264 



FOREST AND STREAM 



by the old savages " the dark and muddy ground" (w were 

 in Kentucky), and then picked myself up and hurried into 

 the boat. During this escapade 1 dropped my pillow ; my 

 blanket was wet and muddy ; Caywood had on nothing but 

 his cent and shirt ■ the boat was*half full of water, 

 and the cover was too low to sit upright under, and the 

 seats were too near together to lie down between, and every- 

 thing we touched was cold and wet and clammy, and we our- 

 selves were somewhat in the condition of clams at the low- 

 est stage of low water. At last we lay down on our backs 

 with our necks poised across the edge of the stern sheets 

 and our legs thrown over the hindmost thwart, and made 

 up our minds to bear it. In this condition we laid till morn- 

 ing solacing ourselves with such parodies as this: 



" 01), ever thus from childhoods days, 



Misfortunes have my steps attended ; 

 1 never erossed a slippery place 



But I was ture to be up-ended : 

 Ne'er yet my petted couch I've swung 



Beneath some young tree's emerald awning 

 But all the founts ot Heaven were sprung, 



And I was soaked with rain ere morning." 



Sucb misfortunes never come alone. Misery loves com- 

 pany, and soon the measure of our discomfiture was full. 

 A steamer — one of the largest on the river, the Belle of Shreee- 

 port — came along, and the swell created by her paddles was 

 proportionately high and heavy. As the waves reached us 

 our skiff began to rock, gently "at first, like a baby's cradle, 

 then more fiercely, witlTsudden stops as she was dashed 

 against the muddy beach ; then wc could hear the sough of 

 the waves as they'broke along the shore. It was pleasant 

 music to me. Oft, when a child, I have listened to the 

 wash of the shore-dashing waves as they beat on the shores 

 of Long Island Sound, and I never heaT similar sounds now 

 without pleasant memories being awakened and a sense of 

 delight thrilling my bosom. But presently, when one wave 

 larger than the rest gathered itself into a heap a yard or two 

 distant and broke over the stern end of the boat, covering us 

 like a shock shower bath and filling the boat until it was 

 impossible to lie on the bottom without holding ourselves 

 down, that drove all the pleasant memories out of my head. 

 Ugh ! how cold and wet that water was ! All that night 

 and most, of the next, morning the rain poured down in tor- 

 rents while we lay there like drowned rats, only more 

 wretched and cold and wet. At last, about ten o'clock, it 

 stopped raining, and we crawled to the front of the boat and 

 surveyed the camp. Mud and water were the principal ob- 

 jects visible. Kot since old Noah climbed down the flood- 

 soaked sides of Ararat was there ever such a picture of com- 

 plete drownedness. Our hammocks were hanging there 

 dripping, with our guns at their heads covered with the dis- 

 agreeable oxide ; our shoes were full of mud and water and 

 our breeches were covered with the same material. A re- 

 pulsive looking object half way down the beach 1 had some 

 difficulty in recognizing as my beautiful white pillow of 

 last night. Our valises lay in puddles of water with every- 

 thing in them wet, and all the wood within reach had all 

 the blaze soaked out of it and only the smoke left in. I dis- 

 like to confess it, but before we again got everything 

 washed and dried enough profanity resounded through 

 Clinlk Bluffs to justify its reputation as a dangerous neigh- 

 borhood. 



Jut as we crawled out of the boat a man— the cousin of 

 the boy who had come the night before— came up to take 

 down the Government lamp, and he said, in answer to our 

 inquiries, that nobody had ever been hurt in those bluffs to 

 his knowledge, but that owing to their being so dark and 

 gloomy they were celebrated as a dangerous locality for 

 miles around, and that there was not a boy in the whole 

 country who could be induced to enter them after dark. 



Gur KrvBEs. 



JERSEY SNIPE SHOOTING, PAST AND 

 PRESENT. 



