Very good condition.

Robert C. Mueller

Menaging Editor

Vol. 91

Cover Painting...

(See Story on Page 39)

Frontispiece

SPORTS

AFIELD

IVAN B. ROMIG, Publisher

May, 1934

Autobiography of a Sportsman (XIV).

Illustrations by Charles Phil Hexom

Battling Bronze Backs.

Birds of the North........

Illustrations by Walter J. Wilwerding

Shadows in the Sage.

"At Rest" on Northern Canoe Trails.

Fish and Fishing.

The Sportsman-Hobbyist.

Boats and Motors.

Page Three

-

Paul K. Whipple

Editor

Two Horned Menaces of the Pares..... ........ Walter J. Wilwerding

Illustrations by Walter J. Wilwerding

Current River Small Mouths.

Guy W. Von Schriltz 12

.Ozark Ripley 14

Rupert E. West 16

1138

.Samuel A. Harper 18

Capt. Romain Young 20

Dr. Alvin R. Cahn 21

. Cal Johnson 22

.Ormal I. Sprungman 38

Willard Crandall 40

Seth Gordon 44

The Bulletin of the American Game.

Conservation Events Game Association

On the Firing Line With the Skeet and Trapshooters... Jimmy Robinson 48

Arms and Ammunition.

Monroe H. Goode 54

Historical Sketches.

Frank B. Harper 63

Kamp Kinks for Kamp Kooks.

O. Warren Smith 63

Dogs and Their Care.

.A. D. Burhans 64

No. 5

Normand Saunders

.Richard K. Wood

9

----------- 2 -----------

A Rainbow Trout Pool

in Little River, in the Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee

Photo by Richard K. Wood

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Two Horned

MENACES

of the PARES

This Truculent, Mountain-Wild Rhinoc-

eros Charged the Author and His Safari

Companians... They Escaped With Their

Lives Only Because Dame Fortune Smiled.

By Walter J. Wilwerding

ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR

W

HO hunts in Africa is not considered a big game hunter

if he confines himself to the shooting of the numerous

varieties of African buck. The old timers there get a hearty

laugh out of nimrods who think they are going big game hunting

when out after buck. Not that buck hunting does not often require

skill and patience, but because, in Africa, big game hunting is

thought of only as the pursuit of dangerous game. And it was truly

big game that we were after in the Pare Mountains, though it was

not in the Pares that I had my first experience with the truculent,

two-horned menace of the African bush.

My first interview with rhinoceros bicornis took place in the

Miwaleni country, during a rather peaceful hunt for waterbuck.

These waterbuck inhabit a scattered bush country, a place where

there are many little park-like spots interspersed with scattered

thorn trees and tangles of bush. It was the most dangerous buck

hunting experience of my entire hunting career, for the bush was

full of rhinoceros and this section was closed to rhinoceros hunting.

A short time before I went there to hunt, the labor chief from

Moshi went into this district to hunt for kudu. He was charged by

a rhinoceros and shot it. When he reported the demise of the

two-horned disaster to the game authorities, they calmly took away

his license to hunt. Protest was of no avail. They told him flatly:

"You know that we don't want rhinos shot in that district and that

is all there is to it."

I was told that if I wanted to keep my license I had better avoid

rhinos as though they were the sleeping sickness. But I found that

avoiding rhinoceros in this district is apt to become a bit trying.

----------- 4 -----------

wilwerving

A Study of

Fishermen

By SAMU

"The Osprey is

the King of

feathered fisher-

men."

T

HE natural instinct of the true sportsman is to protect and

conserve both plant and animal life. He leaves the wild

flower on its stalk in its natural habitat, where others may

also enjoy it, and he respects the rights of the animals in their

wilderness homes. He is quick to volunteer to fight a forest fire,

because of his sheer love of the woods (with no thought of the

"timber!") He will protect even the harmless snake from thought-

less and unnecessary destruction.

When we go to the north woods for our favorite sport of fishing

or hunting, we may enjoy many pleasant con-

tacts with wild life which seem too important and

satisfying to be properly described as mere in-

cidental advantages. To the subliminal conscious-

ness these "incidents" probably constitute the

major benefits of our temporary vagabondage.

They are the milieu without which the sport would

be dull indeed. In an editorial in an early issue

of SPORTS AFIELD we find expressed the thought

which the true sportsman feels: "There are bigger

fish in fishing than the fish we catch."

There are also other and perhaps better ways

of observing birds than over the sights of a shot-

gun or rifle. A trip to the north woods in summer

furnishes a splendid opportunity to study at close

range and at their nesting sites many interesting

birds known only as passing migrants to residents

of the central states. Chief among these, perhaps,

is the Loon.

This interesting water bird is well known to all

visitors of the northern lakes. He seems to typify

in a peculiar way the wilderness of the north.

Although he resembles a duck in appearance he is

of an entirely distinct order of birds. The canvas-

back, who has been appropriately called the "King"

of the ducks, is about twenty-four inches in

length, whereas the loon sometimes measures

Quoted by permission, from "Many Many Moons," by

Lew Sarett; Henry Holt and Company, Publisher.

