Deo. 20, 1883.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



407 



friends, 1 was at McKenzie ou my return home, and re- 

 mained over one day at llie request of Ed. Uusscll, who 

 keeps a .nice hotel there, to sec how "his dog Trim" could 

 find birds and lie and I eould .shoot, them. Trim did well; 

 RuBSell shot his 10-bore barker well, and 1 mv 111 bole pass 

 ably well. Several tquiba of damp shells disgusted mi: and 

 reduced my score, and at the end of the afternoon's sport he 

 bad seventeen Boh Whites and 1 only nine and a hawk, lie 

 is H good shot (can beat me, I think), but justice demands 

 that 1. say he had, owing to his more agile limbs, several 

 more chances than I did. Besides, hs is a princely fellow 

 anil knows how to he hospitable. 



Thus the tour ended The next train to Nashville bore 

 me tiwav to a point nearer Ike rising sun. The following 

 morning the smoke of Chattanooga was seen; at midday 

 Atlanta, was in sight; at i A M. Charlotte was reached, and 

 that day "I tic wit bit ingle, blinkiu' bonuily," greeted me 

 to a spot where, in law at lisast, "Iain mouarch of all I 

 survey." 



I hope before many days to find time to send you a per 

 sonal communication, in" which the peculiarities of my 

 friend Mud will be delineated, lie is a gentleman, a man of 

 high moral characteristics, ami a balwvtf id lllL ' doctrine 

 that "a little nonsense now and theu is relished by the beat 

 ot men." In the goodness of his heart— for nothing else 

 than "the milk of human kindness" moves him— he often 

 gives his Iriends ample opportunity to "relish " his weak 

 nesses. his eccentricities and his follies. 



mens for the taxidermist. In the autumn, after feeding on 

 com a few weeks, their flesh is quite toothsome and they 

 arc considered desirable game. 



The hunter who has not slain his dozen cranes is regarded 

 by the native Nimrods as a very cheap affair, a common 

 three' center. No matter what kind of animal or fowl he 

 may have done to death previously-, he is not entitled t 



about considerably, but managed to keep up until be passed 

 out of sight. 



After resorting to all the plans I could think of to save 

 those shocks, Without success, it occurred to me that I might 

 try a new trick, so going down before daybreak one morn- 

 ing. I concealed myself inside one of the shocks, then 

 tripped the husks from a large car, still leaving it attached 



blow the horn of an expert until lie' wears on his belt the to the stalk, aud placed it where I could easily cover it with 



Welj.s. 



A BIT OF HOME LIFE. 



Some of you] bachelor sportsmen, who have ample time, 

 means, and all that, so you can enjoy the open seasons 

 fully as they come about, shooting often and at your will, 

 CAtt perhaps scarcely appreciate such pleasure as I have had 

 during the last few' hours; I have simply beeu getting my 

 traps together for an early start to-morrow after birds; it's to 

 be my first shoot this season. "We are only going to drive a 

 few miles out from the city, to a locality we know of haunted 

 by a bevy or two of quail", but my anticipations are bright; 

 our dogs are good ones, and my proposed companion is a 

 noted shot who always "is iu luck." Directly after dinner 

 was finished this evening. I hied myself to the attic, whichis 

 in part relegated to my use, whither a certain curly-headed 

 little rogue of a three-year-old girl followed, neither waiting 

 or caring for an invitation. 'That bright little piece of 

 humanity has an irresistible way of making herself tree with 

 me or anything belonging to me. Chide her I cannot— fin- 

 is she not her father's fast friend? 



As she came climbing up the stairs, she shouted out "What 

 are you doing, papa?" 



"Loading shells," I replied. Although the witch had not 

 the remotest idea what was meant, having never seen the in- 

 teresting process, her reply was quick as thought, "111 help 

 you, papa." Well she did— in au enthusiastic manner— 

 between us, we loaded fifty shells; 1 hope they will shoot 

 well. I swept the powder up carefully, but the considerable 

 quantities of number nine shot we spilled over the floor arc 

 still there. She thought the shot were funny little things, 

 and hoped that Santa Claus would put some iu her stocking. 

