JtoUa 15, 1882.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



385 



prey had not remained in the houae, and a minute revealed 

 to us the inside of the much-talked of beaver's home. The 

 outer portion was clammy and wet, but the inner portion was 

 dry. in the latter place the beaver sleeps. In the sleeping 

 apartmeDt, too, were the family provisions, consisting of 

 hark, gnawed from the trees, and willow and birch branches. 

 We likewise found a large quantity of berries, from all of 

 which it was plain that tlie family had hegun to lay in their 

 Winter supply of food. But we were less inclined to take 

 pleasure iu looking upon the works of the "old men of the 

 ponds" than we were to murder their authors. 



I stood ready with my double barrel, while my companions 

 vigorously plied the spade and axe upon the longest of the 

 passageways. They dug and chopped away eagerly, and 

 found in the extremity of the passage, close to the stakes 

 driven against the bank, the unfortunate family. They lay 

 huddled together, confused and terrified. Strange to say, 

 we were not so brave before our cringing victims as migut 

 be supposed. "Whatever you do, mind their teeth," said 

 one; aud verily, when I thought of those teeth, which are 

 capable of cutting down large forest trees, I was none the 

 bravest. 



There lay the five animals twisting and rolling and darting 

 at the too narrow interstices of the imprisoning stakes, and 

 we knew not how to dispatch them. Then the two made an 

 onslaught with a pair of heavy cudgels, I all the while wait- 

 ing with my gun. The cudgel method succeeded, and in a 

 few minutes two old beaver and three younger ones lay 

 trophies at our feet. We stripped off the skins, took a few 

 pounds of steak off the fattest of the number, and repaired 

 back again to our camp, for we were too tired to commence 

 the attack on a second house. 



Late in the afternoon we set out from the camp again to 

 examine the outlet to the lake. We found that the stream 

 was on a level with the lake for nearly a quarter of a mile 

 from its beginning, and that the marsh through which it ran 

 had the same level also. At about 400 yards from the pond we 

 found that the beaver had dammed up the stream by means 

 of trees, stones and mud ; the whole mass, compactly put 

 together, presenting an irresistible front to the current. The 

 effect of tnis dam was to bring the waters of the stream be- 

 tween the clam and the pond on a level with the marsh, com- 

 pletely flooding the latter, and making the abodes of the 

 beaver in around the rim of the pond practically unapproach- 

 able. The "old men" did not look for invasion through the 

 dark forest which grew behind their lake. 



We set at work, cut away the dam, and created a deluge 

 over the marshes for nearly a mile below, and consternation 

 in all the beaver houses around the bank of the pond. 

 It being now sunset we retraced our steps back to the wood 

 to seek out some convenient point froai waich to watch the 

 strange operations which we had heard the beaver carries 

 on thi ough the night. It was near the full of the moon, and 

 from our chosen place we could see objects pretty distinctly 

 round about us for several hundred yards. 



We had not waited more than half an hour when almost 

 simultaneously we saw a number of dark objects enter the 

 pond out of toe woods by the mouth of the stream to which 

 I nave alluded. We at once knew that these objects were 

 beavers, and from their great numbers that they were en- 

 gaged in some special enterprise; added to this each one had 

 grasped a small tree in its mouth, half pushing half towing 

 the same out toward the stream's mouth. But what we 

 could not account for was that all the beaver— and there could 

 not be less than fifty, each bearing a tr-e along— disappeared 

 down the stream, remaining absent for about halC an hour, 

 again returning, entering the dark woods, and issuing out 

 again, after about twenty minutes, each with a tree as before, 

 aud again disappearing down the stream. But the interest 

 with which we had watched this mysterious industry was 

 diverted to another quarter. From within about twenty 

 paces of where we were, a noise of something moving 

 through the thick fringe of brushwood near the pond's bank 

 reached us. 



