FOREST AND STREAM. 



m 



for in those "happy days gone by" of boyhood, I was very 

 much at home in a canoe, and inasmuch as George had 

 beaten me pretty badly at cards, which nettled me some- 

 what, I ^determined to challenge him to a canoe race. I 

 knew his pluck and pride would not permit him to decline a 

 challenge from me, and I fancied I could get the laugh on 

 him by his capsizing. When we arrived at Mackinac there 

 was not a canoe in sight, but in a day or so I discovered 

 one and posting the ladies so they might see me in my new 

 role, I took advantage of George's absence and started to 

 practice; well, I got along quite nicely and was of course 

 applauded by the ladies and Indians, who said I did well. 

 George had beaten me at everything I suggested. My own 

 games all the way up, and on shore beat me at quoits, bil- 

 liards, ten pins, and cards and about all the games I knew. 

 But "I had him"— everyone said, "no white man can ride 

 in that canoe as you can." I said to myself, "old Cardie, 

 you'll git im now, you bet," and then I laughed, when I 

 fancied him in the water. About an hour after my exploit, 

 George came up. He had probably beaten some one at ten 

 pins, and felt pretty good, so I said "George L have found 

 a canoe and I want you to go out in it." "Where is she? 

 You bet I'll go. Where are the ladies, I want them to 

 see tbe fun," said he. Oh! did'nt I laugh. Just what I 

 wanted to have the ladies see him floundering around the 

 cold wa'er for a few moments. My revenge was near at 

 hand. We had the canoes brought, ladies posted in a good 

 position and away went my friend, struggling to keep the 

 canoe under him, getting red in the face and looking 

 back to us, (who were laughing) with a face expressive of 

 a large amount of determination. "He was still captain of 

 that canoe," and was getting along so well that 1 com mi nce'J 

 to feel a little bit skeptical as regards his not being able to 

 cominue captain, very much to my mortification and dis- 

 gust. (George, I did want you to relinquish jour com 

 mnnd of that canoe, and swim ashore so bad, I fear I was 

 provoked with you for a moment). Well he at last became 

 firmly seated in his new employment, and the way he spun 

 that canoe around the strait of Mackinac with an audience 

 on the hills of at least 500 people, including the guests of. 

 the hotels, the soldiers of the garrison, the Indians, Mr. H., 

 Mrs. 0., Captain Willie, and Mc— , was a wonder. To 

 cap the climax on arriving near shore, he gave to the frail 

 boat a tremedous amount of momentum, threw his patidle 

 on the bottom of it, placed one hand on each side, and stood 

 on 7iis head. I never saw people laugh so in my life. 1 

 laughed, but I was so mad, so disappointed that it almost 

 mauemeill. Of course George wasahero. 1 had playeil my 

 last card and was beaten at my own game. We are going 

 to try it againt next summer. % \Bujb:nave:ntuiia." 



Feint, Aug. Uth, 1876. 



For Fmwt and Stream. 

 AN ENCOUNTER WITH A WOUNDED 

 FOX. 



WHEN a youngster, yet old enough to have a hanker- 

 ing after the girls, I was returning homeward on 

 foot, one morning about 3 o'clock, across the lonesome 

 wooded ridges that base the mountain regions of Western 

 Pennsylvania. It was in December, and those snow-clad 

 hills looked majestic, grand, and illimitable. Surmount- 

 ing the heights of one, hundreds of others stretched far 

 beyond me in all directions — vast, solemn, and enduring 

 sentinels of time and eternity. The soft, feathery, melt- 

 ing snow lay a foot deep on the ground; the branches of 

 the trees were bending beneath their load of pure tlakey 

 crystals, their trunks resembling stern old men, their locks 

 grown white with age, bending towards Mother Earth. 

 Fences, rocks, and other objects, presenting their dark, 

 uncovered sides to view in the surrounding whiteness, 

 seemed to conceal lurking fairies, evil spirits, and hobgob- 

 lins. The stars were shining, but a deathlike stillness per- 

 vaded woodland, thicket, and field as I climbed fences and 

 wended my way over the hills by blind paths and short 

 cuts, hoping to accomplish the six miles between me and 

 my home, and get some rest before daybreak. 



