244 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[April 24, 1884. 



escape did they remain amid the mountain fastnesses It is 

 rue, however, that deer, particularly at the South, do some- 



Ki ade f h that lit «? save the nostrils and eyes remain in 

 sight; but whether this is done for the riddance of insects, 

 or tor the refreshing effects of the hath, is an open question 

 aDd . fo !Lmy Part I mcline to the latter view. 

 ■„« T 'F' She PP ard tells me that he has on two occasions 

 nw./7, er eD ter the water and immerse themselves until 

 almost the entire body disappeared from view, and this when 

 not skulking, or endeavoring to elude an enemv. The 

 J*ev. John Bachman once witnessed this diversion and 

 described it m these words: "We recollect an occasion 

 when on sitting down to rest on the margin of the Santce 

 Kiver, we observed a pair of antlers on the surface of the 

 water near an old tree, not ten steps from us. The half- 

 closed eye of the buck was upon us; we were without a 

 gun and he was, therefore, safe from any injury we 

 could inflict upon him. Anxious to observe the cunning he 

 would display, we turned our eves another wav, and com- 

 menced a careless whistle, as if for our own amusement, walk- 

 tnggradually toward him in a circuitous route, until we arrived 

 within a tew feet of him. He had now sunk so deep in the 

 water that an inch only of his nose, and slight portions of 

 his prongs were seen above the surface. We again sat down 

 on the bank for some minutes, pretending to read a book. 

 At length we suddenly directed our eyes toward him, and 

 raised our hand when he rushed to the shore and dashed 

 through the rattling canebrake in rapid style. + 



Larly in September our deer begin to desert the water 

 courses, and before cold weather sets in there is a marked 

 decrease m their numbers in the localities which a short time 

 previously were their favorite feeding grounds. The reason 

 is apparent; the marsh grasses have matured and are now 

 dry; the tender aquatic plants near shore have mostlv with- 

 ered and decayed ; and the lily-pads and pickerel weed, cut 

 down by September frosts, no longer remain to tempt their 

 appetites. Ihey retire, therefore, to the higher ground in 

 the forest, which still affords them abundant subsistence 1 

 A large number of the Adirondack lakes are heavily 

 bordered with a dense frontage of arbor vita? (here called 

 white cedar ), which so overhangs the water that the lower 

 limbs barely clear the surface. Around many of these lakes 

 all the lower branches, up to a certain height, are dead, so 

 that on viewing the shore one is struck with the strange ap- 

 pearance of a sharp cut line, about the height of a man's 

 head, extending partly, or entirely, around the lake. Above 

 it the dense foliage presents an almost continuous and un- 

 broken front, impenetrable to the eye, while below it not a 

 green sprig can be seen, the dead limbs and branches remain- 

 ing in the form of a broad belt. 



The cause of this phenomenon long remained a mystery 

 and many and amusing theories have been advanced for its 

 explanation. It has been supposed that some unusual and 

 unknown agency operated to produce a great overflow of 

 these lakes, and that the present green line indicates the high- 

 water mark of this unrecorded inundation, the branches 

 below it having been killed by the water or ice. Were there 

 no other reasons for disbelieving this hypothesis, its absur- 

 dity is demonstrated by the fact that on many of the larger 

 lakes the line is confined to one side. The only other theory 

 so far as I am aware, that is worthy of refutation, was ad- 

 vanced by no less distinguished a gentleman than Mr Ver- 

 planck Colvin, superintendent of the Adirondack Survey. 

 Mr. Colvin's theory is, the snow which is blown off from the 

 ice on some of the larger lakes, and is sometimes piled in 

 drifs in certain places along the borders, buries the lower 

 limbs of the cedars: and he thinks that this snow "in some 

 unfavorable season, becoming compact and icy, had killed 

 the inclosed evergreen foliage. "§ 



The fallacy of this view is proven, I think, by the follow- 

 ing facts: First, branches on the opposite or shore side of 

 these very trees are usually alive and green, which could 

 hardly be the case were the drift theory true; second, the 

 line is often more strongly marked on the shores of ponds 

 that are too small, and too closely hemmed in by hills, to 

 afford the wind a chance to drift the snow about their 

 borders; and, third, the foliage line is, in all instances where 

 1 have observed it, perfectly straight and exactly parallel to 

 the surface of the water, which could not possibly be the case 

 were it caused by irregularly drifted snow. 



