal were over the bed
piece, when the trap was sprung. In that condition there was not
get-away for the animal that tried to snip the bait. We would build traps
on one stream until we had a plenty for that stream. We would take up
another and put in a supply on that stream, and so on until we had
gone over as much ground as we could work to good advantage.
All the time we were putting up these deadfalls we were keeping a
watch out for likely places to set our steel traps for fox and other
animals. After we had gone over the streams we built the necessary
deadfalls in the dark, heavy timbered sections where we thought
likely that there might be marten. As it was now well along toward
the last of October, we set our bear traps on the different ridges in
the sections where the chestnut timber was the most plenty. The
chestnut crop was good and we knew that the first hard freeze would
open the burs. Bill said we got to get a move on us from early in the
morning until after dark when we would get into camp. We wished to
get all the traps out now that we could. Later we were going to put
in some time gathering chestnuts, as soon as they began to fall, as
there was good money in gathering them. At this business there was
lively competition with the squirrels, coons, bears and other animals
to see which could gather the most, so naturally there is but a few
days good picking after the chestnuts fall.
Bill said that we would be in a deal while the nuts lasted and we
did, for we gathered several bushels. I do not just remember how many
now, but that wasn't all we got while we were gathering chestnuts.
One day we came to where a bear had been raking for nuts and as it
was only about a mile from camp I said to Bill that it might be
possible that if we would stay out and watch for Bruin as long as we
could see to shoot, we might get a shot at the bear. Bill said that
he preferred to let the traps do the watching. There was a little
mist of rain falling, and just the right kind of weather for Bruin to
be prowling around. Some way it seemed to me if we stayed and watched
we would get a shot at a bear, but Bill had no faith and said that I
would get good and wet for my trouble. I told him that if he would
take what nuts I had gathered along to the shanty, I would stay and
watch awhile at least. Bill agreed, and said that he would have a hot
supper ready for me when I came to camp. I suggested to Bill that he
have the frying pan hot when I got there, for I would bring in some
bear meat for supper. Bill said that I need not bother to skin his,
as he would eat his hair and all.
As soon as Bill was gone I selected a point where I could see down
the hill, as well as over a good stretch of the top of the ridge. I
had only fairly picked my ground to watch when I heard the brush
crack close to me from behind. My gun came to my shoulder as I turned
in the direction of the noise, and there stood Bill a-grinning. I
asked him what had changed his mind. He said that if I could stand it
he could, so he stepped along the ridge a few yards and I leaned up
against a large hemlock tree. He had scarcely taken his stand when
all of a sudden I saw him begin to slowly raise his gun to his
shoulder. I knew that he was about to shoot at something, but thought
it must be a deer. I thought that I ought to shout and scare it away,
for I thought that Bill had come back on purpose to beat me out of
the sport, and I guessed right. Bill said after he had started to
camp it seemed to him that he had done wrong in leaving me to watch
alone, and that I would kill a bear. So he turned back and got there
just in time so as not to frighten the bear away, as well as to shoot
it, which was a yearling and weighed about 125 pounds, with a fine
pelt.
Bill apologized for the little trick. Said he would never do anything
of the kind again. He never did. A good reason being that another
opportunity never occurred. But later I will tell how I got the laugh
on Bill. The next morning Bill took the saddles of the bear to
Emporium and sold the meat, but he said that bear meat was not at a
premium in Emporium. I think he got about $6.00 out of the saddles.
While Bill was gone to Emporium I took two bear traps and went on to
a ridge where I thought would be the most likely place to catch a
bear, as there was considerable beach timber on that ridge in places.
Beach nuts last long after chestnuts are gone, and bear would be
likely to work in this timber. As we had not got all of our small
traps out yet, Bill said that if I would finish setting the rest of
the small traps, he would put in the most of his time hunting deer,
as the leaves were now pretty well off from the undergrowth, so that
the woods were now quite open. This I agreed to, as I knew Bill to be
a good deer hunter, while I was a little skeptical as to some of his
trapping methods.