I had been to a country singing school. The roads be- 

 ing bad, I had gone there on foot across the hills, a dis- 

 tance of some three miles. All the pretty country lasses 

 were to be found at tbe "Singing," and particularly one, 

 a pretty little lassie who was at that time a very great 

 attraction to me. She had come with her brother, on 

 horseback, from three miles farther, beyond the hills to 

 attend the singing school, and possibly to see me; and 

 whenever we two came together it was dreadfully hard for 

 us to separate. The good brother made himself scarce to 

 attend to his own sonial affairs, and the horse that carried 

 his sister there carried me back into the country three 

 miles further, on behind, in a sort of a double capacity; 

 that is to say, I was combining the pleasure of going with 

 the labor of getting home again. The ride was varied 

 with chatting, singing and laughing, and, on my part, 

 with occasionally sticking my heels into the old mare's 

 flanks to make her kick up and prince, affording me a fair 

 excuse for holding my companion from falling off, etc. 

 Arrived at the house, little persuasion was needed to in- 

 duce me to go in and partake of some refreshment. Apples 

 and pie, with milk ad libitum ad saturandum, was the 

 standard lunch in those days for country lovers. After 

 considerable love making of a primitive style, and the 

 munching of numberless apples, not to speak of some de- 

 termined efforts on my part upon some rather leather- 

 crusted pies forced down with good milk, a tender fare- 

 well was taken, and with a light heart and thoughtful 

 mind 1 started homeward. 



I was in love — a sort of gosling love that made me hap- 

 py — and the distance of six miles over rugged hills, 

 through dark and lonesome forests, across purling icy 

 brooks and snowy fields, did not seem a long tramp. I 

 thought or mused of my sweetheart, and no imaginary 

 hobgoblin haunted me, peering from behind rock or stately 

 oak as I trudged noiselessly along through the soft snow. 

 I passed the old school house where the singing was held, 

 and a long, steep ascent of cleared hillside was before me. 

 A deep wooded ravine, capped with craggy rocks, lay in a 

 direct course on my right along the ledge, and the path 

 lay to the top of the hill two miles distant, when a steep 

 descent of one mile through thicket and clearing on the 

 other side would bring me to my home on the bank of the 

 river, where it was my custom to slip in quietly on such 

 occasions as this, beguiling Maje, the watch dog, into si- 

 lence, or kicking him into it, as seemed most effective at 

 the moment. But before I reached home that night there 

 was an event in my life — an impromptu fox chase — that 

 made a powerful impression on me. It was brief, but 



vigorous and exciting. Ascending the hill through a 

 cleared field, after passing the school house, I espied a 

 large wild animal ambling through the snow — at least the 

 animal looked large then, and even now, as I recollect it. 

 It was certainly a fox, and a big one, but evidently wound- 

 ed, as he made poor headway, and stopped often, as if to 

 rest. I could see him distinctly not a hundred yards away. 

 He had come from the rocks, and was making his way 

 across the field Jo tbe timber beyond. I could see him 

 limp as he ambled over the soft snow, and being badly 

 wounded he was just the sort of a fox I wanted to attack, 

 as I could despatch him in a quick onslaught by a series of 

 kicks, and wear his brush in my hat. He was making off 

 up the hill quartering. I did not stop long to consider, 

 for he might see me, quicken his pace, reach the timber, 

 and give me the slip. 1 had on heavy high-top boots, 

 with my trousers stuffed into the legs. My very soul was 

 now on fire with excitement; I was eager for the attack. 

