March 6, 1884.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



103 



up almost, perpendicular inclines, peering cautiously over 

 them, and then descending' feet first on the opposite sides 

 among sage brush and grease wood, across washouts and 

 pitch-pine logs and wind-battered cedars, that had giveu 

 up trying to eke out an uncertain living among the rocks. 

 For a couple of miles of thcTOughest walking and climbing 

 and walking imaginable went Nervous and his companion. 



Several jack rabbits had been disturbed from their slum- 

 bers behind protecting sage brush, and kicking up little 

 clouds of snow they scampered away with their lives, but 

 bless 'em, they were "safe enough this morning. These storm- 

 beaten old canyons are not goiug to ring with echoes from 

 any rifles pointed at smaller game than blacktails. There 

 was no time consumed for Tenderfoot to admire the scenery, 

 and though he did not say it, he perhaps thought this road, 

 Wasanear relative to Jordan's hard road, but he "stayed 

 with it" like a little man, until just as he had slid down six 

 feet frora a rock he same in sight of two bucks and a doe 

 not above a hundred yards distant. The doe seemed as 

 though she would like to say 



"How happy could f be with either 

 Were t'other dear charmer away," 



and both the "dear charmers" were 80 engrossed in their 

 attentions that they had not seen our friend from the States. 

 No doubt that love is blind. 



Quickly turning to Nervous, he told him, and then clap- 

 ping his title to his shoulder, he fired, and one of the bucks 

 dropped and rolled down into a gully, thirty feet below. The 

 others, as mu»h surprised as the mysterious wedding guest 

 was by the Ancient Mariner, sturted back out of Tenderfoot's 

 sight, "but now in full view of Nervous, who made the move- 

 ments of "turning loose" his repeater, but it refused to 

 "pump." 



"Can you see them, Tenderfoot?" 



"No, they are out of my sight." 



"Will, they have stopped over there, not more than a hun- 

 dred and fifty yards away. My rifle won't work. Hand 

 rnc yours." 



Tenderfoot could not have got a shot in five minutes, and 

 there was no telling where they would be before he could 

 again sight them; so he handed his rifle over the rock down 

 which he had just slid, and Nervous fired. Down came the 

 second buck, and the doe was just disaprwP" ing over a high 

 ridge opposite, when a third time spuw*: .lie pld-fashioned 

 rifle and the last of the little bunch was done for. She carried 

 the ball about twenty feet, then suddenly dropped it and 

 went with it. 



"Tender, I think that will do for a morning hunt, thanks 

 to you for helping me out. Am a little sorry I downed the 

 doe. Now we'll bleed them and go back to* the ranch for a 

 team :md hang our 'mutton' up a tree." 



By following the canyons further down they would have 

 been able to have killed' more deer, but present necessities 

 had been bountifully supplied and what was left will furnish 

 work and sport for many another day. 



Nervous had placed his shots in the shoulders and Tender- 

 foot had sent his crushing through the head. In the middle 

 of the afternoon the three were hanging up between the 

 Isunk-kouse and the kitchen. Tendeifoot was complimented 

 on his skill as a rifle shot, but with his usual modesty dis- 

 claimed any credit for skill and insisted that he had aimed 

 for the shoulders with a vague idea of hitting somewhere. 

 and his winning shot was nothing but a scratch the likes of 

 which he never expected to repeat. 



Could he have had a slight attack of the buck ague? Are 

 not the victims of that disease supposed to make clean 

 misses? 



"At any rate," said Nervous, refilling his pipe, "you must- 

 know, boys, there ain't any tenderfeet on this ranch." 



Millard. 

 Bear Creek. Wyo. 



* 



WOODLAND AND BARREN GROUND 

 CARIBOU. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I notice in the Foeest and Stream of February 14, that 

 the editor does not agree with Judge Caton, author of "An- 

 telope and Deer in America," in regard to the woodland 

 being a distinct species from the barren ground caribou. 



I have had no personal experience with the latter animal 

 (my information is obtained from those who have hunted 

 it, also from natural histories), but I have always thought 

 that they belonged to separate and distinct species. 



The barren ground caribou is one of the smallest of the 

 deer family, and it is seldom that a buck is killed weighing- 

 over one hundred pounds. As its name implies, its habitat 

 is the barren grounds between latitude 62° and the Arctic 

 Sea. In winter it seeks the shelter of wooded tracts on the 

 southern boundary of its range. Its favorite food is the 

 . mosses and lichens so abundant in that section. This animal 

 ^fe of great value to the Indians and others in the frozen 

 north ; they make some use of every part of the body. Large 

 herds of the barren ground caribou roam over the couutry, 

 and are easily approached and killed. 



