Maboh 10, 1881.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



105 



that I should not be able to accomplish more than twenty 

 miles that day. The moist and slippery trail gave constant 

 evidence, that it was also a favorite thoroughfare for wild ani- 

 mals. The great cow-like footprints of the elk were mingled 

 with the uegro-shaped track of the black bear, and the broad, 

 cat-like spoor of the cougar or mountain lion. 



Gigantic ferns, ten or twelve feet high, grew abundantly 

 along the low depressions of the trail and the undergrowth in 

 many places was as dense as any I have ever seen upon the 

 jsthmus of Darien. Hour after hour passed and found me 

 Still toiling along the narrow trail, sometimes clambering 

 over and sometimes crawling under those mighty prostrate 

 monarchs of the forest, lying so frequently directly across my 

 line of travel, until the slowly-fading light in t.liat .sombre 

 wilderness warned me that 1 must prepare to pass the night 

 in the most primitive style possible, more especially as I had 

 no blanket and nothing to eat but a few apples purloined 

 from an orchard on the outskirts of Astoria. The first 

 thought, after this became a settled conviction, was for fuel, 

 -and my anxiety in this respect grew greater every moment 

 as 1 traveled mile after mile and could not find a stick that 

 looked dry enough to burn. 



The idea of lying out that night, was certainly not a very 

 inviting one. The numerous tracks of wild animals, of both 

 the ursine and feline orders, which I had observed upon every 

 mile of the trail during the afternoon, suggested a possibility 

 of unwelcome intruders, and the cold, moist and penetrating 

 ■ night air, whose influence already began to make itself un- 

 pleasantly felt, precluded, m my thinly clad condition, any 

 Very luxurious anticipations of the night's repose, even to 

 the most romantic temperament. My spirits, however, came 

 to the surface with a bound when, upon ascending a slight 

 swell or ridge, I saw the great, sail-like sliversof ajlightmng- 

 shattered tree lying in heaps about its stump, small enough 

 to handle and apparently dry enough to burn. A short dis- 

 tance beyond two dead trees lay, crossing each other at right 

 angles, and half an hour later 1 had a tolerably comfortable 

 bed arranged in the corner, with a pile of slivers at my feet 

 and a not very enthusiastic fire burning in front. 



Slowly wore the n'ght away. The fire, unless frequently 

 stirred, threatened to go out, and the strange noises of the 

 night in those deep solitudes kept my mind so active that 

 Upon consulting my watch at nearly 12 o'clock I found the 

 n ght was half spent and, weary as I was, sleep had not yet 

 visited my eyelids. I sunk into a light slumber, however, 

 soon after and awoke with a start at 4 o'clock to find that the 

 lire had died down to a dull bed of coals and that the few 

 stars visible directly over my head, through the tops of the 

 tall trees, were shining as brightly as ever. Anxiously I 

 watched the pale light announcing the coming of the day- 

 king steal over the ueights, and as soon as I could fairly see 

 the trail I was again on my way. 



Two hours later found me standing iu the doorway of the 

 cabin I have already described, at the foot of SaddJg Moun- 

 tain ami what a welcome sight presented itself to the shiv- 

 ering and nearly famished humeri Dawson sat upon one 

 side of an immense bed of lively coals, with a loug-handled 

 frying-pan, frying huge slapjacks in bear's grease, and upon 

 the opposite side sat " Happy George," roasting and basting 

 the fat ribs of an elk. 



" Will you set down, and take a bite with us ?" 



Dear readers of the Forest and Stream, devotees of the 

 rifle and untiring followers of those antlered monarchs of 

 forest, grove and glen, it is superfluous to ask you if you have 

 been there, for T know you have, every last one of you, and 

 it is only necessary to say that on that particular occasion I 

 was there too. Half an hour later, as I lay reclining upon a 

 bear skiu, and my entertainers put the h use in order, I be- 

 gan to take notes of my companions. Dawson was alight- 

 built, light-cuinplexioned man, of medium height, about forty 

 years of age, had lost his left eye and was at that time the 

 most famous hunter in all those parts. He carried the most 

 terrific rifle I ever saw — muzzle-loading and throwinga round 

 ball fourteen to the pound. " Happy George " was at least 

 fifteen years younger, dark-skinned", hroad-shouldered and 

 evidently of "herculean strength, having nothing peculiar 

 about bim, except, perhaps, the enviable disposition from 

 which he derived his sobriquet. He was armed with a Spring- 

 field rifle. 