 At one jump he looked the size of a fox, the next time he 

 jumped he looked as big as a calf, but I would now bounce 

 'him if he was twice as big, and with my heavy boots kick 

 and stamp him to death before he could discover what 

 hurt him; I would carry or drag him home in triumph 

 to exhibit to my brother and brother-in-law, both of whom 

 considered themselves sportsmen, and at the same time en- 

 tertained a mean opinion of my prowess in field sports, 

 because I was the younger, anu addicted to making con- 

 siderable noise when out squirrel shooting with them, 

 sometimes insisting — they said always — upon eating the 

 noon lunch before the morning was half spent. These 

 unfortunate tendencies had placed me in "bad odor" with 

 them as a sportsman, but now I was to accomplish a feat 

 by killing a fine big fox (apparently a little worsted by 

 lameness, but that fact should be kept sub rosa), and so re- 

 deem myself, improve the odor, so to speak, and henceforth 

 look on them with contempt. 



Crouching down I pulled my boots well up, and my hat 

 well on, and drew on my mits, as the scroundrel might bite 

 or scratch me in the fitrht. Like a tiger drawing on his prey 

 I stealtliily and swiftly bent my eager steps forward until 

 fifteen, then ten yards, only intervened between me and my 

 unsuspecting prey (?) JNow!!! ChargeMll Runiuouhiui 

 and give it to him from behind — coup mr coup! A fierce 

 yell mat reverberated through those ever memorable hills, 

 in the stillness of the night went forth, and I was upon 

 him; yes, forsooth, and, by the powers! I was not only 

 upon him, but I was right in among him, as it were. A 

 treacherous stone, log or some obstacle under the snow 

 tripped me in my hasty and excited efforts to give him a 

 terrific kick from behind, and down I went upon him in 

 the snow. But presto 1 quicker than the evolution of these 

 thoughts the air was thick with a pungent, penetrating fog 

 around about me, every atom of which seemed to be armed 

 with the heated point of a cambric needle. The air grew 

 dark — I was blinded, stifled; I gasped for breath. The 

 erect hair upon my head seemed effervescing with a sort oi 

 champagne like bui sting of spherical globules of infini- 

 tesimal size and myriads in number — each globule sur- 

 charged with a combination of smells that sulphurated 

 hydrogen, petroleum, coal tar, carbolic acid, chlorine gas, 

 sewer gas, illuminating gas, combined, mechanically 

 mixed, concentrated and redisiilled, were like the dew that 

 falls from rises in comparison with what I now received 

 into my gasping lungs. Although I never before had any 

 intimate acquaintance with this sort of ambling, "wound- 

 ed" fox, I now felt thoroughly introduced, and the reader 

 will doubtless have anticipated what was now flashed upon 

 me, that this lame fox was no lox at all, and made no pre- 

 tensions to be one; but gloried in being a regular old 

 Mephitis rnephitica — an old he polecat, a skunk of the worst 

 type. 



Well, I was now in for it. He had done me all the harm 

 he could in embracing him by accident in my fall upon 

 him in the snow, and I was mad— yes, insane— with rage, 

 mortification, and the smells before mentioned. I would 

 now have his life at all odds. At him I rushed madly, and 

 overtaking him again jumped on him, and did some pro- 

 miscuous kicking that would have made an army mule 

 hang his head in diminished confidence. He bit me in the 

 spur piece of my heavy boot and tore a piece out of the 

 leg, but happily did not injure me. 1 kicked and stamped 

 him until the snow on that hillside looked as thougn a 

 large drove of cattle had been driven over it, and finally 1 

 kicked him over the ledge of rocks for which he was so 

 anxiously making. Then I jumped over after him, and 

 continued the fight among the blackberry briars in the 

 ravine until 1 leffhim a mere pulp of mephitic destruction, 

 myself scratched and torn with briars, as though I had 

 been in a hand-to-hand encounter with Bengal tigers in- 

 stead of an animal whose greatest size was his smell. 