Mb. Etitob: 



Years ago, when a man could go shooting on our meadows 

 without fear of having his gun knocked out of his hand 

 by a locomotive, and before unlimited co-operative snipe 

 stock companies were formed, there were no better grounds 

 than those bordered by the Hackensack and Passaic rivers. 

 In those days a snipe was a snipe— not a knife-blade, a cork- 

 screw or a gray streak, with a chance of his nibs being at 

 either end. Glorious times were they, indeed, when Herbert 

 and Mike Sandford used to swear that they — the snipe — lit in 

 trees, and enabled the old stagers to make the largo bags 

 ■' we've heerd on." It might be pertinent to ask, "Why 

 don't they do so now?" But the fact is that the snipe of to- 

 day is a degenerate offspring, cast loose upon the world, after 

 being sired by the sharpest kind of blade and dammed by 

 the crookedest kind of streak, a blessing only to powder 

 manufacturers and shot tower proprietors. 



When Bill Herbert wrote "Tom Draw's Visit to Pine 

 Brook" he had much to account for. What an inspiring, 

 jolly, life like sketch it is ! How well can 1 remember read- 

 ing it over and over when a boy, and in the evening listening, 

 with eyes and mouth wide open, to the old colonel as he told 

 how he and a friend of Ins killed 102 snipe once on Ford 

 island: At such limes the excitement obliged me to oil my 

 gun, and I really believed that I had been born forty years 

 too late. I cannot say now but that I was right, for in these 

 days what private individual can be successful against large 

 corporations? Even while I write my desk is shaken and 

 my windows rattled by the passing of the vanguard of the 

 Pine Brook W. C. 8. S. Co. , of Newark, on their way to let 

 loose the dogs of war and to collect their dividend of one- 

 half snipe per man. 



Mr. Editor, honestly, have you been on a well written up 

 snipe ground in the year of our Lord, 1879 7 Business. Ah 

 yes. Well, I'll tell you, which will do as well. You, oi' 

 course, know tliat ttie best shooting is to be found near a 

 house of public entertainment. 1 would have you there 

 Long before dawn reach the meadow, and as the sun and mist 

 arise, you will sec seated on logs centering each fayoi ; 

 those to the manor born, whose only cry is " Up and at 

 them!" The smell of India rubber boots and great splash- 

 inga announce the approach of the co-operative" snipe stock 

 companies, which, across fence rails, quarter on to the mead- 

 owb in single file, soon to scatter far and near. For number 

 and variety of dogs the New York bench show is nowhere. 

 Should a dog unfortunately point on the Troy meadows, he 



will be backed in rotation by other dogs on Ford Island, 

 Leonard Meadows, Pine Brook Flats, and so on dowu the 

 Big Piece, live miles away. In fact, a dog fre- 

 quently backs 'at Little Falls three hours after the dog that 

 made the point 1ms gone home. 



When a wild bird is Hushed the cry of " Mark ! Mark:" 

 resounds along the line through Morris and Passaic counties, 

 informing the inhabitants of Paterson and Morristown simul- 

 taneously that a bird is on the wing. At such times good 

 sportsmen can be distinguished squatting down, which en 

 ables them to mark the bird's course with great, accuracy, and 

 when the armed men get up it reminds one of the rising of 

 theDoones! It matters little where the starved phantom of 

 a bird takes his flight, for he must run the gauntlet of a thou- 

 sand guns. When the ncaipe-grace has dodged New Jersey, 

 and the mountains far away are tired of repeating the deafen- 

 ing fusillade which celebrated his departure, the screen of 

 blinding smoke then settles down and discovers the meadows 

 resembling one vast Inferno, the vapors tainted with muttered 

 execrations, and every blade of gra«s reeking with sulphur 

 and saltpeter, more villainous than one hundred representa- 

 tions of the Black Crook. 



This is where we go, and consider it sport ! 



