144 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 19, 1885, 



twisting, creaking, rolling and pitching about in such a 

 careless way that the ' 'deck passengers" were in constant 

 peril of being ejected as from a catapult, A brief experi- 

 ence on the Wagon hastened their decision to walk over the 

 rough places, which included most of the way. But pa- 

 tience and perseverance rarely fail of being rewarded, and 

 at 5 o'clok P. M. we reached our camping ground, dis- 

 tant from Chicago 334 miles, in twenty hours, when eighteen 

 years ago the writer cousumed five days in a birch bark 

 canoe to reach Waucedah from Marinette, the mouth of the 

 Menominee. 



The wagons were quickly unloaded, and by the light of a 

 large camp-fire aided by lanterns, the tents were pitched, 

 wood chopped for the night and brought in and everything 

 put in running order. While all this was going on, William, 

 some fifty feet away, was preparing our supper over a small 

 fire in front of the dining tent, his joyous good nature break- 

 ing out occasionally in little snatches of plantation songs, 

 of which the following verse is a fair sample: 



De night-time coram' an' de daylight seootin ' , 



De jewdraps fallin' an' debig owl a hootiu'; 



Tou kin soon see de bright stars fallin' an' a shootin', 



An' bear de ole hnntin'-horn blowin' an' a tootin' ! 



Just then Mr. Baker called out: "William, give the tootin" 

 a rest and Imrry up the cakes. I am famishing I" ' 'Yes sir, 

 I's jes' goin' to call you. sir," when straightway each one 

 folded a camp-chair, and tucking it under his* arm, made 

 haste to satisfy the cravings of the inner man, also to pass 

 judgment on William's qualifications as a cook. That they 

 were highly satisfactory, the long-continued clash of table 

 cutlery and the oft-repeated calls for more, was sufficient 

 evidence, without the remark of Mr. Nichols as he rose from 

 the table and pulled down his vest: "The little I have eaten 

 I have relished well." 



This evening we expected to meet the six guides we had 

 engaged at the Keshena Reservation in Wisconsin, but they 

 were delayed by high water in the numerous streams they 

 hart to cross in their journey of a hundred miles through an 

 unbroken forest, and did not reach camp until next day in 

 the afternoon. The streams were crossed on log rafts rudely 

 constructed, and they were three days and a half on the way. 

 All of them were representative men of the Menominee tribe, 

 faithful to their trusts and skilled artists in their line; two 

 of them — Frank Py-waw-waw-hoe and Simon Wow-wah-sha 

 —have accompanied the Doctor and the writer on every trip 

 they have taken since 1866. 



A short distance above our camp there were several lodges 

 of Menominee Indians, who disown their tribe and tribal 

 relations, and live in a village of their people at White 

 Rapids, sixteen miles down the river; they were on a hunt- 

 ing and fishing excursion. One of their ponies, having a 

 bell fastened to his neck, made nightly excursions to our 

 supply tent to cultivate friendly relations with our vege- 

 tables, and one night repeated his visits so often that Keihl 

 exhausted the supply of boots at hand (except his own) 

 before morning in driving him away. We hired two canoes 

 from these Indians for the time we remained, and caught 

 several nice messes of black bass, pike and pickerel. Sun- 

 day was our second day in camp, and, being entirely de- 

 voted to rest, a late breakfast was ordered, and William 

 improved the time in getting up a surprise for us. Quite 

 late in the morning, as the party were all seated around the 

 glowing camp-fire, enjoying its* grateful heat and convers- 

 ing upon matters befitting the day, a loud call to breakfast 

 brought every man to an upright position with a unanimity 

 of action only equaled by the sudden collapse of the camp 

 chairs, as they started in hot haste for the table, each one 

 striving hard to get there first, and let some other fellow 

 have the tin plate, which (for the time being) belonged to 

 the man that " got left." And the surprised-gratified look 

 that took possession of each countenance as the party en- 

 tered the tent, can be more easily imagined than described. 



