June 26 1884.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



423 



the valley lay along the top of a steadily ascending ridge 

 called the "Devil's Backbone. " This weary ascent made, 

 we met with the river again and crossed it. The road then 

 crossed the river seventeen times in less than that number of 

 miles, but has been remodeled since so as to cut off some 

 fifteen of the crossings. Some of tbe fords were particularly 

 trying, being deep and swift, with huge holders sprinkling 

 the bottom of the channel. Our road this day was all up 

 bill and very muddy. In places the horses would sink to 

 the saddle girths, and the day's work was a hard one. Riding 

 was an impossibility, and we walked all the way, towing 

 our horses at tbe end of a rope. We made only a brief stop 

 for lunch, as we were anxious to get as near the summit as 

 possible before night. 



Tbe monotony of tbe day was varied by nothing of inter- 

 est. Though we were high up, we could see nothing on 

 account of the tall timber surrounding us on every side. 

 Bears' tracks were plenty, but we did not search for the 

 makers of tbe tracks. Night coming on, we stopped at the 

 last crossing of the river, rive miles from the summit. There 

 was no teed for our wearied animals save leaves, and after 

 a hastily-prepared supper of coffee and bacon, we rolled up 

 in our blankets and slept. Tired as we were, with the first 

 glimpse of day we were up; a repetition of the supper of 

 last evening for breakfast, and we were off. This last five 

 miles to the summit was the hardest of all. The mud 

 seemed to be bottomless aud the hills interminable. At the 

 summit we found about a mile of snow, from one to two 

 feet deep. Just before reaching the summit we saw a large 

 gray wolf prowling among the trees, but before we could get 

 a shot at him be had disappeared. There are still a large 

 number of these animals in these mountains, but they are 

 difficult to find, owing to their great cowardice. Arriving at 

 tbe summit, we took a short rest and a smoke in honor of 

 the event. We were then at an elevation of about 3,500 

 feet, in the heart of tbe mountains, with bristling snow-cov- 

 ered peaks all around us. 



Starting on the down grade we went a couple of miles, 

 when the road changed as if by magic. On the west side of 

 the summit we had traveled through endless forests of fir 

 and cedar, and the underbrush had been almost impenetrable. 

 Now the scene changed. We were still in the midst of the 

 peaks, but the timber had changed to pine, and the under- 

 brush had disappeared, and in its place was the nutritive 

 bunch grass growing luxuriantly. The mud had disappeared, 

 too, and the road became almost dusty. This change was 

 caused by our reaching the other side of the summit. The 

 warm, humid currents of air, fresh from tbe Japan Current, 

 which washes the shores of Washington Territory, arc laden 

 with moisture, and striking the mountains on the western 

 side, cause an almost tropical growth of vegetation. On the 

 other side, not reached by this damp air, the climate is 

 totally different. It is dry and hot, and as a matter of course, 

 the vegetable growth is "modified. 



We halted at the first stream we came to, and unsaddbng 

 our horses picketed them out, and allowed them to eat their 

 fill. We also attended to our owu wants in that line, and 

 after noon started once more, feeling like new men with new 

 animals. Lake Kichelass was to be our stopping place for 

 the night, and following our road through pine groves aud 

 beautiful little grassy glades, on a continuous down grade, 

 we were soon at tbe lake. This regiou is the paradise of the 

 still-hunter. The vistas under and between the scattered 

 pines give uninterrupted views for hundreds of yards, and 

 the grass affords a fine feeding ground for deer. On the 

 way down to the lake we saw a fine doe and fawn, and could 

 easily have killed them both, but could not have used them, 

 nor carried them out, so we refrained from shooting them, 

 and with feelings of regret mixed with pleasure, that, we had 

 been sportsmen enough to resist the temptation, we watched 

 tbe beautiful creatures as they bounded away. To the grouse 

 we were not so merciful, and a few reports from E.'s breech- 

 loader were enough to insure us a good supper. 



