NATURAL HISTORY. 



59 



developed on the island and once abounded 

 there, it has dwindled in numbers until 

 there are but few surviving. In the hope 

 of providing a safe refuge for the remnant 

 I have for a number of years stopped all 

 shooting on a tract of 1,000 or 2,000 

 acres which is well fitted to supply them 

 with food and shelter. As they still dwin- 

 dled, it seemed probable that the foxes 

 were harming them. This appeared the 

 more likely for the reason that the fox is 

 not a native of the island, but was intro- 

 duced a few years ago by some reckless 

 experimenters. These marauders were 

 cleared away without good results. Furth- 

 er inquiry made it apparent that the real 

 enemy of these birds was the feralized do- 

 mestic cat which has gone wild from the 

 households, especially from the many 

 homesteads that have been abandoned. 

 This creature has bred in great numbers 

 and is now threatening the existence of 

 all birds that rear their broods on the 

 ground. It is hardly possible to extermi- 

 nate them, for the reason that they are 

 wary, and any systematic hunting of them 

 would prove exceedingly disturbing to the 

 timid birds. The result is that nearly 

 all these birds have left my land for cer- 

 tain plains near by, which are covered with 

 scrub oaks and where there is too little 

 ground life to attract the cats. In that 

 region, though it has an area of about 

 30,000 acres, the food is scanty; the prairie 

 chickens dwelling there are likely to perish 

 for lack of the rosehips which, in the hill 

 country they have been forced to desert, 

 served to maintain them at times when the 

 ground was covered with snow. 



HOW RUFFED GROUSE DRUM. 



When a boy, living in Southern New 

 York, on the border line of Pennsylvania, 

 I one day found that a ruffed grouse was 

 in the habit of drumming on an old, dry, 

 fallen hemlock tree, near a thicket of small 

 hemlocks. I went into that thicket early 

 one morning, made a shelter for my head 

 so as not to be seen by the bird, and 

 waited nearly 4 hours before he began his 

 music. That was when Mrs. Grouse went 

 on her nest, probably to draw attention to 

 himself and away from the nest. I was 

 within 50 feet of him and saw him plainly. 

 He drew himself up straight, brought his 

 wings in front, so as to almost hide him, 

 and began beating the edges together. 

 His strokes were one, two, three, with a 

 short pause between them; then, after a 

 little longer pause, he began beating faster 

 and faster, ending abruptly. As he ended 

 he cast a quick look all about him to see 

 ifhe had attracted any notice. I watched 

 him 10 minutes, and then, making a noise 

 in the thicket, I frightened him away. 



When near him the drumming sounds 



hollow, being made by the confined air 

 and the tension on his wings. It would 

 be impossible for the bird to beat his 

 wings together over his back; as difficult 

 as it is for a man to strike the backs of his 

 hands together behind him. 



Later I saw grouse drumming on 

 stumps, and once on a projecting rock 

 over a stream. They never drummed on a 

 tree that was standing, the favorite place 

 being a dead log. 



H. A. Dobson, M. D., Washington, D. C. 



THE WILD GOOSE AS A DOMESTIC BIKD. 



I have just read with much interest an 

 article in March Recreation, styled as 

 above, by Norman Pomeroy, Jr. On the 

 17th of November, 1898, while out hunt- 

 ing, I took a chance shot at 3 wild geese 

 flying over me. As a result one gander 

 came down with only a broken wing. My 

 dog retrieved it and I at once amputated 

 the wounded member. I kept the bird in 

 a covered turkey coop for a week and by 

 that time the wing was well. Dur : ng the 

 first week he ate sparingly, but drank 

 freelv after the first day. At the end of 

 the first week he was turned loose in the 

 54 acre garden, enclosed with woven wire 

 fence, and for a few days he tried to push 

 through the fence. He did not become 

 gentle until after the wild geese had gone 

 North in the spring. In a little wb ;u 

 thereafter he would readily come when I 

 called him. My little boy named him 

 Billie, and he would come quickly when 

 called by his name. He ate the scraps 

 thrown out from the kitchen and always 

 came out for his corn when I fed the 

 chickens in the morning. During a thun- 

 derstorm in August, 1890. while less than 

 100 feet from the house, he was struck by 

 lightning and instantly broken all to 

 pieces. I had hoped ' to make him the 

 nucleus of a tame flock. I have been 

 unable to secure another this year. 



H. M. Brown, Harwood, Texas. 



ARE WOODCHUCKS FAT IN THE SPRING? 



While in the Adirondacks last fall I 

 heard the guides say that when woodchucks 

 and other hibernating animals first come 

 out in the spring they are fat. but that 

 they get thin within a short time. This does 

 not seem reasonable to me, for I always 

 supposed that thev lived on their stored up 

 fat, and I should like to know about it from 

 someone who knows. The men who made 

 this statement were positive about it. but 

 I think thev must have been mistaken. 



How would rough on rats do for spar- 

 rows? Thev remind me of rats 



E. M. Moffett, Watertown. N. Y. 



ANSWER. 



I do not believe it possible tha*" wood- 

 chucks or other hibernating animals come 



