262 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



flSov 2, 1SSS. 



the sponrs.MA .V. 



tiv A. wood CDCKE, F. s. 

 ' I " 1 1 El overgrown featberless bird culler] by our scientist by 

 as man? names as then' are ol them— "the sporting man" 

 — Oixeau . mnsiRfame. Homo btmibuy&a, II, selopeto, S. morli- 

 J'cr, etc, etc., but commonly known as the sportsman, is, 

 though a constant resilient in most parts of the civilized 

 world, partly migratory. He is ofteucst seen in the latter 

 part of summer and throughout the autumn and early winter, 

 and also when snipe and wild ducks abound— during the. first 

 half of spring. Whenever is found anything which he calls 

 "game," whether biped or quadruped, there he is sure to be 

 id Hie seasons named. To all such he is exceedingly destruc- 

 tive, especially when accompanied by his four-footed com- 

 panion— the dog— who plays the part to hiin of the pilot-fish 

 to the shark, and leads him to liLs prey. Our family is the 

 lal object of his pursuit in the last half of summer and in 

 the fall, though strange as it, may seem, iu spring and early 

 summer, he would no mure think of harming one of us than 

 6m OJ bison-no .spring. Sepraotioes the same strange tor- 

 beuranee toward almost all those birds and beasts which he 

 game, except our cousins, the snipe, and all the water- 

 fowl. If it were not for this, it would seem that he spares us 

 and the Others which he SO favors during the breeding season, 

 net Ewunanj real love tor as, but for his own selfish ends, as 

 ■ ' i he farm iu.. ; man, does li is Hocks, herds, and 



"'I Bui i th be the reason, why is it that he does not 



likewise with the suipc, clucks and geese, whose breeding 

 season is also the spring; Truly he is a strar.ge fowl, exhibit- 

 ing iu some ways the ill most foresight and ingenuity, in 

 i t trail iii- -rly opposite. Against the hawks, owls, 

 and foxes he bears the greatest animosity, begrudging I hem 

 the least portion of game, I hough they destroy not a tithe of 

 the number that he takes. 



If deprived of all weapons but those with which nature has 

 supplied Mm, he would be almost harmless, for he cannot 

 fh'. and his legs, though ridiculously long, cannot impart to 

 his awkward body a degree- of speed which is anything but, 

 contemptible to the meanest of us feathered ones. Nor has 

 he the talons of the hawk nor the fangs of the fox, nor the 

 fox's cunning and stealth. 



But a certain engine which he carries makes him extremely 

 dangerous when he has become expert in the use of it. It is 

 a tube, or oftener nowadays, a double tube, of iron, which at 

 his will ejects a volume of fire and smoke and pellets of lead, 

 which pierce feathers and flesh more easily than our bills do 

 t he softest mold. Those individuals, and they are many, -who 

 have become proficient in the use of this, are terribly destruc- 

 tive, and by all means to be avoided by our kind. 



The sportsman measures from four and one-half feet to up- 

 ward of six feet in length, and the extent of his pinionless 

 wings, which terminate in five fleshy claws, is usually the 

 same as his length. The head, when exposed by the removal 

 of its false covering, is so various as not to be easUy described, 

 is clothed with hair on the crown, the color varying in indi- 

 viduals— in some, it is flaxen, in others a fiery red, brown of 

 various shades, and black, and in old specimens grizzly and 

 White, The eyes differ iu color almost as much as the hair. 

 The hinder and lower parfcof the cheeks and the chin are cov- 

 er. -I with a coarser hair, which appears to be shed at will in 

 color nearly like that of the crown. The forehead and upper 

 part of the checks arc naked and, with the beak, vary from 

 exposure to the weather and quantity and quality of internal 

 irrigation, from light flesh-color to brown and scarlet. In 

 very bibulous specimens the beak is extremely brilliant, seem- 

 ing to glow as with fire held within it. The whole body, 

 wines, and upper part of the legs are covered with a fibrous 

 texture, removable at pleasure, usually of a russet or dead- 

 leaf color. The lower part of the legs and the feet are en- 

 cased in dull black skin, -which he frequently coats with 

 grease, probably the more easily to make his way through 

 the sedges and brush, 



His female differs Horn him so entirely in appearance and 

 habits that she would hardly be thought by the ordinary ob- 

 server to belong to the same species. She 'is seldom seen by 

 any of us, and but little would be known of bur had not spine 

 facts been obtaircd by a distinguished member of our family 

 w ho passed some months of captivity in the home of a pair of 

 these enormous birds. 



