AM 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jflt % 1881, 



In a moment they were off, the Professor wit.li the rifle, 

 Wren with an axe. Along the brook the creature's tracks 

 were plain in the mud, and here and there lay a trout. 

 Through a cedar swamp they went ; up a ridge, down again, 

 now on hands and knees, now climbing fallen trees, now 

 sinking in pool-! of water. It became slow work, then mo- 

 notonous, then tiresome. Every thing was Wet. It was rain- 

 ing in torrents. 



"Well, Wren," gasped the Professor, after toiling up a 

 ridge. " I don't see as many fish as I did." 



"Guess we'll have to give him up. Hope they'll make 

 him sick." 



" I hope he'll never get his head out of that basket." 



They ttt'ned back. It seemed to take twice as long to 

 follow the trail back again. W'cn had taken the precaution 

 to bring n little food,, and it was well he did so, for it was 

 eleven o'clock befo-o they reached their camp. It had be- 

 come an island. They waded to it through a pond of water 

 that rose to their knees. 



' I think we'd better start for home at once." 



"Guess we had, Professor. We'll be drowned out sure if 

 we stay here." 



Grass River was swollen to twice its usual size. Each 

 took a paddle, and the canoe flew through the water. Rain, 

 pouring hard, is not calculated lo improve one's spirits. The 

 Professor thought something else was neaded. He. did not 

 sing at home much— he wasn't appreciated there- -bin here 

 in the woods with no one to hear but Wren, why not ? He 

 began. His voice fairly shook the spruces along the river 

 Bide, and the mountain echoes rolled back "there's music in 

 the air." That is, they said " in the air," and the Professor, 

 feeling that he had touched a cord to which nature herself 

 responded — that sentence is the Professor's— went on through 

 the whole list of known songs. •'Rock me to sleep, mother." 

 "Pah- Harvard." Good-bye, Sweet Heart," " Upidee," " Ba- 

 bo-bi-bo-tm " followed, all with numerous variations. The 

 surroundings suggested. "Paddle your own canoe," and 

 " Shoo Fly." The mosquitoes, who had come in large num- 

 bers to the cone rt, didn't take the hint, however. Wren 

 said next, day that he wasn't much of a judge of opera music, 

 but he thought those variations were splendid. 



Estimated by its effect on the spirits of the two wet travel- 

 ers, this concert was a success ; and they needed all possible 

 cheer, for now they turned into Massawepie outlet. Against 

 the current, through a stream that would scarcely float the 

 boat, and which was so crooked with alders that it was bard 

 to tell which was the brook and which was a clump of 

 bushes, up they went. Now they pushed with the paddles, 

 now pulled on the bushes, Every leaf, every twig, every 

 blade of grass held all over its surface little crystal globes of 

 water. If they touched the foot of an alder it sent its shower 

 upon them. When they pushed their way through a thick 

 bush it only gave way after dashing its myriad beads of 

 water in their faces. About dark they reached the lake. 

 Hero they had left the oars. Wren took them. The 

 Professor put all his strength in'o the paddle to keep himself 

 wajui. The two miles were quickly passed. A little later 

 they stood beside the camp fire. 



"Professor, you're adetn'd, damp, moist, unpleasantTjody ; 

 but have you got any fish ? 



** We caught enough, but " 



'• Then go ripht back to Grass River." 



When all were seated about the camp fire the Professor, 

 in dry clothes and good spirits, told the story of the trip. 



now and then. "Bob" and I spent half an hour watching 

 one on the shore of "Little Diamond," as he was feediug 

 near the outlet, and paddled up within rifle-shot of him 

 quietly, preferring gazing on him to profitless whipping the 

 water for untemp table trout. 



When we had looked our Mil a shrill whistle startled him 

 from his feed, and he disappeared in the. woods. 



Colebrook is beau'ifully situated on the east bank of the 

 Connecticut, with a bold mountain mass, known as Monad- 

 neck, turning directly from the opposite shore. There are 

 two excellent hotels here, as well as at North Stratford, and 

 a very good one at Stowartstown, and I have already men- 

 tinned the Lake House at Connecticut Lake. 



