146 
FOREST AND STREAM 
within a mile. All south of this is an unbroken marsh, 
deeply .indented with bays, from which blind creeks or 
“sloughs” ramify in every direction. 
Due south of this palmetto point is a low willow island, 
with but a few inches of sand above water, covered with 
nests of heron and snake bird. 
A marsh extends to this island, and south of it is another 
deep bay. Below this island the shore trends southward 
for about eight miles, then the dip is south-east, a desolate 
region, with a low dark line of willows bordering the 
shore. It has a very deceptive appearance, this same shore, 
as various shades from the light of the grass shoals to the 
dark of the willows, make it seem very high, and the trav¬ 
eler is only disenchanted by a close inspection. 
About thirty miles south by west of Kissimmee is the 
only island in the lake affording foothold to man. It is 
one and a half miles long and four miles from the south¬ 
west shore. It runs north-west and south-east, and is dry 
upon its eastern or lake side, and marshy on the western, 
or shore side. It is no where more than a foot above the 
level of the water, a dry sand ridge covered with India 
rubber, ash and sweet bay, with a few paw-paws in fruit 
and flower. Nearly half an acre, at one end was covered 
with vines of the wild gourd. Upon both sides and at 
either end is a thick growth of willow, with some cypress. 
The northern end is covered with the dark vines of the 
ipomea, in which hundreds of white herons and spoonbills 
have built their nests. From a tall cypress, here, the shore 
can be traced for many miles, nothing but marsh and 
marsh for miles, with a few palmettos, spurs from the main 
ridge some five miles back. Due south of this island is a 
sand beach a mile in length covered with large cypress. It 
is but thirty feet wide, backed by interminable marsh. 
Some rare minute fossil shells were found here. A bay two 
.miles deep is found south of this point, and thence the 
shore trends south-east. The course from point to point is 
due east. There are three projecting joints from the 
main marsh of this, the southern end of Lake Okeechobee, 
covered with a vegetation strikingly different from that 
of the western and northern shores. It is here that the 
water filters through the grassy, marshy rim to the south. 
The low custard apple is the only tree here. Joint grass 
and lilies are thickly filled in, the whole forming a mass 
easily permeated by the water. The lake terminates in 
three great bays, from five to six miles in depth, curving 
easterly. If there are any streams leading out of them, 
they are not navigable, or even discernable. Nearly oppo¬ 
site the island before mentioned, Fisli-eating Creek comes 
in, a large creek in some places, but not navigable for our 
boat. Fort Center, a military post in the last Indian war, 
was six miles from the lake upon this creek. 
After this succession of bays and marshy points the shore 
suddenly turns northward, and vegetation assumes a different 
appearance. Cypress appear here and there, and a thick 
sprinkling of ash and palmetto. Alout four miles from 
the commencement of the northward dip the shore turns 
north-east.' Three miles south of this curve is a group of 
three islands, about two miles in length. They curve 
from south to north-east, and are nearly submerged, only 
covered with ash, apparently, *and low willows. At this 
curve in the main shore ends the Everglades, and com¬ 
mences a cypress belt that extends north-east for thirty 
miles. The beach here is composed of disintegrated shells, 
and there are many species of salt water shells thrown up¬ 
on the shore. Fragments of coquina, also vrere found 
here. There were tracks of coons and rabbits here, the 
first seen since leaving the north-west shore. Moccasin 
snakes were unusually plentiful, and unwound themselves 
from nearly every fallen tree. 
A belt of cypress, in which is mingled all the trees men¬ 
tioned as occurring in the hammocks of the north-west 
shore, backs this white shell beach, the only breaks in 
which, to within two miles of the Kissimmee are, first a 
deep sound, fifteen miles south-east of the Kissimmee, and 
a bay two miles from that river. This latter bay so much 
resembles that of the Kissimmee that it will puzzle one 
unless he examines it thoroughly. 
Taylor’s Creek, and another smaller, empties into the 
lake within ten miles of the Kissimmee, but their channels 
are so choked with water lettuce and lilies that an experi¬ 
enced eye is required to discern them. 