Her head, at times decorated with the gaudiest plumage, is 

 always covered on its upper part with a luxuriant growth ot 

 hair, as various in color as the male's, lint longer, fin 

 ■ i Her whole face is naked and that and the beak 



a soft flesh color. She has invisible legs, aud her delicate, feet 

 are. encased in a finer covering than those of her make. The 

 colors of the body and its wide elongation toward the feet 

 are so various that it is uu possible to describe them. .She rarely 

 i liits towards the lesser birds and beasts anything of the 

 predatory nature and cruelty of the male, but hirn she, attacks 

 at times with her terrible tou-ue in the most merciless man- 

 ner, especially on the occasions of his going out to prey upon 

 our kind. It is a comfort to know that he h've.s m more abject 

 fear of her than any of us do of him, and that she makes his 

 life and that of his dog m .ire miserable than he doss our own. 

 Such is the even-handed justice of Nature, yet she is as 

 inconsistent as he, for notwithstanding her opposition to his 

 ''sport" as he calls it, she exults as much in his success as he 

 does liiimelf, an 1 fe els with quite as much zast on the little 

 birds which he brings home. 



Altogether the genus, whose, numbers seem to be rapidly and 

 alarmingly increasing, is one. well worth the study of the spec, 

 illative Cocke, but always, he it remembered, at a safe dis- 

 place, say one hundred yards. 



H. kid'iloomi was once- thought to be identical with the 

 abo\te, but is now generally regarded as a distinct species 

 When he has passed through the moult which brings him to 

 his nearest resemblance to //. sclopeto, he bears an exaggerated 

 likeness to his congener. 



H is dress is more elegant and brighter in color, and bulges 



with o multitude of pouches Oiled more with food and flasks 



oi game, and he has a boastful bearing, but is far less 



dangerous to other birds than to himself and companions, for 



his leaden pellets seem to go in any direction but, the one he 

 Wishes them to, and he .sometimes blows his own head or hand 

 Off. His dog is not at all under his control, but ranges far and 

 wide in advance of him, giving the objects of his master's pur- 

 suit what, would lie most ample aud timely warning if it was 

 at all needed. 



With a specimen of H. kidgloveii a cock, or grouse, or quail 

 may have rare, siort. leading him by short flights through 

 the worst bogs and thickets. Let him hut get a glimpse of you 

 ilyiug on before him aud directly comes the thunder of the gun, 

 as the deadly enciue is named, and the whistling of the lead 

 tei the right,, or left, or overhead, shortly followed by a volley 

 of curses directed by turns against youi-self, the dog, the gun. 

 and the bushes almost aB loud and quite as dangerous as the 

 discharge Of the iron tube. 



If you hare the presence of mind to fly not too far, it is veiy 

 amusing to watch this sportsman searching the ground for a 

 feather, the further to assure himself that he has, as he says, 

 "certainly hit this time,"and then to fly up almost from under 

 his feet, and, easting a backward glance, behold his surprise 

 and chagrin. But for the sport he affords us he would lie 

 nteresting only in his being supremely ridiculous. 



fyortmumi J£onri$L 



A LEAF FROM A VAGABOND'S DIARY. 



UT}EAlTlTFTJL! beautiful! and beyond thai,, beautiful!" 

 JJ the immortal Humboldt is said lo have exclaimed, 

 when for the first, time he gazed upon the tropica] beauty of 

 Central America, and I. a humble admirer of that great hero, 

 echoed his sentiments again and again, and, reclining on a 

 lied of wild oats, I drank in the glories of mv queen of mouu- 

 lain streams. Rising I wenty miles lo the northward, on 

 thi- storm-swept sides of McWilson, pouring over innumer- 

 able ledges, foaming, tearing thro' rocky canons, creeping 

 dreamily thro' sunlit valleys, 



"With hero and there A lustry trout, 



And here and there a grayling,"' 



until it joins fifteen miles below, its sister, the Rio Dolores. 