 Her delight when discovering, when she stepped on a num- 

 ber of the spilled pellets, that her feet would shoot out 

 from under her as the pellets rolled, was iutonse. Of course 

 she got a fall or two, but she is full of pluck and not givea 

 to tears except on special occasions. It came near one of those 

 occasions upon the appearance of the nurse to take her to 

 bed; it was very hard for her to leave all the newly dis- 

 covered joys; however, the brave little lady kissed me good- 

 night and was soon asleep. 



Is an apology needed for writing of such little children for 

 such a paper as the Fokest and Stream? No! I think not. 

 Ditl you ever know a typical sportsman who did not love 

 the little ones? I should not wish to "tie to" a professed 

 sportsman, who disliked them. I will wager, if you will 

 select the one among your friends who comes nearest to 

 your idea of what a sportsmen should be, that you will find 

 Tic has a good-sized corner in his gene ous heart for the 

 children. Among the pleasantcst remembrances that I shall 

 have of a genial sport-loving friend of mine, with whom I 

 have made several hunting trips, are pictures in memory's 

 gallery, of a big man sitting with little children on his knees, 

 to whom he was unknown an hour before; and again the 

 same large-hearted old boy picking the banjo, and singing 

 some jolly songs to the unspeakable delight, of an audience 

 composed of several little girls aud boys, away up iu the 

 pines of Michigan. Delta. 



Detiioit. Mieb., Dee. 12. 



J|tf%#/ §i£torg. 



THE WHOOPING CRANE. 



THE whooping crane is. to say the least, a fantastic fowl. 

 When marching about on ' terra fin/la he appears awk- 

 ward to the last degree. Judging from the length of his 

 stilt-like legs, one would suppose he was made to run rather 

 than tly; but in spite of his clipper build and striding abili- 

 ties, he is only a moderate pacer. His manner of taking flight 

 is peculiar. ' Spreading his wings and stooping down, he 

 apparently runs up au inclined plane of air until his feet no 

 longer touch the earth, then stretching them out behind him, 

 he floats away as gracefully as a racing yacht before a steady 

 breeze. 



In fine, calm weather he delights to mount up, in great 

 undulating spirals, to the height of a mile or so, and take a 

 quiet float, while he whoops at his neighbors in the adjoining- 

 counties. After airing himself to his heart's content, he 

 descends, sometimes spirally as ho arose, at other times with 

 great plunges and wild, reckless dives, until within about 

 fifty feet of the earth when he hangs himself upon the air 

 with his long, spindling legs down, gently settles aud alights. 



During the Bummer months he subsists chiefly on frogs, 

 worms, "snails, and roots of various kinds, but during his 

 migrations iu the spring and autumn, he develops a decided 

 fondness for corn aud the tender blades of winter wheal. At 

 this time he becomes an object of hate to the farmer by re- 

 lieving bis broad acres of sundry bushels of these cereals; 

 ihus assisting the elements in keeping this would-be Crmsus 

 down to his proper level. 



The opeu prairies and large wheat fields of the Western 

 Stales are the favorite resting places and feeding grounds of 

 this species during their migrations north in the spring and 

 south in the autumn. In the spring they are rigged out in 

 bran new wedding suits, and then is the time to secure speci- 



„calps of a round dozen cranes. 



In the cool, hazy days of October, they comedown from 

 the north iu flocks of all sizes. Let one flock alight upon an 

 opeu prairie, or broad wheat field and more will soon fol- 

 low, until a congregation of one to five hundred are gathered, 

 Then there is fun in the air. Caucuses arc held resulliug in 

 e-real excitement and . sometimes blows. Old jokers swap 

 lies, and their shouls and whoops wake the echoes for miles. 

 The "heely" crowd hilariously dance the latest crane fan- 

 dango, with variations ad infinitum, and do their utmost to 

 out-whoop the old jokers. 



