Afbil 16, 1885.1 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



225 



short time it' the trip be made at the proper season. The 

 time at which the mating season is at its height is from May 

 28 to June H. 



The nests are- loose, straggliug affairs, apparently shiftless 

 in their construction, and "yet so thoroughly entwined to- 

 gether, that the whole is not easily torn from its fastenings, 

 and is ouly pulled to pieces with great difficulty. The nests 

 are composed wholly of grass, nearly always of the green 

 blades of the year. Those nests that are made of dry grass 

 are generally, if not always, of the previous year. Fre- 

 quently the old battered nests of the last year are found to 

 contain eggs, while the freshly-made ones are generally un- 

 occupied." I think a fair estimate may place one occupied 

 nest to eveiy teu or twelve, found, and the practice of build- 

 ing so many nests while so few are occupied is undoubtedly 

 a device of the birds to deceive the despoilers. Some one 

 has said that the extra nests are built by the males in order 

 to give themselves employment while the female is sitting. 

 This is not a proper explanation, for I have found the females 

 building extra nests while the male was sitting, and further, 

 there is always sufficient employment for the maleinfeeding 

 his patient mate in her isolation, and cheering her in her task 

 with his creaky but interesting song. 



The nests are about the size of a cocoanut, and the vari- 

 ation in size is about equal to that found in the different sizes 

 of cocoauuts. It is placed from one to four feet from the 

 surface of the water, generally about, eighteen inches. The 

 nests are, without any exception in my experience, cold and 

 wet, and differ in this respect materially from the nests of 

 the shortbill. The eggs are laid on the bare, damp grass, and 

 tan readily be felt collected in the bottom of the little house 

 on stilts by passing the finger into the orifice. The eggs are 

 usually five or six in number, sometimes only four, occas- 

 ionally seven and rarely eight. 



The song of this sprightly species is, like the songs of all 

 the members of the family, difficult to describe. It is of a 

 decidedly rasping tone, and though nothing like the. beauti- 

 ful ditty of the winter wren, is still agreeable from its very 

 oddity. The little fellows may be heard siugiug in the tall 

 grass and chattering to one another all around, and yet. not 

 one be seen. Occasionally a fluttering bird may be seen fly- 

 ing from one hunch of cat-tails to the next. The flight 'is 

 peculiar and different from any other of the family. The 

 species rarely breaks into song on a cloudy day, but while 

 the sun shines is all animation, I do not know at what time 

 this bird departs for its southern home, but I have observed 

 them in September. 



MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 



A FEW" weeks ago I received a letter from a friend in 

 Milton stating thai he had captured a fine specimen of 

 "rat-owl" (Scoj)8 ado), and if T wanted it, to come out and get 

 it. The next, day 1 drove out and got it. 



The owl was caught in the following way: Toward even- 

 ing my friend noticed that his pigeons did not enter their 

 cote as usual, but. remained on the roof, also that two of 

 them were missing. He mounted the steps leading to the 

 cote, and looking in, perceived the owl seated on one of the 

 pigeons gorging himself, while the other lay dead near by. 

 Cautiously descending, he obtained a "pair 6f thick gloves 

 and a coal sieve, and returning captured the little robber. 



I was greatly pleased to get the bird, and on returning 

 home put it in' a large hayloft, which was also occupied by 

 a tame great-horned owl (Bubo virginianns), thinking that he 

 would be delighted to have so pretty a little comrade. The 

 big owl, which I call Scops, has his wings clipped and in con- 

 sequence can fly no better than an old hen. The little owl, 

 on the contrary, was in possession of all his faculties, and I 

 had no suspicion that Scops would ever catch him. As soon 

 as I let the little fellow out. of the cage in which he was con- 

 fined, he lit on a perch opposite to Scops. He perceived him 

 immediately, and gazed at him as if petrified, nothing could 

 distract his attention, Scops returned the stare with com- 

 pound interest. Being curious to know how they would be- 

 have in closer proximity. 1 lifted the smaller owl upon a 

 stick and moved him toward Scops. As soon as he felt him- 

 self moving nearer to his bio- enemy, he spread one wing (his 

 left one) in front of his body as a shield, all the time giving 

 vent to fierce hissings and snapping his beak in a defiant 

 manner. When he thought he was getting too close, he ut- 

 tered two soft cries, and glided back to his perch as silently 

 as a spirit. I repeated the experiment three times, always 

 with the same result. 