Well, as the busy season was with us now, it was an early breakfast
and a late supper day after day. Yet we were able to keep up the pace
from the natural stimulating desire for sport, being anxious to know
what the results of the next day would be. We were having the usual
success of the average hunter and trapper who, as Bill said, if
willing to get a move on, our supply of meat and game was never
lacking, for I always shot at small game when hunting deer. Bill said
that he did not like to come into camp empty handed, so he would
shoot a grouse or a squirrel whenever a chance occurred. We had no
snow up to this time, so that deer hunting was a little dull, and
Bill said that he would take a line of traps, either on Baley Run or
on the Conley, as I liked. I said, take your choice, Bill, so he said
he would go to Conley Run, which was a little farther from camp than
the Baley Run, and one or two more bear traps than on Baley Run.
I found a coon or two, and I think I got a fox and one marten, but no
mink or other furs. I found that a bear had been to one trap and torn
down the bait pen and taken the bait, but left the trap unsprung. I
knew that he would cut the same trick again, if I set the trap there,
so I bent over a small sapling and hung the carcass of a coon on it
for a bait. The carcass hung four or five feet from the ground.
[Illustration: RESULTS OF A FEW WEEKS' TRAPPING.]
I set the trap under the carcass and said to myself, "Old fellow,
when you take that coon, there will be a bear dance." I got to camp
long after dark, but when I came in sight of camp and looked for a
light, there was no light to be seen, or any Bill to be found in
camp. I lit a light and looked at my watch. It was only a few minutes
of eight o'clock. I got supper and waited until nine o'clock, but no
Bill came, so I laid down on the bunk to rest, expecting Bill to turn
up every minute.
I dropped to sleep and when I awoke, the fire had burned out and Bill
had not returned. I looked at my watch. It was after three o'clock,
and I knew that there would be no more sleep for me. I went outside
and listened, but no sound could be heard. I got my breakfast, put an
extra lunch in my knapsack, and sat down and waited for the break of
day. As soon as the first streaks of light appeared in the east, I
strapped on my knapsack, took my gun and started in the direction in
which I had known Bill to take. I followed the ridge to the Conley
Run waters, over which Bill would likely come if he had been detained
in that region.
When I came to the head of a run that led to the main Conley waters,
I stopped at the brow of the hill. I could look down into the hollow.
Here I knew that I could be heard for some distance. I listened for
some time to see if I could hear a gun shot or any other noise that
would lead me to the whereabouts of Bill. Not a sound to be heard,
not even the hoot of an owl. I gave a long whoop and then listened,
but still no answering sound. I again gave a long continued "co-hoop"
and Bill burst out laughing, and asked what was the matter with me.
Bill had sat down on a fallen tree that lay close to a large pine
tree to rest before making the last pull to the top of the ridge. He
had caught a glimpse of me just before I came to the brow of the hill
where I stopped to send a wireless message. Bill skulked behind a
pine tree to see what I would do and give me a scare, when I came
along.
When I inquired what had kept him out all night, he said that he got
so big a job on his hands that he could not get to camp. Bill said
that he had got about half way down the side of the hill from the
ridge leading down into the Conley River, when he jumped a buck,
which Bill said slid down the hill like a greased rag. He fired at
the pile and happened to catch him well back to the hips. The deer
being wounded through the small intestines made it very sick, but it
was still able to lead Bill a merry chase. Bill had been working from
the middle of the forenoon until about three o'clock in the afternoon
before he was able to get in a finishing shot on the buck. While
following the deer, he had come near one of the places where we had a
bear trap set and found that a bear had been caught. He followed the
trail a little ways, and as it led in an opposite direction from that
taken by the deer, Bill said he thought he would finish one job at a
time, so he continued after the deer.
Before Bill was able to get in the finishing shot on the deer, it had
swung around in the direction of the trail of the bear, so that when
Bill finally got the buck, he knew that he could not be far from the
trail of the bear. He hung up the saddles of the deer, which he had
started to take to camp, and let the bear rest until the next
morning. After hanging up the saddles he didn't search long until he
found the trail of the bear, and followed the trail only a little
ways, when he found Bruin fast in a clump of brush. Bill then killed
the bear, and taking out the entrails, rolled the carcass up over a
log and again started for camp with the deer saddles. He did not go
far when it was so dark that it was difficult to travel and carry the
deer saddles and gun, so Bill said he thought he would build a little
shelter and camp for the night.