Moreover, it is now an ascertained fact that the green line 

 is a result of the wintering of deer along the shores where 

 it exists, and the evidence on this head may be summed up 

 as follows: In the first place, it is absent from at least half 

 of the cedar-bordered lakes, and is only found, of recent ori- 

 gin, in localities where deer are known to winter. On some 

 of the larger lakes it is confined to one shore and sometimes 

 to a single deep bay, while the cedars about the rest of the 

 lake remain unmarred. Furthermore, it is a fact, which can 

 be verified by any one willing to take the trouble, that where 

 the deer still winter in these places the snow which covers 

 the ice is literally trodden down by them, a well beaten path 

 follows closely the outline of the shore, and the stumps of 

 newly broken branches may here and there be found. The 

 height of the line shows the distance that a full grown deer 

 can reach when standing on the snow and ice. And finally, 

 trustworthy witnesses affirm that they have observed the deer 

 standing on the ice in the act of browsing upon the low 

 branches of cedars overhanging the lake. I regard all this 

 evidence as conclusive. 



briskly to overhaul them. Even the young fawns swim well 

 and I once caught one alive that had been driven into the 

 lake It was in the spotted coat, a»d not more than three 

 months old.f 



The extraordinary sagacity of some of these animals, and 

 the temerity, I might even say stupidity, of others, is aston- 

 ishing As a general thing, a deer is always on the alert; his 

 eyesight is good, his hearing acute, and his sense of sm^ll 

 developed to an unusual degree. Under ordinary circum- 

 stances he detects the whereabouts of .man at a considerable 

 distance, and even if abundant is seldom seem. At other 

 times, particularly when feeding on the margin of a lake or 

 r ] Ive , r .' !* the wind is right he may be approached in broad 

 daylight by aid of a boat, and will only raise his head from 

 time to time, gazing at the intruder in a vacant sort of way 

 but let the wind shift a trifle, so that he gets a whiff from 

 the direction of the boat, and he is off in an instant, Along 

 the borders of the Wilderness a deer will sometimes join a 

 group of cows or sheep at pasture, and follow them home 

 within gunshot of the house. Not a few have met their 

 death m this way. 



During the deep snows of our severer winters deer are apt 

 to congregate and remain in one localitv till the food supply 

 in the immediate vicinity is exhausted' when they move off 

 to some other place. By working to and fro in search of 

 browse the snow becomes much trampled, and pathways are 

 beaten in various directions. These places are called yards, 

 but they fall far short of the regular inclosures, walled in by 

 deep snow, that we so often read about, and even see pic- 

 tured under this head. They afford the much-persecuted 

 animals no shelter or protection, for if discovered by either 

 the panther or the infamous "crust-hunter," they become 

 graveyards for many. Mr. Verplanck Colvin, speaking of 

 one he had found on the south side of Seventh Lake Moun- 

 tain, Feb. 15, 1877, said: "It was impossible to estimate the 

 number of deer which had occupied this yard, as they had 

 fled at our approach, plunging into the deep snow below. 

 I he ground of this central area resembled a sheep yard in 

 winter, the forms of the deer being plainly discernible in 

 the beds of snow, in which they had slept, on every side. 



"Here we were startled by the sight of the fresh tracks of 

 a panther or cougar, which evidenfly made his home in this 

 abode of plenty; and shortly thereafter we found the body 

 of a deer freshly killed, and shockingly torn and mutilated. 

