180 
FOREST AND STREAM 
For Forest and Stream. 
TO THE SNOW. 
O N the ground the snow is lying, 
Flake with flake in whiteness vieing, 
And the wind is softly sighing 
Thro’ the trees in sweetness rare. 
In the heavens’ azure lining, 
Myriad golden stars are shining, 
And a sweetness and completeness 
Inter-penetrates the air. 
When the night in shadow steeping 
The world, and all its silent sleeping 
Life that late so gay was leaping 
In the waves of sunlight bright; 
Then tne snow sends up its greeting 
To the stars, that answer peeping, 
And its whiteness and their brightness 
Thrill the being of the night. 
I wonder if the snow is thinking— 
As it lies there, silent, drinking 
In the rays that seem fast linking 
It unto those starry eyes— 
Of the time when spring’s warmth surging, 
Shall supply the needed urging 
That will thrill it thro’, and fill it 
With the strength to reach the skies 1 
When, once more, a cloud careering, 
With the lightning brightly peering 
From its eyes, a pathway clearing 
That the thunderbolts be rolled; 
Or, with loveliness o’er-creaming, 
Floateth in the sunset, dreaming, 
While the sun laves with his bright waves 
All the world in red and gold. Transit. 
- -+++■ - 
<J |utuml history. 
For Forest and Stream. 
TAKE CARE OF THE TOADS—“ARLING¬ 
TON NED.” 
Y ES, take care of the toad; that homely old toad that 
is such a very familiar fellow, and who is always to be 
found waiting for my appearance in the garden. This old 
fellow has been an inhabitant of my garden for quite a 
number of years. When I first made his acquaintance he 
was quite small, but he has grown considerably every year 
for the past seven years, and now he is quite a large sized, 
well developed toad. And this toad is by no means a toady; 
he is not a fawning scycophant; he means to get his morn¬ 
ing quota of worms honestly, and see how his bright, in¬ 
telligent eye shines as I hold up to his view a nice, large, 
plump earth worm. Look! he lifts his head, winks his 
little bright eyes rapidly, and confidently hops up to my 
very feet. How patiently he awaits my giving him his ac¬ 
customed “morning worm.” There is no toadyism in the 
character of my toad. “Ned,” as I call him, puts on no 
airs; he is the same old toad to-day, the same honest, per¬ 
severing “worm killer” this year that he was when we first 
became acquainted on one fine morning in the April of 
1867. Ever since—from about the 1st to the 10th of April 
in each year—Ned has made his annual appearance in my 
Arlington garden as regularly as the year rolls round. He 
is sure to come from a certain portion of my grounds, and 
one little fact of natural, historical interest, or animal in¬ 
stinct, whichever you please to call it, is quite sure to place 
him before me fresh, bright, and winking either under the 
large hemlock, or beneath the foot limbs of my Norway 
spruce grove, or in the serpentine border walks among the 
tall yucca leaves. Yes, “Old Ned,” as I call him now, is 
sure to turn up at this time, and very nearly in one of these 
places. Now it is worthy of a thought to just know where 
he emerges from, and where he makes his winter home. 
He seems to know that he is not recognized as a toady, but 
welcomed as an old friend, for he comes forth with as much 
confidence in the goodness of human nature as the latest 
elected member of Congress. I was about to say that in 
other comparisons the similarity would hold good, but I 
forbear. I would not do even an animal as humble and 
useful as thou art, Ned, the injustice to carry out the com¬ 
parison, for thou art an honest, true old toad. To pass 
from this slight digression, and return to this useful animal 
in the garden, no lover of good things will ever wantonly 
injure even the homely toad; and while he is pleased to 
encourage the building of nests by his pet feathered 
friends amid the branches and boughs of the trees over¬ 
head, let him not forget the “speckled bellied” or “white 
bellied” toads that hop so confidently about at the roots, 
snapping up the big and little bugs and worms which he 
finds in this good location. Every insect was made for a 
wise purpose, and by the way that Ned gobbles them up I 
am verily inclined to think that they were made to fill a 
place in the economy of life for the especial purpose of 
filling up Ned’s stomaah. Could any of our readers on 
some clear, still morning see Ned picking up the worms 
and bugs, they would fancy they could almost hear his 
mouth snap, so rapidly does he open and shut it when mak¬ 
ing his early breakfast. In all soberness of narration and 
carefulness of observation I have counted forty worms and 
some ten or more large bugs and larvae of insects disposed 
of by him at one breakfast. Just as soon as he has fin¬ 
ished his breakfast he retires beneath the shade of his hem¬ 
lock tree, and near the base of a flat stone gives himself 
over to meditation, 1 presume. Here he remains until late 
in the afternoon, or until hungry again, when he com¬ 
mences his hopping tour about the garden. 