The day was spent in eating, smoking, lounging, running 

 Bullets fur Dawson's artillery piece preparatory to an elkhunt 

 on the morrow and in general conversation, while my interest 

 iu this wild country and especially in its fauna was not easily 

 appeased. The two hunters were equally ilesirous of heariug 

 about the great silver-bearing lode of Nevada and the methods 

 for extracting the precious metals in vogue there. I found that 

 Saddle Mountain and its vicinity was a favorite resort of 

 Borne of the mightiest of wild animals to be found upon our 

 continent. Deer were very scarce or entirely unknown there, 

 but elk, bear, panther and cougars were to be found in abun- 

 dance, some of the former of which would dress upward of 

 COO lhs. 



We were off by daylight the next morning, our course be- 

 ing directly up the side of the mountain, which at this ooint 

 was so sleep that the climbing was exceedingly laborious. 

 Not a word was spoken by either of us as we toiled slowly 

 upward, for the fresh tracks of elk were visible in every di- 

 rection. None of the animals themselves, however, were 

 Sighted until we had nearly reached the summit, where we 

 emerged into a charming little glade with an area of about two 

 acres. Here we beheld one of the most imposing sights it 

 was ever my good ortuue to contemplate. Right in the cen- 

 tre of the little meadows, as if framed in a picture, with Irs 

 heautiful bead crowned witha magnificent, pair of horns raised 

 .seven or eight feet high, bis great~nostrils and eyes distended 

 in alarm, stood a buck elk of the largest size, lie was stand- 

 ing with his side toward us, but his head was turned in our 

 direction, and not being over thirty yards distant I stood per- 

 fectly lost in the contemplation of the spectacle. Not so, 

 however, with my companions. Both rifles cracked simultane- 

 ously and the noble animal, with a bound that brought him to 

 the edge of the meadow, plunged headlong down the almost 

 perpendicular cliff with the blood spurting in purple streams 

 from his side. We heard him go crashing down among the 

 firs and underbrusb, and it being impossible to follow him in 

 safety by the direct route we descended to the place where 

 he had lodged by an easier grade. There lay the splendid 

 fellow doubled up in a heap at the foot of a great tree, dead, 

 this horns broken and ruined, and the situation he was in 

 rendered it very difficult for us to get out with any consider- 

 ble portion of the carcass. 



We left him where he had fallen, and, ascending to the 

 snmtnit, crossed to the opposite side where we had a fine 

 view of the dense forest around the sources of Young's River- 

 Far, far below us the clear, singular whistle or bray from a 

 numerous band of elk, floated up to our ears from that vast 

 sea of dense, dark green foliage, and went reverberating off 



among the hills like the blasts from a hunter's horn. The 

 descent upon that side was accomplished with great celerity, 

 and in half an hour we were in the midst of the land which 

 numbered thirty or forty elk. We got two shots apiece with 

 our old muzzle-loaders before the bund broke and ran, leav- 

 ing four male elk dead wirhiu 200 yards ni wk<;re we stood, 

 the timber being so dense that no shot was at a greater range 

 than fifty yards. Here was meat iu abundance, and it would 

 be wasteful if not sinful to continue the slaughter. We there- 

 fore took ihe finest pair of horns with as much meat as we 

 could conveniently carry and, hanging the choice portions of 

 the remainder iu the trees, set out on our return bo the cabin, 

 going around the mountain, however, instead of over it. 

 We passed within a few rods of several elk before we had 

 gone a mile, but we refrained from shooting at any of tliem. 