The rough board table we had eaten from the night before, 

 was now covered with a white glossy linen table cloth, dam- 

 asked with flowers; napkins of the same material and bear- 

 ing the legend "Thistle" flanked each plate (the tin one in- 

 cluded), The menu consisted of broiled grouse, broiled veni- 

 son, fried fish, fried venison, fried bacon and eggs, fried 

 potatoes, venison ribs roasted before the fire Indian style, 

 roasted sweet potatoes, baked apples, cranberry sauce, stewed 

 tomatoes, oatmeal mush, bread and butter, tea, coffee and 

 cream. It was a toothsome meal, "Too good for any but 

 anglers, or very honest men." 



After a week Baker and Keihl, with their guides, started up 

 the river in a canoe with rods and reels, trolling for fish. 

 They had proceeded about a mile and a half from camp, 

 busily engaged with the sport, when a very large buck came 

 tearing throug the brush on the Wisconsin side, closely pur- 

 sued by a dog, and plunging into the river some two hund- 

 red yards above them, started for the Michigan shore, about 

 two hundred and fifty yards away. As the water was very 

 deep, only about half the upper part of the deer's head was 

 exposed to view, his body was entirely submerged. 



The deer no sooner touched the water than wild confusion 

 reigned supreme in the canoe. Rods and reels were left to 

 shift for themselves, the two repealing rifles with full 

 magazines were caught up, and in ready response to the 

 action of the levers as they moved swiftly up and down, the 

 leaden hail began to beat the water into foam around the 

 deer's head and in places afar off , the guides often putting 

 themselves in the greatest jeopardy of being shot, while mak- 

 ing frantic- efforts to head the deer off the shore. But he got 

 there unharmed just as the ammunition gave out, and as his 

 noble form materialized afoove the water, he shook his antlered 

 head defiantly toward the canoe, and his flag waved the pur- 

 suers a graceful adieu as he disappeared in the dark recesses 

 of the forest. Both ritles being empty it was impossible to 

 give him a parting salute. It was a very cold day for the 

 boys. In sadness and silence they returned to camp and put 

 on their ulsters. That evening the party of still-hunters 

 brought in three deer, which were enough for several days, 

 and the escape of the buck was regretted by none but the 

 boys. 



The weather throughout our stay was extremely fine, 

 bright and clear during the day with a sharp crisp air and 

 heavy frosts at night, greatly enhancing the pleasure of sit- 

 ting around the glowing camp-fire engaged in cheerful talk 

 or listening to the songs of Mr. Nichols, who is an excellent 

 vocalist. The song most frequently called for was, 

 "I'm a rambling wreck o' poverty 

 And the son of a gam bo tier. 1 ' 



There was other musical talent in the company, which 

 was rarely displayed, except to join in the refrain when 

 needed. 



We had been in camp about ten days when a reporter for 



one of our leading daily papers made us a flying visit, not in 

 a professional way, however; said he was 'looking forb'ar 

 or deer." 



So it was arranged that night to turn out in full force early 

 the next morning for a "drive," of which for the benefit of 

 your young readers I will attempt a description; but would 

 first state_ there were no dogs with the party, all the "drivers" 

 were Indians. This way of killing large game is not often 

 resorted to, and finds but little favor with a still-hunter. It 

 is about the only chance, however, for the shotgun to get its 

 work in effectually, A "drive" is all planned "and executed 

 by the Indians, and it requires a "heap talk" and many pipes 

 of tobacco to arrange all the details. Frank was the chief, 

 and the council was opened early in the evening. A great 

 many pieces of forest were named and their merits fully 

 canvassed, and finally the ground was agreed upon. Frank 

 stood up, and extending his arm pointed out the location, 

 and naming one of his party and then another, he assigned a 

 duty to each until all got their instructions. This matter 

 settled, they sought their blankets and rest. 



