Tales of Shooting and Fishing BY NASH BUCKINGHAM. Contents include: Foreword Given Only to the Honored 3 The Gallows-Bear 16 Ghost Trout 3 2 Bird Dog Blinkers 47 Like Old Times 54 Vild or Tame Game Birds 67 The Great Reprisal 101 A Certain Rich Man 1 1 6 Vhat Really Happens Out Quail Shooting 132 Januaries Afield 145 Jail Break 156 A Pretty Place for Pheasants 170 Backward Turn Backward 176 We Give You Back 186 ILLUSTRATIONS PACING PAGE Ill hear your hail and look back to catch your smile. Frontispiece Pat has challenged and battled every hazard and fury of the most powerful river on Earth. 10 Toms famed double-nose got an outstanding workout that sunny afternoon. 20 A scene, I told myself, as ageless as Gods wrath. 21 May young eyes see again cool dawn mists. 26 And long skeins of wood ducks woven against sunsets. 27 Field trial Champion Eugenes Ghost winner-in-action at U. S. Open, 1922. One of setterdoms all-time greats. 48 What canine neuroses, inhibitions, complexes, and allergies lurk in bird dog make-ups 134 With a touch of sadness I see this old life afield slipping away. 135 Hal has crossed over the riverso let my Ahai ring on him. 178 God bless a day and dog like this. . . . 186 viii. FOREWORD: FOR a period so protracted as to visibly shrink ones life expectancy, Nash Buckingham has been promising to take me hunting and or fishing to some of those fabulous old gunning and angling paradises about which he writes. Nash made the initial proposal soon after I had first read De Shootinest Genfman. For die benefit of those coming in late, this establishes the period as approximately the Glacial Age. During intervening eons, Nash has reaffirmed that solemn pledge. While partaking of Mingos hot-cat-an-taters at Doug Stampers Mermaid Tavern, for instance, he has lured on my panting novices hopes with oral paintings of waterfowling as practiced of yore at Beaver Dam, or, in more modern vein, at Section 16 along Bayou Lagrues pin oaks and ricelands. He has led me up into the high hills and shown me the Seven Temptations of quailing at the Ames plantation, Hugh Bucking hams farm, or in Bob Carriers plush coverts. Listening rapdy, Fve found myself actually changing into shooting togs at table, while Mingos shrimp gumbo, meandering its spoons rim, registered chameleon-like deposits along my necktie or in the upper-tier creases of my waistcoat. Manys the day, a much younger Paul basking in the sunshine of a benign and understanding Gamaliels smile, I have in minds eye centered a high-flying brace of greenheads, scored repeated rights and lefts on bobwhites zooming beyond Ethel and Edgar ...