 This, my Minnehaha, runs a hundred feet below me. sparkling 

 in the rays of th.' settiug run. Before me, across the valley, 

 rises an amphitheatre of foliage, green willow, golden 

 aspen, brown spruce, relieved here and there by bold masses 

 of gray rock. Above, an almost cloudless blue sky; a, hawk 

 so motionless that it might be a fixture. The little park, or 

 open glade, iu which I am resting, is waist deep in grass and 

 wild oatts, surrounded on three sides by oak scrub, Before 

 mi'. Hie ground slopes, spruce clad, to the valley. 



Can one wonder the Indian was loath to leave this hunt- 

 er's paradise? Put yourself iu his place, and what would 

 you do? I ask myself. The answer comes in an involuntary 

 grip on the stock of my rifle. Yes, my red brother. T am 

 not ashamed to own I can feel for you- for are we not both 

 vagabonds? 1 know the delights of those deep, frothy pools, 

 from which we have both enticed the shining trout. To me 

 also is known the mysteries of those green swamps, where 

 the beaver swarm at night, My knife, with yours, has 

 drunk the blood of many a noble" buck. Have we not both 

 lain in wait for the lordly elk? Those towering rocks have 

 echoed our shouts of pride, as the grim she bear gave her 

 death shiver. And when nobler game was scarce, have we 

 not both brought the brown grouse whirling to the earth? 

 Alas! brother mine, the days of these glories" are numbered. 

 The axe is already at the" root of the tree. The hum of 

 threshing machine aud saw will arise from the valley below. 

 The pale-faced tenderfoot is already killing deer iu July aud 

 Rising giant powder in our favorite pools. Verily, brother 

 mine, 'tis time you and I, and the other vagabonds, were 

 seeking happier "hunting grouuds iu the laud ot' the Great 

 Fattier. 



Ah! a shot away to my right! My reverie fe broken; I 

 spring to my feet and start down toward camp. Half a 

 dozen st eps'and lam crouching in the grass, for i hear that 

 unmistakable thud — thud — thud — a fleer coming at full 

 jump and straight toward me. One moment aud then — 

 there she is— a barren doc by her size and condition. As I 

 rise to my feet she swerves, hesitates one second— one fata) 

 second — and then, as my shot, rings oul, with a magnificent 

 bbuud, she disappears in the brush. Alas for her! that 

 bound, grand tisit was, has a tell-tale tremor in if; (he tail 

 is clutched convulsively, my shot has told. Carefully pick- 

 ing up the trail, I follow it," down hill, through oak scrub 

 and groves of aspen; tree, brush and ground, red with life 

 blood. Across an open glade, where the tracks are closer 

 together; down into the rocky gulch, up the opposite bank 

 with staggering gait; see, she' stumbled there! I shall flud 

 her soon. Ah, here she is, prostrate between two rocks. 

 Knife in hand. I stoop for the <:on t , ,U grace. Slowly the 

 comely head turns toward me, the large black eyes, swim- 

 ming in moisture, look me full in the face with a. glance of 

 dying wonder. Gently I turn away the reproachful eves, 

 while I drhe the steel" to the hilt. ' "W'hal a spooney!"' 1 

 think! hear some desperado, with his hair parted in the 

 middle, exclaim. My bad friend. I can't help it, you see; 

 I am a vagabond, and, consequently, romantic. For nearly 

 a decade my lif; has been passed on the frontier. I have 

 hunted, and been hunted by, many kinds of game, biped 

 and quadruped, but— "can the Ethiopian change his skin or 

 the leopard his spots?" KomanticI shall remain, and a pair 

 of dark eyes swimming iu tears, whether they are in a wo- 

 man's head or a deer's, will always excite mv svmpathy. 