Should a stranger "venture on that unhallowed spot at even- 

 ing, bis unsophisticated eye would at first detect the count- 

 less droppings of a great flight of birds, but in reality what 

 he sees are wads, scattered over the green sward as if some 

 mighty game of chance had just ended in a row, and the chips 

 had been left behind uucashed. 



And so it is, as year after year rolls on, what with bad 

 laws and laws that have become a dead letter, the speedy ex- 

 termination is inevitable of this poor, friendless bird on the 

 Atlantic sea-board. Take it here at home. The law of New 

 Jersey prohibits spring snipe shooting after April, and yet, 

 either the ignorance or selfishness of our would-be sportsmen 

 will lead to more birds being killed in May than have been al- 

 ready slaughtered. When the Government decides to put a 

 license on guns, it will take more than one step in the right 

 direction toward game preservation. Epins. 



TWO FRAGMENTS. 



l-IP.ST — THE MAW 'II TO CAMf. 



ASTIR at daybreak in a dismal rain! The tents are 

 struck and we are drenched ; there is no dry thing to 

 be seen or touched. The monster wagons, schooners of the 

 prairie sea, are freighted, and at the words " Pull out !" the 

 long train falls in line like the uncoiling of a whip-lash to 

 trail along the ground. The road, the teams, the humor of 

 the camp are heavy, and we wind around the base of Turtle 

 Mountain as a lethargic serpent drags its slow length along. 

 We mire down in every sag of the ground, and extricate our- 

 selves but to stick again. Now it is a steep-banked coulee, 

 with a treacherous black streak of mud in the cul-de-6ac. A 

 halt on the brink. Down go the men with scythes and axes 

 to mow long grass and hew willow withes and fill the bot- 

 tomless pit, till we span it with a haystack bridge. "All 

 ready, sir." " Go on :" The wheels are locked, the teamster 

 gathers his off-wheelers bridle short, and shakes his lead-line 

 to straighten out the swing. With both wheelers on their 

 haunches, down plunges the monster wagon like an avalanche. 

 Axes flash in the air ; the lock-chains are knocked from the 

 wheels; the mules flinch for an instant before the final 

 plunge. In they go, the wagon pitching after with a lurch, 

 crunching up to the hubs in the yielding mass ; they throw 

 themselves into their collars, and pull through with the energy 

 of desperation, lashed into splendid achievements by the file 

 of sturdy fellows who ply those dreadful black-snakes. They 

 go straining up the steep ascent, to pause for breath on the 

 summit. The next, and the next. But one is not so fortu- 

 nate ; perhaps the load is greater or the lines less skillfully 

 handled. With a fearful lurch the wagon stops, hopelessly 

 tilted to one side, with the team tied up in a kicking, writh- 

 ing, floundering knot, while the black-snakes hiss in the blue 

 air of blasphemy. "Stuck, by blank, blank, blank!" says 

 the teamster. The traces are slipped, the animals are led 

 out, a fresh, cool team are hooked ou and the Rubicon is 

 passed. The train strings out again, this time along a stretch 

 of soggy prairie, and we creep on to camp like autumnal flies 

 upon a gummy window pane. 



In camp, who cares for this ? The storm and the march 

 are past. We rest on an outlying knoll of the mountain, 

 overlooking a boundless horizon. To our backs, the bold ac- 

 clivity of the Turtle, which has mantled its Bhell witli ver- 

 dure during its sleep of ages. In the far west, a faint, green 

 line shows where a fringe of noble trees bedecks the Souris 

 River. The sua sinks to rest in a sea of splendid purple, 

 touching with reddened hand the billows of cumulo-slralits, 

 and the scene is bathed in a flood of light. Sunset is below 

 us— seeming at our very feet ; and just before the fiery disk 

 had grazed the horizon, it were strange — nay, ominous — to 

 see a shadow steal along the prairie till it rose to wrap us also 

 in its folds. But now to the preparations for the night The 

 smoke curling sleepily upward ; the animals gathered in 

 sixes at the wagon-tongues : the rattling of baiter-chains, 

 munching of forage, the mules' tails incessantly switching ; 

 knots of men lolling and smoking, taking no thought of this 

 day or the morrow. Then to their blankets, and sleep is the 

 god of the camp, save over yonder, where the big white tent 

 looms up aglow with the bull's-eye, where, with the telescope 

 fixed on the zenith, an astronomer learns from the stars to 

 determine the bounds of two nations. 