The lake is about forty miles long, by twenty-five in 
width. In length, the greatest from the mouth of the 
Kissimmee south east, in breadth, near the centre. It is 
very shallow and grass shoals extend for miles into the 
lake. No where did we find a greater depth than twelve feet. 
In fish Okeechobee-is deficient; such is the violence of the 
storms thm-e, and such the shallowness of the lake, that it 
is often stirred to its very centre, and no fish of ordinary 
mould can survive such a stirring up. The fish-food, also, 
the Crustacea, etc., is scarce. Alligators are not so numer¬ 
ous as one would expect, except in the lagoons and at the 
creek-mouths. Birds are not abundant, with exception of 
the fish hawk, crying birds, snake bird and heron. A com¬ 
plete list of the birds will be sent for next number. 
During all our voyage we saw but one man beside our 
party, and the only evidence of any people ever having 
lived here was in the discovery of the remains of two vil¬ 
lages, the houses sunken to the ground, and the plantations 
overrun with the wild growth of the swamp. 
This was upon the east shore, eleven miles east of the 
Kissimmee River. Bananas, paw-paws, sugar cane and 
guavas were growing here in wild luxuriance. These vil¬ 
lages belonged to a portion of the Okeechobee tribe of Sem- 
inoles, now living in the “Big Cypress,” south-west of 
Lake Okeechobee. Fred Beverly. 
For Forest and Stream. 
A DAY ON THE RACQUETTE—TUPPER 
LAKE AND BOG RIVER. 
W E were stopping at Corey’s Lodge, at the foot 
of the Upper Saranac, during the early part of No¬ 
vember last. One morning, the bright sun shining in 
our window awoke us; it was a pleasure to see its cheerful 
gleams once more after a two days’ rain and snow storm. 
Scraping some of the frost work from our windows we 
saw that it was a good day for a hunt, and, although there 
were one or two ominous clouds in the sky, we were soon 
dressed, and sitting down to our breakfast of wilderness 
luxuries. We decided to have a hunt on Racquette River 
that day, and accordingly we started with guides and 
hounds across the Indian Carry about eight o’clock. 
After an easy walk of a mile we arrived at the Spectacle 
Ponds, where we took boats, and under the swift strokes 
of bur guides passed rapidly through the ponds and down 
the winding Stony Creek until we entered the famous 
Racquette. The starter now went off with the hounds, 
and we proceeded up the river. I was stationed about a 
mile above the rest of the party, on a runway by the river 
bank. My guide had taken the boat down stream to his 
watch ground, and if I fired he was to come up. All this 
time the clouds had been getting more ominous, and it soon 
commenced to snow. I stood the cold as long as I could, 
and then looked around for materials for a fire; alas, every¬ 
thing was wet from the late storm, and I had expended 
half my matches trying to start a blaze, when t o my joy I 
saw a dead birch not far off, and with the bark of this I 
managed to get a fire started. Deer or no deer I must keep 
warm. I kept my cheerless watch until about three o’clock, 
when I heard “Old Sport” down below. The snow beat 
against my ears so that I could not tell how far off he was, 
but it seemed as if he must be near the others, which 
proved to be the case, for my uncle’s rifle soon cracked 
upon the air; two more shots followed, when suddenly I 
heard another hound coming over an adjacent mountain, 
and telling his sweet story in loud tones. This meant busi¬ 
ness, and I awaited anxiously the coming of the deer. 
Nearer and nearer came the hound, but he seemed to be 
driving the deer to the water farther up stream. I was dis¬ 
appointed, for I feared that he might swim straight across 
and thus be lost. I eagerly scanned the river, but the snow 
came down so thickly that I could see but a short distance. 
Just as I was beginning to give up, I suddenly saw some¬ 
thing dark on the face of the water; it approached rapidly, 
and developed itself into a head with a fine pair of antlers. 