Ah' that reminds me of one pair of eyes I Shall never for- 

 get. It was years ago, back on the plains, we raided a nest 

 of horse thieves one night. There were three men aud two 

 women iu the dug-out, when we hurst in the door. There 

 was a short, sharp struggle, a woman's scream, and sud- 

 denly r found a pair of arms around my neck, a, face, fartoo 

 beautiful to be in such a Best, devouring me like otic fascin- 

 ated; her large black eyes wild with terror, her bosom pal- 

 pitating with short, quick breaths, pressed so close to me 

 that the child she was nursing was held up between US. The 

 trembling lips could hardly frame the prayer 1 was power- 

 less to grant: "Oh spare them, spare them. " And then, 

 when the men, closely guarded, were led from the room, 

 and that beautiful form sank to the ground, I would have 

 given several years of my lite not to have been there. 



But there, I can't stop talking any longer, my doe is hung 

 up and dressed. The valley is already in gloom. The , sky 

 has faded from blue to gray, here and there twinkles a sil- 



very star, a few fleecy clouds in the west arc still tinged 

 with the glories of the dying day, the sound of the ax comes 

 faintly trom the direction of the camp, the small birds are 

 chirping their last good night, a belated woodpecker speeds 

 by on swift, wing. Too! too! comes from a dead spruce; yes, 

 my friend, it is too late to be iii, _, i ; r , ,, !,:,- this way,' 

 sweet as the woods are at dusk, tragraiit with resinous 

 spruce aud balsam and aromatic weeds! 



Ten minutes' tramp through waist-deep grass brings me 

 within view of gamp, and slews me once more that, scene, 

 dear to the heart of every true brother of the rod and gun, 

 to every member of the great fraternity of vagabonds The 

 bright lire, the white tent under the' giant "pines, the car- 

 eases of fat deer, Hie figures of men and dogs, and the piles 

 of "impedimenta" seal I cred around the lire in picturesque con- 

 fusion, the. background of green willow gently waving in 

 the night winds. 



"How clear to my heart 

 says a good old sonj 

 camp lire, the frying 



into the li " 



they quickly 



that prince o 



the lid of th 



del ciousfra;. 



onions — worthy dish to 



say? "Taki 



icenes of my childhood," 



but dearer to me is Ihe flickering 



m, and the coffee pot. As I walk 



gs open on me full-mouthed, until 



i friend, and I am just, in lime, for 



>ws, Joseph Meredith, lias just lifted 



and permitted a whiff of the most 



nee to escape Irom the chowder of trout and 



it before a king. Akiug, did I 



uble"— a hungry hunter, [ 



■ baki 



—and six hungry hunters were soon seated before a bill Ol 

 fare New fork itself n.eii nol lie ashamed of— loin of veni- 

 son and baked potatoes; trout chowder; fried veuison, with 

 chili Colorado; hoi biscuit; tea and coffee. Add to the above 

 "hungry sauce." and the bill is complete. Hunger is a good 

 satice, taken fn small doses. I have taken it in somewhat, 

 large doses, so much so that a rattlesnake stew was declared 

 excellent, a prairie owl not, to be despised, but 1 was dually 

 choked off with a crow, although offered under the name of 

 "blackbird." 



But the best of appetites won't last forever. Supper is 

 over, plates and cups, knives and forks washed and laid 

 aside, beds made down, boots pulled off, pipes lit— and now 

 comes that one hour between supper and sleep — horn- sacred 

 to yarns, to fish stories, and other truths. "What scenes aud 

 incidents— "moving accidents by field and flood"— that hour 

 recalls; back Ihrough ten years of stormy life— parched 

 with thirst on a waterless divide, snowbound above timber 

 line, treed by a wounded bear, all night waist-deep in a 

 swamp, with "twenty red devils waiting for daylight and 

 your scalp; a wild night "off" the banks," with a broken pro- 

 peller; a moonlight ride through the lime groves of Sanla 

 Barbara; north, south, east, and west — yes, aud back to the 

 brooks of dear old Kent, where we caught our first trout; 

 and the rolling downs of Surrey, where we grassed our first, 

 Heigho!— happy days, when "gold, and Greek, and 



love were all unknown to us." Bui the ; 

 are out— one by one beads disappear i 

 Overhead the full moon sails glorious, in 

 Stars. From behind Ihe willows comes 

 the streams, singing a song of peace 

 bearing away on" its pure bosom the 

 vagabond to the care of "nature's sw 

 sleep." 