Bill had started for camp with the saddles of the buck as soon as he
could see to travel. He was near the top of the ridge on his way to
camp and had sat down to rest when I came to the brow of the hill and
began to "co-hoop" to see if I could get any word from him, which I
did and much closer than expected. Bill brought his load up to where
I was, and threw it down with the remark "I suppose that you did not
think to bring along an extra lunch, did you?" When I told him I had
the extra lunch, and also a bottle of tea (Bill being a great hand
for tea). Well, said Bill, "then we are all right, once more." We now
hung the deer saddles up, and went back after the bear. After setting
the bear trap again, as Bill did not have time after he had killed
the bear, we started to carry the bear to camp whole. We soon found
it too heavy to carry that way, so skinned it and hung up the
foreparts and took the skin and hindquarters.
The next morning, we went back after the deer. We went to where Bill
had left the fore parts of the deer; then we went to where the fore
parts of the bear were left, intending to take them as far as where
the deer saddles were and leave them there, and take the deer saddles
to camp. When we got to where the bear meat had been left, we found
that a cat had been there, and filled his shirt on bear meat. It was
not far to where we had a steel trap setting. I told Bill to go on
slowly with the deer meat, and I would go and get the trap and set it
for the cat. Bill said that he thought that would be the right thing
to do, as there was a two dollar bounty on wild cats. He said we
could carry the pelt of the cat a great deal easier than we could
tote the bear meat; he thought that the cat skin and the bounty would
even things up for the bear meat.
I soon had the trap set for the cat, and then hurried on to catch
Bill. We went to camp with the deer and the next morning we took the
bear and deer saddles to Emporium and shipped them to New York. The
distance that we toted those saddles must have been ten or twelve
miles. Say boys, won't a man do more hard work to get thirty cents
out of a coon skin, or a saddle of venison, or bear, than he would to
get thirty dollars in some other way? As it had been three or four
days since we had been over a good part of the trap line, we now got
back to regular business, each one taking up his line of traps. Each
night when he came to camp, we would have some kind of pelts to
stretch, either two or three coon, a mink or two, as many more fox,
with now and then a marten. It would take the evening to stretch the
pelts and tell our day's experience just what particular trap we got
that or this fox in, or that mink or coon; just how clever some shy
old fox has worked to get the bait at a certain trap; on what
particular ridge or point we had seen Old Golden's track (you know
all large buck deer have the name of "Old Golden".)
Every man of the woods or trap line knows what pleasure there is in
relating the experience of the day's hunt or of the trap line to his
pard during the evening in camp. Yet, I will tell of one occurrence
though I have told the story many times, and I cannot say that I
relate it with any great amount of pleasure. Still since many years
have passed, I have often laughed over the circumstance. I can still
see that sympathetic grin of Bill's, when he would ask "if it hurt me
much."
It was a lowery morning, and Bill proposed that we go together and
look after a line of traps on Salt Run, and then put in the balance
of the day still-hunting deer. We went down to the lower end of the
line, worked up the run so as to be near the top of the ridge and in
a locality where we expected deer to be. We had not looked at more
than three or four traps, when we came to one that was set under the
bank. The trap chain was stapled to a root, and was stationary (and
let me say here that I believe it bad policy to fasten a trap to
anything, stationary) and it certainly was in this case for me. The
water was quite deep right at the point where the trap was set and
came close up to the bank. In order to see the trap, it was necessary
to lie down on my stomach, and lean my head over the bank.
When I looked down under the bank, I saw that there was some animal
in the trap. The trap chain was drawn tight and when I drew gently on
the chain I could tell that some kind of an animal was in the trap. I
little suspected that it was loaded, as it proved to be. I could not
see what sort of an animal it was, but supposed it was a mink. It did
not like to be drawn out in sight, and I was afraid to pull too hard
on the chain for fear I would draw his foot out of the trap. I let up
and straightened up to consult Bill, as to the best thing to do. Bill
said, pull him out and if he gets away, we will get him at another
trap, and I now suspect that Bill knew what was coming. I leaned down
over the bank and stuck my head down to see where the chain was. All
of a sudden I was struck with something more terrible than lightning
if not quite so fatal, and for the next half hour I was rolling on
the ground and washing my eyes. Bill said that I danced the Bear
dance and a Pot Full of Catfish all at the same time. When I
recovered enough to see what "hit me", I found that I had been
terribly shot by a measly skunk square in both eyes. Bill was
grinning and asking "if it hurt much" and telling me that I could see
better after a little and lots of other sympathetic nothings. I hope
that none of you may ever have the experience that I met with by the
treatment of that infernal skunk.