The woodland caribou, on the other hand, is a larger 

 animal, the doe being equal in size to a barren ground buck, 

 although the horns are smaller and less branching. They 

 frequent the wooded shores of Hudson's Bay, and tracts 

 further south where the other are never seen. A most sin- 

 gular difference in the habits of the two, and one that, with 

 the difference of size, form, etc., surely entitles them to be 

 ranked as separate species, is that the woodland migrates to 

 the southward every spring, while the barren ground cari- 

 bou is at the same time on its way to the Arctic Sea. The 

 flesh of the woodland caribou is inferior to that of the other. 



1 hope that the writer of the illustrated article on page 

 4.5, issue of" Feb. 14. will give his reason for believing that 

 the two animals belong to one species. Red WiinO. 



(jLENcoe, Fla. 



In most old works on natural history three distinct species 

 of leindeer are mentioned. These are, the old world form, 

 variously called Gervm tamndm, Taran&m rmgifer and 

 Rannifa- tarandusj the American woodland form, Germix 

 hirandus, var. sylVestm, or Taraiulus ea&ou; and the bar- 

 ren ground form, Oervus tarandm gmnlandiavs, or Vermis 

 icerandw, var, arotiea. Sincie these works w ere written the 

 views of naturalists have undergone a great change. It was 

 formerly the fashion to make as many species as possible, 

 and to do this it was often necessary to base specific charac- 

 ers on very slight variations — on what would to-day be re- 



garded as nothing more than individual differences. An old 

 world species found in America was often dignified with a 

 new name, for no better reason than that it lived 0* the 

 other side of the ocean from its already known relative. In 

 those days the tendency was toward the multiplication of 

 species. To-day the current sets the other way, and natur- 

 alists generally strive to reduce the number of species to the 

 lowest point. 



At present the circumpolar reindeer, whether they inhabit 

 Norway, Siberia, or British Amerioa. are regarded as one 

 and the same form, Eangifer gmidandims, while the wood- 

 land caribou is thought to be only a fairly well marked race 

 of its more boreal relative. The" only known physical char- 

 acters by which the two forms may be separated are size and 

 horns, and these are not sufficiently well marked to base 

 specific differences on. Size may go for almost nothing. 

 Judge Caton, in his most excellent work on "The Antelope 

 and Deer of North America," acknowledges this, and says: 



"The difference in size, if this were the only distinction, 

 would be entitled to but little weight in the consideration of 

 this question, especially when we remember that we often 

 find animals of the same species occupying high latitudes 

 smaller in size, than those of warmer countries. r l he reverse, 

 however, we find generally the case with our Cervidce. * * * 

 I repeat, however, that I should not consider the difference 

 in size, which is fully oue-half , sufficient of itself to estab- 

 lish a specific difference." To the diversity in size of the 

 horns Judge Caton attaches somewhat more weight, yet this 

 character we cannot regard as sufficient to establish specific 

 difference. Judge Caton's main reliance in separating the 

 two forms of caribou is on their supposed differences in 

 migratory habit, and on the supposition that the two forms 

 do not interbreed or grade into one another. But as a mat- 

 ter of fact we have very little evidence on these points. 

 We know that in its home — the center of abundance — the 

 barren ground form is small, with large horns, and 

 that in Maine and Lower Canada the woodland 

 form is large, with small horns; but as to the deer, 

 which inhabit the intermediate country, little is known. It 

 is, we think, probable that an extended series of specimens 

 from the country, where the ranges of the two overlap, 

 would furnish individuals of which the naturalist would he 

 unable to say, "This is a barren ground," or "This is a 

 woodland caribou." To decide a question of this kind the 

 acumen of a trained naturalist would be required, and he 

 should have before, him a large series of specimens, if pos- 

 sible freshly killed. We recently talked with some old cari- 

 bou hunters in a region where the woodland form is the 

 only one known, and yet they spoke of two kinds of cari- 

 bou, which they believed existed there — "the little green 

 woods deer" and "the big hill deer." As a matter of fact 

 they merely referred in the one case to the young and small, 

 and in the other to the old and large deer. 



The opinion of the best mammalogists to-day is that the 

 woodland caribou is only a well marked race of the circum- 

 polar reindeer. If any good specific characters can be shown 

 to separate the two, this opinion will be modified, but at 

 present the evidence to justify such a change of sentiment is 

 wanting. 



A case somewhat analogous to the one under consideration 

 existed a few years ago in regard to the common Virginia 

 deer, of which several species were named from different 

 sections of the country, but at present these supposed species 

 have no standing, and several of them have none even as 

 races or varieties. 