I stood perfectly rigid, and just as he came opposite me I 
quickly raised my gun and fired. He gave a tremendous 
leap, but kept on. I must kill him with my next, or he 
would be lost. He was making for the opposite shore, and 
I knew that when he shook the water off would be the 
best chance. When he reached the shore the noble fellow 
paused a moment and looked back, as if to see whether 
pursued or not. That delay was fatal to him. Bang went 
my left, and after another spring he lay motionless on the 
water. The swift current carried him off, and I had to 
wait patiently for help to appear in the boat. Ed., my 
guide, soon made his appearance, rowing rapidly up; he 
saw the deer and lifted it into his boat. I was heartily glad 
to get in, too, and start for home, for I was all wet with 
the snow and sleet, and my heels ached as if frozen, which 
proved to be the case. After- rowing for awhile we over¬ 
took my companion. He had secured a nice buck fawn 
for his day’s work. When the snow had set in I had given 
up all hope of sport, but our host had a fine pack of 
hounds, and they distinguished themselves. It was after 
dark when we reached the lodge, and with dry clothes on 
we did justice to our bountifully prepared meal, and re¬ 
tired for the night. We awoke the next morning to find it 
still snowing. 
During the fall in the Adirondacks you can only reckon 
on half the week for hunting; the rest is snow and rain 
and sometimes it storms for three or four days in succes¬ 
sion, but to our pleasure the next day proved fair, and 
we broke camp and again crossed the Indian Carry and 
embarked. We passed rapidly down the beautiful Rac¬ 
quette for about twenty-five miles, each turn of the river 
developing some new beauty, until in the distance we heard 
the roar of the waves on Tupper Lake. We had been 
afraid of this, as there was a very high wind, and when we 
arrived at the lake we saw that it would be dangerous to 
navigate. Near by was Moodey’s forest resort, and as it 
would not do to go farther with the lake so rough my uncle 
and I took a stroll off for grouse. We travelled about half 
a mile from the house, and succeeded in baggina five birds 
when we beard the whistle of our guide, and striking a 
path we followed it back down the mountain to the house. 
We met Ed., who informed us that the wind had died 
down, and that it would be after dusk ere we reached the 
head of the lake, seven miles distant. In fact, is was get¬ 
ting dusky when we started. Our destination was what 
was formerly Grave’s, now the Lake Side House. About 
eight o’clock we ran up on the shore of the little bay in 
front of this, and groped our way in the darkness to 
the house. We retired soon after supper, ordering an early 
call in the morning. 
We embarked about seven o’clock, and proceeded about 
a mile to the head of the lake. Here the Bog River Falls, 
as 
ls they pour their waters into the still lake, make a 1 
tiful picture. We carried above the falls, and then^' 
ceeded up the river. My guide and I were to go to R ^ 
Pond, near Little Tupper Lake; so we proceeded u 
branch stream until we came to the three mile carry yy- ° 
the slush and mud and fallen trees the way was a hard ^ 
but at length, from the top of a hill, the pond lay 
us. We had expected to find a boat there belonging tf) " 
host, but not. a boat did we find. Here was a'pretty fT 
With a large pond like this a deer had a hundred cliano^ 
of getting off. To add to our vexation, we heard a h 0 !! 
off to the right. There was nothing to do but to star ° 
the shore and watch, and as it was very cold we com 
menced to build a fire. I had but just got a blaze when 
Ed. rushed up and threw’- his overcoat over the fire which 
immediately put it out. “Don’t you see that deer over 
there,” he said. I looked, and there was a head movino- 
across the pond in our direction. It seemed to me, in my 
excitement, that there was a fine pair of horns on it- hut 
no, it was a doe. To our chagrin, her line brought her out 
of gunshot; however, just as she was opposite, I fi red 
making the water boil around her, but at sixty rods mv 
shot gun was of little use. 