 The guides were now all excitement, and followed the cou- 

 gar's trail eagerly. In less than thirty minutes a shout 

 announced that he had been encountered, and rushing for- 

 ward to the southern front of the plateau I came upon the 

 monstrous creature, coolly defiant, standing at the brow of a 

 precipice on some dead timber, little more than twenty feet 

 from where I stood. Quickly loading the rifle, I sent a bul- 

 let through his brain, and as the smoke lifted, saw T him strug- 

 gling in the fearful convulsions of death, till finally precipi- 

 tated over the cliffs he disappeared from sight in the depths 

 below 7 , "t 



It is stated by several writers that the deer delights in 

 destroying snakes. Dr. Harlan thus speaks of this pro- 

 clivity: 



"This species displays great enmity toward the rattlesnake, 

 which enemy they attack and destroy with singular dexterity 



field is new and just exhaustless. And yet this particular ad- 

 vantage has been overlooked, its necessity m the maintenance 

 oi a well-balanced mind underrated iu the fret and fever of 

 business life It is here that the Forest and Stream steps 



™ l°J?" \ P fp ce . ^PJJT 9 have beeri ob %ed to leave blank, 

 or a story half told. The hunter tells his own story in his 

 T^r- 7 '^™ 111 V lire . ctn ?s no other man cannmh. 

 Tlie lion tiger or panther in the menagerie is one thing: in 

 their wild state, where the. hunter's life depends ou his Cool 

 ness and precision,they are quite another. As one said to the 

 writer: "We were standingside by side ; the panther gathered 

 his feet for the spring, but hesitated a fatal moment as 

 we knew he would do. My companion raised his rifle with 



bee me put his eye out,' whieh was done." 



Its columns also offer a broad field where rival theories 

 can be sustained or demolished; an elevated plateau over- 

 awed by no institution, governed by no clique, and not likely 

 to sacrifice its dignity and position by bolstering a failing 

 dynasty or a prestige that is passing away. 



All honor to the projectors of the Central Park Museum 

 and the State foremost in its fostering care of natural history; 

 but beyond precedent fortunate that the Fouest and Stream 

 is under its shadow. Both are necessary, 1 might add indis- 

 pensable; but if one must be sacrificed, which shall go first? 

 In the Park we see form, size and color, pictures which every 

 child knows and can name at sight, while character, habit, 

 passion, emotion— that which constitutes its story through 

 the whole realm of organic life— mast be sought outside its 

 walls. It is, therefore, no idle boast that, as natural history 

 is being re-written, the compiler must draw largely from 

 these columns both base and structure of his work. 



Ornithology as a pure science is exhausting itself. Micro- 

 scopic distinctions, which at best only confer microscopic 

 honors, have reached a point where co'mmon sense gives up 

 the helm and abandons the guidance. The mighty craf 

 already touches gTavel, and unless a. new tack is made it will 

 stick fast where a neap tide will not float it off, 



I have read somewhere that "man cannot live by bread 

 alone." A striking illustration of its truth is herein apparent, 



and courage; wheu the deer discovers one of these reptiles, 

 they leap into the air to a great distance above it, and de- 

 scend with their four feet brought together, forming a solid 

 square, and light on the snake with their whole weight, 

 when they immediately bound away; they return and re- 

 peat the same maneuvers until their enemy is completely 

 destroyed. "%. 



tin Forest and Stream for Dec. 6, 18S8 (Vol XXI., No, 19, pp. 362), 

 occurs the following: "Deer at Sea.— Portland, Me., Nov. 29. -The 

 British schooner Howard came in yesterday with one of Howard 

 Knowlton's deer on board, which had been picked up about five miles 

 out at sea. The animal escaped from the garden on Peak's Island 

 last summer, and had not been seen since, probably having kept in the 

 woods at the lower end of the island. This is the biggest feat of 

 capturing deer in the water on record." 



fRepert of Adirondack Survey, 1880, pp. 159-160. 



§Pauna Americana, 1825, p. 242. 



[TO BE CONTINUED.] 



Though deer are generally spoken of as nocturnal, they 

 re by no means strictly so, their habits in this particular 

 being modified by the envirenment. In localities that are 

 much frequented by man they keep their beds during the 

 greater part of the day, and feed mostly by night; while in 

 the remoter sections the reverse seems to be true. 

