124 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



fMAKCff 12, 1885. 



visit was the Calaveras Big Tree Grove, The trip from San 

 Francisco is a very pleasant one, including a stage ride of 

 thirty miles from " Milton to the grove. This route crosses 

 the Salt Spring Valley, famous as the scene of Sau Joaquin's 

 operations in gold dust. The lookout of this daring robber 

 is still pointed out. Fifteen miles from Milton is Murphy's 

 Camp, once a thriving mining town and still bearing some 

 evidence of thrift. Fifteen miles up the slope from Mur- 

 phy's and the grove is reached. 



Passing by the great natural beauties of this region, and 

 also the very tempting theme of the Big Trees, I will say a 

 few words in regard to the special attractions for the camper. 

 Grouse are quite abundant, as are also blaektail deer. 

 Grizzlies are not very numerous, but are sometimes met with 

 most unexpectedly. A party of ladies who were fishing 

 within a few miles of the hotel a few summers ago, were 

 startled by a grizzly stepping into the stream for a drink. It 

 is needless to say that it was scared nearly to death by the 

 screams which greeted his appearance. 



There is a very pretty little trout stream only a mile from 

 the hotel, but it is constantly fished by the Indians. Three 

 miles off is Beaver Creek, and one mile further is the Stan- 

 islaus River, both affording fine sport. The Stanislaus is 

 one of the most rugged streams in the Sierras. It is narrow 

 at this point and its descent is very rapid. Over the huge 

 boulders which obstruct its course, the waters rush with a 

 deafening roar, and are lashed into foam. From many 

 points on the trail leading down, its snow-white track is 

 visible for miles. Above this point there is excellent fishing 

 for trout. From one to two hundred trout have been taken 

 in a day by a single rod, some of them weighing three 

 pounds. 



There can be no better camping ground in the world than 

 upon the banks of this beautiful river. At a distance of ten 

 miles from the grove game could be found in great abund- 

 ance. Add to this a glorious atmosphere and nature's 

 grandest scenery. What more could the sportsman wanl? 

 Nothing but the services of the genial old guide, trapper 

 Smith, who makes his home at the Grove. The trapper is a 

 '49 man and looks it every inch. He comes nearer to 

 Cooper's ideal backwoodsmen than any mortal I have met 

 WiWh. _ Sycamore- 



THE BUCKTAIL IN FLORIDA. 



ONE year ago, while suffering from severe trouble with 

 respiratory orgaus, I said that another winter must 

 find me south of the snow belt, or I might as well throw up 

 the sponge. I hated to do that. The world, even the north- 

 ern world, seemed so bright and green (in the summer time), 

 there were so many thousands of bright lakes, ponds and 

 rivers to cruise, such sweet, cold springs and lovely camping 

 grounds to take in, so much fauna and flora to look after, 

 that— well, I felt like asking the Grim Rider to let his pale 

 gnaw-post go a little slow on the track for a few years, until 

 1 could finish up some cruising, and get into line* for a final 

 adjustment, and I turned my thoughts to Southern California, 

 and the gulf thereof. But my "favorite style of cruising 

 would hardly be possible there. 



The Bucktail turns her beautiful nose up— more in fear 

 than anger— at broad waters and crested waves. Like Barkis, 

 she "is willin'," but her skipper thinks too much of her to 

 swamp her in rough water, miles from laud, and the wind 

 off shore, how could she make the beach V (To say nothing 

 of the skipper.) 



From June till October I cruised and camped, mildly, on 

 the upper waters of the Susquehanna, getting such benefit 

 as I might from out-door life in a piny, hemlocky region. 

 When the sharp November frosts set in I had certainly 

 gained a good deal in health, but hardly enough to tide me 

 through the slushy, snowy, thawy and freezing season from 

 the middle of January to the middle of May. That is the 

 trying time tor Northern invalids. More people meet sick- 

 ness and death during those four months than in the other 

 eight mouths of the year; at least in Northern Pennsylvania, 

 and in fact in most of the Northern and Eastern States. 

 Note it and see if I am not right. 