I then innocently thought I would run to the top of the 

 hill and get out of the smell, but alasl this accompanied 

 me. I took off my hat to cool my fevered brain, and rub- 

 bing my hand over my hair it crepitated like the hair of a 

 cat in a frosty night, and evolved more odor. 1 let the 

 hair alone, and leaned over a worm fence, feeling much as 

 i did when quite a little boy I smoked my first naif -Spanish 

 cigar, purchased with the penny given me by an over-oenhd- 

 mg parent to put in the missionary box. 1 was sick! that 

 leather crusted pie given me by my sweetheart was en- 

 deavoring to be restored to the external atmosphere; I 

 kindly assisted it, and felt lighter, though still neavy in 

 perfumery. I staggered down the hid through the bushes, 

 the snow falling Irora. their branches upon my bare nead 

 and face, refreshing me. At the end ot the garden i dis- 

 lobed and threw the clothing in a pile by the ience, to be 

 buried when the ground thawed. Afttr rubbing myself 

 down with snow as an experimental antidoie (i cant rec- 

 ommend n), I cautiously approached the house by the 

 front garden gate, where I was rudely confronted by Maje, 

 the faithful mastiff, who, though i had not been absent as 

 long as Ulyses, nor chaugeu as much in face and form ex- 

 cepting being decidedly aw naturet, his hair all stood up on 

 his back and turned the wrong way; he didn't bark, he 

 fairly roared as he made for me just as I placed my hand 

 upon the kitchen door latch. 1 beat him to the gate, and 

 fortunately got that structure between us. lhen the 

 neighboring dogs took up the refraiu. I was beginning to 

 get chilled, bui so far as the smell was concerned uiunt 

 now mind it much. I was apprehensive lest a neighboring 

 dog, a crony of Maje's, might come and attack me in the 

 rear. I thanked Cod ihere was a good locust tree wilhin a 

 few feet of the gate— a liule thorny, but preferable to take 

 to rather than be wrestled by two big dogs wnh uncertain 

 consequences. I scolded, coaxed, and cajoled Maje, called 

 him a "good dog" and a '•scoundrel," and said "how dare 

 you," and sometimes thought I was convincing him of my 



identity, but the moment he got sight of my naked, shiv- 

 ering form around the corner of the house his hair went 

 up again, and he redoubled his efforts to get at me through 

 the paling. 



At this juncture my brother in-law, always on the alert 

 for robbers, and who had often expressed a bloodthirsty 

 determination concerning the treatment of such charac- 

 ters, threw up the side window, and in an excited voice de- 

 manded to know who was there, and emphatically declared, 

 with an oath, that he would shoot me. The latter 

 amusement 1 knew he was passionately fond of, and my 

 voice left me from sheer fright and cold, for the wiud was 

 now blowing from the river fresh and sharp Encouraged 

 by his master, Maje became more furious and determined 

 than ever, and his noise was terrible. I latched the gate 

 and crouched in under the front doorway to prevent being 

 hit with the shot, until my sister recognized mv voice 

 when it returned to me. I invited them to call off the 

 infernal dog and give me a clear entrance and no ques- 

 tions threatening vengeance on them, dog and all, with 

 my returning courage No questions were needed since 

 they smelt, not a rat, but something which explained in a 

 great measure its character. 



Notwithstanding my entreaties to my brother and 

 brother-in law, who were fond of jokes at other people's 

 expense, never to let the (pole) cat out of the nag, they 

 slyly indulged in innuendoes in the presence of others, 

 much to my chagrin and mortification; and when I sul- 

 lenly told them I had mistaken the thing for a wound* d 

 fox they nearly exploded with laughter. In conclusion, I 

 will just say that I have done a great deal of fox huntiug 

 since, but I never have any desire to take an advantage of 

 a wounded one, and, if I am spared. I never will under 

 any circumstances, especially in the region of 



"SODTHFoiiK." 



<gl$lj §ttltU1[t. 



ENEMIES OF TROUT. 



THE diseases to which adult trout are subject are very 

 little understood. At least the cause ot the diseases 

 and their remedies. Sometimes a trout will be observed to 

 have a white fungus growing upon it in spots. This will 

 spread over the fi-h until it uies. Sometimes the fish will 

 turn to a black color. This always seems to be an indica- 

 tion of blindness, as we have never observed this peculiar 

 color unless the fish was paribdly or totally blind. The 

 fungus which grows upon the ti>h is probably not a disease, 

 but is caused by, or is the judication of a disease. .Noth- 

 ing is known about remedies. If only a few trout are 

 affected, take them out, as they will be sure to die; 

 those covered with spots very soon, and those blind, in a 

 few months, of s'arvation. if the trout begin to die in 

 numbers, change them to another pond, if possible, or tive 

 them more water. This is all we can do for them. The 

 dead trout should be taken out of the pond as fast as they 

 are discovered. They will rise to the surface ouly in 

 very rare cases, but generally sink to the bottom, and if 

 there is much moss in the pond they are lost to sight, and 

 decaying on the bottom, foul ihe pond. If there is much 

 sickness among the trout, we generally consider it a sign of 

 insufficient water. 