 • The spot on which one lies to rest is called its bed. It is 

 generally hidden in some thicket, under the low branches of 

 an evergreen, or by the top of a fallen tree.* 



They have no fear of water, and, when pressed by wolves 

 or dogs, take to it as a means of escape. They are excellent 

 Bwimmers, moving with such speed that a man must row 



tQuadrupeds of North America, Vol. II., 1851, p. 223. 



JThe largest and best conditioned deer I ever saw was a magnificent 

 buck that Dr. F. H. Hoadley shot at Bier Moose Lake, Oct. J3i, 1881. 

 Its stomach was full, containing a quantity of the leaves and stems 

 of the "bunch berry" or dwarf cornel (Comma canadensis), a small 

 amount of wintergrecn (QauWierla procumbens), and a few leaf- 

 stems of the mountain ash (Pyrus americana), while throughout the 

 mass were scattered numbers of beecb nuts with the shucks on. 



§ Report of Adirondack Survey, 1880, p. 162. 



* While on a snowshoe tramp from Big Otter to Big Moose Lake in 

 January. 1883, 1 counted upward of forty deer beds— mere depres- 

 sions in the snow. One only was in an exposed position, being iu a 

 little opening alongside a maple sapling. With this single exception 

 all were under shelter of small spruce and balsam trees, the space 

 between the bed and the overhanging branches, loaded down with 

 ice and snow, being in most cases barely sufficient to admit the ani- 



CONGRATULATIONS AND SPECULA- 

 TIONS. 



[Extracts from a speech that might have been made on a late 

 "solemn and interesting occasion," had not circumstances prevented, 

 or rather, had they been propitious.] 



OWING to a constitutional weakness I am perhaps a 

 little late, but as my congratulations are somewhat dif- 

 ferent from those you have already received, they may be 

 acceptable even now, at any rate they will be read} r for next 

 time. 



Ten years is no great of a life in journalism; I have known 

 dreadful mean papers to live longer than that. The ques- 

 tion most prominent at present seems to be the progress 

 made by the Forest and Stream in all those years, with 

 its assured prosperity for the future. Why and f rbm whence 

 does it come when so little is ventured by its managers in 

 either department it represents? I see no prizes sought or 

 awarded to any of its "staff officers," and yet fhe paper fills 

 a place that has long and sorely needed just such a represen- 

 tative, and consequently its permanent success is a legitimate 

 result. 



Starting at first as a sportsman's journal, that plebian rec- 

 reation has risen to respectability under its influence, so 

 that one may be proud of his rifle or gun, where once he was 

 ashamed to be seen with one on his shoulfler. Now we wil- 

 lingly acknowledge that the keen-eyed hunter in his light 

 canoe, penetrating regions unknown to civilization, has 

 brought to fight facts and fancies in organic life new to 

 science and the world. 



The call for living issues, for facts as they appear to-day 

 under our advanced intelligence, has brought out an over- 

 whelming amount of contribution and incident, raising the 

 question as to the reliability of certain early writers of na- 

 tural history, and laying bare, discrepancies and omissions 

 which should no longer exist. 



Here are opened channels of thought and research before 

 unused. The sportsman in his record of facts and incident 

 becomes a naturalist and scientist without effort, a source 

 of human knowledge, now as never before showing its im- 

 portance; and as new fields are under consideration and 

 grow broader with each day, just so the interest, enjoyment 

 and real soul, as well as bodily profit, is increased. It* is the 

 full free breath of mountain air that fills his lungs with 

 oxygen, the living flame, and gives him strength and endur- 

 ance beyond other men. The man of study and letters finds 

 in the woods renewed energy from, the same source, his 

 J writings have sharper edge and point, while to the "wit" the 



Making no pretense to be a Scientific journal, the Fokest and 



Stream has on its pages more of what natural science is 

 built upon than any other publication in the language. Look 

 at the exhibitions of canine sagacity. Look at our yachts, 

 true sea birds of the ocean, marvels of improvement in naval 

 architecture; the rifle of to-day, the deadliest arm the world 

 has ever seen, and deny, if you dare, the strides natural his- 

 tory has made, gleaning in old fields, picking heads of aban- 

 doned grain and shaking out the grass in sheaves already 

 gathered— all living issues of to-day, and for which, anxious 

 to know and have their children know, men are pouring out 

 money like water. 