Ned is certainly an intelligent individual of the toad spe¬ 
cies. He is fond of music, and accident first revealed to 
our family his appreciation of it. It was nearly evening, 
and a lady of the family was singing to piano accompani¬ 
ment, when we looked from the front door of the house, 
down the extreme length of the walk, and saw Ned hop¬ 
ping along the gravel walk approaching the house. The 
peculiar movements, and his liveliness, attracted particular 
attention. “Where is Ned bound to in such haste?” said 
one. The mystery was soon solved. Straight to the 
steps of the front door Ned approached, halting not until 
he had gained the lower stair. Here he sat and listened, 
apparently to the music, with as much devotion and atten¬ 
tion as any one of the party. Emboldened by the kind 
treatment he received, or his love of the sweet concord, he 
hopped upon the top step of the door, and approached into 
the very hall. Here he sat quiet and dignified, and lis¬ 
tened until the music ceased, when he turned himself about 
and hopped back a part of the length of the walk. The 
music was repeated, and Ned again returned to his old po¬ 
sition of an attentive listener upon the steps. This was 
three times repeated on this evening, and at many times 
afterwards this same love for music was manifested by 
him. The question that this veritable fact leaves with my 
readers is, “Are toads lovers of music; are they net to a 
certain extent reasoning animals?” 
Ned, as usual, made his first appearance for this season, 
lively and well, his eyes bright and twinkling, on the morn¬ 
ing of April 14, 1874. L. Wyman. 
—There is a fish preserved in the College of Surgeons, 
London, which has another fish in its stomach, and that 
another fish in its stomach, and so on to the number of 
four. 
DO QUAIL WITHHOLD THEIR SCENT? 
Suffern, N. Y., April 17, 1874. 
Editor Forest and Stream:— 
Being a constant reader of your valuable paper, and reading the many 
and varied opinions of different sportsmen in relation to the quail and 
their scent, the power of withholding it, &c., prompts me to send you my 
views on the subject—views that may not be accepted by the many, but 
to a few who, like myself, have carefully studied the bird and its habits, 
have formed their opinions from actual observation. 
It is a well known fact that a wet bird, or a dead one, a running bird, 
or a wounded one, and a bird that has not been disturbed (except a 
“setting” one), are easily found by a good dog, whilst a bird upon being 
hunted soon after it has “lighted” (after flushing) is very hard for the 
dog to scent. Now, taking the above as undisputed facts, I shall try and 
show how and why this is so, and with the simple declaration that the 
scent of the bird is in its body, I’ll endeavor to prove it, as this fact, if 
sustained, covers the whole question. A frightened bird sits closely to 
ground, its feathers lying smoothly and compactly on its person; it 
breathes carefully, gently, ah! so gently as scarcely to disturb a feather. 
Look at it closely. Were it not for its position and that sparkling eye, 
you would pronounce it dead. No motion there; all is “death in life.” 
Your setter on a point was never so still as that, although his breath was 
suspended for a long time, and he looked more like a statue than old 
Dash—Oh 1 no. And do you wonder now, after seeing this bird, why the 
dog can’t get the scent? It cannot work through those closely fitting 
feathers until the regular breathing of the bird is strong enough to make 
the lungs expand and the body, and with it the opening of the feathers; 
then, and not till then, can the dog scent game. 
A “setting” bird, by reason of its regular, gentle breathing, is difficult 
for the dog to scent; still, by reason of its elevation, caused by the eggs, 
together with the odor arising from the nest, any good dog will, if 
close enough, and having fair wind, not only scent, but point, such 
birds. I have seen it done many times. A bird in motion (running), by 
the action of its muscles and limbs, allows the scent to escape freely. A 
wet bird, by reason of the steam arising from its body,passes off readily. 
A wounded one, through its wound and pain incident thereto, breathes 
heavily, and the bird, before dying, in its struggle for life, in its long in¬ 
halations and respirations, causes the feathers to expand wider and 
wider, until tbey stand nearly upright, and in death they do not regain 
their “fitness” to the body. So that each and all of these four throw off 
scent sufficient to enable the dog to find them without much trouble. 