Just when I was undecided where to go I received a letter 

 from "Tarpon" (Capt. S. D. Kendall), whom I knew by rep- 

 utation as the man who had cruised the Solid Comfort from 

 St. Johnsbury, Vt., to the Anclote River, in Southern Flor- 

 ida, only making one carry by rail, i. 6., from Buffalo to 

 Olean, to reach the upper waters of the Allegheny. The 

 letter contained a cordial invitation to Tarpon Springs, and 

 to his house as long as I liked to make it my home. Such a 

 letter from such a man is worth something, and I wrote at 

 once, briefly asking of game, fish, possibilities of cruising, 

 and, more than all, health. The answer was such as to settle 

 me down to bearings for Florida. When the chest was finally 

 locked and lashed, the shanty-tent and the little frying pan 

 were left out. 



Then December came and a cold snap with sleighing, and 

 the thermometer at 22 : below zero. I had spoken of passing 

 Christmas with the Captain, but delay succeeded delay, until 

 the New Tear was past, and the cold snap had changed 1o 

 rain and slush, with the mercury at 50°. It was not until 

 Jan. 14 that T climbed the stairs to the office of Forest and 

 Stream, and was taken charge of by Mr. H., on the part of 

 the paper. From that time on, barring some difficulty iu 

 locating the camps in Park row, my lines were cast in pleas- 

 ant places so long as I stayed in the city. It was not for 

 long. On the Tallahassee, at ten minutes before midnight 

 of the 15th, I was off for Florida. 



On Friday night the gale came on, and we rouuded Cape 

 Hatteras in'it at 5| o'clock the next morning. I will add 

 that Capt. Fisher said it was the heaviest weather he had 

 experienced in two years, and he thought the breakers on 

 Hatteras were uglier than he had ever seen them. Of course 

 the passengers were thinned out some, I think there were 

 only five who had appetites for a hearty meal, and about a 

 dozen who tried to make a bravejshow of it, but soon went 

 in for a reconsideration. From Friday forenoon until we 

 reached smooth water at Savannah they were mostly con- 

 spicuous by their absence. As for myself — have not been so 

 hungry in ten years. A thrash outside seemed to be the 

 very thing I needed. Arrived at the wharf in Savannah the 

 crew commenced unloading at once, and as I was in my 

 berth asleep, the canoe was "transferred," as they put it, 

 without my having seen her since the morning we passed 

 Hatteras. And she was gone from the wharf, no one could 

 say where My ticket called for passage to Fernandina by 

 water. But the connecting steamer was "knocked out" by 

 the gale, and the Bucktail had disappeared, no one could 

 tell where. I spent two days trying to hunt her up, and 

 then went to the office of the Ocean Steamship Company. 

 They thought she had gone on to Cedar Keys, and offered 

 to send me to that place by rail, which was fair, and 1 closed 

 with the offer. 



But 1 had not got through with delays. At Callahan there 

 was a lay-over of nearly a day, aud worse yet, the canoe 

 was not at Cedar Keys. As I would go no further without 

 her, I lost the steamer down the coast; but the next day, 

 blessed sight, there lay the Bucktail in her loveliness, as 

 sound as the day she left Wellsboro. And the schooner Sun- 

 rise lay at the wharf, to sail that very day for the Anclote. 

 I engaged passage, and at once placed the'eanoe and big chest 

 in the hold of the little 11-ton schooner. She did not sail 

 that day, nor the next; but on Sunday, the 25th, at 31 P.M., 

 the Sunrise went off to the southward with flowing sheet 

 and a stiff northerly breeze. She was a boat of the broad, 

 shallow type, 32ft. over all, ll|ft. beam, and a powerful 

 centerboard. I mention these facts because between 8 and 9 

 P. M., as she was running ten knots an hour under mainsail, 

 foresail and jib, she was struck by the worst squall I ever 

 saw at sea. It was like striking a rock, and in two seconds 

 she was nearly on her beam ends. Luckily the jib took care 

 of itself by carrying away the sheet, and the young wrecker 

 at the helm sprang to the main sheet and eased it off in 

 an instant, catching the helm and putting it hard down 

 without losing a second. And sooner than I would have 

 thought possible the captain and mate had the foresail down 

 by the ruu. Then came the mainsail, and in no time we 

 were flying before the squall under bare poles. There are no 

 quicker or better small-craft sailors t than the coasters and 

 wreckers of the western coast. And, with considerable ex- 

 perience of dangerous weather at sea, 1 think that knock 

 down on the little Suurise the worst racket I ever saw on 

 salt water. Only that the sea was comparatively smooth 

 we should have been fairly capsized. 