I might as w T ell here as elsewhere crave the reader's indul- 

 gence while I offer a word in explanation of a deviouscour.se. 

 I was drawn into the publication of papers on natural his- 

 tory as subjects came up for discussion in the Forest and 

 Stream, until, before I was aware of the danger, honorable 

 retreat was impossible. I now go back to an article written 

 years ago, and which should have appeared at first as defin- 

 ing the position assumed, only hoping, if the same idea is 

 sometimes repeated, it will bear the repetition. The primary 

 object of the essay was to engraft science back upon its 

 parent stock, natural philosophy; because science is only a 

 human method of studying creative works, and may go 

 astray, while philosophy, the law under which all works were 

 accomplished, came, with them frotntbe Creator's hand. The 

 man who cannot see this is to be pitied, the man who denies 

 it is a fallen angel. 



I offer, therefore, a simple record of what I have seen in 

 more than half a century of research, and what others 

 have seen, and which I believe true statements. My own 

 discoveries are neither brilliant nor numerous, and yet they 

 are such as 1 hardly feel willing to see "appropriated" or for- 

 gotten, to be rediscovered by and by. If the conclusions 

 drawn are given with the confidence of strong belief, rest 

 assured that that is precisely the case since many an episode 

 cost years of attention as its month came round, and many 

 questions could only be settled in certain degrees of latitude 

 1 may be pardoned for writing that a mushroom growth is 

 here of all places most pernicious. To the young and super- 

 ficial mind there is a charm in classification, orders, genera, 

 and minor divisions. An array of hard names and indefinite 

 distinctions obscure all above or beyond, the conclusion is 

 at once reached that if these terms can be fluently repeated 

 and profusely written, the whole matter is understood, and 

 that this constitutes the study of nature in all its fullness and 

 fruition. This weakness of young writers is a sad and fatal mis- 

 take; it has filled our pages of natural history with crude un- 

 philosophic theories, improbable "probabilities" and strange 

 reports, ready to seize any real discovery that is made, and 

 still, erroneous record if no occurrence brings them to Light. 

 What I would impress is, that beyond this dark barrier of 

 technicalities lies a field boundless as the love of God for his 

 creatures, where is spread out all that is beautiful, all that i.-, 

 elevating and satisfactory to an inquiring mind. It is the 

 little story of life in the simple language of nature that every 

 creature brings before us; the place they occupy in the great 

 chain of intelligences; the contemplation of which raises ub 

 in the same scale, ennobles our position and leaves us to feel 

 and think. 



I would also impress a more close observance of the Jaws 

 which govern and sustain life in the orders below us, minis- 

 tering as they do by life and liberty to our pleasures and our 

 necessities. They have a claim on our mercy at least, which 

 it is sin of deepest dye to disregard. 



When we deprive a bird or animal of liberty, we also per- 

 haps take from them ability to obtain the food on which they 

 live, and without which they must die. We may exhaust 

 invention in mixing substitutes, but the broken natural law 

 remains, and the penalty is death. Take the Southern mock- 

 ing bird, an insect and worm eater exclusively. Not one iu 

 ten survives the first year in confinement; not one in twenty 

 lives two years, and not one in a hundred lives over five yeais. 

 And why is this? Not because you did not give food in 

 abundance, but because you did not and could not give the 

 food the Creator made necessary to sustain that life. "Why 

 did my bird die when he sung so beautifully but yesterday?" 

 1 have heard many times repeated, with only the same an 

 swer to give: "Your bird had only the language of song, and 

 the last wail of starvation could be nothing else." 

 your bird, a mere skeleton covered with feathers; as 1 said 

 before, the unremitting penalty of a broken law, immutable 

 through the whole realm of organic life. 



There's an old book "laying around," you will find one in 

 almost every house; in fact, every well regulated family 

 possesses one or more copies, for "there is a great deal iu it." 

 Not particularly a w T ork on ornithology, although a bearing 

 in that direction is perceptible. Turning its pages one day 



