44 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



(Feb. 14, 1884. 



WINTER FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 



FROM boyhood I have always loved to sit before the fire and 

 let tuy thoughts stray at will, and the habit has so 

 strengthened with years.thtit to-night finds me in the old place, 

 indulging in fireside fancies with as much enjoyment as ever. 

 It has been a very dull day; there was something in the 

 air that seemed to depress one, the still atmosphere indicat- 

 ing snow. Even toy little friends the snowbirds were not 

 in their usual good spirits, but twittered in a chill, comfort- 

 less tone, as they rummaged about among the spruce and 

 arbor vitses, and the scrunch, scrunch, of the gravel under 

 their feet seemed to voice the general depression reigning in 

 the outside world. But here we are at last before the grate, 

 the fights turned out, doors shut, curtains drawn, and only 

 the dull red {flare of the coals to keep company with our 

 thoughts. How complete is the satisfaction to sit here in 

 the silence thi stormy night, and listen to the swirling gusts 

 outside as they dash the little snow fairies in a mad race 

 through the air. One can imagine he hears the beat of their 

 tiny feet against the window panes, and their complaint as 

 they drive off again in the darkness. 



The heavy curtains seem instinct with life, and now and 

 again sway forward, as some furious blast forces a little of 

 its wild nature between the sashes. The wind rose gradually ; 

 a long drawn sigh which swept up the chimney gave the 

 first intirua.iou that the wild uproar now raging without 

 was about to begin. The fire is burning slowly down, and 

 now and then settles with a husky little' murmur, while little 

 spurts of pale blue iiame run about over it in response to the 

 intermittent draughts as the gale roars around the house. 

 The lights and shadows play through the room, and touch 

 here and there upon the forms of many of my specimens, each 

 one^ bringing to mind the scene and incidents of its capture. 



There on the bookcase sits an immense snowy owl, the 

 pride of my collection. His wings are extended, and his 

 great yellow eyes gleam in the fire light as he bends slightly 

 forward as thougn about to dash at. me. He met his death 

 one bright October afternoon in this wise: It had been too 

 warm and calm for shooting, and about two o'clock I voted 

 to take up the decoys and return to the shanty. While 

 quietly poling along in my punty, I espied his lordship on 

 the marsh some distance ahead, and made up my mind to stalk 

 him if possible, so carefully shoving into the seda-e, I crawled 

 ashore. Finding concealment was out of the question, the 

 meadow grass being too short, I rose and walked slowly 

 toward him. He was sitting with his back to me, hut with 

 that quick twist which only an owl can give and not dis- 

 locate its neck, he turned his head and looked back at me 

 directly over his shoulders, those fierce eyes of his glaring at 

 me (I must confess with more expression than now), fron; 

 out their circle of snow white feathers. His bill was snapping 

 like a pair of castanets as I approached until nearly within 

 guu shot, when he spread his great white wings and with 

 Ins head still turned toward me, seemed to be awaiting my 

 next move. Pausing a moment I enjoyed the picture, only 

 for a moment, however, for with a bound he started at once 

 into the air. I turned loose both barrels almost on the 

 instant, although with but slight hopes of grassing him at 

 such a distance. As luck would have it, a single pellet cut 

 the tendons of his right wing close in to the body, causing it 

 to double back, and down he came with a rush, Without 

 stopping to reload my gun 1 ran toward him, but to my sur- 

 prise (I cannot say delight), he advanced to meet me with a 

 series of gigantic flops which soon closed the little space 

 between us, and before I could strike him he had me, driv- 

 ing his long black talons through my overalls and deep into 

 the heavy wading boots underneath. After a short but care- 

 ful skirmish 1 managed to get hold of the tips of his wings, 

 and soon secured the old fellow under the hatch of the punty, 

 where he vented his rage in shredding the strip of oiled 

 canvas rent from my overalls in his first onslaught, and 

 wickedly^ clutched in the struggle that followed. 