I concluded from this that he could take care of himself, 

 and gave myself no further anxiety concerning him. For a 

 week all went well, but one morning I looked in vain for my 

 little pet. All I could find was a few feathers corresponding 

 to his. When Scops disgorged the. pellet I dissected it and 

 found it composed of the claws, beak, bones and feathers of 

 my first, but I hope not my last, screech owl. 



I have known of a big trout eating a little one, but never 

 before of a large owl eating a smaller one. 



F. E. Pakk, Jr. 



South Boston, Mass. 



SpurxG Notes,— Newport, R. I., March 29.— To-day in a 

 walk of about two hours 1 saw, for a spring like this, what 

 1 consider an unusual number and variety of birds, namely: 

 Crows, old squaws, coots, a great northern diver, gulls, 

 meadow larks, shore larks, snow buntings, several American 

 goldfinches, a red-wineted blackbird, a large flock of purple 

 grackles, robins, a white-throated sparrow," song sparrows, a 

 titlark and a killdeer plover; also heard several bluebirds 

 calling. Wild geese have been flying for two weeks.— 

 C. H. L. 



An Albino Robin.— Mr. C, E. Osborne, of Stepney, 

 Conn., has a pure white (albino) robin, full size, taken 

 among a large flock of the common red robin, aud stuffed 

 by a skillfuf taxidermist. What reason do naturalists give 

 for the very few kinds of pure white birds to be found? 

 Seldom are' pure white ones to be seen in the large collec- 

 tions, save perhaps a few sea birds. We send you a photo- 

 graph of the bird.— Scotch Collie Kennel Club (Step- 

 ney, April 6). 



Recent Arrivals at the Philadelphia Zoological Garden.— 

 Purchased— Two common marmosets (Hopale jacehus). one male 

 ring-necked parrakeet (Palasornis . ' :>. one male mountain 



Unch(Fm)(?i/7r( montif 'ring ilia), and one female chaffinch (X'ringillo. 

 coclebs). Purchased— One male raccoon (Procyon lotor). one 

 Egyptian ichneumon (Herpe&tes ichneumon), one jackass rabbit 

 (Lespus callotis), two mallard ducks (Anas bosckas), three Pekin 

 ducks, one sickle-billed curlew (Xiimeiiius Itmgirostris), two little 

 black-headed ducks (Fuligula affinis). one turkey buzzard (Co t h arte* 

 am-a), one red-tailed hawk (Buteo borealis), two alligators (Alligator 

 mississippiensis). one mountain black snake (Coluber obsoletns), and 

 one copperhead (Ancistrodon contortrix). Born in the Garden— One 

 bactrian camel (Camelus bactriamis), male; and two zebus (Bos 

 indicus), male and female. 



» 



THE BIG BUCK OF THE BACKWOODS. 



Editor Forest and Stream; 



As I am kept in-doors to-day by storms and bodily infirm- 

 ities, I propose to note down from memory, in a desultory 

 manner, the particulars and final result of a disagreeable 

 day's hunt. There was nothing marvelous about it, nor was 

 it very materially different from many other days' hunting, 

 but it happens to come up first in my memory just now. 