Nothing astonished me more than the wonderful skill in 

 woodcraft shown by Dawson and Happy George, the great fir 

 and hemlock trees standing so thick ana lall, not Only looked 

 alike to me, but rendered it Utterly impossible to locate even 

 the cardinal points of the compass; but they took their course 

 with such unerring fidelity that couid hardly have been sur- 

 passed had they been walking the thyroug : it' a city, 



They recognized localities ami evffj treesil places where I 

 learned from their conversation that they had been only once 

 before, and we all arrived safely at i he cabin an hour before 

 dark, and the hunter's feast, the everuug cigar aud the wild 

 tales of tha' honest, hospitable pair of lcatherstockings made 

 a fitting termination to my first and last day's experience up- 

 on Saddle Mouutain. Fokuhd Dkbr. 



Mason Valley, Nen. 



lateral Jjiptorg 



VISITORS TO AN ENGLISH BACK GARDEN. 



I) 



URING our last bard winter my little back garden 

 yard, perhips, would be a betterword— in (he suburbs 

 of London swarmed with birds eager to pouuee on the 

 crumbs and crusts, cold rice and potatoes, bones aud scraps 

 of meat thrown out to them. Mine blackbirds at a I ^an -in- 

 cluding hens — were to be seen down in the yard ami even 

 more quarrelsome than usual the golden-hilled cocks pri tved 

 themselves, fighting on the ground and leaping up tlutlerimr 

 in the air to fight ; aud, I am sorry to say, their brown- 

 gowued wives Sometimes followed their bad example. 



Part of the skeleton of a, goose, well picked before it was 

 thrown out, the blackbirds pecked at aud bustled about in a 

 most amusing fashion ; and one big, bullying Gpefe made a 

 point of leaving the crust or scrap on which he might be feed- 

 ing and deliberately shouldering away any of his fellows who 

 attempted to feed in his neighborhood. A long, real garden 

 stretches behind the little back gardens of our row of houses, 

 which in ordinary weather furnishes blackbirds with a pretty 

 good supply, according to the season, of grubs, worms, 

 snails, chrysalides, etc., although there are not many apples 

 to give them their desse' t for their meritorious labor in de- 

 vouring these gardeners' pests. Accordingly, the birds 

 breed about the garden, 'and very pleasant it is to hear thtni 

 piping in the morning and the evening dusk— (hat is, when 

 they will condescend to sing, and in their own voices. Bur 

 tor the most part they are very lazy. It is not only in sum- 



mer that the "sib 

 they are generally "hoarse as when 

 w res." This hoarseness iu these 1 

 great mocking-bird) I attribute to thei 

 scolding of a next door parrot. Limit 

 door house a pair of blackbirds nest 

 top of a water pipe, in company wit 

 which slip in and out of the holes 1 

 the ventilation of the loft under ihe i 



id when they do sir 



hawkc 



ha\ 



mouth 



of tl 



1 e slab 



of that next 



very yea 



-, just, at the 



a colony 



oi sparrows, 



ft in the 



side wall for 



>f like di 



3gy Loudon- 



leir dark 



com-ts. The 







r liued \ 



I plenty 



ug t 



, bluish 



, peep. 



ill upon 



ers in and out of tb 



i/iuldi i;.' I; aok sii i.'s aesi 



plastered with smoother clay ins tie 



but I have never seen my surburhan neighbo 



clay for their housebuilding, although there 



about. What a different place to lav their s 



green eggs in from that in which a blackbird' 



my mind's eye ! A clump of hazels in a Wei 



big over a rough, mossed, lichened, ivied limes 



a shaded, rocky lane, down which zigzagged a clear, tinkling 



runlet, between wet, mossy rounded blocks of stone. 



Bigger blackbirds visited Us — rooks, probably, fromK'euor 

 Highgate Wood or Lady Burdctt-Coutls's park. Now and then 

 we had a robin among our visitors, but I Ihiuk not so fre- 

 quently as in milder winters. A titmouse often made his 

 appearance. 1 saw bim on the roof of the scullery, peeking 

 away at a bone which bigger flesh-relishing birds, althuuaii 

 bold enough to light upon the ground, hail been afraid to 

 touch because wil bin eyeshot of a first floor window. Tit 

 finished off his dinner with some little bits of cheese wh: 



for days the other birds — sparrows 

 tasted. All the birds have turned ai 

 shoulder upon cold potatoes as long 

 else for them to gel. When water" 

 scullery door into the frozen yard u 

 made a rush for it. A solitary, stray 

 eyed, bold thrushes — the last look: 

 of the last century in their smooth 1 



eluded- had left un- 

 t scornfully cold 

 re was anything 

 n out under the 

 the birds have 

 ing aud bright- 

 nart young meu 

 and speckled 



like 



waistcoats— were also on our visiting list, the thrushes three 

 and four at a time. 