But are those eyes bent on me? As I follow the direction 

 of their glances, I see the form of a green-winged teal cower- 

 ing close iu the dancing shadows. Pretty little fellow, he 

 was stopped on his way south one autumn, h« was such a 

 little jewel of a duck, and those sturdy little wings of his 

 slipped him along so fast that he had nearly escaped me. 



The dusky form of a coot (craw duck, biue peter or what- 

 ever you will, gentlemen) stalks close beside the big owl. 

 Not because I especially admire this specimen did Ipreseive 

 him, but his form reminds me of how often 1 have lost 

 patience with Ihese same blue peters, as they rafted by 

 thousands just out of shot, luring the fowl from my decoys. 



Across the room, almost indistinguishably in the gloom 

 which surrounds him, stands a huge black-backed gull. I 

 killed him iu a driving snowstorm, and well I remember 

 what a prize he was. lie undertook a short cut across the 

 point on his way down one evening, and the rest of his 

 story was told by the happy lad who with numbed fin- 

 gers gathered him in. Other feathered beauties there are 

 around me, some of them bringing up thoughts of the fra- 

 grant woods, and again in imagination sweet notes ring out 

 from their graceful throats. 



But time has flown with our reverie, and the little people 

 who live in the soot on the back of the fireplace have 

 lighted their In uterus as the fire dies, and we see theni travel- 

 ing hack and fourth in the dark, and now, the last one hav- 

 ing put out Ins light, let us take the hint so prettily given 

 and ourselves retire. Wilmot. 



MAJOR JOSEPH VERITY. 



SOME OF TIJS SPORTING ADVENTURES, AS MODESTLY SET 

 FORTH BY HIS OWN HAND. 



Chapter VI. 



IF any who has been interested iu the plain unvarnished 

 accounts of my experience has wondered that 1 have 

 not continued them, I can only T say r that I have suffered the 

 common lot of all earthly things; in short, have grown old. 