It was away back, some twenty-five years or more ago, that 

 I had occasion to visit a friend who lived in a sparsely^ set- 

 tled neighborhood in McKean county, Pa. Deer were always 

 fairly plenty in that region until subsequent raids had thinned 

 their numbers, as also through the northern counties border- 

 ing the State. It was late in November, after a hard day's 

 tramp of twenty -five miles, that I arrived at my friend's 

 house. 1 had brought my rifle, well knowing what would 

 be expected. My friend H. was a little gray-haired, tough, 

 wiry old man. He was no deer killer, but claimed that 

 packing in venison and eating thereof was his best 

 "holt." In the days of wdiich I write every well-regulated 

 backwoods settlement had, or believed they had, a big buck 

 of marvelous size, whose wariness and acute sense of sight 

 and smell had served him, while scores of small deer had 

 fallen victims to the skill of the hunters. This back settle- 

 ment was no exception to the rule. The old man was full 

 and running over with stories which the hunters had told 

 him about an old buck which they had repeatedly shot at, but 

 always escaped with a whole skin. Now, 1 had but little 

 faith in the buck stories. 1 knew that this locality bordered 

 on a large territory of woods, and also that a large buck 

 might pass through them occasionally. I had promised to 

 kill a deer for the old mau before I left, and could not con- 

 veniently tarry more than two or three days at most. The 

 old man' was sanguine, and rather hinted that he had done 

 taking small deer, but that big buck would be quite satis- 

 factory. 



At early dawn, the following moning, I pulled out on a 

 westerly 7 course for one of the head branches of the Lewis 

 Run. A light snow had fallen the day before, but a heavy 

 rain fell during the night, aud had cleared up freezing cold, 

 and the. whole surface of the ground was coated with a thin 

 covering of crust and ice, which made it about the worst 

 day for deer hunting that I had ever been out in. During 

 the. forenoon I staited some four or five deer at different 

 times, but a white flag was the only ocular demonstration. 



It was horribly noisy traveling. My boots gave a clank, 

 clauk, which could be heard nearly a quarter of a mile, and 

 I made up my mind then and there that 1 was the only fool 

 that was trying to hunt deer under such unfavorable circum- 

 stances. 1 quit huntiug on that range and took a circuitous 

 route, crossed over the divide some four or five miles, and 

 struck into a large basin which is drained by a branch of 

 Tuna Creek. I reached this point about 2 o'clock P. M. , 

 which brought me some two and a half miles northwest from 

 the place where 1 had started in the morning. Here I sat 

 down, or sat up, rather, on the butt of a fallen hemlock, 

 determined to hunt on that log the remainder of the day. 

 There was not a vestige of snow left, here, but the leaves 

 were frozen and crnmpy. The view was good for a long 

 shot and certain signs indicated that it was a good runway. 

 Now this hunting ou a log is pleasant and easy, providing 

 the weather is warm. But on this occasion, when»the tem- 

 peratuie was down toward zero, it got to be monotonous, 

 later on tedious, and finally became extremely irksome. 



Night was coming on and the prospect left but little doubt 

 that the day's hunt would prove a failure. On the right was 

 a gradual ascent up to the ridge or rim, which was thinly- 

 wooded with large hemlocks/under which grew a thicket of 

 low laurel and underbrush, the lower edge being some 

 twenty-five rods from my perch. I had just decided to leave 

 my temporary roost when I discovered a commotion in the 

 upper edge of that laurel patch, perhaps eighty rods distant. 

 It began to be a little dusk or twilight up there under the 

 hemlocks, but by close scrutiny' I could see by the agitation 

 of the laurel tops that some large animal was working a zig 

 zag course down through that thicket, and nearly in a 

 direction toward me. I knew that no doe or fawn would 

 come through that patch making all that stir, and I con- 

 cluded it must be a buck sure. All that I had to do now 

 was to keep cool — in fact I was so cool that I had been 

 shivering for the last hour aud a half. I had but a few 

 moments to wait when a large buck burst out of the thicket 

 on a gait between a walk and lope, coming diagonally or 

 quartering toward me, his nose pointing out on a straight 

 liue with the top of his neck, and his neck on a line with 

 the top of his back. 1 had a bead on him in an instant and 

 pulled for the butt of the shoulder as near as possible. At 

 the crack of the gun he made some lofty bounds, changing 

 his course a little more toward me, and by the time I slid 

 from the log had stopped broadside, not more than two rods 

 distant, where he stood a full minute perfectly still; and so 

 did I, when he turned at a right angle, started off on a smart 

 lope and was gone. In that minute of time 1 had looked 

 him over. I saw that he was a splendid deer — a beauty. 