Watching we say a beaver tugging a birch tree along, lay 

 it down upon the bank, begin gnawing at it, and in an 

 incredibly short space of time succeed in cutting it off. We 

 knew then this was some selfish, solitary, retiring "old 

 man" who elected to stay at home building his house in the 

 silent night, while the whole community, himself excepted, 

 was carrying out some public and well-regulated enterprise. 

 We watched the old fellow at his work. He had previously 

 dug a d*ep hole about four feet square, and was now engaged 

 rearing a roof over this. He plodded on, never wearying in 

 his work, laying down rafter after rafter, returning to the 

 woods after he had used up his tree and bringing out 

 another, cutting it up aud using it in like manner. Once it 

 seemed as if his work did not suit him. and with a move- 

 ment as if of vexation the old fellow roughly pulled off 

 several of the sticks and reconstructed them again. 



Whenever we made any noise he would prick himself up; 

 and a strange sight it was to see him, not unlike a queer 

 old man, peering toward us through the gloomy light of the 

 moon. But he resumed his work soon and toiled on. After 

 every stick or two was laid down he would take up a hand- 

 ful of earth, that is he would gather as much as he could in 

 his flippers, pressing it up against his throat. He would 

 gather a number of such handsful, and put the whole 

 between the woodwork. 



Sometimes he would get the clay from the bank, and some- 

 times he would dive into the pond with it. We had not ob- 

 served him, as the popular belief has it, using his tail as a 

 trowel ; the only use he made of his tail was to apparently 

 express emotions of satisfaction now and again at the progress 

 of his work by flapping the said caudal appendage smartly 

 on the ground or upon the surface of the pond as he dived. 



We watched the operations till late in the night, fascinated 

 on the one hand by the almost human intelligence of this soli- 

 tary creature building a house (or himself in the still night, by 

 the moonlight, and the general operatioas carried on in con- 

 cert by the rest of the community. That night we slept 

 soundl/, and set out the next morning marveling much at 

 the object of the community of enterprise we had seen the 

 night before. 



Going down the stream the mystery was soon explained, 

 for there we found that the dam which we had cut away the 

 afternoon before had, during the night, been replaced by the 

 industrious old men of the pond. Of the other two houses 

 which during the day we raided, one was deserted, but in 

 the other we found four beaver, all seeming of about the 

 name age. 



In the two days we had thus captured nine beaver, so we 

 decided to strike out on the morrow for a "flock of deer," 

 which, from certain signs we had seen, we knew had re- 

 cently passed down the valley to the south of the wood in 

 which we were camped, T. E. Collins. 



Toronto, Canada. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS. 



IN SEVERAL PARTS— PART H. 



BEFORE the first gray streak of dawn the veteran and I 

 were cutting our way through a heavy bank of white 

 fog that had settled around the head of the lake, in search of 

 the meuth of the river connecting with White's Lake above. 

 Where it entered the lake there was quite a strong current 

 flowing through the long, trailing grasses and lily pads, and 

 only for this current we would have missed the entrance, as 

 the shore line had the same swampy appearance as far as we 

 could see in the fog and morning darkness. Once in the 

 channel, a few rods took us out of the swamp to where the 

 banks were well defined and which could almost be touched 

 with the oar on either side, so narrow was the stream. 



A little further up the stream made a sharp turn to the left, 

 and a few rods further an abrupt kink to the right headed 

 the boat nearly in the opposite direction, and we had made 

 the passage of "Fiddler's Elbow," as it is called by the lum- 

 bermen, without the boat once trying to climb the. bank. 

 This passage was no easy feat on a dark, foggy morning. 

 Fiom here up to White's" Lake, a quarter of a mUe, perhaps, 

 the uanks are lined with trees and bushes lapping the water, 

 and the stream continues narrow and shallow, the average 

 depth being not more than twenty inches. 



Just before entering the lake we passed under a stout 

 wooden bridge spanning the stream where the section line 

 road crosses it, and a few yards above this we took a drink 

 out of a clear, cold little" stream coming in from the left, 

 which is said to have trout in a mile or so above, but this is a 

 matter of some doubt. 