 I find it difficult to remember with sufficient distinctness the 

 events of my past life to record them with that accuracy of 

 detail and strict adherence to truth which above all things 

 I prizu. Particularly iu this respect do I find myself em- 

 barrassed concerning those tilings which have occurred since 

 1 havfe approached and passed the period where it was or- 

 dained that the days of man should end. Of them I write 

 with hesitation, though what I saw and was a part of in my 

 prime is as vividly' impressed upon my miud as-these words 

 upon the page before me; and furthermore, concerning such 

 matters of the long past, I feel that I have net fallen into 

 the common error of age, which is to exaggerate the exploits 

 of youth, and magnify the wonders of bygone times. If of 

 late affairs 1 seem to the readers at times to verge on the 

 improbable, though never I trust on the impossible, I can 

 only beg of him to remember and bear with the infirmities 



of an old man's mind. That better part of us must fail with 

 its fleshy tenement till it shall leave that poor abode and 

 enter a new one, not of flesh or earth. When. I look upon 

 the hand which pans these lines, a withered member over 

 whose bones and nerveless sinews the dull blord runs in its 

 ridged purple course, 1 can hardly believe it the same that 

 forty years ago could crush the sap from a maple limb, till 

 I see the scars that a panther throttled by it made in his 

 death struggles. * 



Speaking of panthers reminds me, n : a singular incident 

 of which 1 was a witness. It was on the borders of a wild 

 lake in Adironda, where, with a companion, I was hunting 

 and trapping one fall. I had left our camp early one morn- 

 ing to go down to the lake to hear the fishes sing, as in that 

 water a certain kind that 1 have never seen elsewhere are 

 wont to do. At daybreak or thereabout they would thrust 

 their noses above the surface and begin in' concert to trill 

 forth the »ost melodious 'soug that I ever heard, and con- 

 tinue it for half a i hour, and sometimes longer. The sweet 

 strains seemed to attract insects from all the surrounding 

 forest, and as thej hovered close to the surface, apparently 

 entranced, the fish would devour them in incredible num- 

 bers, some of the fish all the time keeping up the spell- 

 binding melody. Such singing of fishes I have read of as 

 occurring in the depths of the sea, as might naturally enough 

 be where mermaids inhabit, but I never heard of nor heard 

 them in fresh water except iu this one lake. My companion 

 held that these were frogs, which, as all know", do sing after 

 their fashion, but when 1 caught one of the singers with a 

 fly, and a song in his throat, some of which leaked out after 

 its lauding, he was convinced. As I neared the shore on 

 this particular morning I heard an unusual rustling of the 

 fallen leaves close by me, and stopping behind a great tree, 

 I presently saw a young panther busily chasing its own tail, 

 just as we see our domestic kittens often doing. I was 

 much interested in the pranks of this little pup of the woods, 

 and kept quietly out of sight, watching him pursue the ap- 

 pendage which, seems to have been given to the cat kind 

 merely for ornament and the plaything of their youth. I 

 questioned myself, What do little lynxes and wildcats do. 

 who have no tails worth following? Surely nature has not 

 been so kind to them as to their larger cousins. But presently' I 

 was inclined to think differently, for my little performer be- 

 ing- somewhat rough in the handling of his toy, gave it a 

 prick with his claws, which enraged him, and getting the 

 tip of his tail between his jaws, he gave it a savage bite, and 

 then his fury increasing he bit and swallowed the whole of 

 it quite to its roots and even inflicted some ugly wounds 

 upon his hams, and he continued his attempts to swallow 

 himself till he was actually strangled by his own tail. Feel- 

 ing assured that his mother was not far off, I quietly with- 

 drew to camp and got my rifle. Returning to the spot I 

 found her trying to unravel her unfortunate offspring. A 

 well directed shot put an end to her grief and her life, and I 

 dragged the two panthers to camp, the hooped kitten just as 

 he had died, to show my companion and convince him that 

 it had come to its end on both its ends in the manner related. 

 For my friend was a doubting Thomas, and sometimes in- 

 clined to question the accuracy of my statements, and yet he 

 told tales of his own adventures, which were borrowed'. One 

 I remember, of his hunting on this same lake, when he lost 

 his powder horn overboard, and his comrade, who was an 

 expert diver, offered to go dowu and get it, and after some re- 

 monstrance did so. He was gone so long that my friend became 

 alarmed and went down in quest of him, when what was 

 his disgust to find his unfaithful companion sitting upon a 

 rock on the bottom, pouring the powder from the lost horn 

 into his own. Now this is an unqestionable fact, hut it 

 happened to another man than this companion of mine, 

 namely, to my friend John Burt of Es°ex, of the county of 

 that ilk in the State of New York, and not in this little lake, 

 but off Split Rock in Lake Ohamplain. I have lately seen 

 this story going the rounds of the papers as having happened 

 somewhere out West, which appears to be the home of big 

 stories as well as of other big things. 



Our trapping in this little lake of the singing fish was very 

 successful, especially iD the taking of otters, animals which 

 greathy abounded there at that time. Our method of captur- 

 ing them was devised by us, and it was doue by setting a 

 very sharp one-tined spear in the deep water at the foot of 

 their slides exactly in a line with their course down them. 

 Speeding down the slide one after another with prodigious 

 velocity, it was not uncommon for as many as four otters to 

 be impaled upon a spear, ©ne on top of another. 1 never 

 knew the name of this lake, but it lies not very far from the 

 fountain of condensed water of which 1 have told, and which 

 I trust the thorough survey of the region now being prose- 

 cuted may bring to light, as well as the tunnel through the 

 world up which the monkeys come. I have written to Mr. 

 Colvin, giving him all the information 1 can which may 

 guide him in his search for them, and hope it may r be his for- 

 tune and that of niany another to see what I have seen. 



Adikonda, January, 1884. 