Arriving at the lake, we found it was a veritable mountain 

 jewel. It was about four miles long and two wide, and its 

 setting was of snowy peaks on every side. This lake is the 

 reputed home of trout of wonderful size, some of which are 

 said to weigh a sufficient number of pounds to make the 

 famous Rangeley trout ashamed of themselves. We had 

 no means of verifying the stories we had heard, as they can 

 only be caught with a spoon book by trolling, and we had 

 neither spoon nor canoe. A fly failed to raise them, but in 

 the Yakima River, which has its source in this lake, and 

 which is here a small stream, we found all we wanted, and 

 after picketing our horses and taking a short rest, we jointed 

 our rods and filled the air for the rest of the afternoon with 

 the merry click of the reel. Our count at evening gave us 

 about two hundred, with a three-pound "whopper" to E.'s 

 credit, taken on a roval coachman. Our most killing flies 

 in this portion of the Territory are about as follows: Coach- 

 man, royal coachman, Montreal, Canada, Seth Green, pro- 

 fessor, both blue and yellow, claret, governor and alder. 

 Brown hackles are of course always good ; with a dash of 

 color, as red tail or body, they are especially good. A gaudy 

 fly with red or claret predominating, is best in our larger 

 streams, coming from the snow mountains, while in the 

 smaller streams, close to the Sound, a fly of quieter hue seems 

 to be best. 



About sundown an acquaintance from Seattle hove in 

 sight. He was returning from a trip to the Kittitass Valley, 

 and when he came in sight of our camp was meditating on 

 the probable amount of enjoyment he would be able to get 

 out of a night spent alone in that wilderness. He greeted~us 

 with a shout of relief, and, if I could judge from the ex- 

 pression of bis countenance, was very much relieved at find- 

 ing us. He spent the night with us and was off early in the 

 morning. Satiate'd with tbe sport of the afternoon, we be- 

 thought ourselves of supper. Selecting a cosy place for a 

 camp, E. and the writer prepared the meal of trout and 

 grouse, while S. and our guest busied themselves in cutting 

 boughs for bedding, looking after the horses, and getting 

 firewood. After supper we turned in, as we fondly imagined, 

 to sleep. But hardly had darkness settled down on the earth 

 when our ears were saluted by the fiendish yells of what 

 seemed like a thousand coyotes, but what was probably only 

 three or four. The noise they make is almost indescribable 

 to one who has never heard them, A sort of a combination 

 of the howbng of a dog and the braying of a jackass, debv- 

 ered in double, quick time, would be as near as I could come 

 to expressing it. These charming beasts kept us awake for 

 some two or three hours, They kept just out of shotgun 

 range, and after two or three ineffectual shots into the dark- 

 ness, we gave it up in disgust. They finally feft our neigh- 

 borhood, and we settled down to deep. 



After an early breakfast, we bade farewell to Lake Kiche- 

 lass, and started for the foot of the mountains. Our road 

 followed the general course of the Yakima River through 



groves of pine, and through little prairies. We occasionally 

 caught glimpses of the river, which grew larger and larger 

 With each view, until at our first crossing it was quite a re- 

 spectable stream. At this crossing we did not ford, but led 

 our horses across a huge log hewed flat on top. Following 



Which the wool grows, as on 0. montana, Antilocapra or 

 C'erm/s canajends in winter. It appears to have somewhat 

 more wool than the wild species. 1 am inclined to think that 

 the animal has not yet entirely Bhed its winter pelage, and 

 that when it has got rid of tins, it will show no more wool 



down the river, on a continuous down grade, through a than a wild sheep does in summer, and that it will then re- 



beautiful country most of the way, after a thirty mile ride, 

 we came out upon the summit of a bare hill about a thousand 

 feet above the Kittitass Valley. Below us was the level ex- 

 panse of the valley, traversed by green lines, which marked 

 the course of the streams, ami checkered with green and 

 golden wheat fields. Winding through the valley till it was 

 lost to sight in the distance, was our friend the Yakima 

 River, and some fifteen miles away, near the river, was the 

 little town of Ellcnsburg. 