When we were running before the wind with just the 

 head of the foresail up, the captain began to heave the lead; 

 and when we shoaled to ten feet both anchors were let go 

 and we rounded-to handsomely, in shoal water it is true, but 

 out of sight of land. Then the wind went down and a heavy 

 fog came on which held us till 9 o'clock the next morning, 

 for these coasters will not run in a fog. 



And so, with a fight wind, we came at last to the Anclote 

 Keys, where more than thirty spongers were lying at anchor, 

 waiting for better weather; but the captain, instead of mak- 

 ing the wharf, as he should have done, anchored two miles 

 off and sent his boat in with five passengers and the Buck- 

 tail in tow. The mate in charge of the boat contrived to 

 ground her half a mile from land, and I got into the canoe, 

 put the double blade in form, and made for shore on my per- 

 sonal curve. The rest managed to get within forty rods of 

 shore, but had to get out and wade at last. I ran the canoe 

 to the beach, asked a few directions of a native, and started 

 up the Anclote for Tarpon Springs. 



I had started from Wellsborr on the 13th, and should have 

 made the trip in five days. It was late on the 26th when I 

 entered the mouth of the Anclote and started up stream for 

 Tarpon Springs. I could have reached California in half 

 the time, and the chest, with two guns, two rods, and all my 

 clothes and camp duffle, was left on board, with a solemn 

 promise from the captain that it should be landed the next 

 day, which it wasn't, as the sequel will show. 

 They are not particularly hurried in this region. 

 It happened that I paddled up to a point within eighty 

 rods of the landing I wanted, and then, seeing neither bridge, 

 house nor landing, turned back. It was uncertain cruising. 

 We can usually tell down stream by the current, but it hap- 

 pens that there is a strong tide which backs up the water for 

 some ten miles, and the Anclote is so tortuous that you take 

 nearly all points of the compass in cruising either waj% 

 whereby it happened that, by the dim moonlight, I was liable 

 to get logged. And I was tired; it was getting along in the 

 evening, and time to make camp. la coming up the river I 

 had passed a fine grove of pines, and about midway of the 

 grove a motherly cow was tinkling a bell of flnetone and far- 

 reaching volume. I recollected that I left the bell over the 

 port quarter coming up, and made for it at once. When 

 opposite the music I took it on the starboard quarter and 

 worked away from 'it in the direction of a red sunset glow 

 that still lingered in the west, and soon sighted a sawmill that 

 I had passed au hour or two before. A small schooner and 

 several small boats were moored near the mill, and beyond, 

 among the ever-present pines, dusky forms were flitting 

 about bright lightwood fires. I landed the canoe and made 

 for the fires on a bee-line. It was the quarters of the mill 

 hands, who were all colored, and they were busy cooking 

 rations for the next day. One muscular youug fellow who 

 was baking biscuit had a check book protruding from tho 

 pocket of his blue shirt, and I judged him to be a sort of 

 foreman, which was correct. He was clad with good nature 

 as with a garment (and he was clad with little else), and was 

 friendly and communicative, with little of the negro idiom 

 in his speech. He said the canoe was perfectly safe at the 

 mill, and it was only a hundred rods to a good hotel, two of 

 them for that matter. And he left his cooking to put me on 

 the right path. In five minutes I was seated by a good fire 

 in the Tropical House. And a very welcome thing was a 

 good fire in Florida all through January. There was no 

 time after reaching the Georgia line that 1 did not need all 

 the winter clothing I wore at home with the thermometer 

 below zero. People here do not prepare for cold weather, 

 and a long, stormy norther strikes them hard. 