 He was a fair sample of what an old hunting chum of mine 

 used to call a "gee-whilliken big buck," and not the least 

 prominent feature was the unusually large and handsome 

 pair of horns. 



Talk of buckshot, pshaw! That buck was riddled 

 through two-thirds his length by a bullet from ray muzzle- 

 loading rifle, fifty round balls to the pound, and had run off 

 apparently unhurt. The amount of vitality which an old 

 buck has in November is simply wonderful. 1 once shot an 

 elk precisely in the same manner, which did not live five 

 minutes. After reloading I followed the slightly-blooded 

 trail for a short distance, when night closed in and darkness 

 prevented any further search that night. Being quite sure, 

 however, that I could find that deer in the morning should 

 there be no snowfall during the night, I now started on s 

 direct course, as near as possible, for the settlement, where I 

 arrived late in the evening after a wearisome and vexatious 

 tramp of some three miles on a moonless night. 



My old friend Uncle Dan, as he was familiarly called, was 

 in ecstacieswhen I told him that that famous old buck would 

 be ready for him in the morning. He was up before day r 

 and the good wife had breakfast as soon as light, when we 

 started, he and the hired man with hatchet and butcher 

 knife. An horn' of smart traveling brought us to where I 

 had left the trail at dark the night previous. We followed 

 the trail and found that it led into the branch, thence down 

 to its confluence with a larger branch, where after a half 

 hour's search we found the deer lying up against a rock, 

 limp and dead. It had apparently been dead not more than 



a half hour. It was a noble specimen of the deer, including 

 also the horns. But I had spoiled his natural beauty, and I 

 confess that I felt some slight qualms, as I have on some 

 similar occasions. But 1 claim that there are some mitigating 

 circumstances in my case, to wit, that I have never wasted 

 even a forequarter of venison, have never hunted for the 

 market, nor has - any game dealer ever made a cent's com- 

 mission on the avails of my hunting. I have been offered 

 $100 per month to bunt deer for the market, and that, too, 

 since I was sixty years of age. It was flattering to my skill, 

 but offensive to my principles. 



The skin of the big buck was taken off with the head 

 and horns, the deer cut up into four quarters, two of which 

 were hung up, and Uncle Dan aud the hired man taking a 

 quarter each we marched out of the woods, your humble 

 servant carrying the skin, head aud horns. Uncle Dan with 

 his man returned for the two quarters left, and brought them 

 in at night. The buck didn't weigh 800 pounds nor 250, 

 but it did pull down 242, and was the largest deer that I ever 

 killed, and the largest, except one, that I ever saw weighed. 

 That night the snow fell six inches in depth, making a splen- 

 did hunting snow, and had I stayed and bunted two or three 

 clays I might perhaps have killed four or five deer. But 

 what did I waut of any more deer? Uncle Dan had meat 

 enough for the present, so he said, and I had uo need of 

 venison nor skins just then. This skin being extra large, 1 

 carried home and dressed for home use; and the horns being 

 extraordinarily large and uniform, I carried them home too; 

 and afterward presented them to Col. Page, who carried 

 them to his home in Worcester, Mass. They were fancy 

 horns, and the last evening of the Colonel's visit I discov- 

 ered that he had a strong desire to possess those horns, He 

 knew my eccentric weakness too well to offer to buy them, 

 but I was more than glad to present them as a free gift. But 

 the Colonel beat me badly. The next day, after' he was 

 many miles on his way home, a five dollar bill was found in 

 the stand drawer, evidently^ dropped there by the Colonel 

 before he left. Antler. 



Grand view, Tenn. 



PARTRIDGE SHOOTING IN VIRGINIA. 



