Word: cocking
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...producing more game birds of which many will spread out from the intensively developed areas to restock surrounding covers." The regular pheasant season of one month will be enforced on preserves which release at least 25 pheasants per 100 acres in the ratio of not less than one cock to each five hens. Preserves which release 100 birds per 100 acres get a five-week extension...
...Legislatures, anxious to help farmers as well as to please sportsmen, have begun to fall into line. Finally, their wits sharpened by Depression, farmers have begun to cooperate. New York, which has a regular pheasant season of only six days, with a two-bird bag limit and shooting of cock birds only, now allows farmers to sell hunting rights on artificially-raised pheasants without limit on season, bag or sex. Many a new York farmer is doing a nice business at $6 to §15 per gun per day. Texas, where gamewise farmers have been compensated for nine years, this...
...Dollfuss was in Britain, a darling of the British Press & public during the World Economic Conference. But in the meantime the world had awakened to the folly and menace of Hitlerism. Today no one can pluck the capercailzie on Dollfuss' cap without plucking the Roman eagle, the French cock, the British lion as well. Six months after the note on smuggled arms, these allies gave Dollfuss permission to enlarge Austria's army by 36% (TIME, Sept...
...capercailzie, or cock of the woods, is a large grey & black gamebird with red-rimmed eyes, now rare but found intermittently from Siberia to the Pyrenees. In the spring the male amazes observers and the female by standing on the tips of trees making extraordinary sounds and gestures. In winter it feeds exclusively on pine needles, tastes of turpentine. The short, iridescent, curling tail feathers, highly prized for Tyrolean hat ornaments, though called capercailzie plumes, actually come from its smaller cousin the blackcock...
...first fatality. Just after noon 27-year-old Roy Liggett of Omaha went up for a trial run. Nosing his plane into a 25-mile wind, he was making 200 m.p.h. at about 500 ft. when his left wing suddenly dropped off. The little red racer rolled over, dove cock-pit-deep into a cornfield. The fabric ripped from a wing of the yellow-&-red G. B. racer as Florence E. Klingensmith, 26, of Minneapolis was driving it around a pylon. The plane tottered into a ravine throwing Miss Klingensmith to death in sight of the grandstands...