After the atmosphere and my eyes had cleared somewhat, we went on and
looked after the balance of the traps on the run. We then started out
to hunt deer, Bill taking one side of the ridge and I the other. I
saw nothing more of Bill until I reached camp long after dark. I
worked along the different spires of the main ridge and through the
heads of the different basins, and only got a glimpse of an old
buck's tail, making over the ridge and beckoning me to come on. He
had come over from the opposite side of the ridge and had got wind of
me before he was fairly in sight. I kept on working the different
points and basins, shaping my course as best I could in the direction
of the camp.
A drizzling rain kept up all day, and deer had not moved very much. I
felt confident that towards evening the deer would come out in the
open to feed in spite of the rain, and pretty well toward night I had
the satisfaction of seeing three deer feeding along the hillside and
coming in my direction.
The wind was in my favor, and as the deer were rather too far to
shoot, I stood quiet, only occasionally moving from one tree to
another as a favorable opportunity occurred. The deer finally worked
up in gun shot, and they proved to be an old doe, a yearling and the
doe's fawn. The yearling was undoubtedly the doe's fawn of the year
before. I was very careful to make a sure shot on the doe. The
yearling and the fawn only took a few jumps when the gun cracked and
the doe went down, and stood looking at the old lady to see what had
happened to her. I gave the yearling the contents of the other
barrel. He made a jump or two and went down, the fawn still standing
and wondering what was taking place, but before I could get a load
into my gun, the little fellow thought it best to move on.
I took the entrails out of the two I had shot, hung them up and took
a lively pace to camp. Bill was already in and had supper waiting.
Bill asked me if I had seen any deer, and when I told him what I had
done, he said that he had seen a deer. I told him that if he had used
a little skunk eye-opener, he probably would have seen some deer.
As it had now been three or four days since we had made the rounds of
the bear traps, we concluded that we would not spend any particular
time in deer hunting until we had looked all of the bear traps over.
We were quite sure that some of the traps would be likely to be in a
mixup with bruin as the weather had been favorable for bruin to be
prowling around. Further we had seen several fresh tracks in the past
few days. Early in the morning with an extra lunch in our knapsack we
started out to see what luck with bruin, each taking a different
route.
Bill went to Baley Run, while I went to Conley Run. I had not gone
far out on my road, when I came across a man that had been out as he
said, hunting deer. But from the story he told, I judged that he had
put in the greater part of his time hunting himself, and he was still
lost.
The man informed me that he was from Lockhaven, Pa., and that his
name was Henry Jacobs; and that he was boarding at a farmhouse on the
Portage but had gotten a little mixed and was unable to find his way
out to his boarding place. I told him that I was on my way to the
Conley waters to look after some bear traps, and if he wished he
could go with me to the main branch of the Conley. Then he could
follow the stream down until it emptied into the Portage, and to the
road which would take him to his boarding house, which Mr. Jacobs
seemed pleased to do. But it proved that Mr. Jacobs' destiny was in
other directions.
The first bear trap that we came to, we found a "porky" in it. I
could see that Mr. Jacobs was very much excited and began to ask many
questions as to bears and bear trapping. When we came to where the
second trap was setting, we found things generally torn up and the
trap gone, and it was plain to be seen that it was no cub that had
taken the trap this time. The bear had gone only a few yards, when he
had gotten fast in some saplings, and he had gnawed the brush and
raked the trees and "raised Ned" generally; but had finally released
the clog and had gone on down the hillside.
By this time I had discovered that Mr. Jacobs had become pretty
nervous and was shaking rather too much to do good shooting. At every
rod we advanced along the trail, it was plain to be seen that Mr.
Jacobs was becoming more and more excited. We did not follow the
trail far when we discovered Bruin fast again. We went up within a
few yards of the bear, who did not seem to like our company and would
chank his jaws and snort similar to an angry hog.
