CHAPTER XIV
A WILD TURKEY HUNT--THE TRIP TO MUD CREEK--THE TURKEY ROOST--THE SHOOTING BEGINS--COUNTING THE NUMBER KILLED--JOE SELLS TURKEYS
WHEN Mr. Tucker, Joe, and Rob arrived at Errolstrath, it was just oneo'clock. The family had kept dinner waiting, and everything was ready toput on the table by the time the horses were fed and the hounds' woundsrubbed with witch-hazel. Mrs. Thompson used to prepare this remedyherself, and she considered it the best thing in the world for injuries.
At dinner the boys and the old trapper entertained the family with anaccount of the morning's hunt, telling them how splendidly both Blueyand Brutus had behaved in company with such thoroughbreds as Custer'shounds, and especially with General Sheridan's famous Cinch, who wassupposed to be the finest animal of his kind in the country.
They all adjourned to the broad veranda after dinner was over,excepting the girls who had to clear up the things. Mr. Tucker said thatColonel Keogh had told him that some of the officers' families who hadjust come from the East to Fort Harker were very desirous for wildturkey, which they had not yet tasted.
"He wanted me to ask you, Joe, if you cannot soon get them a few. I knowthat this is the very best time to hunt them, so let you, and Rob, andme go to that roost on Mud Creek this evening. It's full moon to-night,and we shall never have a better chance."
"All right," promptly spoke up both of the boys. "We'll have to take ourponies," said Joe, "for it's fully six miles. I was down there the otherafternoon, and I should think that hundreds roost there."
"What time ought we to leave here?" inquired Rob. "You know that mymonth to herd and milk the cows is not out yet, and I want to do my workbefore I go; not that father would not do it willingly for me in a caseof this kind, but I don't care to bother him; he has enough to do withthe other stock."
"Oh!" said Joe, "we need not get away from here until long aftersupper. The birds won't come to their roost until it is nearly dark, andas we always have supper at six, and can ride down to Mud Creek easilyin an hour, you will have ample time to do your chores, Rob, withouthurrying a bit."
"Tell us something about the wild turkey, Mr. Tucker," said Rob. "Youknow all the habits of our beasts and birds."
"Well, Rob," said the old trapper, "the wild turkey is one of theindigenous birds of America. He once flourished from the most remoteeastern boundary of the United States to every part of the far West.Now, through the wantonness of man, he is rapidly disappearing, as isnearly all of our large game. There are still plenty here in Kansas. Thewild turkey makes his haunts in the timber, and being gregarious birdsthey keep together in large flocks, and roost in the same place foryears, if not disturbed. All of our domestic turkeys have come from thewild stock, but the wild ones are still larger than the tame ones inmany instances. I have shot them in nearly every place in the countrywhere I have hunted. They are stupid in refusing to leave their roostsat night when shot at. They persistently fly back again to the sametrees, when they could just as easily fly away out of danger. In suchtimes they are almost as foolish as the sage hen, which in my opinion isthe most stupid bird that flies. You can shoot at them until you hitthem, if it takes a week; they won't move."
Just as the sun sank behind the hills beyond the Oxhide bluffs, Joe,Rob, and Mr. Tucker left Errolstrath for the turkey roost on Mud Creek.The old trapper rode Joe's buffalo pony, while Joe mounted the littleroan which had brought his sister so safely from the Indian village; Robrode Ginger, which Kate had kindly loaned him for the occasion.
They followed the trail up the creek for about a mile, then turnedabruptly east over the hills toward Fort Sill military road, then overthe open country for another mile, until they arrived at the head of MudCreek.
The moon had risen in a cloudless sky, and it shines nowhere sobrilliantly as in our mid-continent region. Every tree and bush cast ashadow, and the trail over the prairie was lighted up with a goldensheen, so soft and mellow that you could have seen a pin where thegrass had been shorn away.
When they arrived at the edge of the woods in the centre of which wasthe resting-place of the birds, they tied their ponies to saplings, andthen quietly walked on into the timber. As soon as they had come in thevicinity of the roost, they squatted on the ground behind the friendlyshelter of a large elm, and waited for the coming of events.
They did not have long to wait. Before they had been there a half anhour, two large flocks came stealthily walking down the deep ravinesleading into the sheltered bottom where great trees stood in thickclumps, under whose shadow were the unmistakable signs of an immenseroost. At the head of each flock, as it unsuspiciously advanced,strutted a magnificent male bird in all the pride of his leadership.Upon his bronze plumage the moon's rays glinted like a calcium light, asits soft beams sifted through the interstices of the bare limbs of thewinter-garbed forest.
When the leader of the flock had arrived at the spot where his chargehad been accustomed to roost, he suddenly stopped, glanced cautiouslyaround him for a few seconds, then apparently satisfied that all wasright, he gave the signal--a sharp, quick, shrill whistle. At thatinstant, every bird, with one accord and a tremendous fluttering ofwing, raised itself and alighted in the topmost branches of the tallesttrees.
In a few moments more, numerous flocks having settled themselves for apeaceful slumber, the old trapper said to the boys: "Now is our time;let's begin!"
Joe had his little Ballard rifle, that had never yet played him false onhis hunts with the chief of the Pawnees; Rob had a shot-gun, and Mr.Tucker his never-failing old-fashioned piece which he had carried fortwenty-five years.
They fired at first almost simultaneously, but after the first dischargeeach fired on his own hook. The turkeys fell like the leaves in October.The birds not killed at the first fire did not seem to have senseenough, as Mr. Tucker had said, to escape from their doom. They flewfrom tree to tree at every shot, persistently remaining in the immediatevicinity of the roost, with all the characteristic idiocy of the sagehen.
When it was time to think of going home, they gathered up their birds,and found they had killed fourteen--more than an average of four apiece.It was all they could do to pack the birds on their ponies, and theywere compelled to walk them all the way to the ranche to keep the birdsfrom falling off.
The next morning Joe took the turkeys to Fort Harker, where he disposedof them at a fair price, and received many thanks besides, for hisprompt action in response to Colonel Keogh's request to go hunting forthem.