We learned afterward that a short distance up this stream 

 is the first grist mill that was built in that region. As there 

 were no roads and few trails through that country in the 

 early d?ys, the first settlers packed their grists on their backs 

 for miles to this mill to be ground, or brought their grain in 

 dugouts and canoes from far up and down the lakes. Horses 

 and oxen could not be used for lack of roads, and the few 

 groceries and luxuries that graced the pioneer's table were 

 packed in the same way from the nearest settlement, often a 

 distance of twenty miles. Verily the by-ways of the early 

 settler of Northern Michigan were rough, and well calculated 

 to develop the brawn and muscle and brains of a new coun- 

 try. 



Passing out into the lake the veteran tied on a troller and 

 ran out a hundred feet of line, to see, as he said, "if 

 some hungry pickerel or maskalonge that had gone to 

 bed supperlcss would not be hanging around the belt of 

 rushes looking for an early breakfast. " If, however, any of 

 the tribe of Max were in the vicinity, they were still in bed 

 or too smart to be fooled by the glittering sham; and after 

 skirting along the west shore for half a mile, ho reeled up 

 and laid his rod in the boat, as we did not care to waste time 

 in a pace slow enough to bait-fish. 



Daylight was abroad now, and soon the glint of the sun 

 rays showed ttirough t e treetops, and after a time lifted tue. 

 mists from the water and gave us a view of the dark green 

 shores on either side. 



T. is lake is about two miles long and not much over a 

 quarter of a mile wide at any point, aud the general course 

 straight. It is a very pretty sheet of water, and along the 

 belt of bulrushes and ILies that line both shores may be had 

 good t>ass and pickerel fishing, with an occasional chance at 

 a maskalonge near the head. Near the upper end, on the 

 right a.s you go up, is Wilson's saw mill, run by a natural 

 spring of water that heads back in the hills near half a mile. 

 This is a remarkable spring, not only for its large volume, 

 but for the clearness and coldness of its waters, and it will 

 not be time wasted for the tourist or angler passing through 

 these lakes to pay it a visit. The stream is of quite good 

 size, with a uniform How of water the year round, and the 

 variation of temperature is veiy slight. Across the ravine 

 through which it flows, and near the lake, a dam sixteen 

 feet, high has been built, which gives a fine head of water 

 for the little turbine wLeel that ruus the machinery. 



The mill pond, of several acres in extent, would be a 

 famous place for trout, and we were pleased to learn that 

 Mr. Wilson had decided on the very sensible move of stock- 

 ing it with a few dozen from Cedar River before the season 

 closed. [The writer hereby notifies friend W. that he will 

 take kindly to an invitation to cast a modest fly into the 

 pellucid waters of his pond as soon as it may be iu working 

 order.] 



Keeping straight on we entered the mouth of the river at 

 the head of the lake, and after a sharp pull of half a mile 

 pushed our way through a narrow channel almost closed 

 with grass and lilies, into the pocket at the foot of Bower's 

 (or Bauer's) Lake, another lovely sheet of water that looked 

 charming in its setting of evergreens and drooping bushes 

 that grow nearly all around it to the water's edge. This is a 

 feature of all these upper lakes. A comfortable landing can 

 scarcely be found anyw T here, for the swamp cedars and 

 bushes that overhang the water and the shore lines, save at 

 rare intervals, are matted with broad lily leaves or bordered 

 with rushes that grow in places many yards out into the 

 water. 



After a short breathing spell, necessary to the writer after 

 the sharp pull up the river, we hooked "on a speckled frog 

 aud prepared to fish this lake to see what was in it in the 

 way of sport. 



For the first half mile of slow trolling we could only show 

 two large-mouthed bass of about five pounds for the pair. 

 This could scarcely be called good sport, but we had often 

 fished a whole day together when the total score would not 

 foot up half as well as this, so we were not discouraged. 