And now, being at the bottom of my paper, I have only to add that, 
whether the above meets with the assent or dissent of any of my 
brother sportsmen, I care not, for I don’t get a cent for putting them on 
the right scent. I have the honor to be, 
Very respectfully yours, E. b. Wanmaker. 
DO QUAIL EAT CHINCH BUGS? 
Lawrence, Kan., April 14, 1874. 
Editor Forest and Stream.— 
You may think the above a curious question to ask, but believe me 
there is much more importance attached to it than you may at first 
think for, and for this reason: Quail are very plenty in this State, and 
it is the earnest desire of every true sportsman to keep them so. 
Unfortunately, the laws of the State permit the trapping or netting of 
them on one’s own premises. The result of this is, that thousands are 
every season brought into market here or shipped abroad. 
During last season they were brought into this market in such quanti¬ 
ties as to become a perfect drag, selling at 40c. to 50c. per dozen, and at 
one point in southern Kansas one man alone bought and shipped over 
8,000 quail and some 7,000 grouse (pinnated), very few, if any, of which 
were shot, but all netted or trapped. Of course the result of such 
wholesale destruction can but be one thing—the utter extermination of 
them throughout the State. Already its effects are noticeable in locali¬ 
ties where we have heretofore made our best bags, it being a difficult 
matter now to find a single bevy, where they used to be in the greatest 
abundance. 
Deeply impressed with the necessity of putting a stop to guch an out¬ 
rageous course, ere it be too late, a few of us have endeavored, through 
our representatives, to have the law changed; and this brings me to my 
point. We are met at once with the hue and cry “that we sportsmen 
want to shoot all the birds,” and (mark the inconsistency of the thing) 
“the quail destroy the chinch bugs! and therefore the shooting of them 
should not be allowed.” Mind you, nothing is said about the thousands 
that are netted. Oh, no; it is not the netting that,, is doing the mischief, 
but the shooting that is destroying so many of these public benefactors, 
who amuse themselves by eating up so many chinch bugs, whereas any 
one knows that one net can do more damage in the course of a season 
than twenty guns. But this is not the point I am after. 
Do Quail ever eat Chinch Bugs? That is the question we would like 
decided, and to that end we would not only like your own individual 
opinion, but also that of our other brother sportsmen in general. It has 
been our opinion always that it was the food on which the different 
kinds of game fed, that gave to their flesh the flavor in many cases so 
highly esteemed ( e. g. canvas-backs and celery). We can, therefore, 
hardly reconcile ourselves to the belief that our little friends take much 
stock in the chinch bug. Just think of it—quail flavored with chinch 
bugs! Ye gods! what a calumny on the best little bird that flies. 
By helping us to decide this question you may enable us to silence our 
antagonists’ guns, ou this one point anyway. Whether we shall ever be 
able to spike them on the netting business, time alone can determine. 
The general law you advocate for the whole United States, would do 
the business effectually, and most earnestly do we bid it God speed; it i 8 
just what we want. 
In closing, allow me to ask if you did not make an error in your table 
of “Close Seasons,” in reference to this State? Our close is from March 
1st to August 1st, and so on, not, vice versa , as it reads. Truly y<ni rs 
_ . E— 
We are wholly in the dark as to the question asked. Perhaps our 
friends of the West Jersey Game Protective Society can answer, inas¬ 
much as they are engaged in breeding quail.— Ed. 
-- 
Toronto, April 11 ,1874 
Editor Forest and Stream:— 
In one of your numbers I noticed a short account of a trout which 
contained within it a tape worm, which recalled a similar fact of which 
I was witness. About ten years ago I spent a week at Des Joachins, 40 
miles above Pembroke on the Upper Ottawa, in the beginning of June 
I took possession of a deserted lumber shanty at Presque Isle, a few 
miles below Des Joachims, and made daily visits to the little lakes three 
or four miles back from the river, where I found very good trouting. 
At Teapot Lake the fish were very abundant, ranging from half pound 
to two pounds weight. On opening them 1 found a large number I 
think the majority, infested with tape worms, about i inch wide and 
from 12 to 14 inches long. We were not deterred, however, from using 
the trout freely as food, but of course we were very careful in cleaning 
them. Our party of four partook of them daily and without any disa¬ 
greeable consequences. 
This is the only time when I noticed this occurrence, although I have 
had very considerable experience in trouting in Canada, from Cape Bre¬ 
ton to Thunder Bay. Yours truly, Jas. W. Richardson 
- - : -- ' 
Editor Forest and Stream:— 
Your Philadelphia correspondent, A. M. S., asks through your journal 
the proper name for the fish he describes, and says it is popularly known 
as the fall fish in Maryland. 