Page Eighteen

"His fe

sists m

dead

----------- 5 -----------

if yo

BRONSON REEL CO.

New

----------- 6 -----------

(EUSTIS, FLORIDA)

Joe "Bullet" Heistand of

I is all

'N MY estimation,

round target shots in the world. Two years

ago, we would have said that Joe was one of

the great 16-yard shots of the clay bird world.

But since that time, "peerless" Joseph has

learned to hit handicap targets from 25 yards

and click off doubles with the very best of

them. Yes, take a 1,000 target mixed program

and my money would be on Joe against any-

body you would care to choose.

*

*

Let's backtrack on his handicap targets, which I

stated he could break with the very best of them.

At the World's Fair shoot at Chicago last summer

he broke 100 straight from 23 yards to lead the

field (and Mark Arie and a lot of the big boys were

there); and Joe visited Clarence Marshall's Mara-

thon tourney at Yorklyn, Del., in August and broke

147 x 150 from 25 yards in the handicap race to tie

up Ned Lilly, the Stanton "flash." He then boarded

a train for the Grand American chuck full of the old

confidence.

*

*

In the Preliminary race at the Grand Ameri-

can he was given 25 yards, the limit at handi-

cap shooting. All Joe did was to smash 96 x

100 which placed right up with the high guns

and 25 x 25 in the shoot-off. The next day in

the Grand American handicap race he shattered

97 x 100 and 50 straight in the shoot-off. In

other words he missed but seven targets in the

two main races and broke 75 straight in the

shoot-off, leading all Grand American gunners.

Ned Lilly of Michigan who had tied for first

place in the Grand American handicap race

with 98 x 100 from 24 yards, had turned in

95 x 100 in the Preliminary race the day be-

fore. His record of 7 down in 200 tied Hie-

stand's, but in the shoot-off, Ned missed a couple

of targets while Joe went straight. This gave

Joe the high honors at handicap shooting on all

targets at the 1933 Grand American.

*

*

Now if you will stop to figure out Joe's average

at these three shoots, you will find that he has shot

at 525 regular and shoot-off targets, broken 515

of them for an average of .9809.

w

----------- 7 -----------

THE STORY IN THE PICTURE-These famous women trapshooters at-

tended the Winter Vandalia at Eustis, Florida. Mrs. C. T. Jackson of New

York; Mrs. Paul Merdith of Orlando, Florida; Mrs. Walter Andrews of Day-

tona Beach, Florida, and Mrs. D. S. McClain of Atlanta, Georgia.

By Jimmy Robinson, Trapshooting Editor, Sports Afield

T

HE "ugh, ugh, me heap big chief" Indian of

the dime novel has gone the way of his cigar

store prototype; the species is not only extinct

but of doubtful origin to begin with. This fictional

character went ughing and chugging through chapter

after chapter in a manner that bespoke of nothing so

much as a clogged carburetor. Today's Indian is far

from a fictional character. He has adopted the white

man's habiliments and habits; he dresses in ready to

wear clothing, eats from a tin can, and sends his

papoose to the public school to compete scholastically

and athletically with the other students. It is this

effort to adapt himself to our present day civilization,

to assimilate a thousand years' progress in one genera-

tion without as yet having discarded his native habits,

that affords us the incongruous picture he sometimes

presents.

One such instance I remember: A young buck leav-

ing a general store dressed in new serge and beads, his

moccasined feet kicking up no little dust and under

his arm a shiny new pair of shoes that were never

to see enough wear to dull the squeak. But give him

some brass buttons or a uniform, anything from a Boy

Scout's suit to a Knight Templar's regalia, and he'd

sleep in it that is if the chief will let him. This is

unlikely if the Headman happened to be Big Chief

Jim. He brooks no such insubordination, and takes it

himself if he has to patch it with a blanket to get it

on. He doesn't worry about the back as that is out of

his range of vision.

Big Jim had the only cook stove in the tribe when

last I saw him. Wherever you happened to see Jim

the stove was not far behind. He has toted, carried,

lugged and paddled that stove all over the Lake of the

Woods and back again, and I wouldn't be surprised

if he takes it along to the Happy Hunting Grounds.

A housewife could hardly find room to fry a flap-

jack on that stove but Jim's squaw says "me roast

deer on it." Talk about your portable stoves or your

electric grill! This one didn't even need a light socket,

ready to blaze away at any time and it usually did, too,

except when it was in a canoe. With half a score of

paddlers of from three to sixteen summers, seated in

the rear on the resplendent throne of a sawed off

rocking chair sat Big Jim himself, surrounded by

enough dogs and camp equipment to dim the humor

of the funniest of New York Subway jokes.

The only real trouble Jim had was the growing

scarcity of paddlers. The papooses grew up too fast,

and there was only one way of beating the game.

That's how come the outboard motor on the cover.