A gentle descent of about five miles brought us to the foot 

 of tbe hill in tbe valley, where we found the residence of an 

 old Seattle friend. We dismounted aud waited while he 

 had dinner prepared for us, and after partaking of that meal, 

 started for Ellcnsburg, which we reached after a pleasant 

 ride of two hours between grain fields and meadows. We 

 had now reached the region where prairie chickens abounded, 

 and we flushed great numbers of them, taking in a few on 

 the way. At Ellensburg we put up at the only hotel in the 

 town, and after supper hunted up some friends who were 

 living there. 



The town was small. There were at the time of our visit 

 about one hundred inhabitants. It is in the center of the 

 Kittitass Valley, which is, perhaps, the finest and most 

 fertile valley in tbe Territory. It is a great stock region, 

 and is also a fine wheat country, and great quantities of "both 

 are raised. There is no outlet for the valley at present, how- 

 ever. All freight has to be teamed from the Columbia River, 

 nearly one hundred and fifty miles away. The country is 

 quite thickly settled at the present time, though there are 

 still large quantities of Government land open to settlement 

 around the edges of the valley. A railroad across the Cas- 

 cade Mountains will, in a very few years, become a necessity, 

 and this road, when it is built,' will unavoidably follow 

 almost tbe same route we had traversed, passing through 

 this valley and making it a very rich community with its 

 great resources. 



The Yakima River runs close by the town, aud the next 

 day we amused ourselves catching salmon trout with bait in 

 tbe river. They would not take a fly, but would take a 

 baited hook tbe moment it struck the water, and being very 

 gamy afforded fine sport. They averaged about two pounds 

 i u weight, and we kept the sport up until it became monot- 

 onous. The next day was our national holiday, and was 

 celebrated in a becoming manner by the people of the valley. 

 Several companies of soldiers were at this time stationed 

 temporarily in the valley, about five miles from town, and 

 thither we went to join in the celebration, which was to be 

 held at the soldiers' camp. A pavilion had been erected, and 

 there were orations, dancing and dinner for all. During the 

 day a summer shower drove us to shelter. I found it in the 

 baker's tent, and spent a pleasant hour talking to him and 

 feasting on his pies and cakes. 



We spent the night at Ellensburg, joining in the dance 

 in the evening, and the next day was whiled away alternately 

 with the trout and lounging about the town. In the evening 

 we started for Yakima City, thirty-five miles down the 

 river, having preferred to wait and travel by night, thus 

 avoiding the heat. Riding all night, morning found us at 

 the camp of a friend who had a contract for building a road 

 through the Yakima canon, about six miles above Yakima 

 City. We yielded to his solicitations to stay a few days with 

 him, and made preparations to camp. Trout were abundant 

 in the river, so were prairie chickens in tbe fields below the 

 canon, likewise rattlesnakes on tbe rocky sides of the 

 canon, and we spent the next three days in making war on 

 the three, with great success. Rattlesnakes were so 

 abundant here (and these were the first that we had seen) 

 that it was a common thing to kill twenty in a day's fishing 

 or shooting. After three days of this we moved on to 

 Yakima City, a pleasant farming village of three hundred 

 inhabitants. Here we found an itinerant photographer, and 

 improved the opportunity to have our pictures takeu. I 

 regret that I cannot present them to the readers of the 

 Forest asd Stream. 



After a few days stay here, during which time we made 

 numerous raids on the prairie chickens and trout, E. found 

 his time was growing short. So, as 1 had determined to 

 extend my journey to Walla Walla, I left my companions to 

 return the way we had come, and leaving them my horse to 

 be used as a pack horse on their return, at 6 A. M. of a 

 beautiful morning, set out in a buckboard, in company 

 with tbe driver and the United States mail for a 130 mile 

 ride to Walla Walla. I reached that busy city after an 

 uneventful ride of two days. 