There were fires at the Tropical, however, with warm, dry 

 rooms and comfort and quiet. The fare was good and prices 

 moderate. Another and larger house, the Tarpon Springs 

 Hotel, is a fine large building, with excellent fare and attend- 

 ance, buiit by "the company" in anticipation of what the 

 town is to be rather than to supply present wants. For the 

 white population of Tarpon Springs is less than one 

 hundred, and two years ago there was no such town. Now 

 there are two very fair country stores, a post-office and two 

 good hotels. More of the Springs in the long, leisurely days 

 to come. When they found at the hotel that I had come 

 a long distance to visit and cruise with the canoeist who had 

 paddled and sailed from St. Johnsbury, Vermont, to Tarpon 

 Springs in Florida, they insisted on treating me as a vistor; 

 and it was pleasant to know, after a long, vexatious journey, 

 that somebody had been wishing and waiting for me. 



It was pleasant, almost touching, to be met at the little 

 wharf by a sailor-like man with a hearty grip of both hands 

 and a "God bless you, 'Nessmuk,' we've been looking down 

 river lor you the last; two months; come right up to the 

 house. Or, hold on, I must have a ride in the Bucktail first 

 if it's only to beat Mrs. K." 



So the Captain deftly stepped into her with his 170 pounds 

 avoirdupois and found her quite as capable of his weight as 

 for mine, while he sent her along much faster than her skip- 

 per can. 



Mrs. K. was almost vexed at not being first in the small 

 canoe, as she rather prides herself on canoeing. But she 

 made amends after dinner by paddling the Bucktail down. 



to the springs and back. (Mi passant, she once made a cruise 

 of 1,000 miles with the captain, from Olean to Cincinnati.) 

 She trims my canoe better and sends it along faster than 1 

 do myself. 



1 was glad that Capt. K., like myself, had the use of both 

 hands. He had a 24ft. sharpie ready for her sails, and he 

 has another of 33ft. in length and 8£ft. beam, ready for sea. 

 She is able for outside work, and will cruise the Gulf coast 

 under the name of Nessmuk, which is about as neat a com- 

 pliment as has ever been paid me— though several of my 

 friends have named their offspring in my honor; and I am 

 proud to say that said namesakes have 'mostly turned out 

 finely, proving apt scholars of the Boone and Walton type, ■ 

 while one or two of them have learned to read and write 

 very fairly. (This goes to show that reading and writing 

 need not necessarily interfere with the more manly branches 

 of a boy's education.) 



The 'Captain, Mrs. K. and the writer formed rather a 

 sociable trio until two bells of the morning watch. Then the 

 captain led the way to the little stand-up bunk that had been 

 waiting for me nearly two months. It was a berth to please 

 a canoeist. The southwest corner of a loft 22ft. long by 

 16ft. wide. One large unfinished skiff occupied the middle 

 of the room, another smaller one on one side of the room, a 

 big work-bench on the other, and my corner, the southwest 

 one, snugly curtained off with a home-made writing stand 

 beside the bunk, and the latter neatly upholstered with clean 

 sheets and plenty of soft woolen blankets. It was a cold 

 night, for Florida, and 1 crept under all the blankets I could 

 master, bade the Captain a sleepy good night, and slept the 

 sleep of the tired canoeist. 



Running over shoals between Anclote and Kendall's land- 

 ing I had seen large schools of mullet and redflsh, some of 

 the latter more than a yard long, and I promised myself 

 some good sport with them in the near future. But, on that 

 27th night of January I was too tired and sleepy to care for 

 anything, but sleep. Nessmuk, 



P. S.— It is due the weather clerk of Florida to say that 

 the beastly weather of this present January is quite unpre- 

 cedented, so far as the oldest inhabitant may be credited with 

 truth and memory. True, January is the rough, stormy 

 month of the year bu the Gulf Coast. But they say that n 

 constant succession of cold northers is quite exceptional. 