I told Mr. Jacobs to shoot the bear, and he did shoot somewhere, but
I could not say that he shot in the direction of the bear. As my
attention had been on the bear, I had not noticed Mr. Jacobs in
particular, but when I saw that he had entirely missed the bear, I
looked at him and he was shaking so from excitement, that he could
not have hit a barn, and drops of sweat stood all over his forehead.
He had a double barrel rifle, and as soon as he fired the first shot,
he advanced a few steps toward the bear and fired again, and at once
began to reload his gun, all the time going nearer to the bear until
I was afraid that he would get so close that the bear could reach
him. I had to caution him and tell him to step back, that he was
getting too close.
When Mr. Jacobs had one barrel of his gun loaded, he immediately
fired again, with the same results of the other two shots. I told him
to take my gun and try it, which he did with no better results. Mr.
Jacobs was all the time becoming more and more excited, and the sweat
was running off him like a man in the harvest field. I loaded my gun,
while Mr. Jacobs was loading his, and after Mr. Jacobs fired another
shot with no better results, I though that the fun had gone far
enough, and shot the bear.
After the bear was dead, Mr. Jacobs wondered why it was so hard to
hit a bear's head. "Just look at it," he said, "it is as large as a
dry goods box". As soon as the bear was dead, Mr. Jacobs wanted to
know if I would sell the bear. When I told him that I expected to
sell it, he asked what it was worth. I told him that I thought the
hide and meat would bring thirty or thirty-five dollars. He drew out
his purse and said, "I will take it." I told him that if he wanted
the bear, that we would call it twenty-five dollars, as he should
have something for his part in the game. He declared that the hunt
had been worth a hundred dollars to him.
We made a sort of a litter or drag rack with which we managed to haul
the bear down the hill to an old lumber road where it could be
reached with a team.
Not long after this I received a copy of the Williamsport Sun
containing the report of a monstrous bear captured by Mr. Jacobs in
the wilds of Cameron County. It was a bear story equal to the one the
prophet relates when the children called him Baldy.
When I got to camp I found Bill stretching a couple of mink skins. He
had also got a fox or two, and said that a bear had been in one of
the bear traps, but had escaped, leaving two toes in the trap. Bill
was considerably down at the heel over the escape of the bear, and
said that if he had attended to the trap the day before, that the
bear was then in the trap; that he had put up a hard fight before he
had made his escape.
When Bill called for my report I took out a marten skin and the money
that I got for the bear and layed them on the table and told Bill
there was my count. Bill said that I got the marten from one of the
deadfalls, but he was dog-on sorry if he could tell where I caught
the money. When I told him about Mr. Jacobs and the capture of the
bear, Bill said he would have given a summer's work to have been
there and seen the man sweat.
I said that I would relate how it happened that I got even with Bill
for the bear that he killed on my watching grounds.
Well, after we had gone the rounds of the traps, we again put in our
time still-hunting. Bill had gone south of camp, while I went east. I
had traveled until the middle of the afternoon without having any
luck or seeing any deer. So I shifted my course to the west and
worked my way in the direction of a "burn-down" that was in the head
of a hollow. As soon as I came to the brow of the ridge and looked
down into the basin I saw four deer feeding and working towards me.
The wind was blowing directly from the deer towards me, so I stood
quiet and in a few minutes the deer fed up within easy range. I
pulled the gun onto an old doe in the lead, and broke her down almost
in her tracks. The three remaining deer made a few jumps in my
direction and stopped and looked back, which gave me a good shot at a
yearling buck, which also went down in my sight. The other two deer
ran close by me and over the ridge into the green timber. I had
hardly cut the deers' throats when Bill called out, "This is a dog-on
pretty trick that you have played me."
Bill had been following these deer all day and had followed to the
"burn-down" and had seen the deer on the opposite hill, but too far
away to shoot. As the wind was against him he had dropped down the
hollow a ways, crossed and worked up around on the opposite side to
get the wind in his favor, and was just about ready to fire on the
deer when I began shooting. After Bill had explained how he had been
working the deer all day and then have me slip in just as he had the
game bagged and swipe it, Bill claimed was dog-on mean. I cautioned
Bill to hold his temper and I would call it even on the bear he
swiped from me, and told him I was pleased to have him on hand to
help hang up the deer.
