Memories 
of a 
Quail Hunter 
(Continued from page 19) 
ing that I fed the birds during the winter 
and it was something I never saw the mak- 
ers of gamelaws do, nor any hunters nor 
conservationists. 
Early 'during February in a certain year 
I drove in an old-fashioned buckboard 
which was hitched to my inevitable team 
of sorrels to Arkansas for a quail hunt 
with a friend of mine. The formality of 
taking out a non-resident hunting license 
was not considered. All we cared for were 
the birds and that the season in Arkansas 
did not close until March first. No one 
had ever bothered us there during previous 
visits, and this time too we suffered no in- 
terference from the minions of the law. 
We stopped at an old log farm house of 
typical native type where we placed the 
team in care of the owner. 
About four o'clock in the afternoon, 
thoroughly elated because between us we 
had killed one hundred and fifteen quail, 
we returned for our team. Think of it, 
one hundred and fifteen quail when we did 
not even have the questionable excuse of 
hunting for the market! As customary, 
we kept a few and gave the balance to 
friends along the road in our state. Prior 
to our departure we tied them in bunches 
of six and hung them on the split paling 
 
Ozark Ripley, outdoor writer, sports- 
nan and ardent lover of life afield and 
astream. 
 
OUTDOOR              AMERICA 
fence, both to be photographed and just 
to see how the atrocious number appeared. 
There was no limit to our pride. Yet the 
attitude towards them of the little fourteen- 
year-old, freckled face, red headed son of 
the native farmer bothered us. Up and 
down he walked before that string of birds, 
stared and said nothing, though I tried 
ever so hard to get him to express his 
opinion of them, for I thought if he did, 
it would be a flattering testimonial to my 
prowess as a hunter. But all I received in 
return was a cold stare and the person- 
ification of taciturnity. 
This deportment on the part of the little 
hillbilly so intrigued me that I decided to 
have him express himself nolens volens. 
Whereupon, when we began harnessing the 
horses and the youngster took a position 
of observation on the threshold of the 
cabin I threw him a half dollar, saying: 
"This for you, hillbilly, if you will tell 
me what you think about my kill of quail." 
The boy stared at me with tight lipped 
tenseness. His open palm caught the coin 
and then in a single movement he threw 
it back at me with all the strength at his 
command, and cried: "I'll tell 'you all' 
what I think erbout them birds you killed. 
Hit's this-what the hell's goin' ter be left 
fer us when we'uns is growed up?" 
Abashed, I said nothing. The moment 
was too poignant for utterance. But I 
thought ever so quickly and a vision of 
things exactly as they were, entered my 
brain. In a single instant the plaintive 
protest of the little hill boy awakened in 
me a receptiveness toward conservation 
and a greater appreciation of my beloved 
sport. 
(To be Continued) 
Fire 
in the Sanctuary 
(Continued from page 29) 
wild life in.that territory. Lawrence J. 
Palmer, of the United States Biological 
Survey, who has had charge of the reindeer 
investigation work in northern Alaska for 
the past seven years, gives facts as he has 
observed them there. 
"Damage to range by fire involves not 
only loss of forage and trees but also of 
game and fur animals, since the small 
ground animals, as well as the cover of 
vegetation, are destroyed by the fire. The 
nests and young of game and other birds 
are also destroyed. Thus the burning over 
of large areas will result in a serious de- 
pletion of the game and fur which in turn 
militates against the welfare of the trap- 
per, the hunter, and the prospector. 
"To be instrumental in the setting of a 
range or forest fire is more reprehensible 
than to burn down deliberately one's neigh- 
bor's cabin. The neighbor can replace his 
cabin in a few days by building a new one 
provided he has the funds. But in the case 
of the destroyed range and forest, it will 
require Nature a good many years, per- 
haps a hundred or more in some instances, 
to rebuild and no amount of funds will 
hasten the process." 
Forest fires set by lightning we must al- 
ways have with us; they can not be pre- 
vented. The loss of forest wealth, game 
and wild life from this cause will probably 
always be large; quick and decisive action 
on the part of fire fighters of federal, state, 
and private forest agencies should keep 
such fires down to an annually decreasing 
acreage burned over. 
But only education of the thoughtless, 
and jail sentences for the malicious fire- 
setters will eliminate the man-caused forest 
fire in America. 
 
Vacations-and 
Forest Preserves 
By Remi 0. Renier 
WA! HEN vacation time rolled around 
VVlast August, my three pals, Paul, 
John, and Steve asked me to throw my lot 
with theirs. We had our eyes on a beauty 
spot in the north, a spot where a fellow 
tired of his desk and tired of his city might 
enjoy the other extremities, quiet and soli- 
tude. 
Gathering together our duffle was done 
in a jiffy, and away we went to the north 
woods of Ontario. I had often read of 
the Temagami region, and had heard glow- 
ing accounts of its lakes and virgin for- 
ests. Let me tell you, .we were not dis- 
appointed.  Anyone  who   has   trekked 
through Michigan's timberlands, and en- 
joyed -its beautiful streams and scenery 
will appreciate Canada's quiet appeal, when 
I say that Ontario is just like Michigan 
with a little more water added. Lake Nip- 
pissing was a delight; French River a 
dream; but Lake Temagami is a typical 
ideal of a-vacationists playground. A drive 
of seventy miles through a virgin forest 
with nary a settler or a cabin to destroy 
its exotic and gripping fascination, until we 
came to the trading post where canoes and 
supplies are obtainable. And then, water 
trails !  Portage trails! Fishing, quiet, 
solitude, peace !  Oh, Lord! how we en- 
joyed those days. The tang of spruce and 
pine still lingers in my nostrils-the swish, 
swish of a canoe's prow still vibrates in 
my brain-while the luxury of a night's 
camp ! Oh boy! how welcome the beans- 
the bacon-the rice-and those pine bough 
beds! I can still hear the boom of angry 
waters on rocky shores, hear the patter of 
rain on a good tent roof, and sense the feel- 
ing of comfort I derived therefrom. 
Men, that was a vacation! You know 
you try your darndest to get one like. it 
every year. But will we get one like it every 
year for years to come? Will we always 
be able to go to a strip of "God's country" 
for our summer play? Canada has made 
sure of that, she has set aside millions of 
acres for such playgrounds. Why can't we 
have more playgrounds, more of the ethe- 
real and physical beauties with which the 
good God blessed this old United States of 
ours? How about the Superior National 
Forest and the Quetico Region? This is a 
region of the fairest and best in the land. 
Must private interests supersede public de- 
sires and claims? Must the foresighted- 
ness of the popular Theodore Roosevelt in 
establishing this Superior National Forest 
be for naught simply because some com- 
mercial interest tries to claim this wonder- 
land of lakes and forests for its personal 
use and private gain? 
Oh, you men! You lovers of virgin for- 
ests; of untrammeled waters, fight for your 
rights-save this remaining beauty spot of 
pineland-get behind this bill introduced by 
Senator Shipstead and Congressman New- 
ton of Minnesota, which would safeguard 
this most beautiful section. Write to your 
own congressmen and senators, tell them 
you are in favor of the bill and want their 
help. 
Although I am not yet old enough to 
vote, I am old enough to love the woods 
and to try and help protect them. I am 
writing this article in the hopes that it 
may induce our men and women to con- 
sider the serious situation confronting the 
Izaak Walton League, and to give the 
league all the co-operation possible.