We may mention that our correspondent has the weight 

 of the barren ground caribou much loo low. Richardson 

 says ai full-grown buck, dressed, will weigh from 90 to 130 

 pounds. This would give a live weight of from 135 to 200 

 pounds. There are some other inaccuracies in "Red Wing's" 

 statements, as will be seen by reference to Judge Caton's book. 



We cannot do better than to recommend our correspond- 

 ent to look up this matter for himself, and when he has 

 done so, we fancy that he will agree with us. As we stated 

 in our review of the work, Judge Caton's admirable volume 

 contains a vast amount ef information on this and kindred 

 subjects, and it is one that the naturalist and deer hunter 

 can ill afford to be without. The Reviewer. 



SOME ARIZONA QUAILS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The "California quail" mentioned by "Nemo" in your 

 issue of the 31st ult. are in all probability Arizona quail 

 (Lophorty.v gambeli), inasmuch as thej 7 are abundant in South- 

 western New Mexico and Arizona. The California quail 

 {Lophortyx calif or men) are, on tne other hand, I think, 

 rarely or never seen in that or this part of the country. 



The Arizona quail is furthermore exceedingly susceptible 

 of domestication. When first caught they are so violently 

 wild as to be almost unapproachable, but by continued and 

 careful attention they eventually become tame enough to 

 handle without fear. 



A. G. Buttner, ex- Chief of Police of this city, has a 

 peculiar penchant for pets. About two years since he pn> 

 cured a pair of Arizona quail. They not only became gentle 

 but raised a brood of eleven young ones. Thirteen eggs were 

 laid, but eleven chicks only were hatched. When about 

 half grown they were in part distributed among friends. 

 One of them afterward escaped, and returned to its former 

 home. I secured a pair of them myself and gave them the 

 freedom of a corral in which alfalfa had been sown. They 

 throve finely, but became somewhat shy. When frightened, 

 however, they invariably sought the house for protection. I 

 had previously tried the same course with a pair of blue 

 quail (OaUipepla squamala), but attempts to domesticate 

 them were in vain. I finally gave them the same freedom 

 that I had given to their kindred, and lost them on the day 

 subsequent. 



During the months of September and October the Papogo 

 Pima and Maricopa Indians snare quail by the thousands. 

 They are brought to the market, dozens in a coop. A fan- 

 cier can, for a few bits, make a fine selection. About two 

 and a half years since, E. L. Wetmore, a well-known resi- 

 dent of this city, purchased a pair of the Arizona variety, 

 and hung them in separate cages on either side of his office 

 door. For the first few days they were frantic with alarm, 

 then finally settled down to* the quietness of a humdrum life. 

 He afterward gave them the freedom of a large room and 

 allowed his children to handle them. In due time they not 

 only thoroughly domesticated, but the male became aggres- 

 sive, and would fly and peck at the hand for food. On two 

 different occasions, sittings of eggs were laid, but no attempt 

 was made to hatch them. The female finally dying, another 

 was procured. She appeared to tame rapidly, but escaped 

 on the first opportunity; was away two days, then returned, 



and by repeated calls demanded admission to her mate, and 

 never afterward cared to leave him. 



To domesticate them, but little care is required, Inasmuch 

 as they will eat almost anything that is placed before them. 

 A pan of clean water, plenty of fresh eerth, a few sprigs of 

 vegetables (of which there are plenty at all tirftes in this coun- 

 try), a little bread, cracked wheat or seed, and the sum of 

 their luxuries is made up. But, uulike those mentioned by 

 "Nemo," they are, during the warm weather, exceedingly 

 fond of a bath, and when takkig it splash the water in all 

 directions, regardless of their surroundings. Those kept by 

 Mr. Buttner raised their little ones in a box not more than 

 four feet square. They had the natural earth for a flo«r, the 

 sides of the box had been taken off and replaced by wire 

 screen. The nest, made of dry grass thrown in for that pur 

 pose, was built under a board that stood slanting from the 

 floor to the end of the cage. If any one cares to try the ex 

 periment and will pay the expressage on a pair of Arizona 

 quail which, in my belief, are the most handsome of their 

 kind, I will, as soon as they become plentiful, send them a 

 pair with pleasure. My address is with the Forest and 

 Stream. Adtos. 



Tucson, Arizona, Feb. 10, 1884. 



COLOR OF THE SEA. 



A PARAGRAPH has been going the rounds of the news- 

 papers, stating that Dr. ,T. J. "Wild, F. R. G. S., claims 

 that he has discovered the cause of the various colors of the 

 sea, and that they are due to the greater or less proportion of 

 salt held in solution. 



How does Dr. Wild account for the fact that large and 

 deep bodies of fresh water exhibit colors similar to those of 

 the ocean? 