Mr. Nichoson's Buck Ride.— A recent account, in the 

 reckless style of the newspapers of the "Rockies" whose 

 yarns are usually iu accord with the size of their mountains, 

 relates how an old hunter was involuntarily treated to an 

 elk ride, "forty miles, if it was one," which forsooth was a 

 most invigorating shake up for the old chap— if true. How- 

 ever that may be, the iucident of Kicbason's buck ride, a 

 strictly true occurrence, is herewith presented. Mr. Nicbo- 

 son was residing in Naples, Ontario county, N. Y., some 

 forty odd years ago — a period in which there was yet exist- 

 ing in Western New York a large extent of forest and a cor- 

 responding fair share of wild game. One winter day while 

 engaged in drawing wood a large buck, pursued by hounds 

 over hard ©rusted snow, was run down by them in the road 

 only a short distance from Niehoson, who hastened to secure 

 the creature, and straddled its neck with intent to cut his 

 throat. While reaching down to get out his knife the buck 

 suddenly arose, leaving Niehoson's legs firmly secured under 

 his antlers— then with his hoofs he clawed* into shreds the 

 back part of his rider's pants and split down his boot legs, 

 The buck, finding he could not get rid of his rider, then 

 treated him to a vigorous good-sized buck trot of nearly a 

 quarter of a mile, and, perhaps like the famous cork leg of 

 Mynheer Von Waldegg, would be running yet, had not Rob 

 managed to stop the "" wild career of the antlered steed by- 

 cutting his jugular with a knife. The effects of the '-hoof 

 raking" and this rough ride was a lameness unfitting him 

 for work for several days. Mr. Is ichosou has long been 

 famed throughout this region as the veteran fox hunter, 

 and, although a cosmopolite of leisuie and well along in 

 years, is yet an inveterate sportsman, pursuing the glorious 

 pastime with rifle and hound at frequently occurring inter- 

 vals, — Piper. 



latw[al 



THE EGRET. 



WHILE inditing my note of last week about the bittern 

 my mind reverted to an acquaintance I once formed 

 with a distant relative of that family. I was spending the 

 summer as usual on the banks of the Mana-q.:antNew 

 Jersey) and one day found myself lying on the beach; sand 

 watching the natives who were engaged in the sport of 

 "squidding" for bluefish. I had pulled one or two across 

 the sands, but found the exercise too violent for my feelings. 

 Happening to cast my eye inland I saw across the meadows, 

 a mile away, a flock of some wnite birds circling iu the air. 

 I called the attention of some of the fishermen to the matter 

 and was told that it was a flock of white tame geese owned 

 by one of the cottagers. The explanation did not satisfy 

 me, and in a few minutes 1 had the sail of my batteau up 

 and was wending my way through the creeks to the spot 

 where I had seen the birds go down. Taking a circuit I 

 reached a clump of woods that at that point skirts the edge 

 of the meadow, and crawling through the brambles and 

 Indian grass 1 found myself in easy range of a flock of the 

 most beautiful and graceful game that I had ever seen. 

 There stood, feeding in the meadow grass from which the 

 tide was just falling, sixteen small white herons, grouped 

 and posed in a way that would excite envy in the breast of a 

 decorator of Japanese screens. I say "small" but I must 

 confess that from my point of view and in the excited state 

 of my imagination, they looked to be as large as cranes. One 

 with each barrel was the result. 



Oh, if I had only then known what a Parker was, hut 

 noticing that the flock did not seem inclined to leave the 

 vicinity I hurriedly propped the dead birds on the stalks of 

 a hollyhock and, retiring to my blind, soon had them again 

 in range with a similar result. Another wait gave roe an- 

 other pair, and then 1 was content to see the balance of the 

 flock sail away. The birds were the egret, 1 think the Ardott 

 garzetta, and while I am about it I may as well say that 

 their flesh was nearly as white as their feathers, anil was 

 pronounced by all who bad the privilege of tasting it to be 

 tender, juicy and finely flavored. Their plumage was as near 

 pure white as could be, excepting a dove-colored tint beneath 

 the tip of the longest wing feathers. I need not say that 

 these wings were eagerly sought for and appreciated by the 

 ladies at the hotel, and' their gratitude for the additions to 

 their millinery possibilities probably increased my ardor in 

 the further pursuit of the game. 