But the sparrows were, of course, the most numerous. All 

 round about they build. In the breeding season, ever and 

 anon, down comes aud smashes one of th ir spoiled white 

 eggs — perhaps ejected from the nest by a felonious neighbor 

 abstracting its material; or an unfledge'd, white-mouthed nest- 

 ling drops gaping, anil afterward when the young ones have 

 begun to try their wings every now and then one tumbles 

 down the chimney like an inexperienced little sweep Bold 

 at all times during the hard weather the sparrows have, save 

 when prowling cats were in the way, shown themselves al- 

 ii ost totally devoid of fear. They have leaped into windows 

 and tapped with their bills upon the panes to call attention to 

 their wants. 



They have to rise up like barnyard fowls to snatch scatter- 

 ed crumbs, and scarcely take more trouble than pigeons to 

 get out of the way of human feet. It lias been prime fun to 

 see two of them at a time tugging away at a crust like rival 

 porters at a passenger's portmanteau, aud to note the insolent 

 coolness with which every now and then one has swooped 

 down upon and carried off for his own repast, upon a distant. 

 roof that big scrap on which another has been engaged; the 

 robber staggering along with Ids spoil tike a ship "down by 

 the head." W. R. 



Quebec, March, 1881. 



THE ""CRANE'S BACK." 



INOTFJE that in the Forest and Stream of Dec. 23 

 you reprint a letter published in the Evening Post on the 

 subject of wagtails crossing the Mediterranean Sea on the 

 backs of cranes and storks. This has the indorsement of the 

 eminent ornithologist von Heuglin, and induces me to report 

 a general belief among the Crow Indians of Montana that the 

 sandhill crane performs the same office for a bird they call 

 napite-shu-utle or " the crane's back." This bird I have not 

 yet seen, but from the description it is probably a small 

 grebe. It is "big medicine," and when obtained is rudely 

 stuffed and carefully preserved. I hope to have one brought 

 to me soon for identification. 



The Indian's account of the bird is as follows, and I give it 

 for what it ma\ be worth, adding that I have been assured 

 by a very intelligent and observing huuter, who has lived iu 

 Montana for eighteen vcirs, that he has noticed the same 

 habit : 



The " crane's back " arrives and departs with the sandhill 

 crane, aud except when nesting is rarely seen far from that 

 bird. About fen or fifteen pe. cent, of cranes are accom- 

 panied by the "crane's back," which, as the crane rises from 

 the ground flutters up and settles on the back between the 

 wings, remaining there until the crane alights. 



Such is the Indian account, and many of their hunters and 

 chiefs have assured me that they have frequently seen the 

 birds carried off in this way At these times the bird is said 

 to keep Up a. constant, chattering whistle, which is the origin 

 of the Crow custom of warriors going into battle each with a 

 small hone whistle in his mouth ; this is continually blown, 

 imitating the note of the '•crane's back," and, as they be- 

 lieve, preserves their ponies and themselves from wounds, so 

 that iu case of defeat they may be safely carried away as is 

 the napitri-sliu-itlU. The Crec Indians are said to observe 

 the same habit in the white crane. J. C. Merrill. 



Fort Caste); Montana, February, 1881. 



JIM CROW. 



THIS was lus name. Andy was the name of the other. 

 I had them from different nests in different years, and 

 found them both most interesting and affectionate pets. I 

 loved them living, 1 mourned them dead. I am a friend of 

 the crow aud would say a good word for him in spite of his 

 unfortunate reputation, f would not shoot r.or kill a crow. 