Rolfe's "Camp" at Diamond Pond is really a summer 

 hotel, and ladies visit it as well as Thos. Chester's at Second 

 Lake. 



The road from Stcwartstown to Connecticut Lake crosses 

 Hall's Stream and Indian Stream, famed in the days of Daniel 

 Webster and the Asbburtoa treaty and the dispute with 

 England about the boundary line, and this is a delightful 

 diive all the way. 



Summer travelers are finding their way more and more 

 into Coos, or " The Place of Pines," as the interpretation of 

 the Indian name is said to be, and its beauties in June and 

 July only need to be seen to be appreciated. Van W- 



NORTHERN NEW HAMPSHIRE. 



NO. II. 



THE small " imp of Satau," who is popularly supposed to 

 be an important factcr in every punting office, "raised 

 tie d— 1 " with one or two words in my last manuscript, 

 having transposed the camp of the Connecticut River 

 "Lumber Company" to "Snutptcr County," an unknown 

 region in New Hampshire ; and he increasi d the weight of 

 my split bamboo from 10 oz. to 60 oz., or three pounds and 

 three-quarters. No wonder my companions should think 

 my rod heavy. 



1 strung out my letter on fishing topics to such a length 

 that I was obliged to omit a few words which I might have 

 added for the benefit of that portion of your readers who en 

 joy other things than merely catching the trout, though they 

 like to " go a-fisbing" too, for you have readers, and writers, 

 to i, of the gentler sex, and to them there are other attrac- 

 tions in our northern woods in June than the mere pleasure 

 of trout fishing. 



The scenery of the Upper Connecticut Vnlley is surpass- 

 ingly lovely, and to those who have only visited the granite 

 peaks of the White Mountains it is an astonishing change 

 lo ttrike the fertile meadows of Lancaster, Northumberland 

 and Colebrook. 



Too far north and too high for successful cultivation of 

 Indian corn and rye, the meadows arc mostly kept in grass 

 for the hay crop, while the slopes of the hills and the val- 

 leys of the tributary streams bear heavy crops of potatoes 

 and more or less spring wheat, and afford the finest, pastur- 

 age, for on the " Coos slate" foundation the grass grows deep 

 and rich to the tops of the highest clearings. 



The roadsides in early June are studded with the blossoms 

 of the wild strawberry, the dandelion, the cinquefoil and 

 the buttercup. The white blossoms of the "dogwood" are 

 seen in every thicket, and the native songsters, undisturbed 

 by English sparrows, are to be heard on every hand. 



The dense woods are mainly of spruce, intermixed witli 

 old yellow birches, which shoot up fifty or sixty feet with- 

 out a branch, and then finish with an inconceivable tangle 

 of knots and gnarls, twisting and twining in every direc- 

 tion. Their trunks, two or three feet in diameter, furnish 

 firewood for the present, while the spruce lumber is floated 

 down the river to market, but when railroad communication 

 js opened above North Stratford, will furnish a large supply 

 of beautiful wood for cabinet lurniture, to take the place of 

 the fast diminishing black walnut. 



The mossy carpet undernea'h the trees is thickly starred 

 with the white blossoms of the "bunch-berry" "or dwarf 

 cornet, and on every hand are seen the purple and painted 

 trilliunis, the dracama, aud occasionally a lady's-slipper or a 

 Solomon's seal. Ail ubng the woodpaths are the feathery 

 flowers of the tiarella, aud on either hand the white clusters 

 of the bobbiebush. 



Around the shires of the lakes are great masses of the pur- 

 ple blossomsj* Jhe rhodora which sends out its flowers in 

 ^leaves, and there are flowers without buds, 

 ^Wlful botanist could name for you. 

 ■ty everywhere. Red squirrels and chip- 

 Fyou with their gambols, a Northern hare 

 occasionally Scuds across the path, and a deer may be seen 



Quintal W¥°m- 



NOTES ON SOME ENGLISH BIRDS. 



Dublin, Ire'and, June 15, 1881. 

 Editor Forest and Stronn : 



1 send you a cutting from the Stand ird. a leading English 

 newspaper, giviDg an interesting account of some of tbe birds 

 protected by our Wild Birds Protect io i Act. My reason for 

 sending it is that the writer confirms my views about dux 

 British starling as a grub destroyer, as communicated to you 

 in an article which appeared in your columns some time ago. 

