204 Cincinnati Society of Natural History. 



Near Beaver Lake, Township No. 4, as we were approaching 

 Fenton's hotel on the customary vehicle, denominated a buck- 

 board, just above our heads on a tree was a male cross-bill, his red 

 breast standing out in fine contrast to the green leaves about him. 



In a previous article, I have alluded to the manifest fondness of 

 these birds for salt, and mentioned how, at Otter Lake Tannery, 

 they would gather in flocks to eat the refuse salt thrown out of the 

 salt-pork barrels. 



I cannot close this article without mentioning certain interest- 

 ing facts in point given me recently by Mr. Romeyn B. Hough, of 

 Lowville, Lewis County, New York. He writes as follows : 



* * * "The ice-cream freezer to which you refer I saw at 

 the Forge House (Moose River) a few years ago. Its staves were 

 made of oak, about one-half or five-eighths of an inch thick, as I 

 remember it, and were naturally permeated with salt. It had been 

 standing during the winter previous in a place where the cross-bills 

 would get at it, and judging from the looks of it, there must have 

 been a general understanding among them that it was a salt-lick for 

 all. I was told that they would constantly visit it during the win- 

 ter in flocks for the salt which they derived from its substance. 

 They had nibbled and gnawed away at the edge of the freezer 

 until they had eaten it down in one place five-eighths of an inch, 

 as nearly as I could judge without measurement. The wood, 

 probably, in that place was not quite so hard as elsewhere, but the 

 whole rim showed their gnawing more or less, excepting possibly 

 in one or two places, where knots occurred, which were altogether 

 too hard for their beaks. The work looked quite like that done 

 by mice, only, of course, you could not see teeth marks. 



"Another instance illustrative of the craving of cross-bills 

 for salt has occurred to me, and I will mention it since I am on the 

 subject: 



"'Jimmy O'Kane, the Stillwater Hermit,' who lived years 

 ago near the banks of the Beaver river, where Dunbar's Hotel is 

 now, subsisted largely, when other game was difficult to get, on 

 these birds. He would entice them under a large net by throwing 

 salt there, and when they had gathered in sufficient numbers, he 

 would spring it upon the unfortunate victims." 