We had worked along now up to about the middle of December with the
various ups and downs that one on the trap line and trail always meet
with. We had killed twelve or fourteen deer, and I think we had
caught six bears and had made a fair catch of fox, mink, marten and
some other furs. There had not been much snow up to this time, when a
fall of 12 or 14 inches came all in one night. Bears had not denned
up to this time, but we were quite sure that bruin would now go into
winter quarters. We concluded to gather up the bear traps and all the
small traps that were not setting in springs that did not freeze, or
those setting in other likely places to make a catch. In nearly the
last bear trap that we went to get, we found a bear, and when we
began to skin it we found that it had lost two toes on one forefoot.
We concluded that it was the same bear that had escaped from Bill's
trap some time before, although it was eight or ten miles from where
the trap was that had held Bruin's toes.
A day or two after the heavy fall of snow we got a letter from a man
by the name of Comstock, living at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, asking
the privilege to come and camp with us and hunt deer until the season
closed, the first of January. He stated that he had never killed a
deer, and that he was very anxious to kill one. We wrote him to come
on, and that one of us would be at Emporium on the following Friday
to guide him to our camp. Friday morning I went to Emporium and found
Mr. Comstock there as agreed. He had paraphernalia enough to equip a
fair-sized army, so we hired a team to take the outfit to camp and
also bring out the saddles of a bear and what venison we had on hand.
For three or four days Mr. Comstock hunted all by himself but had no
luck in the way of killing deer, as he said it took more time to hunt
the shanty than he had to hunt deer, and suggested that we all hunt
in company. We had now been on the ground long enough so that we had
learned all the runways. Bill said that if I would take Mr. Comstock
down to a certain runway, which he had given the name of Fork Point,
and place him on it, he would drive the ridge and see if he could not
drive a deer to Mr. Comstock.
Bill started a bunch of five deer and succeeded in getting a shot and
breaking a foreleg of a large doe. As the doe with the broken leg
soon dropped out from the other deer, he was sure that the deer had
start enough so that they would come through to where Comstock and I
were watching, he decided to take the trail of the broken legged doe,
and as good luck, the deer did come through to Mr. Comstock, and as
he had an Osgood gun with four shots, he succeeded in killing a very
large buck. After firing the four shots, the fun began.
Mr. Comstock was determined to take the buck to camp, as he wanted to
take the deer home whole. We had a very steep point to climb for a
distance of five hundred yards to reach the top of the ridge. The
deer weighed about two hundred pounds. Any hunter will tell you what
an awkward job it is to carry a deer of that weight lashed to a pole.
Mr. Comstock would not consent to drawing the deer for fear it would
rake the hair off. Well, we could not carry it up the steep point on
the pole, as the swaying of the deer would throw us off our feet. Mr.
Comstock said that he would carry it alone if I would help him get it
on his shoulder. Mr. Comstock was a large man, weighing over two
hundred pounds, but nevertheless I did not think he would be able to
carry the deer and told him so. After some hard tugging we got the
deer on his shoulder and he started up the hill. I started to get out
of the way, and I was none too soon in doing so. Mr. Comstock had not
taken a half dozen steps when back he came, deer and all, like ten
thousand bricks. But as he did not break any limbs or his neck, he
was bound to try it again, which he did with the same result. But
this time he was quite badly bruised, and he was now satisfied to
leave the deer until morning, when Bill went with us and we made a
sort of a litter and carried it to camp whole; and he was a proud and
happy man. When Mr. Comstock and I left the deer and decided to await
reinforcements, we struck the trail of Bill, drawing a deer in the
direction of camp, so we now knew why Bill had not followed the trail
of the deer through to where Comstock and I were watching.
It was now about the closing time for deer hunting, so after Mr.
Comstock had left for home, Bill and I put in the time until the
first of March tending the small traps with the usual success of the
average trapper, getting a fox, or mink or marten or some piece of
fur nearly every day.
When the team which we had written home for came and got our camp
outfit and our furs, we broke camp and went home to await another
trapping season.