Jndging from the noise they make, mid their apparent in- 

 difference to their surroundings, an embryo Nimrod might 

 suppose he eould, by exercising a little caution, approach 

 near enough to do some fatal work among them. Let hiui 

 try it! No matter how much fun is jroiug on, or how great 

 llie noise, keen-eyed, watchful ajuj wary sentinels are ever 

 on the alert to give instant warning of approaching danger. 

 A siiiLrlc rar-r-mi) from one of these sentry will silence the 

 whole flock iu au instant, and hundreds of eyes, keen as 

 those of an eagle, are scanning every object near and far. 

 If satisfied it was false alarm, the revelry begins again, but 

 the number of sentinels is more than doubled, and if is an 

 utter impossibility for the huuter to get near enough for a 

 shot, unless he can keep himself entirely concealed from 

 view, 



1 have sometimes endeavored to approach a small flock, 

 uuder cover of a knoll, lwt one of the sentries would be 

 morally certain to elevate his head high enough to see me. 

 A warniug atr-r-roo, a few long strides, and the Mock quietly 



The flesh of a young crane is good. It is juicy, tender, 

 has a fine gamy flavor, and is, iu my opinion, far superior to 

 most venison. The flesh of an old bird is simdar to old boot 

 sole, and aboul as palatable. If. however, the breast alone 

 is used, well cooked, treated with pepper, salt and onions, 

 and served with hot com bread, butter aud coffee, no hungry 

 hunter will turn up his nose at it. I have been hungry 

 enough to hold the thigh of an old crane over a fire uutil 

 cooked, then gnaw the meat off and think it was equal to the 

 finest beefsteak I ever tasted. 



Cranes generally build their nests .in the open swamps. 

 They are made of grass, rushes and roots, stuck together 

 with mud, and stand abont six inches above the surface of 

 the water. Two eggs are laid, and the female does the 

 greater part of the hatching, She spends about half an hour 

 each day swallowing frogs'.' worms, etc., during which time 

 the male obligingly takes her place on the nest. 



Soon after the chicks are hatched lliey leave the nest and 

 follow their parents over the swamps and prairies in quest of 

 food. They may occasionally be seeu at a distance, but let 

 a person approach and they vanish like the "little joker." 

 I once succeeded in catching two on the open ground. They 

 are covered with a dingy yellow down, and look like great 

 ovei grown chickens. 



Though the crane is a very shy bird, and carefully avoids 

 all suspicious objects, he is not a coward by any means, as 

 any person will soon discover if he wounds one and brings it 

 to bay. Rather than come to close quarters with one, I pre- 

 fer to reload and give it another shot. 



I once broke the wing of a very large one. and sent a green 

 Dutchman to bring it in alive if possible. It was upon an 

 open wheat field, and as the man approached it assumed a 

 defiant attitude and cleared its decks for action. The fel- 

 low came to a halt about ten feet from it, and stood there 

 shaking his fist and swearing at it. I called to him to bring 

 it along, and he dashed in. A. cloud of dust arose, and there 

 appeared to be considerable difficulty in the midst of it, but 

 presently Tony appeared holding the crane by the legs and 

 neck arid smiling triumphantly Three deep scratches on 

 bis cheek and a hole in the back of his hand testified to the 

 crane's prowess. 



2Lt another time I crippled one of the large white species by 

 breaking a wing. As it was marching off rather rapidly, I 

 sent a little rat-terrier to briug it to bay. No sooner did the 

 dog come up with it than it turned about, and quick as light- 

 ning, drove its long shaip bUlcleau through him, killing him 

 on the spot. 



One of the best methods of capturing them is with a steel 

 trap. The trap is set on the highest part of the wheatfield, 

 securely fastened to a stake, entirely covered with fine mel- 

 low earth, and shelled corn scattered plentifully about. 

 When one is caught it should be attended to at once or it may- 

 twist its toe off and escape. 