 They are useful birds and, 1 believe, honest birds and so en- 

 titled to live. Injustice has ever been done the crow, both 

 in ancient and modern times. "Esop" has not only slan- 

 dered him, liut tries to make a fool uf him by representing 

 him as being wheedled out of his cheese by a fox. No fox 

 ever outwitted a crow nor never will. HB is a bird with 

 brains and his eyes and ears are always open. I do not claim 

 that he is a wit, but he is a wag, full of "iuflnile jest and 

 humor." Few birds are his equal, mate are his superior. I 

 presume that many, if not all, the readers of Forest and 

 Stream look upon the crow as vermin, destructive to game — 

 an Ishmaelite against whom the hand of every man should be 

 raised. If this presumption is correct I think it arises from 

 a want of knowledge of his merits or a hereditary prejudice 

 against him. He is called a thief and a robber, but he isnei- 

 tht-r, unless the taking that which satisfies his hunger, and no 

 more, makes him such. He provides for himself and his 

 household, as every good crow should— he does not steal for 

 the mere pleasure of stealing Every crow has his own indi- 

 IV dual character ; no two are alike; some are sober, others 

 are merry, but all arc fond of practical joking. He is as 

 affectionate a« a dog, aud iu the daytitue quite as useful, for 

 no tramp, stranger, d g or cat can come on the premises 

 where he is that "he will not. give a note of alarm. I have 

 said that I had two— Jim, named after the popular song, and 

 Andy, after a prominent citizen who ouce stood well with his 

 countrymen. Jim was a very sociable crow, fond of ladies 

 and children, but had his favorites, and never hesitated in 

 showiug his likes and his dislikes Jim was brought up in a 

 Republican family, but, droll enough iu one or his color, he 

 could never abide a negro, and while he would be chatty with 

 while folks he would have nothing to say to a black man. 

 He at one time formed a friendship witha workman who 

 daily passed the house where Jim lived and wore a heavy 

 white beaver, which one day he bad dyed black. This was 

 too much for Jim ; he looked at bis old friend in silence and 

 never after ward took any notice of bim. He disliked dogs aud 

 availed himself of every opportunity to give them a nip. He 

 would sit in solemu silence near the front gate, apparently 

 w&ititrig for some doe with more curiosity than wit to thrust 

 his nose, between the bars, when he would give hiin a blow 

 with h'S horny beak that would send him howling away, a 

 sadder if not a wiser dog, to remember the difference be- 

 t ween cave canem and cave eorimm Andy was con- 

 serv tlve and inclined to be aristocratic in his intercourse 

 with society, and was shy of the oi polloi. He was fond 

 of ladies, especially those "who wore bright or gay colors. He 

 was fond of flowers, hut paustes were his favorites. He 

 would fill his mouth with them and strut around the garden 

 walks in the sunshine as proud as a peacock. He was always 

 perplexed with Sunday* -its stillness and the Sunday coal, 

 gown aud bonnet were too much for him, he was quiet and 

 silent J. 0. j 



Bangor, 1881. 



We agree, most heartily with what our correspondent savs. 

 We know of no bird that makes a more interesting pet than 

 the crow, ami there is none more easily reared or that better . 

 repays in intelligence and affection the care bestowed upon 

 him. We remember especially two that we had one year- 

 Jim and Sam. They were never confined, and as the weather 

 in fall grew colder, and less attention was paid them they be- 

 came wilder, and finally, one cold November day, flew away 

 never to reappear. It was fun to watch these birds. They 

 did not know what fear was, and their impudence was some- 

 thing sublime. From the time that they became, able to fly 

 they were the companions of the children, and would join in 

 their games with as much spirit as any one. They were 

 greatly attract' d by any shining object and had to be care- 

 fully watched to prevent their stealing any object of metal 

 and hiding it. When the children were not out of doors to 

 play with them they used sometimes to amuse themselves by 

 alighting on the backs of the gardeners working on the lawn 

 or over the flower-beds, aud then trying to remove the metal 

 buckles from their vests or the bright suspender buttons from 

 their pantaloons. With their stout beaks they would pound 