BSOOHTP — THE BIVOUAC! OF DEATH. 



Aye, save over yonder again, where in the gloom of the 

 mountain ravine stands the lone tepee. The master of the 

 lodge is gone, but his tent is pitched with all the circum- 

 stance of life, the lodge-poles protruding from the summit, 

 like bony fingers pointing significantly upward. The patch- 

 work cover of raw-hide is closed with care around the en- 

 trance. He may enter now, if he will, without moving the 

 flap. Before the entrance lies the horse of many a battle, 

 stiff in a pool of blood. Within, disposed in formal order, 

 are the arms and implements, the equipments of the chase 

 and warfare— the knife, the bow and quiver, the saddle, the 

 bridle and the lariat : the beaded hunting shirt and fringed 

 leggings, the head dress of eagle plumes, the necklace of bears' 

 claws, the scalps of vanquished foe. These were all his once 

 — and why not now ? For this is the material embodiment of 

 a faith and system of theology. The mound of earth hard 



by the tepee holds the visible form— the horse, the lodge and 

 all the paraphernal are in keeping. The widow crouches 

 by the grave, and all night long the cries of the bird of dark- 

 ness echo her despairing lamentations ; the rest is silence, 

 gloom and fear. But her dim vision reaches into spirit land, 

 beyond the black river, where the ghostly brave on a phan- 

 tom steed still urges the chase, still conquers his foes on the 

 voiceless shore. 



Dr. Elliott Com», U. 8. A. 



4ffl &Mm 



\ — 



Wisconsin Fish Commission — Madison, Wis., May 1. — A 

 meeting of the Commission was held on the 30th tilt. There 

 were present Gov. Wm. E. Smith, txoficio; Wm. Welch, 

 Madison, President ; Moses Hooper, Oshkosh, Secretary ; 

 Mark Douglass, Melrose, Jackson County j John P, Antisdel, 

 Milwaukee ; Christopher Hutchinson, Beetown, Grant Coun- 

 t}'. After disposing of regular business, the principal object 

 of the meeting was discussed. A fierce war has been raging 

 through the newspapers as to the management of our fish 

 hatchery, near Madison. After a thorough examination of 

 affairs, the present. Superintendent, Mr. Welsher, was re- 

 tained. It is expected that by next fall one million trout will 

 be ready for distribution. Kover. 



y ~*~ 



Mississippi Shad and Salmon — TVdilor Forest and Stream: 

 Again, earlier than usual, appears the genius who notes the 

 capture of salmon and shad near Memphis, Tenn. The shad 

 inhabiting those waters is a very old resident, and is famili- 

 arly known as the " gizzard shad " (Dorosoma eepedianum). 

 He is not very abundant, and bears some resemblance to the 

 fish known here as "skipjack." The salmon was the Ohio 

 River salmon, sometimes known as e lass-eyed pike and 

 American pike perch (Stizostcdian americana). Nothing 

 would afford me more pleasure than to record the occurrence 

 of these species of fish — the genuine shad and salmon — in 

 Mississippi waters ; and I verily believe that the establish- 

 ment of the Salmo quinnat in these waters, through repeated 

 annual plantings by way of Springfield, Mo., in the upper 

 waters of the white River of Arkansas, is possible. It is 

 there that suitable conditions for the spawning of these fish 

 can be found, several hundred miles nearer the Gulf than 

 upon any other stream. Plantings further down the stream 

 are exposed to the rapacity of countless schools of game fish, 

 such predatory fellows as the pike-perch above mentioned, 

 the black bass (MieroptertM salmoides), and the striped bass 

 (Roccus chrysops) at a time when the young fish are least able 

 to take care of themselves. It would seem that three to five 

 years of intelligent and faithful effort in the way of planting 

 the fry should solve, this most difficult, important and inter- 

 esting problem. Salmon Rob, 



Mouth of Black River, Ark,, April 28, 1879. 