 Some bad weather may occasionally be expected at this 

 season, but the fine, clear days usually have the majority 

 And I have already seen two or three of them — days' when; 

 the mercury reached 82'- in the shade. Bright blue skies,, 

 birds, flowers, and all the blandishments of a Northern sunr- 

 mer; an earnest of what is to be when the wind shifts to the 

 southward. A promise of long, sunny days in the woods 

 and on the waters, and of bright, starry nights by the camp- 

 fire in the land of flowers. Alabama. ' N it. 



P. 8. 2. — A letter has just reached me from Pennsylvania 

 containing some hair and fur from a red bear that was killed 

 within a few miles of my Pennsylvania home. An account 

 of the same bear appears in your issue of Jan. 22, in which 

 the writer says, "Eureka! here is '.Nessmuk's' cranberry 

 bear." Well, perhaps so, to a great extent, but not entirely. 

 The light weight, the color and the fox-like nose are all in 

 hue with the cranberry bears I have seen. But the latter 

 had a mixture of white hairs, and the fur was not fine. 

 Making allowance for difference in location, temperature 

 and food, however, I rather incline that the animal was a 

 genuine cranberry bear. And he was much more than two 

 years old. A bear's teeth do not commence to get blunt and 

 square on the ends until he is past his sixth year. Has any 

 man seen a black bear six years old with a fox-like nose and 

 weighing only ninety pounds? Albinoism and rufusisni 

 will not account for these features. 1 send you fBe letter 

 and red fur. "Logic is logic. " NESSMrK. 



int[Hl %jjii$torg. 



THE BIRDS OF MICHIGAN. 



BV DR. 'MORRIS GIBBS. 

 (ConUn iii'd.) 



21. Sitta canadensis, Linn.— Red-bellied nuthatch.: 



We may consider this more completely a migrant than the 

 last-named species, but as yet comparatively little has been 

 learned concerning its movements. This arises, I think, 

 from the fact that the migrations are very irregular. Both 

 species of nuthatch are reported from the Upper Peninsula, 

 but while the white-belly is frequently found with us in 

 winter, the red -belly has yet to be reported south of 43" 

 within our boundaries during January, although fouud to the 

 north throughout the year. A few notes will give a good 

 idea of the peculiarities of this species in its peregrinations. 

 The following observations, selected at random, were taken 

 in Kalamazoo county ; 1873 — April 1, "Shot a good speci- 

 men;" May 13, "Still here, shot two;" 1878 — Aug. 15, "Saw 

 one to-day in an oak woods; this is the first specimen I have 

 ever seen here in summer;" May 11, 1884 — "Heard one to- 

 day in woods." The following notes, taken in Montcalm 

 county, will be of interest as compared to those taken fur- 

 ther south: Feb. 8, 1881 — "Common in pine trees;" May 16, 

 1882 — "Heard the first of the spring migrants, although 

 they remain in some numbers throughout the winter, I 

 think:" April 27, 1883— "Heard several in deep pine woods;" 

 May 18, 1883 — "Still common, undoubtedly remain to breed, 

 as 1 have frequently observed them here in July and August. 

 In Wexford county I observed a number of specimens in 

 June, 1882." 



From these notes we can draw but one conclusion as re- 

 gards the migration of the red-belly; as a rule, he migrates 

 probably in early September, lingeriug within our bound- 

 aries until November or even December; appearing again from 

 the south in later March he loiters in the lower counties until 

 nearly June, and then goes well to the north to breed. But 

 many remain within the State during quite severe winters, 

 and the date (Feb 8) given above clear! y indicates that the 

 birds were residents of the county for that winter, for cer- 

 tainly migration from the south "was not then in order, as 

 the snow lay two feet deep on the ground. 



I am positive that the species does not nest in Kalamazoo 

 county, 42° 30', and I am equally positive that they breed in 

 abundance in Montcalm county, eighty miles north. The 

 species prefers pine lands, and is most at home apparently 

 in pine forests, where, it may be found undoubtedly at all 

 times of the year, excepting perhaps in severe winters. 



The red-belly, as a rule, keeps well in the tops of the 

 trees, and is more strictly arboreal in its habits than the last. 

 I have never seen one on the ground, nor perched on a fence 

 or building. It is a retiring species, and seldom seen near 