The point of land she was making for we thought we 
might possibly reach before she did, so leaping over large 
trees that were fallen for almost an eighth of a mile, we 
plunged and rushed desperately on. There was no time to 
lose, and I rolled on the ground almost dead with my terri¬ 
ble exertions. I saw the deer mount on a high rock near 
the shore; at the same time Ed. fired. The doe tottered a 
few steps, then fell to rise no more; Ed. had fixed her flint 
We had to leave her until later in the day, when a man 
came down in the missing boat, which we soon monopo¬ 
lized, and stowed our deer away. We saw nothing the 
remainder of the day, and leaving the deer in an abandoned 
hut, to be called for, we returned to the lodge. The next 
day we decided to return, and with lively strokes we went 
through Tupper Lake, stopping now and then to knock 
over some of the many ducks, both black and mallard, that 
were around us. At evening we arrived back at Corey’s, 
and with another day of hunting, with good success, we 
decided to return home before the ice of winter closed the 
lakes, and the snow housed the people of that northern 
clime. Charles H. Crow. 
r 
For Forest and Stream 
PERPLEXITIES AGAIN. 
ND next, Oh, Editor ! we have the gentle Thaddeus 
mildly “reaching for” the scalp of a musty old ich¬ 
thyologist or two, and bemourning our cherished American 
habit of giving a thing, particularly an old well-known fish, 
a new name or a wrong one every time we happen to see-it 
in a new place. But is lie not a little wrong, or rather 
hardly half right when he states that the red and yellow 
bellied perch with larger mouth than the “sunny” is known 
in the south as “bream,” when nine times in ten he is called 
the “war-mouth” perch, or simply perch, and when spoken 
of as bream at all it is always as the yellow bream to dis¬ 
tinguish him from the true or blue bream, another larger 
and better fish ? 
It is a mystery of the first water how these two fish could 
ever have been regarded as varieties of the same genus, 
when really the yellow fellow is a perch of the perahmt 
type, predatory as a bass and with ventral fins hinged to 
his skeleton at the shoulders, while the bream, is clearly a 
carp with ventrals set well aft on his abdomen, is good 
friends with all the. small fry in his neighborhood, wont 
even turn up his nose at a fly, believes in the “Diet of 
worms,” but is in all other respects a vegetarian. 
Like most vegetarians, his endurance is limited and Ins 
powers of resistance to the eloquent importunings and con¬ 
stant persuasion of a sharply bowed -rod are similar to those 
of “Rip Van Winkle,” when he agrees that “this one don t 
count,” but while the fight does last he can roll more line 
promiscuously around his own body and all the neighbor¬ 
ing stumps, and rush frantically in more different directions 
all at once than any fish of his ounces that this subscribe! 
has ever tackled. It is true that his ounces are not numer¬ 
ous, rarely more than ten or twelve, but he is very numer¬ 
ous himself in such rivers as the Edisto, Ogeeckee an 
others of similar character. He is of burnished metallic 
blue color when first taken out, but the lustre rapidly fa cs 
as his interest in the proceedings dies out. He is nearly as 
broad as long, and when his dorsal is removed after bioi 
ing, his entire anatomy splits out and he falls into tw° 
luscious boneless royal halves. Judging from his toot 1 ^ 
someness, his great fecundity, non-predatory habits ant 
vegetable diet, I should recommend him highly as a 
valuable food-fish for culture. 
While Mr. Norris is thinking up some more hard name 
to hurl at the ugly head of Lucio-perca, (and he hasmo 
mentioned the half of the aliases which our ravenous rien 
uses to obscure his own identity, when laboring to win 
confidence of a plump but shy minnow who refuses to con 
out of the high grass into deep water and be devoute , 
will tell you of how I have “many a time and oft assis ^ 
in taking friend lucio in out of the wetness of the T enrias ® 
River in that famous fishing place in the passage o 
river through the Cumberland Mountains just below ^ 
tanooga, where the avuncular Samuel of Washington ^ 
recently been spending some of Iris hard-earned do a1 ^ ^ 
improving or ruining, as the case may be, thenaviga- 1 _ 
the fishing. The length of the gorge measured on t e 
zag is about twenty miles, height of mountains eleven 