One day I told a small boy to take a stick and drive a large 

 flock of cranes off the wheatfield, and if there was one in 

 the trap to kill it About half an hour afterward he returned 

 blubbering like a good fellow. "What's the matter?" I 

 asked. "Tha-th-that crane bur-hurt me!" "How did he 

 hurt you?" "He pi-picked me." Upon examination I found 

 the Crane had ••picked" him severely on the arm, After 

 having it bound up he told me how it happened. Said he: 

 "When I got there, he was sit tin' on the trap, air* tonkin' 

 tame like; so I walked right up, an' just as was going to hit 

 him, he come at me quicker'n lightuin', an' hit me 'nawful 

 whack on the arm with his picker, an' on the head with liis 

 wings, an' knocked me down." "What did you do theu?" 

 I asked. "I got out o' that mighty quick au' then threw my 

 club at him an' hit him iu the stiunmiek. an' you oughter 

 heard him hiss! He just fizzed, an his eyes looked like 

 sparks of red fire!" 



On going to the trap, t found the captive was a very large 

 male bird, and a formidable antagonist for even a man to 

 attack. 



Cranes have such a great fondness for corn that they some- 

 times seem to forget their customary wariness in their desire 

 to obtain it. That which has been cut and put in the shock 

 sceuia to suit their taste the best, and a flock of them will 

 destroy as much of it as a drove of hogs. 



One seasou I had about a dozen shocks in a field near a 

 swamp. The winter rains having made the ground a bot- 

 tomless mire. I was unable to haul it off, so the cranes levied 

 upon it. One day I look my little single barrel gun and 

 went clowu to tlie shocks. I was leaning against one of them 

 trying to iuvent some plan by which 1 could keep the cranes 

 away, when I was suddenly startled by a loud rustling ou 

 the opposite side of the shock. I stepped quickly around, 

 and a crane bounded fully fifteen feet into the ah". I fired 

 on the instant and shot both his legs off short. He wabbled 



mv bund. 



Soon after daybreak a large flock came to the shocks for 

 breakfast, Three or four of them— one a whopper— espied 

 the ear I had husked and displayed so temptingly, and they 

 went for it. My hand was close by it, and iu an instant I 

 had the whopper by the neck. Then ,vas there a great 

 tumuli ! The crane was game, and lie apparently knew how 

 to do bal tie. Had I stayed inside the shock and worked on 

 his neck, all would have went well with me; but in an un- 

 fortunate moment I came out and kicked him in the breast. 

 The ground being miry, I got my legs tangled and went down 

 on my back. i.nd the crane boarded me. I yanked, and 

 jerked, and yelled. The crane seemed to be all legs aud 

 wings, eveiy one of which hit me like a piledriver thirty 

 Umes a second. I soon cried "sufficient," and let go. H* 

 staggered off a few steps, shook his head a few times, looked 

 about iu a bewildered manner, then spread his wings and 

 quietly sailed away, and I went home and applied arnica to 

 my bruises. Picket. 



JIORKISONVILI.E, III. 



A DECEMBER TRAMP. 



IT is a bright, glorious day in December — all nature seems 

 in repose — not a cloud is to be seen overhead. Such 

 days are sometimes saddening when we look ahead and 

 know what is in store for us. The fierce cutting blasts of 

 old winter will soon be on hand. Our city friends have long 

 since left us for the pleasures and comforts of the town. I 

 stand contemplating and thinking of the rambles and pleas- 

 ant excursions of the past seasOD. 



Why should there not be pleasure in such a day as the 

 present? and, although I am alone, I determine to try it. 

 Grasping my breech-loader call I to Ponto— no, I'll not 

 have him, I'D go alone Sol sneaked out the back way, 

 dodging behind haystacks and barns, and succeed in getting 

 away without poor" Ponto seeing me. 



In passing a heap of old brush, just back of the barn, I 

 hear the loud, quick note of some bird. I stop aud listen; 

 once again, and there right before me hopped out a wee lit- 

 tle brown bird, with the smallest tail bird ever had, which 

 it throws up so cunningly, and don't it scold loud! How 

 saucy! Who ever would think such a noise could come out 

 of such a wee thing. How it jumps in and out of the brush 

 heap. Now it's gone; no, there it is again. It is the winter 

 wren, one of our 'very small birds, only seen with us in early 

 winter. It is much smaller than other wrens. 