He refers to the chub fall fish. ( Leucusnomus nothus ,) very common in 
all the streams flowing into the Schuylkill and also in the river itself, and 
often growing to sixteen and eighteen inches in length. 
I have taken it with a fly in Cobb and Crum Creeks, Delaware county, 
on bright days in spring and summer, and it affords considerable amuse¬ 
ment when one wishes to give an afternoon to a remembrance of trout 
fishing. 
They are flat and muddy in taste and very inferior table fish. 
_ _ Homo. 
CENTRAL PARK M ENAGERIE. 
Department of Public Parks, I 
New York. April 26, 1874. ’ j 
Animals received at Central Park Menagerie for the week ending 
April 25, 1874: 
Three Australian Cranes, Orus Australasiana. 
One Jaguar, Felis onca. Hdb. South America. 
S™ \ j 
This Journal is the Official Organ of the Fish Cultur- 
ists’ Association. 
—Mr. H. H. Thomas, of Randolph, New York, has on 
hand several hundred thousand trout fry at his “Trout 
Grove” establishment, and is laying out his grounds for a 
pleasure park at large expense. Mr. Randolph is half 
owner of the Trout Grove Fishery,” and of the “Hills” 
and “Crystal Springs Fisheries,” and superintendent of all. 
We shall soon give a description of these works. 
\V Washington, D. C., April 11, 1874. 
Editor Forest and Stream:— 
Your opinion is respectfully requested by many amateur 
sportsmen of this district on the following” statement: In 
February last some 30,000 young salmon were placed in 
the small tributaries of the Potomac for the purpose of 
.propagating that valuable fish and stocking our river with 
it. It was authentically stated at the time that the fish thus 
placed in the upper streams would not return in fit order 
and of proper weight to be caught in less than four years. 
Now, a friend of mine, an old and experienced Scotchman, 
who is thoroughly acquainted with, the whole matter of 
propagating and preserving salmon in the rivers of Scot¬ 
land, has told me that salmon spawned in winter come back 
from the sea as grilse weighing from four to seven pounds. 
The second season they come back as spawning salmon. 
Can you explain this enormous discrepancy on any ration¬ 
al principles? The fish placed in the Potomac are three 
inches long, and yet, the fish spawned in Scotland, at the 
same season of the year, come to maturity in half the time 
that we are led to expect from our new brood of Potomac 
salmon. Is it because the Scotland fish are nearer the sea? 
Or do they gain any advantage from the ocean currents 
caused by the gulf stream? Or is there some other hidden 
solution to this, (as it seems to me,) interesting conundrum? 
An answer in your columns to one or all of the above 
questions will greatly oblige many of your constant readers. 
Yours respectfully, C. E. T. 
[Your Scotchman is right as to the salmon returning in 
three years. They return in three years in this country. It 
is an experiment, and may be a success and may not. If 
they come they will come in three years. Whoever said to 
the contrary did not know anything about it. If the salmon 
come back in the spring, when the rivers are filled with 
shad nets, they will find a hard road to travel.— Ed.] 
—The following letter throws additional light upon the 
grayling subject. Bit by bit we are picking up what we 
seek to know, and before another year passes we trust the 
grayling and ourselves will be no strangers:— 
St. Dennis Hotel, April 27, 1874. 
^Editor Forest and Stream:— 
I have read with interest Mr. Fred. Mather’s graphic ac¬ 
count of his successful expedition transmitting the lively 
“grayling” from Michigan to his ponds at Honeoye Falls- 
lie mentions “Tennyson” as probably taking poetic license 
in associating the speckled trout and grayling as inhabitants 
of the same stream. I can vouch for the correctness of our 
Poet Laureate, as the Clyde in Scotland is plentifully stock¬ 
ed with both fish, who seem to live harmoniously together, 
and having different resources prolong the fisherman’s sport 
upon that beautiful stream. 
The VV est of Scotland Angling Club, some twenty years 
ago, conceived the idea of introducing grayling from Derby¬ 
shire, in England, into the Clyde, which was carried out 
most successfully by introducing the fish from ponds com- 
muicating with the river—after Having acclimatized them— 
experience there having borne out the statement of Sir 
Humphrey Davy “that they are apt to migrate down 
rather than up stream.” It would therefore be advisable to 