 Rion/iitn O'CosN'on. 



Frcrn tbe article so kindly sent by our correspondent we 

 extract as fo'lows ; 



" ilsving already referred to the barn ow', it may be well 

 to take into consideration the usefulness of this particular 

 bird ; and, useful as it is, I am Eorry to say that there are few 

 land birds who suffer mere on account of their beauty. Bird- 

 stnffers, especially, destroy scores of them, killed simply for 

 tbe reason that they sell rtadily when stuffed and put into 

 glass eases ; and because there is a great demand for their 

 wings fe>r fans, fire screens, or trimming for ladies' hats or 

 bonnets. Who that has watched the barn owl in tbe twilight 

 of a summer evening, as it silently glides through the air in 

 search of its legitimate prey — rats and mice — but would at 

 once try to preserve as rnauy of them as possible about his 

 premises? Tbe good they do to tbe farmer, especially at the 

 breeding season, is indeed great. A gamekeeper gives a very 

 interesting account, and also an enlightening one, with regard 

 to the food of the barn owl. Hefound an owl's nest with 

 only a single young one in it. He visited the nest for thirty 

 consecutive mornings, and in that time he removed from it 

 one hundred and five rats, forty-nine mice, eleven shrew 

 mice, two robins, and one sparrow. This was what was over 

 and above what the owl needed for its own consumption, 

 faking the rats only, the bird bad evidently earned its living 

 well, for many persons will gladly give threepence a head ft* 

 the death of a full-grown rat, so destructive ore they; so 

 these owl*, in thirty days, hid more than sived the outlay of 

 twenty-live shillings and threepence to the rat-catcher alone, 

 independent of mice, etc. One almost wonders how it is that 

 the barn owl's life is not entirely protected by the Staf>. In 

 fact, the bird has derived one of its names on account of its 

 frequenting barns for the purpose of catching rats aud mice 

 which infest such places for the sake of the grain generally 

 stored there. In many parts of Kent and Susr-ex there used 

 to be holes made in the barns, granaries, and also in ttie roof- 

 ing of old farmhouses, for the ingress and egress of the barn 

 owls, and if they would only breed there if. was considered a 

 good omen. Yet now an act of Parliament is considered 

 necessary to protect them from slaughter. 



"Let ua take another bird into comideratton : The starling 

 (one not in tbe Scberiule). It is admitted thit his presence is 

 uol much wished tor near a cherry orchard during the time of 

 ripening ; but, apart from bis love of cherries, he does an 

 incredible amount of good, aud, although I am a fruit grower, 

 I have had holes made about my house and outbuildings, and 

 boxes put up for the starlings to breed in. Some time ago I 

 bad two nest places made close to a window where 1 was in 

 the habit of sitting. The holes were made at six in the even- 

 ing, and at seven in tbe morning tbe starlings began to build 

 in them. After the usual time of the birds sitting the young 

 wete hatched, and then I had the pleasure of observing the 

 parent birds. They were up and about soon after four in the 

 morning, commencing the day with chattering and whistling 

 and other queer noises. Then, after a brief space, tbey went 

 forth to breakfast. At six they began to feed their young. 

