The Coral Gables Times

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The Great Outdoorsman

Continued from page 33 always astonished the bathers as my body was washed quietly among them. Although I had failed at everything I tried, I had attempted so many things that I was beginning to establish a reputation as a sportsman. For instance, a friend invited me to go trout fishing in the Adirondacks although I warned him that I had never done it. He said, nonsense, that everybody fished for trout and that he knew a stream where you could scoop them out with your hands. We fished from a canoe. An evil-looking man with a soiled mustache did the paddling. My friend insisted that I sit in the bow and fish while he relaxed in the middle, which I did much against my better judgment. On the first cast I removed the guide's hat with my hook, which he seemed to resent although I thought it was rather a neat trick. On the next try I hooked my friend in the back of the shirt. That seemed to make him restless, and we went ashore and changed places. This irritated me because he was the one who had insisted on my coming, and I never even got my line in the water. In the fall of the year I used to be asked to shoot duck and quail and such things. I preferred to call it firing as I never really shot anything, which pleased me, since I am opposed to unnecessary slaughter. I gave up duck shooting, however, when I blew a hole (quite accidentally, of course) in the bottom of the duck boat, causing my host and myself to sink into the waters of Chesapeake Bay. It wasn't much of a boat, but you might have thought it was the Queen Mary the way he took on about it. Some people are like that. QUAIL HUNTING I enjoyed. The South Carolina woods are beautiful in the early spring. I liked walking behind the dogs, looking at the flowers and ferns and everything. When we put up a covey, it was fun to hear the whir of their wings and the shot spatter against the trees. I never saw the quail because they had learned to fly just along the line where one's reading lenses join one's distance lenses. Once I caught a glint of white, but it was just one of the dogs. You might have thought I'd killed him instead of nicking the end of his tail. Actually it pleased me because it proved that when I did see something I could hit it. I had a dreadful experience with horses when I was invited to ride with the Bonebrake Hunt. We went looking for foxes in the woods, of all places. Thank heaven we didn't find one. It was hard enough to keep the branches out of my eyes just riding at a walk. By and by, we came to a barbed-wire fence with a wooden gate in it. Did we open it the way any sensible person would? Of course not. Nothing would do but we must jump over it. That meant one at a time, of course, with everybody watching. I envied the hounds who could wriggle under. The first man over had a red coat and a high hat. If clothes meant anything he was the best rider in the Hunt, but he almost fell off. The next was a woman. She had red hair and a derby and did fall off. I was next and managed to wrap my legs around the brute's neck and work my way back to the saddle. That seemed to be about par for the Continued on page 36

34 Suburbia Today, June 1962