There are but few enemies of trout in artificial ponds. 

 If the ponds are near the house, and people constantly 

 about them, there will be no trouble with the birds which 

 usually prey upon fish — such as the kingfisher, fish hawk 

 and crane. Even if the ponds are some instance fiom the 

 house, the water will probably be too deep for the fish-hawk 

 and kingfisher to do much mischief, as it is only in shallow 

 water that they can be certain of their prey. Cranes will 

 wade into the water and lake all that comes witnin reach 

 of their long bills — whether frogs, snakes or fish. But they 

 are very few in number, and the trout are wary. If any 

 of these birds appear, shoot ihem; and as there are v« ry 

 few of them, at any rate, you will not be troubled much. 

 Muskrats sometimes get into the ponds. Tney are vege- 

 table eaters and uo not eat the fish. Still, it is bad to have 

 them around, as they make holes in the bank? ot the ponds 

 and let the water off. A few traps will .-oon dispose of 

 them. It may be worth while to meution here tne manner 

 of catching them. Eindout the places where the muskiats 

 go into the ponds. They will make a little bare path, or 

 run on the edge of the bank, by always going in ana out at 

 the same place. Then set a tiap (a comtnou game ir»p, 

 such as is sold in all country stoics; in the waier, so that 

 the plate of the tiap will come in the miudie of the run 

 and about a half inch under water, taking care to piace the 

 jaws of the trap in such a direction that when shut th y 

 will be in a line with the run. Then slake the chain into 

 deep water. .No bait is necessary. If any bait is used, a 

 sweet apple or parsnip is good. The muskrat comes 

 through his run, steps on ihe pau of the trap and springs 

 it. lie tries to take il with him to the shore if he suc- 

 ceeds in doing ihis, he will likely get out iu some way; for 

 instance, if he is caught by the leg, lie will sit down and 

 gnaw it off, in order to get iree. But as the trap is slaked 

 out in the water, he cannot get to shore, and will oe dro «v ued 

 by his struggles aud by the weight ot ihe trap, for he can- 

 not survive under water very long without rising to the sur- 

 face lor a supply of air. 



Water snakes cannot do any damage to the large trout, 

 and even the small trout are tooinucnior them, unless tney 

 are veiy thick, or are in a very snio.ll pond. We have seen 

 the large tiout in our ponds uart and apparently aLtempt to 

 bite a suake, which was passiug ihiou^u. lhey exnibued 

 no lear of ihe snake; but the snake ceitainly aid appear to 

 oe airaid ot them. Undoubieuly they will eat me small 

 fish if they can catch them. We nav e often opei t d snakes„ 

 caught about our ponds and creek, but never found any 

 trout in them; so the danger from snakes cau not be very 

 great, except to the very young libh. .brogs have a very 

 bad name; but, we think, do not eat the nsh very mucu, 

 although they will certainly eat all the little outs tney can 

 get hold of. Even it they uo no injury, lhey are not of any 

 advantage, and may as well be uisposed ol. Urabs, or cray- 

 fish, as tney are more properly called, very seldom eat the- 

 young fish, lhey will lie ou ihe bOitoui ui ine pond, 

 niduen in the mud, with i e joint of tne claw wuie open 

 and ready; then if any unfortunate troutiing passes wuniu 

 leach, his doom is sealed. Ciay risii do much more mis- 

 chiel oy their burrowing propeuoitie.->. lhey will make 

 holes out of the pond, or Hum uue poud to anomcr, through 

 which the water escapes, and very often tne young hod 

 also. The cray-fish is the scavenger of the water, and iti 