Long before the brightness of the morning star began to 

 fade in the east, the whole camp was stirring, Snow had 

 fallen during the night, covering the earth with its mantle, 

 and under the line of fog which covered the river, large 

 bunches of foam, resembling in the distance white-water 

 fowl, could be seen as the swift current bore them along; the 

 air was sharp, crisp and scintillating with particles of frost, 

 while the sky overhead was thickly studded with stars 

 which shone' with a brilliancy peculiar to a northern lati- 

 tude. Soon after breakfast the party, in Indian file, marched 

 out of camp " under the opening eyelids of the morn," 

 Frank leading the way into the forest. After reaching the 

 extreme right of the ground to be driven, and about half a 

 mile distant from camp, the drivers then started off to gain 

 a long distance from the stands, while the line of defense 

 was being formed Frank then calls a name, and, pointing 

 out a stand, says: " You stay here— good place— deer him 

 come dis a way," indicating the direction by a wave of the 

 outstretched arm, then resuming his course a distance of 

 three hundred yards or more, another men gets a "good 

 place," and so he kept on until all have their proper sta- 

 tions assigned them, whereupon Frank starts off to direct 

 the drivers. 



In selecting stands great care is taken to give the rifles a 

 long range to cover, and as Frank says, most any place is 

 good enough for a shotgun. Flank shots are prohibited, also 

 the leaving of stands while the drive is progressing. And 

 just as soon as a stand is taken, a vigilant watch should begin 

 on the right, left and in front— the movement of a leaf or 

 twig should not pass unnoticed, as deer often walk along in 

 a very stealthy manner, especially when they scent danger 

 and are not fully apprised of its exact location. An hour 

 had elapsed before the drivers were heard; at first an indis- 

 tinct sound like the tapping of a woodpecker on a distant 

 tree. This noise was soon heard quite plain in different 

 quarters all along the line in front, then a loud war whoop 

 was given as a sigual that the game was afoot, and followed 

 presently by the sharp report of a rifle on the right, then 

 three more at short intervals between. Nothing more was 

 heard for some time except the rapping of the drivers, which 

 seemed quite near, and this appeared to have nearly died out 

 when word was passed from right to left along the line to 

 "Come in, the drive is up." The writer was stationed at 

 the extreme left, and quit his stand soon after the third sum- 

 mons, and greatly to his disgust, losing a shot at a deer 

 Frank drove past the stand some fifteen minutes later, as it 

 afterward appeared. 



The sudden cessation of noise from the direction of the 

 ' 'drivers" was owing to a strip of open ground they had to 

 pass through some little distance from the stands. As to 

 the person responsible for giving out the word to "come 

 in" history is silent. The result of the "drive," which prom- 

 ised so much, was.one buck killed by the General, who shot 

 at him three times, and Mr. Zeigler fired one shot as he 

 passed his stand, and scored a miss. Five of the party had 

 seen nothing larger to shoot at than a bluejay or a red squir- 

 rel; but the Scribe had. As he alleges, a wolf approached 

 his stand in such a stealthy way that the Scribe first saw 

 him in a crouching, cat-like position, about thirty feet off, 

 just ready to pounce upon his prey. But the Scribe made 

 some movement — perhaps in search of a tree — which in- 

 stantly changed the animal's intention, and he beat a hasty 

 retreat; and as he started, the Scribe thought "discretion is 

 the better part of valor," and he decided to follow Dog- 

 berry's instructions to the watch: 



Watch— How if a' will not stand? 



Dogberry— Why, then, take no note of him, but let him 

 go; and presently call the rest of the watch together and 

 thank heaven vou are rid of a knave. 



Now the Scribe was healthy and strong. He had traveled 

 over three hundred miles with his gun heavily loaded with 

 buckshot for b'ar. Therefore it would be unreasonable to 

 suppose that his nervous system would get "rattled" at the 

 sight of a— fox, "that and nothing more." The Doctor 

 being next on the left of the Scribe, says the fox on his 

 retreat passed him like a flash, his brush in a straight line 

 with his body. There was no report from the Doctor's gun ! 