Thus ended one of the most enjoyable trips it has ever 

 fallen to my lot to make. E. and S. returned home over 

 the same route we had come, while I, after a two months' 

 stay in Walla Walla returned home via the Columbia 

 River and Portland, Oregon. Alki. 



Portland Oregon. 



> 



A HYBRID SHEEP. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



There is now to be seen in this city an interesting hybrid 

 between a male bighorn (Ovis montana) and a female domes- 

 tic sheep (Ovis aries). The animal is a male, and is about 

 three years old. In size it is intermediate between the com- 

 mon sheep and the wild species, being about as tall as a large 

 Shropshire ram, but shorter-bodied and with the appearance 

 of much greater strength and activity. Except for the differ- 

 ence in the horns and the fact that it has a rather long tail, 

 this animal resembles an undersized specimen of 0, montana. 

 The horns are like those of the male bighorn in shape, that 

 is, they do not make a complete turn, but are very much 

 more slender than in that species, being considerably longer 

 in proportion to their thickness at the base. The general 

 color of this specimen is very pale gray or whitish, much the 

 same as that of Ods montana in winter. It thus contrasts 

 strongly with the male bighorn, which is its companion and 

 father. It is wholly without the distinctive markings of tbe 

 wild species. Its domestic origin on one side is shown by its 

 slender tail, which is about seven inches in length, while that 

 of the adult bighorn, an animal twice as large, is not more 

 than two inches long. The coat of this hybrid, while show- 

 ing a considerable admixture of wool, consists, like that of 

 the wild species, mainly of coarse, brittle hair, beneath 



semble this species more closely in color than it does at 

 present. 



The history of this specimen, so far as it can be learned, 

 is somewhat as follows: Four years ago the Ernest brothers, 

 catttle men of Wyoming Territory, north of Rawlins, cap- 

 tured a male mountain lamb and tamed it. The same year 

 they had about the ranche a pet female merino land), and 

 these two grew up together. From their union this hybrid 

 sprang. The male parent and this specimen were purchased 

 by Wm. F. Cody for his Wild West show, with which they 

 now are. 



Although I have, in the past, beard vague reports of the 

 existence of hybrids, similar to the one above described, I 

 have never until now been fortunate enough to see one. Nor 

 do I think that it is known generally that these occur. 



Geo. Bird Grinnbll. 



New York. June 22. 



"THE COUESIAN PERIOD?" 



Mr. Chairman Section of Ada a Anatomy, A. 0. U.: 



Dear Sir— Thanking you for your courtesy in "taking 

 cognizance of my communication," I would remark that I 

 regret not to find any reasons for dropping my incognito. I 

 asked a few simple questions. This did not pretend to be a 

 "manly" deed, so I fail to see that it indicates a lack of 

 "manliness" not "to attach my proper name" to them; my 

 name is completely immaterial; any member of the A. 0. U. 

 might have put. the questions (especially, perhaps, any mem- 

 ber of the "Section of Avian Anatomy"), nor do'l fully 

 understand why it should be beneath the dignity of the 

 esteemed chairman to be guilty of answering a few harmless 

 questions of a purely technical nature, even if asked by an 

 anonymous questioner; nor why it should be necessary to 

 know the name of the writer who put such questions as: "Is 

 it logical to name an epoch before the epoch has expbed? 

 How do you know that the epoch will expire in 1900? 

 Whence comes the privilege of a botanist to name epochs in 

 ornithology? Do you know that Baird, Brewer and Ridg- 

 way's grand work is still in course of publication? Are not 

 the leading features of the present American ornithology 

 still 'Bairdian,' and what are the scientific features distin- 

 guishing the new epoch from the past?" I say why should 

 it be necessary to know the name of the man asking these 

 questions in order to answer them properly? The esteemed 

 chairman asserts that he is "too old an ornithologist to be 

 caught 'gunning in the dark.'" I do not know your exact 

 age as an ornithologist, but I refuse to expose'my proper 

 name as target even for your "gunning" in broad daylight. 