 Dolores Counts, Colorado. 



, pipes 

 ■ the tlankets. 

 nidst of myriad 

 ilvery tinkle of 

 quietness, and 



as brain of the 



restorer, balmy 



A. B. B. ' 



RAMBLES THROUGH NEWFOUNDLAND. 



BEFORE returning to the capital from the regions de- 

 scribed in my la-t paper, 1 induced a local sportsman 

 acquainted wi Ik the coast to accompany me down lo Hie 

 bottom oi Placentia Bay. where I intended spending the 

 remainder of March. In Newfoundland it is not unusual to 

 find March the mosl boisterous month in the year, and of 

 all the twelve it is Ihe mosl dangerous for coast shipping; 

 for at this time there appear around the coast vast, bodies of 

 ice, formed during the winter iu the Arci it; regions, and car- 

 ried down into Ihebavs bv the prevailing soiithci n cm rents. 

 Down at the bottom of "Placeiuia Bav is a s rail isthmus 

 about three miles wide, separating the watt 



bayfi 



along this isthmus is the gi 



of the 'island and back again, 

 bays touching upon the isthl 

 neks, bp.t those who visit there 

 of deer passing up and down 

 limes parties from other set Hi 

 learned, had fitted out dnrim 

 ' ithmus, and as the herds were] 



Upon Hi- opposite side, and 

 it, thoroughfare of the deer 

 .valon to the northern regions 

 The extremities of both the 

 18 is almost a silent wildcr- 

 mverfL.il to see large herds 

 by steady marches! Borne 

 iieiits in Hie Island, I had 

 Ihe winter, come to the 

 ssing up and down, slaugh- 

 ■d them iu great number, burying ihe carcases in the 

 SDOW I ill navigation opened to take them to the island of St. 

 Pierre or to St. John's. 



Crossing, therefore, over from the shore of St. Mary's to 

 that of Placentia Bav, our course lay down along the edge ol 

 the bay, past the settlements where the fishermen live. 

 Here was civilization in its primitive State, -Now we met a 

 large settlement nestling in B0m< largo S6S nook between Ihe 

 hills, again a small cluster of collages, and often passed some 

 solitary house, built, down by tie, front of the i ipen sea. 



One" afternoon in the midst of a storm, when blinding 

 snow-drifts blew outward from the bleak country, mv guide 

 asked me to turn from the rough mountain path by which 

 ii journeying along, (town to Angel's Cove, a" roman- 

 tic chasm down between the cliffs, at the edge of the bay. 

 He told me many curious stories of Ibts lonely place, for 

 like nearly all the Inhabitants I met there he could neither 

 read nor write, believed in ghosts and unseen interfering 

 powers. Twenty years before he told me that Angel's Cove 

 was known by a different name; that then it was called 

 Devil's Cove, and that the fisherman sailing past its black 

 rocks in the gloaming shuddered and crossed himself, for 

 lights moved across the strand and flickered among Ihe rocks. 

 While wild rushing sounds were heard up among the green 

 woods that skirted the turbulent torrent that" poured its 

 waters down from the mountain. 



And to prove the malignancy of the spirits of this lonely 

 place he told me thai legs than twenty years before I he 

 owner of the only Cottage in the cove left," with his wife, and 

 two children, for tin near, si settlement, where the priest hail 

 conic, as was his custom once in Hie year, lo suy mass, hear 

 the people's confessions, and give thcn'i the sacra meats, for Ihe 

 purpose of "doing Hieii Busier duty" and having the children 

 christened. The husband, turning from the mountain path 

 oi the way to shoot some mountain partridge which here 

 are found in swarms, was delayed an hour or two. bid on re- 

 turning to the wooded path where he had agreed lo join his 

 wife, found her black in the face, and dead, and the two 