A few days after this, most of the party started for home, 

 having been out two weeks. The Doctor and Judge 

 remained one week longer with three Indians. The general 

 "round up" in large game was twelve deer. All the venison 

 in excess of our own wants was given to the Indian families 

 and to Mr. Harter, who lives about four miles from our 

 camp and carries the mail past it to Pembina Post Office, 

 Tuesdays and Fridays each week, from Waucedah, 

 Menominee county, Mich. To him and bis most estimable 

 wife, the party are greatly indebted for luxuries supplied 

 our table and many other acts of kindness that were highly 

 appreciated. 



The invigorating air of that region, redolent of balsam 

 and pine, together with wholesome food and exercise, had 

 imparted to the cheek a healthy glow, a brightness to the 

 eye, elasticity to the step, and a manly vigor to gird on the 

 armor so lately put off, and renew life's battle again. 



And still more lasting than all these are the bright 

 memories of congenial associates and pleasant ad veutures 

 incidental to camp life in the wilderness. A. L. Rose, 



Chicago, 111. M _^_ — ___________ 



A Three Black Crows Story comes from an Exeter, 

 N. H. correspondent, who relates that to the excited fancy of 

 an Adirondack tourist at Meacham Lake, last summer, three 

 crows skimming along close to the ground took on the sem- 

 blance of a she. bear and cubs; so that the novice actually 

 rushed to the hotel, secured his shooting iron and hurried 

 back to bag the game. The story, which is vouched for, 

 only shows that people will find what they are looking for. 



%tn\nl §i$tvrg. 



THE BIRDS OF MICHIGAN. 



BY DR, MORRIS GIBBS. 



(Continued.! 



23. ^Oerthia familiaris »'?//» (Bartr.) Ridg.— Brown creeper. 



This species is found throughout the year within our 

 boundaries, excepting, perhaps, in extreme cold winters. 

 Mr. C. W. Gunn, of Grand Rapids, embraces it in his list 

 of the "Winter Birds of Kent County, Michigan, 1881." He 

 considers it as only a half hardy species, in which most of 

 the collectors undoubtedly agree with him. The creeper is 

 found throughout the State, and is reported from every 

 quarter by the collectors. It is a well-known species, but is 

 silent and retiring in its habits, and not often seen bv those 

 not interested in the study. 1 have found it in at least seven 

 different counties in various parts of the State, and during 

 every month of the year, and have come to regard it as one 

 of our most constant small birds. 



It undoubtedly nests in our southern row of counties In 

 those sections were pines are found : but as a rule is rarely 

 found breeding south of 43° north latitude. I have yet to 

 record the species in Kalamazoo county during June or* July. 

 The only nest that I have met, with, was found by Mr. W. 

 A. Gunn, in Ottawa county, about 43 \ It was placed behind 

 the bark of a dead pine about forty feet from the ground, 

 and was quite inaccessible. The date was May 19, 1879, 

 and the birds were just building. In Montcalm county, the 

 species undoubtedly nests, as it is found throughout the 

 year, though never abundant in summer. In latitude 44° 

 north and beyond, the species is very abundant, and speci- 

 mens may be taken plentifully during the summer months. 