 I noticed tbey were seldom gone more than a minute, the 

 fullest extent being two, ere they returned with a grub in 

 then: beaks — Sometimes more. Their nest being but a yard 

 from the window, I c mid discern that many of these grubs 

 were those <# the Daddy Long legs (Tipuln. okraceo.). These 

 were mostly secured from the meadow close by, and, thanks 

 to the starlings, my grass grew abundantly. Sometimes the 

 yellow cabbage butterfly was brought, and this went on for 

 hours ; then a little rest and more chattering and whistling, 

 then again to feeding, which involved more grub and insect 

 gathering for their little ones. In all cases 1 found the feed- 

 ing of the young ended very nearly if not quite about six 

 in the evening. The old birds would then plume themselves, 

 with more whistliug and chattering, and tnen go to rest for 

 tbe night, a little while before dark One curious fact I have 

 noticed, which is that when the young birds can all fly well 

 they entirely disappear from the neighborhood with the old 

 one.", and invariably return and visit their nesting places again 

 in September. In only one instance in all my experience of 

 years of observation have I ever known them to bring any 

 fruit, and that once was a cherry, but not from my own trees, 

 for I saw the robber bring it from a distance, and they never 

 touched si her my plum or my currant trees. It is delightful 

 to watch the tactics of a dock, or ratber a pack of Starlings in 

 a meadow and uote how curiously tbey teed, the bind ones 

 contiuually flying to tbe front, by which means they can ob- 

 serve the holes of tbe insects in the ground, from which their 

 sharp-pointed beaks quickly draw forth the occupants. I 

 look on starlings as some of the very best friends 1 have. 

 " The song thrush is another. I do all I can to get as 



many of these about my grounds as p ssible. I feed th?m in 

 the winter, and I protect their nests in the summer; but it is 

 a delicate bird, and, feeding as it does on insects such as 

 snails, worms, grubs, etc., not many can live in one spot, as 

 there is not food enough, so they are driven off by their own 

 species beyond a certain radius, Where thrushes abound you 

 may be sure there are plenty of worms, grubs, and suail3 to 

 be got. So look on them kindly and indulgently as friends 

 working for you, though they do eat a little fruit, such as cur- 

 rants and strawberries ( which you can net) when the weather 

 is dry — for if moist or wet they generally prefer insfcts, as 

 does also ihe blackbird, though, save for his sweet melodious 

 song, he is not such a favorite with me as the thrush, as be 

 makes sad havoc among the fruit, especially the apples and 

 pears, peckiDg small holes first in one, then In another, spoil- 

 ing many before tbey are ripe, and in dry weather he does 

 more mischief to the plums than the apples. These birds 

 will also clear a large cherry tree in two or three mornings, 

 if not scared from it in some way. 1 have found that red, 

 yellow, and blue rags, fea'hers, looking-glass, nnd other 

 scares only answer for a very few days, the birds rapidly 

 getting used to tbem. They heed them so little that they sit 

 in the trees eating the fruit, evincing a p3rftct contempt for 

 the. gorgeous flickcrings fluttering about them. 



"The cuckoo eats insects, and is of particular service with 

 regard to the gooseberry c itter-pillar, which he frequents the 

 gardens to secure, and is the only bird that I know of that 

 Ins a particular fancy that way. Here 1 may mention that, 

 although a garden may have many varieties of insect-eating 

 birds within its boundaries, yet they may not feed on those 

 particular insects which are doing the most damage. Insect- 

 feeding birds do not feed on every kind of insect that fails in 

 their way. Few birds, for instance, will eat a hairy catter- 

 pillar, and I know of none that feed on those that inclos", 

 themselves in groups in a kind of web, such as are found oi 

 apple trees, and which denude them often of every leaf. 

 Each bird has its particular food, and, as a rule, does not de- 

 part from it unless driven to d i so by hanger or tbir,t. Many 

 a time have I watched the hlur-'its among tbe apple and 

 plum trees in the winter, searching here and there, above and 

 below, bangiDg head downwards with o' S 1 rving eye for any 

 larva about or around tbe buds. How quickly, when found, 

 are their sharp-pointed beaks inserted, and then what would 

 have been a catterpillar destructive lo the tree is itself de- 

 stroyed. For my part, I feel I n-ver have too many blue-tits, 

 cole-tits, and ni'irsb-tits, and yet in the autumn, if the 

 weather is hot and dry, these good friends of mine peck little 

 boles in the pears jnst by the"slem. and so Bpoil some fruit ; 

 but I reflect that this f ruiMmd many others would nothave had 

 an existence possibly had it not been for the insect searching 

 eyes of those self-same li'tle beauties, the tits. I have never 

 known them destroy blossom buds, of tbe fruit trees, like tbe 

 bullfinch; but even these, as a slight reparation, feed their 

 young with cattirpiillaip. 