I am no pot-hunter nor bonnet-shooter, and I was then 

 younger than I am now, but I have no apology to make for 

 the statement that for two weeks that constantly diminish- 

 ing bunch of birds gave me daily sport. The range of their 

 flight was for miles, and, like the famous Kidd, "I sailed, 

 and I sailed, and I sailed." Sometimes a long. pull agaiosi 

 the tide proved that I had been duped by bunches of sea 

 foam or a stake on the meadow; but I always found them 

 again. In fact 1 secured the last bird of the sixteen four 

 miles from the inlet, after pushing my boat nearly a mile up 

 Sawmill Creek. 



This was probably ten years ago, and I do not remember 

 that I have ever seen a live specimen of the egret in Jersey 

 since, unless I was right in believing that a group of them 

 were on the Barnegat meadows one day when I was fishing 

 there. At least they were too far off to be identified, and 1 

 never expect to have anotner fortnight with the "white 

 geese." T, B. A. 



ISew Jersey. 



THE CORN CRAKE IN NEW YORK. 



ON Nov. 6, 1883, a corn crake (Cn\r p/vfenxh) was 

 brought to me by Mr. William Dommer, who stated 

 that he found it the day before running about rapidly in a 

 cabbage field on Green Island, opposite Troy, N. Y., and 

 shot it as it flew when flushed by his dog. r l he bird was 

 in nice plumage and good fleshy condition" weighed six and 

 one-fourth ounces, and had in its stomach remains of a very 

 large grasshopper and a seed of great bitter weed (Ambroafu, 

 trifida). It was an adult female, and I have it mounted W 

 my collection. 



I am not aware that, the corn crake has ever been brought 

 alive from Europe and set free in this country. Some books 

 on North American birds state that it appears to be a com- 

 mon summer visitor to Greenland, from whence stragglers 

 probably reach the eastern coast of the United States, where 

 it has been found on several occasion*. The only specific 

 record known to me of the capture of the bird in this coun- 

 try is that of one shot near Salem, N, J., as noled in "Pro- 

 ceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences," Philadel- 

 phia 1855, Vol. Vll., page 265. Probably some readers of 

 Forest and Stream can give further information of the 

 corn crake in America. Acsiin. F Park, 



Troy, N. Y. 



The Rough-Legged Hawk. — The note on the rough- 

 legged hawk in Fouest and Stkkam of Jan. 31, does 

 cot allude to the position which this species should occupy 

 in the minds of sportsmen and farmers. I have set up these 

 birds till weary of so doing. I have three in my cabinet. 

 black enough for all practical purposes, and have had them 

 of every shade from that of the raltail hawk to the crow. 

 On the' broad meadows of the Connecticut in migrations 

 they outnumber all oth^r hawks together. They are hardly 

 driven south by snow in November and December, and re- 

 turn with the first bare ground in March. My friend 

 Damon, of Northampton, an ardent ornithologist, has shot 

 them from his buggy well up among the hundreds, taking 

 advantage of their clumsy and sluggidi habits to drive with- 

 in easy gunshot -most every time."' But that is not all. To 

 the owners of the meadows they are of great benefit. Of all 

 the hawks the most harmless, never to my knowledge taking 

 a chicken or bird, but harvesting mice by the thousands; and 

 saving tons of grass and grain by so doing. 1 have counted 

 a dozen in sight at once, sitting stupidly on trees in a morn- 

 ing, and not a mouse could eat his breakfast above ground, 

 without at the same time making one. The unparalleled 

 change of color has caused some amusement to mature 

 heads. The Smithsonian, when young and ambitious, made 

 three hawks out of the one, but hastily withdrew two varie- 

 ties when confronted by Dr. Wood's platoon of specimens. I 

 shall, as 1 have done for years, plead with sportsmen to 

 spare these birds. They have no feet for holding large game- 

 like other hawks, and their being always loaded with fit, 

 shows their success and usefulness as mousers and conse- 

 quent friends to the agriculturist. — B. HoRKFORD. 