The song of the fragile, yet hardy species is very agree- 

 able, and we are the more pleased with it because of the 

 fact that it issues from the throat of so plainly clad a song- 

 ster. It is composed of but few notes which are clear, 

 high strung, and very musical. It may be described 

 by the syllables Ca wheetle fettle '.eetle utteied in an absent 

 manner, as if the short effort, could be of no benefit to either 

 singer or others, and not worth the while to stop for. The 

 bird continues its circling search for insects as it utters the 

 notes, and hardly pauses once during the ascent of a trunk, 

 although the song may be uttered a dozen times while the 

 bird is exploring one tree. There is a real harmony in the 

 simply-uttered notes of the creeper, and to those who have 

 studied the lays of our birds, the song comes as a veritable 

 burst of pure liquid melody. Unlike the flashing oriole and 

 tanager, or the brown thrush and veery, all of which appear 

 later, and offer tributes of song when spring is appearing 

 or fine weather is upon us, the creeper bursts forth during 

 the solemn months of winter, when the earth is covered 

 deep with snow, and the prospects for spring are forbid- 

 ding. To be sure the plainly-clad fellow selects the bright- 

 est days on. which to test his hidden powers of song, and 

 seldom tunes his voice beyoud the usual call notes, unless 

 the sun shows himself. During January and February 

 thaws in the pineries, hundreds of the plain brown-striped 

 birds may be heard singing, filling the woods with the pleas- 

 ing, yet plaintive notes, while in the cities the songs may 

 also be heard issuing from the oak trees of our streets and 

 door yards, although not so continuously as from the pines, 

 where great numbers are to be found in winter. 



A description of the song is difficult, because of its being 

 blended apparently into one, or at most two syllables. If a 

 careful ear attends, however, during the separate utterance 

 of the song, it will be found not difficult to distinguish with 

 certainty the exact division of the syllables, or we may say 

 here musical notes, and they will be found, we think, to 

 correspond quite nearly to the syllables given above. The 

 call notes are a repetition of the word cheap or creep, gen- 

 erally low, but occasionally quite loud. 



The food of the creeper is both animal and vegetable, 

 in fact we may say the little fellow is omnivorous, a condi- 

 tion more common than is generally supposed in the case of 

 all of our birds, both large and small. The creepers in 

 favor of an insect diet, and undoubtedly if he had his own 

 way about it, he would confine himself entirely to that style 

 of living. But unfortunately for Certhia, he is compelled to 

 lake what he can get, and like most of us, is often only too 

 happy to feed on what he can obtain without too much 

 attendant work. One would suppose that our little friend 

 would spend his winter in Florida; he has a free pass, and 

 could, by making proper connections, reach the land of 

 flowers within a week of easy stages. But he does not care 

 to migrate each fall and spring, and if the Peninsular State 

 is good enough for him we certainly will not object, partic- 

 ularly if he cheers us with his presence during the leaden 

 days of winter. 



Insects are not rare in winter, but they are lying dormant, 

 and most of them are protected in their little cases of shelly 

 covering, and are not exposed to view as in the summer. 

 Many of these Utile chrysalids are found attached to the 

 smaller limbs, and are swnng about in the wind, secure in 

 their attachments and clearly safe from predacious birds and 

 larger iusects for the time. Other species with which our 

 little friend is acquainted in the warmer months, are covered 

 deep in the mould beneath the snow, while others sleep 

 secure from the winter's storms wrapped iu delicate cocoons 

 spun in the crevices of the gnarled and battered tree trunks. 

 These latter pupaj are the principal food of an insect nature 

 which is picked up by the creeper, and if the trunks are 

 searched by any one d'esirous of examining into the matter, 

 very minute egg-shaped chrysalids may be found placed 

 nicely within small irregular spaces in the rough bark. But 

 it is easy to see that it will take a great many of these small 

 animals to support in good health the army of vigorous wood- 

 peckers, creepers, chicadees and nuthatches which so fre- 

 quently throng our woods. So the creepers, and for that 

 matter the nuthatches and others all feed more or less on 

 vegetable Bubstances. The creeper secures his vegetable food 

 generally from the small axillary buds found on the greater 

 limbs or even trunk where the small adventitious growths 

 occur, and it is with these fresh buds that the crops are 

 generally filled. Many of the small pupa? are found, even 

 in mid-winter, in the crops, but more of the soft and 

 esculent buds are usually found in December, January, 

 February and March than of the insects. 



While climbing — for to my idea this bird climbs, hops or 

 ]umps*in its mode of locomotion, and does not creep— the 

 little bird does not pursue a direct course, but rambles about 

 the trunk from side to side, and only gains the top of the 

 tree after at least twice the distance is traveled that would 

 have been gone over had the bird walked directly up the 