IN the month of November, 1884, I was honored with a 

 visit from two of my friends from — well it does not 

 matter where they came from — it is enough to say that they 

 were both shooters from that little town known as Shooters- 

 ville, which is some hundreds of miles away. And shooters 

 they were, too. Each brought his breechloader, one of 

 them having a splendid 10-bore, the other one a number 12 

 and a number 20-bore, the latter being the handsomest look- 

 ing little plaything I have ever yet seen in the shape of a 

 breechloading shotguu. Each of these friends, whom I shall 

 call Frank and Jim, brought several hundred rounds of 

 loaded shells, and Prank his Laverack setter, one of the most 

 untiring dogs that I have, ever shot over. Our sport con- 

 sisted mainly of raids upon our Virginia partridges, for we 

 do not say quail in Virginia, but partridges. A^game little 

 fellow he* is, too, and annually affords more sport, and gives 

 more, pleasure to a greater number of sportsmen than any 

 other species of game bird of which I have any knowledge 



On the arrival of my friends, as soon as the usual greet 

 ings and handshakings were over, their first inquiry was 

 "Are the birds plentiful this fall?" I assured them they 

 were; but that many of the broods were late and not vet 

 fully grown. That night as we sat around a blazing log fire 

 that burned so brightly upon the hearth, we discussed in all 

 of its details the campaign for the next day, even to the fields 

 we would hunt and the dogs we would shoot over. 



After a good night's rest w r e were all up in time for an 

 early bieakfast, and having partaken of that we started 

 afield. 



The dogs, Frank's Laverack, my red Irish, and a young 

 pointer, which I was handling for the first time, were -all in 

 beautiful trim, aud started across the field at a rattling pace, 

 each seeming to try to outrun the other, just as if they had 

 been race horses and not hunting dogs. They had not gotten 

 more than half way across the first field, when the red Irish 

 threw his nose slightly to the right side, and checked up and 

 stiffened out so suddenly that he nearly stood upon his head. 

 Frank's Laverack backed him and then the young pointer 

 did the same, but the latter, as we came up, in trying to get. 

 too close, flushed a bird before me, which I killed, and the 

 report of my gun caused the whole covey to rise. Frank 

 brought down one, his other shell snapping, and Jim two, 

 one with each barrel, as nicely as could be. 



I did not fire my second barrel, but stood watching the 

 birds, which I marked down in some pine timber, and after 

 the dogs had retrieved the dead birds we followed into the 

 timber, getting several more, and scoring some beautiful 

 misses, occasionally putting a charge of shot into the hody 

 of a tree instead of in the body of a partridge. 



As we were returning to the' field, I remember that on the 

 edge of the timber there was an old pen in which corn fodder 

 had once been stacked, and as the grass, though dead, was 

 still rank within this inclosure, 1 suggested that possibly 

 some of the covey had hidden there, so waving my red Irish 

 over into the pen, he pointed beautifully the moment he 

 touched the ground. 



Believing it would prove but a single bird, we agreed to 

 give Jim that shot. The dog flushed at the word, and a cock 

 bird started across the open field toward a fence, along which 

 some briers grew, but Jim dropped him handsomely right in 

 one corner of the fence. I walked that way to make the dog 

 retrieve him, and as I reached out my hand to receive the 

 bird, another rose on the other side of the fence which I 

 killed, and the report of my gun caused the third one to risr, 

 and 1 killed that also, thus getting three birds between us 

 where I had expected to get only one. 



We then moved on to a second and then to a third field, 

 finding several large coveys in each, our success varying 

 with the character of the cover the birds would seek. Some 

 flocks took refuge in cover so thick it was useless to follow 

 them, while others would alight in open ground, to be fol- 

 lowed up and shot down almost as fast as they would rise. 

 1 know that Jim and another friend will both remember the 

 following incident: 



We flushed a bevy of partridges in a cornfield, and five of 

 them crossed a small stream and settled in some briere. We 

 followed and the dogs pointed. When the birds were 

 flushed, all five of them got up and all five were instantly 

 killed and bagged. When we reached home that night we 

 had twenty-seven birds aud five hares. In my next I shall 

 give y r ou an account of a shooting trip Frank and I had one 

 rainy day, and of the two big coveys of birds we found, and 

 of the queer-looking red partridge I shot that had black legs 

 and feet. T. E. Epes. 



Virginia, March 28, 1885. 



