THE OOLOGIST'S EXGHAME 



VOL. II. 



NEW YORK, OCTOBER, 1889. 



No. 7. 



An Adventure in Maine. 



By Geo. H. Clark. 



On a bright, clear evening in Septem- 

 ber, I, with one companion, Mr. Chas. 

 Fenn, was in camp on the shores of one 

 of the prettiest of the Northern lakes, the 

 picturesque Parmacheenee. We had just 

 disposed of our supper, and I was busily 

 at work on a pair of Jays when I was 

 startled by the near report of my friend's 

 gun. Hastily looking up I saw him run 

 to the water's edge and seize a long-leg- 

 ged, long-necked bird which I at once 

 recognized as a Blue Heron. After a 

 brief examination of the bird, we con- 

 cluded to put off skinning him till morn- 

 ing, and so, after suspending "long-legs" 

 from the branches of the solitary pine 

 before our camp, we proceeded to turn 

 in. 



After the usual round of jokes and 

 stories we soon fell asleep, fatigued, as we 

 had been by a hard day's jaunt to the 

 head of the lake. 



About four o'clock in the morning I 

 suddenly awoke with the dim conscious- 

 ness that some prowler was about our 

 camp. Our fire had burned itself out 

 and in the dim light of morning I barely 

 caught a glimpse of some creature mak- 

 ing off with my friend's valued specimen, 

 the Heron. My shout awakened my 

 companion, and as soon as possible we 

 seized our weapons and set off in search 

 of the disturber of our repose, also the 

 Heron, not without some misgivings as 

 to the character of the unwelcome visitor. 

 After following his traces as best we 

 could for a few minutes we came sud- 

 denly on a dead pine tree, which had 

 fallen in such a way that the main part 

 rested with one end on the broken stump 

 about twelve feet from the ground. 



There, on the raised corner of the log, 

 crouched as magnificent a specimen of 

 the Canada Lynx as I have ever seen. 

 With the long body of the Heron lying 

 across the log in front of him he growled 

 and snarled lustily at our approach. 

 Quickly bringing his double -barrel to his 

 shoulder my companion fired a charge of 

 duck shot into the creature, when with 

 a growl he sprang into the overhanging 

 branches of a spruce and moved quickly 

 to the top. Catching a glimpse of gray 

 fur among the dark green boughs near 

 the top of the spruce I fired, and spitting 



and whirling, the beast came bounding 

 through the air, striking the ground at 

 our feet with a heavy thud; where, after 

 one long convulsive struggle, he lay with 

 a dark red stream slowly trickling from 

 his shaggy breast. 



As it was but a short distance back to 

 camp we decided to carry the carcass 

 back with us, where after an early break- 

 fast we proceeded to skin our prize, and 

 he was soon stripped of his handsome 

 coat. When, a few weeks after, we 

 came home, he accompanied us in the 

 shape of a scientific skin ; only to leave 

 this country for another trip across the 

 wide Atlantic, and he is now at peace, a 

 mounted specimen in one of England's 

 many museums, a fit representative of 

 the old male lynxes of our Northern 

 wilds. 



Florida Birds.— No. 5. 



By F. C. Baker. 



Should I live to be a .thousand years 

 old, I shall never forget an eventful day 

 I spent on the Indian River. 



I had been on a two days' cruise up 

 the river in Mr. L's yacht, " The Lida," 

 and was just returning home. The party 

 consisted of Mr. L.. Mr. R., and myself, 

 and we were indeed as jolly a crowd as 

 ever stepped upon a vessel's deck. 



The night before it had rained, and we 

 had gotten very wet. We were up and 

 doing by daylight, and discussing the 

 chances for getting home that day. 

 After partaking of a hearty breakfast, 

 we hoisted sail, and were soon speeding 

 away toward home. On our way we 

 passed several channel buoys on which 

 were roosting a number of Florida Cor- 

 morants (Phalacrocorax dilophus flori- 

 danus.) As we sailed by they left their 

 roosts, and I tried to shoot them on the 

 wing, but, as usual, missed. 



About noon we arrived at the wharf, 

 and after making everything secure we 

 went to the house and partook of a 

 hearty dinner ; after which Mr. R. and 

 myself shouldered our guns, and, taking 

 the ocean trail, started out to visit our 

 traps, which had not been attended to 

 since our absence. In the first one we 

 found an old red-headed Turkey Buzzard 

 (Cathartes aura), which, upon our near 

 approach, commenced to offer us a peace 