The waters of the great American lakes, Superior. Huron 

 and Michigan, in their deepest parts, say from 500 to 1, 000 

 feet, are, under certain conditions of sky and atmosphere, of 

 a deep blue color, like those of the Atlantic, Pacific or Indian 

 oceans, the blue, however, is not so intense, the depth of 

 water being much less in these inland seas than in the ocean, 

 some of the deeper portions of which show color like that of 

 a solution of indigo. 



In the shallower parts of both'salt and fresh water, where 

 the depth is from twenty to fifty feet, various shades of 

 green occur, more or less opaque as the water is turbid or 

 transparent. 



I am inclined to believe that the colors of both salt and 

 fresh water depend on similar conditions, some of which 

 are — 



1. Depth and transparency. 



2. The state of the sky and atmosphere, whether clear or 

 clouded. 



3. The course of the wind, north and west winds produc- 

 ing a clear and deep blue, and east or south winds light blue, 

 blue green, or lead color. 



4. The point of view of the observer, whether from high 

 laud or low. 



5. In shallow water, the nature of the bottom, whether 

 covered with rocks, sand, or algae. S. C. C. 



BIRD NOTES. 



It was "immense flocks of blackbirds," not "bluebirds" 

 that were seen here flying southwest on the 14th of February 

 (See Forest and Stream of Feb. 28). Crows have been 

 about here all winter. Saw a bluejay yesterday. A few 

 misguided ducks have appeared, buttheRaritan River, which 

 was open, is again frozen, and they will probably leave. Saw 

 robin flying south to-day. Sensible bird. Mercury, 7 

 yesterday, 14 to-day. J. L, K. 



Perth Ambov, N. J„ March .1, 188-1. 



The unusually mild, but wet weather, which we have been 

 having this month, has made some of our small birds think 

 of spring. A song sparrow (M. meUdia) has stayed with us 

 all winter. Two or three days ago, I caught him sniffing in 

 our lilac hedge, and he seemed very cheerful. This morning 

 the mercury stood at six degrees, and old Boreas had, during 

 the night, taken up a position in the northwest, and was 

 hurling his keenest javelins at daybreak. This very sudden 

 change from bad to worse caused melodia, to make friends 

 with his cousins, the field sparrow (S. pusiUd), and slate- 

 colored snowbird {Junco hyentulis). All three of them were 

 busy near our porch picking up such crumbs and bits of 

 gram as were exposed in the path which was cleared to the 

 barn. The two last-named species are common winter resi- 

 dents with us, but we do not recollect seeing a song sparrow 

 in either January or February before. Three winters ago, 

 in 'a0-'81, we saw, in a severe snow storm in January, a 

 single towhee bunting, who appeared lively and well. This 

 was on Scroggy Neck, Sandwich, Mass. 



One bluebird, on Washington's Birthday, gladdened us 

 with his sweet but simple song. He flew from one fence 

 post to another, and we watched to see what food he might 

 take ; nothing offered to his taste, however, and we left him 

 to his own happy thoughts of spring and sunshine. 



Mergcb. 



East Wareham, Mass., Feb. 29, 1884. 



Where are the birds? was the question I asked myself 

 many times yesterday, while taking a three hours' walk on 

 the outskirts of the city. I passed rows of evergreen trees 

 more than a mile in length, and thousands of apple trees, but 

 did not see a bird during the whole time. A year ago the 

 same day, going over the same ground, I saw pine grosbeaks, 

 redpoll linnets, snow-buntings, snowbirds, and one song 

 sparrow that had concluded to try a Northern winter; and 

 he seemed to be doing quite well in his home among the ever- 

 greens. But yesterday I saw nothing to remind me of birds, 

 unless it was the coarse, bulky nest of the purple grackle in 

 one of the tall evergreen trees by the roadside, and on the 

 opposite side, near the top of a maple, swung the pensile nest 

 of the oriole, and on a horizontal limb of the same tree was 

 saddled the soft, compact nest of the goldfinch. Then, again, 

 in the evergreens the saucer-shaped nest of the mourning 

 dove, and on the framework of a disused lime kiln I saw the 

 weil-built moss nest of the phoebe, and on the opposite tim- 

 ber, about twelve feet distant, was the hard, mud-lined nest 

 of Turdm r/iigratorius. Further on, in a large thorn tree, 

 was the feather-lined nest of the kingbird, and last and least 

 of all, in alow withewood bush, the thistle-down made nest 

 of the summer yellowbird; and from the unusual length of 

 it I came to the conclusion that there was something treas- 

 ured up in the lower department, and on examination I 

 found the egg of the vagabond cow bunting. All these I 

 saw, but not a sign of bird-life until I reached the main busi 

 ness street of the city, where I had a chance to feast my eyes 