 The questions are of importance, not my name. It is not a 

 matter of persons, but of principles. 



I am extremely sorry that you refuse to answer these ques- 

 tions until your curiosity as to the authorship be satisfied, 

 not so much for rny information, but for your own sake, as 

 there really are persons so perverse that they insisted upon 

 the article being "unanswerable" in spite of your assertion 

 to the contrary. Of course I refused to listen to such talk. 



But my questions are not so purely anonymous as they 

 seem to be. We have an old saying in that part of the 

 country in which I used to live: "Name me your friends, 

 and I will tell you who you are." Now that is what I did, 

 and so you should be able to tell who I am. "Doctor Socrates 

 is my friend, Professor Plato is my friend, but Miss Veritas 

 is more my friend" is tbe fit translation of tbe very correct 

 Latin of the very old phrase, 



Amicus Socrates, amicus Plato, magis amica Veritas. 



WERE WE SUCCESSFUL? 



r pHERE are times when one gets nearer to nature than 

 JL others, and so there are times when one. enjoys throw- 

 ing aside the cares of business, and can go hunting, boating 

 or fishing with more zest than at others." 



All will probably agree with me that the true sportsman is 

 one who while keenly enjoying his sport, engages in it not 

 for the amount of game he may secure, but for the recrea- 

 tion and rest from business his excursions bring him, and 

 who measures his success by the amount of pleasure derived 

 from them. He enjoys a fine bag of game as well as any, 

 but the mere securing it is not the highest and best part of 

 his pleasure. To such an one a day on the water or in the 

 field may be a great success, and he not have a feather or a 

 fin to show for his endeavors. One of tbe most pleasant and 

 profitable days the writer ever enjoyed in nature's solitudes 

 largely partook of this character. It was a bright warm 

 day in early June as for time, and the. locality Spu-it Lake, 

 Iowa, and its vicinity. The day's adventures began before 

 sunrise, when, breakfast over, two of us left camp to visit, 

 a colony of cormorauts that inhabit a small island in Loon 

 Lake, a pretty sheet of water just over the Iowa line in Min- 

 nesota, and on the banks of which we were camped. The 

 surroundings were such as make one feel this is a lovely 

 world, in which existence is a joy. 



On one side of the lake, for two or three miles, the forest, 

 just putting on its freshest, brightest green, sloped gently 

 down to the lake, while on the other "side was the broad 

 prairie, covered by an emerald carpet, coming in places down 

 to the water's edge so gently that one could scarcely dis- 

 tinguish a mile away where prairie ended and water began, 

 and again breaking in bluffs fifty feet high, almost perpendic- 

 ular from prairie to water. In places here and there along 

 the shore were bright-colored boulders, lifted by nature's 

 forces into symmetrical walls, for this is one of tbe famous 

 walled lakes of this region. Directly before us was the 

 island, rearing its bead fifty or more feet almost sheer from 

 tbe water, crowned by a clump of trees and bushes growiug 

 in such a position that it required no vivid imagination to 

 fancy it some ancient castle, built there where it were easy 

 to defend it from any foe. 



The bright waves were rolling directly toward us, driven 

 by a smart breeze, while prairie and forest, water and land, 

 bathed in the bright, warm spring sunshine (for in that lati- 

 tude June is a spring month), form a picture of such en- 

 trancing loveliness that one would seem never to tire of 

 watching it. Nor was it a picture devoid of life— hundreds 

 of cormorants wheeled through the air or swam on the water 

 about their island home; here and there could be seen flocks 

 of wild ducks, smaller birds of various kiuds were every- 

 where, and an occasional splash in the water showed that its 

 finny inhabitants were busy, and we knew from our experi- 

 ence the day before that they were numerous. 



Our boat was a canvas skiff, ten feet long and weighing, 