After passing over grain stubbles and pasture fields, 1 reach 

 an open wood lot. Those active little friends, the snow 

 birds, have accompanied me so far, flirting their pretty 

 white tails aud twittering low and musical. They seem to 

 be happy birds, and only appear with us after the leaves 

 have fallen, and return north to their breeding haunts in 

 early spring. Presently I hear another sound aud now I see 

 with the snow birds their winter companions, the tree spar- 

 row, with its rufous head, and white bars on its wings, and 

 which comes to us from the north some time after its com- 

 panion. With the flock I notice one or two sparrows, with 

 pure white throats, brown aud black striped plumage and 

 yellow and white stripes over the eyes. It is the white- 

 throated sparrow, with us spring and autumn, and one of the 

 handsomest of our sparrows. What is that loud noise of 

 leaves rustling? I go on tip-toe and under a thicket, see 

 quite a large bird, jumping and scratching the leaves behind 

 it, and picking up some hardy worm — what a beautiful 

 rufous red rump it has, and its breast looks somewhat like 

 that of a thrush; a twig snaps uuder my feet, and my pretty 

 scratching bird flies from me glistening in the sunlight, I 

 recognize it as the fox-colored sparrow. 



I now hear a distant cawing of crows, and, while walking 

 through the open, I see far up overhead for or five of our 

 black friends attacking a hawk. How they dive at bim, 

 uttering their hoarse cry. Now the hawk comes down- 

 ward, followed by all his pursuers, and as he sails by I see 

 that it is the reel-shouldered hawk, a cousin germnn to the 

 red-tailed hawk, but somewhat smaller. He presently alights 

 on a tall hickory, aud the noisy crows soon leave him iu his 

 dignity, 



1 saunter on, looking upward and about. Hark! What 

 hammering is that 1 hear? It comes from that dead tree 

 ahead. Ah 1 I see. Is it possible such a little bird can make 

 such a racket? It is looking for insects. He is gayby dressed 

 in black and white, aud has a hrilliant red cap on his head, 

 and so soft that his name is the downy woodpecker. On the 

 same tree I see, peeping round from the other side, a bird 

 much larger, but with the same gay cap and marked with 

 the same plumage, and as often as 1 walk around to have a 

 view of him, around he goes about the trunk of the tree, 

 With a loud cry he flies off in a wavy manner to the wood 

 beyond, and I see it- is the dowuy's big brother, the hairy 

 woodpecker. 



I now come to a steep side hill facing the sunny south, 

 and there I sit on a fallen tree and dream of past scenes; a 

 little rivulet is rippling by my side aud a witch-hazel bush is 

 still in bloom close by; four or five little birds with black 

 caps, leaden backs, and reddish breasts are flitting from twig 

 to twig, heads up and tails up, in all kinds of positions — 

 regular little acrobats— all the time calling out their own 

 names, "chickadee." Every one loves them, and in warm, 

 sunny places, in open wood lots, you will see them all winter. 



But I hear a different song, so very low and sweet, it can- 

 not be our little chicks, who are now all about me; so close 

 are they, that I could touch them with my hand, not at alt 

 timid ' There again I hear that sweet, gentle note, and there 

 I see a little fellow much smaller than the chickadees, with 

 au olive shade of plumage and a bright red crown, and so 

 active, here, there and all over. He is generally with the 

 chickadees, and is one of our smallest birds, and is called the 

 ruby -crowned kinglet. Every thing is suddenly still, and 

 my little frieuds are motionless. The cause is soon told, as 

 I recognize the beautiful little sparrow hawk dartiug among 

 the bushes after his prey. I seize my gun, iuBtinctiveb/ put 

 my hand in mv pocket for a cartridge, when I make the dis- 

 covery that I have none with me. Useless weapon 1 but my 

 motions are suflieient to protect my little pets, as I see their 

 unsuccessful enemy sailing away in the distance. 



What a noise the bluejays keep up!— still they have a 

 dreamy kiud of a bell note these sunny days, and what a 

 beautiful bird they are, with their splendid blue and white 