CALIFORNIA MOLTNTAIN TROUT IN 

 EASTERN WATERS. 



M DiN.svn.LE, N. Y., April 30, 1ST». 



Editor Forest and Stream : 



About one year ago, at the time of onr annual fish planting, ilila As- 

 sociation was kindly furnished by Selli Green witli a lew thousand 

 "California mountain trout" fry. After Borne deliberation a stream 

 not far from town was selected as being the proper place for their de- 

 posit. Here they were placed and forgotten, save by a few interacted 

 ones. A farmer In town a few days ago, who is somewhat interested 

 Id sporting matters, and through whose land tho above-mentioned 

 stream flows, told one of our members of a peculiar nsh his boy lmd 



a instantly aroused, and a 



nla mountain 

 e Immediately 



caught the day before. Suspicions 



pert was sent at once with rod and flies to 



a Half dozen beautiful specimens of genuine Calii 



front, from Ave to seven inches in length, which w 



sent to Set.h Green, who answered at once as follows : 



"The fish were received. I am very much obliged. They are the 

 California mountain trout, eleven months old. Ween they are two 

 years old they will weigh one pound. Yon should not take them this 

 year. I am raising 15,000 of the same age, and when they get large 

 enough to spawn we will Btock the country fast. Let me know how 

 you took, them, and whether there are many in the stream. They 

 spawn in April and should not be taKen. Are they gamy on the 

 hoot? Yours, SE'm Grebn. 



"P. H.— Conld you take them fast? I have Just got through eating 

 the specimens, andtuey were splendid. s. G." 



The success of this effort on the part of the Danavllle Sport-men's 

 Association demonstrates the fact that the California mountain trout 

 can be successfully raised In Western New York at least. Growing 

 as they do very rapidly, and possessing all the gamy qualities of our 

 own splendid brook trout, it is reasonable to suppose that when Mr. 

 Green la able to Bupply the fry In [mantim .-, be Urn i wljl not be far 

 distant when the California mountain trout will not only offer great 

 sport to the Eastern anglers, but form a food Bupply at once delicate 

 and abundant. H. W. De Long, Sec. D. 8. A. 



ft&tvrgt 



THE BITE OF THE SKUNK. 



Easton, Pa. , March 17, 1879 , 

 Editor Fokkst and Bti 



Col. Byer's paper on "Skunk Bite," in your March 13 

 number, is definite and eircumstantial. A veteran editor like 

 the Col. knows how to employ his data. It is to be hoped 

 the plainsmen wdl be stirred up to give their experience upon 

 this subjeot. It is a part of their faith that it results in rabies. 

 What is wanted are facts, not only the bites that result in 

 hydrophobia, but the bites that do not. The objection to 

 most of the testimony so far is that it is opinionative and comes 

 second or third hand. Col. Dodge is one of the much quoted 

 authorities for the affirmative, lie knows by report, of sixteen 

 cases — eveiy one proving fatal — while he was stationed at 

 Fort Dodge, and quotes .Dr. Janeway's report, of ten out of 

 eleven cases of skunk bite proving fatal. His onrj 

 experience was with one of his men who had the ball of his 

 thumb badly gnawed by a skunk. This the Col. treated (hav- 

 ing no caustic) by washing with castile soap and simple water 

 dressing. The man was with him for over a year afterward 

 and had experienced no ill-effect from the wound. The 

 writer has heard the subject much discussed in Colorado, but 

 taking no notes will not attempt to report the statements. 

 Lieutenant Wheeler, then stationed at Fort Lyon (1875), was 

 the most definite. He was brought up cm the plains and his 