The murmur of a little spring brookpromised a cool drink, 

 and pulling the bow of the boat up on a sunken log under 

 the shade of a swamp cedar, we stood up to stretch our legs, 

 leaviug our lines to trail out astern. Scarcely had I dipped 

 up a tin-cup of water from the stream when Dan cried, 

 "Look out Hickory! there she goes," and by the time I had 

 drank my cup of water, and snatched up the rod, which I 

 had left lying across the seat, the fish was twenty yards 

 away. Stopping the reel, the line tightened, and the trouble 

 began, it was a good square fight until I worked bim in 

 near the rushes and grass that here grew out into the lake a 

 couple of yards beyond the stern of the boat; then the scale 

 turned in favor of the bass (we could see him pliinlv), for 

 with a rush he went into the grass, and was out of sight in 

 an instant. A dull tug-tug advised us that the hook still 

 held, and it was only a question of how much grass the line 

 would pull up by the roots, or— break. Reeling up short, a 

 steady, careful pull soon brought to the surface a bunch of 

 grass nearly the size of a bushel basket, and on bringing it 

 alongside and picking it from around the line, a bass of 

 about 31 pounds was uncovered, with the fight as completely 



knocked out of h'.m as though he had never belonged to the 

 family. 



While I was stringing this one Dan struck another, larger 

 than mine, and after a gallant fight he took his place on the 

 stringer with the other three. We took five here in a short 

 time and then pushed on up the lake, not, however, without 

 jotting down the place in our mental notebooks for future 

 reference. 



Not caring to drag a lot of fish to Six-mde Lake aud back, 

 we turned them loose, believing we could take all we wanted 

 for camp going back. From the little brook up to the head 

 of the lake we took half a dozen more and three or four 

 pickerel, but put them all back in the water — the long faces 

 with their necks broken. This lake is about the same size 

 as White's and the general features are much the same. 



At a sharp elbow in the stream connecting with St. Clair's 

 Lake above we passed over a little pool four or five feet 

 deep, and as Davis's dead frog came trailing along on top of 

 the water twenty or thirty feet astern, a large baas strucK it 

 and, after a furious surge or two, leaped straight into 

 air and shook loose. 



This started the blood in the old pelican's veins, and he 

 wanted to stop and teach that bass a lesson ; but, without 

 slacking the sharp speed at which we were going, I promised 

 to stop as we came back and let them have it out. 



With this patched up truce, we pursued our way, and in a 

 few minutes were forcing our boat through a dense mat of 

 lily pads, dotted all over with white, fragrant flowers, out 

 into a quiet little basin of several hundred yards in circum- 

 ference that looked like a beautiful gem encircled with a 

 baud of emerald. As our eyes swept around the line of 

 shore, every branch and twig was reflected in its placid 

 waters witu startling distinctness. It was a perfect picture 

 of quiet and solitude, and as we sat in the oppressive silence 

 a feeling of lonesomeness came over us that we were glad to 

 have dispelled by the discordant ' 'quar-ck" of a blue crane 

 that rose down shore to our left, and winged his heavy flight 

 to the head of the basin and disappeared into what seemed 

 to us a dense wall of woods. 



We could see no way out of the basin, but on pulling a 

 few yards away from the outlet, a narrow strait opened up 

 to the right (the exit of the crane) that led us out into the 

 main body of St. Clair's Lake. This lake is a mile and a 

 half long by about a quarter of a mile wide, with an east and 

 west course. It is a beautiful body of water, and is said to 

 afford good fishing, but we were disappointed in it, as going 

 up and back only added four bass to our score. We stopped 

 at St. Clair's landing, near the head of the lake, to look; at 

 the camping ground we had first intended going to, and to 

 get a di'init out of the famous St. Clair spring we had heard 

 so much about. 