"Often have I placed myself in jeopardy of being "locked 

 up" for trespassing by getting over hedges and invading 

 fields belonging toothers, from seeing a dead rook hanging 

 by the leg from a pole as a warning lo other rooks cot to 

 come there. I have run this risk for the purpose of seeing 

 what the bird's crop contained, and in no case as yet have I 

 found any grain, but only worms and grubs. It is my belief that 

 they often are really doing the farmer much gjod at ihe time 

 they are supposed to be doing much barm, and driven from 

 his fields. A ease illustrating this came to my knowledge a 

 short time ago. A farmer 1 knew living near the South 

 D)wns set a small boy to drive off the rooks from a certain 

 Sied-sown field. He. went that way lo see whether the boy 

 was doi g his duty. Scarcely that. In one part of the field 

 the ro .ks were busy at work. They rose on seeing my friend 

 and one, unfnrtunat-ly for the rook, came near. He, having 

 a gun, shot it. On his going to pick up tbe bndy he found 

 that three wire worms bad just crawled from its beak to the 

 ground. He then opened iue crop of the dead bird, and 

 found several more wireworms, besides grubB. "Well," eaid 

 I, "what did you do thenV" "Why," be replied, "I sent the 

 boy home at once." Rooks do an enormous amount of good 

 by eating the grubs of tbe cockchafer, and from my o wn. ex- 

 amination of the crops Of their jounglfiud tbey were fed 

 almost entirely on worms (and worms destroy tbe fertility of 

 tbe soil, as any one can easily learn for himself if he tries to 

 grow plants in mould formed entirely of wormcasts). These 

 young rooks are geuerally shot for sport at the very time they 

 are and would be of the most benefit lo the burners, which 1 

 consider a great error. Out of thirty-two j oung rooks whose 

 crops I examined, I did not find in one a grain of any sort. 



" The kestrel is another bird of great service in destroying 

 mice, youDg rats, and large insects, such as cockchafers, etc , 

 yet no sooner does one appear than every eodeavor is made to 

 ,sh"tot it. It seems to me a grave ommissiou that the blackcap 

 warbler was not put into the Schedule of reserved birds, as it 

 is one the birdcatchers like to get. It sails well and is a 

 sweet singer— in Borne parts being called tbe mock nightin- 

 gale. And I for one should have been glad to have seen most 

 of the warblers included, indeed I feel astonished that so very 

 few birds are selected, though they appear more than they 

 really are, on account of so many local names being append- 

 ed. Still, to my joy, I find the Act strives to preserve the 

 nightingales, whose numbers for some years have been de- 

 creasing in ibis neighborhood, only one singing in the 

 adjoining woods last Spring. The difference, in this is great, 

 for I have counted as many as nine warbling in delightful 

 harmony at one time. 



" While writing of the song of the wild birds I should like 

 lo refer to a certain paragraph which appeared in oue of the 

 London papers some few years back. I a it some naturalist 

 (I forgefhis name) stated that Shakespeare was in error when 

 he gave precedence to the lark as beiDg the earliest songster, 

 even before the peep of day. This was copied by very many 

 of tbe local papers, in fact it "went the raind"of tbem. 

 Yet no one contradicted the would-be defamer of Shake- 

 speare's truthfulnes, and it seemed universally believed that 

 the Immortal Bard was wrong when he wrote in OymUhne— 

 "Hark! the lartt at Heaven's (rate sings, 

 And Ph<r.bus 'gins arise." 



And again in " Venus and Adonis" — 



"Lot hear the gentle lark, weary ot rest, 



From til 1 * mot-.i eatiliiei !.."'. ik~ up on nlgn, 



And «.!,:-£ <hc moi'M..:;. ;.v.ni i-.-nose -rwv >aeaM 



The. Ban arisetn In his majesty.'' 

 "Feeling sure that Shakespeare was no 1 wrong, but yet 

 not curtain frofa observation, I have take l much pains to de- 

 termine which was the most accurate— die poet or the pro. 

 fessor. And I now most emphatically, without any doubt, 

 declare the former to be perfectly right. I have frequently 

 heard the lark singing, high up, in the eirly morn, long be- 

 fore anv other bird was astir, long before daylight, aye, when 

 it was so dark that surrounding objects were, invisible, and 

 though all else in Nature slept, or appeared to, still from 