After stretching our legs on J ,he strip of beach I took the 

 tin cup and went in search of the spring, but after looking 

 up and down the shore for some distance, and "thrashing" 

 around through the swamp and ' 'brcsh" for fifty yards along 

 ihe base of the point, I was forced to abandon the search 

 and eo to the house back on the side hid for directions. I 

 was disappointed in not finding Mr. St. Clair at home, as we 

 would have been pleased to make his acquaintance. Telling 

 the gude wife of my fruitless efforts to flnrt the spring, she 

 bade a bright little girl of five or six summers act as guide, 

 and under a running fire of questions and pleasant chatter 

 from the little one, we passed out into the road that ran along 

 the side hill near the spring, ihe present of a bright new 

 dime (the only symptom of money I had with me) and a 

 "thank, you, sir," made us friend's at once, and the con- 

 versation was carried on with renewed vigor. Passing the 

 little barn and outhouses, she pointed out a famous speckled 

 hen, her own, that "laid eggs every day," and a favorite 

 cow was didy praised for the "lots of milk" she save. 



As we thought then of moving our camp up there, a 

 question brought the answer in a very matter of fact man- 

 ner, "Oh, yes! we can let you have some eggs and all the 

 milk you want," and learning I had left a companion in the 

 boat ac the landing, she asked eagerly: "Arc you the 

 gentlemen my papa says are coming here from Cincinnati to 

 camp?" On assuring her we were of the party, she said: 

 "I'm so glad! Campers is so much company for us, and I 

 have been looking for you ever so long. " This was said 

 with an artlessness that fully atoned for the flaw in the 

 grammar. 



Ail this may appear out of pla :e in "a tale of the camp," 

 but the writer's love for pleasant children must be his excuse. 

 The prattle of ths.t little backwoods maiden, who has prob- 

 ably never been ten miles away from the place of her birth, 

 was as good as the reading of a pleasant book, and if this ever 

 meets her eye she will know that old "Kingfisher" fell a will- 

 ing victim to her artless little ways. 



W T e turned from the road into a path that led sidelong 

 down the hillside, and a few yards through the deep shadows 

 of a stately wood brought us to the spring. It was a disap- 

 pointment, after hearing its praises sounded so much. A 

 circular, shallow basin six or seven feet in diameter, nestling 

 under the roots of a tree, water in it a foot deep, the bottom 

 covered with a layer of soft, black mud of unknown depth — 

 this was the famed St. Clair Spring. From the down-hill 

 side a puny little stream, not larger than the butt of a bass- 

 rod, leaked out, and stole noiselessly and stealthily down the 

 hill, and hid itself in the bushes at "the bottom of the ravine, 

 as though ashamed of its littleness. For a "famous" spring 

 something appeared to be lacking. 



I dipped up and drank a pint cup of the water and — 

 changed my mind, It was simply delicious; icy in coldness, 

 and sweet and clear as a dewdrop. I drank another draught, 

 and after a short breathing spell, another, my little friend 

 looking curiously on, and no doubt wondering where it all 

 went to. • 



Filling the cup we retraced our steps to the path that led 

 to the house, where I said good bye to the "little maiden 

 without guile," and hastened on to the boat, where I found 

 Dan slightly impatient and "dryer 'n a whole school o' 

 fish." Durin? my absence he had struck, and lost a heavy 

 fish on my rou because he was unable to use his strap and 

 hook, and on account of the reel working backwards for 

 him when the rod was turned aver, as it had to be when 

 worked with the left hand. 



For the benefit of any Brother of the angle, who may be 

 so unfortunate as to have the use of only one hand, old Dan 

 and I will rest here a few minutes on the little beach, while 

 I describe his tackle and his manner of handbng a fish. 

 He generally uses a single piece Japanese cane rod of good 

 size (a jointed rod may be used as well), 9 or 10 feet long, 

 rather stiff and selected, with an eye to strength and ex- 

 treme toughness. The reel seat is placed 18 or 20 inches 

 from the butt end of the rod, and just back of the reel a J-inch 

 screw-eye is screwed into the rod, or a ring of the same 

 size, the shape- of a wire guide, is wrapped on. A leather 



