July 22, 1886.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



807 



W. A. Oroffut, who visited Col Jndson at bis home in 18S5, 

 wrote of him : " 'Ned Buutliue' was in the fatigue uniform 

 of the army, blue coat, with brass buttons, and upon his blue 

 vest twinkling oecora l ions— the badge of the Sons of America, 

 the head of Washington set on a gold shield, with two 

 American flags crossed above it, the original badge of the 

 order of United Americans, which he organized, a golden 

 hand crushing an enamelled serpent, b- queaibed to him by 

 Congressman Whitney of New York when he died, a Grand 

 Army badge and a Masonic pin His gray hair is cut short. 

 His only beard is a full white mustache. He weighs more 

 than 200, I should think. 



" 'Come on, Eddy I" shouted the Colonel to a chubby face at 

 the bay window, as we alighted, "come on. my son! It is 

 sunset"; let's pull clown the flag!' Aud a.vay to the halliards 

 of the tall fkg-pole hurried the infant and the gray-haired 

 father, and the twenty-foot flag lay on the ground in a heap. 

 'Ned Bunt line' seems to-day to have two passions— the latest 

 and most absorbing a love for this promising child, and the 

 other, the devotion to the stars and stripes which has led him 

 into every war we have had since he was born, which led 

 him to join Lopez to capture Cuba, and which iuduced him 

 to start the Know Nothing party. Every pleasant day of 

 the year this big flag is unfurled from this flag-pole, visible 

 over 10D f-quareT miles of the Delaware valley. 



"1 asked bim how many stories he had written. 'I made 

 a little calculation the other day,' he said, 'and I am alarmed 

 to find that I have written between 300 and 400 novels, 

 which, if published in book form, would each make a book 

 of about 400 pag. s.' 



"I asked Col. Judson about his thirteen duels, and in 

 quired if it could be possible that he was an accomplished 

 swordsman and good shot at thirteen. 'Only a fair swords- 

 man,' he answered, 'but a dead shot. When I was an iuiant, 

 my father lived up in this valley, and he very early taught 

 me to shoot. I was exhibited to visitors at the age of six, 

 shooting at a mark at one hundred paces, with an old rifk- 

 balanced across the fence. Ishot my first deer when 1 was 

 eight; aud then, as ever sine, 1 was always under the most 

 perfect commaud when I was most excited. I could have 

 killed some angry midshipmen in those seven duels if 1 had 

 wished to do so. 1 had shipped to the Unitea States Navy 

 as an apprentice, and had been promoted to be a midshipman 

 without the influence of any powerful relatives, but I felt 

 that my rights were equal to theirs.' " 



The signature of "Ned Buntline" was familiar to readers 

 of the Forest and Stream, the files of which journal con- 

 tain many sketches from his pen. 



Rimini j§i$terg. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publislv- 

 Ing Co. 



DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BOBOLINK. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The bobolink, sweetest and best of our New England 

 meadow singers, is gone. The pied dandy of tussock and 

 springing golden rod no more in this vicinity tinkles his tan- 

 gled bell music in our fields. Around our city and especially 

 in the West Springfield meadows, as all up and down the 

 valley of the Connecticut, used to be the resort and home of 

 the characteristic and blithe bird. This is the first season 

 that I have failed absolutely to see or hear a single one. 



Of late years they have b en fewer, each season bring made 

 melancholy in a measure by the steadily depleted numbers 

 of the birds, and now I believe there are none Others may 

 have setn or beard them, but after diligent seeking, foresee- 

 ing as I have the inevitable, I fail to find a single songster. 



One great cause of this is the shooting of this song bird by 

 o'ur friends further south for food Garbed in russet, in the 

 fall he becomes in Maryland the rice bird or the ortolan, and 

 is shot and strung up in Baltimore and Philadelphia markets 

 by the hundreds to be eaten. 



I should feel as if I were eating dead music if I attempted 

 to eat one of these. There are bigger and better things to 

 eat than they Why not leave in life this epitome of tremul- 

 ous melody, instead of reducing him to the level of an oyster 

 or a clam ! Our southern friends have dainties enough for 

 the tdble without him in their terrapin and canvasbacks. 



Will our Southern Atjbobon Societies think of this and 

 let us see if the bobolink cannot be saved from extinciion. 



E. H. Lathror. 



Springfield, Mass. 



NOTES CONCERNING AN OUTLAW. 



THERE may be animals more gifted in wiles than the fox, 

 but from time immemorial he has borne the doubtful 

 honor of being the most adroit trickster, next to his arch 

 enemy, man, of all created beings, and him even he fools 

 oftener than pleases the lord of cieation. 



What stock of wisdom and cunuiug he may have had to 

 begin with we can oi ly guess, but may conclude that he was 

 not very well outfitted therewith in Samson's day. Imagine 

 three hundred foxes of these latter days suffering such out- 

 witting by one man in one harvest time! But "perhaps the 

 stroug man of old got all the foolish ones into his snares, or 

 some way into his clutcbes, and our foxes are the natural 

 outcome of the survival i f the fittest. And doubtless in all 

 the ctnturus the world has whirled through since then, the 

 race has grown in vulpine grace, sharpening its wits by 

 constant atlridon with foe and prey. It is said that the 

 silver and cross foxes are sharper witted, more wary of traps, 

 more fertile in devices for eluding hound and hunter, than 

 their less valuably clothed red brethren, which is only to be 

 accounted for by the greater eagerness of their puisuit, for 

 the silver, or black, and the cross foxes and the red foxes are 

 often litter brothers. The hand of man and the tougue of 

 woman— which is most terrible let man and fox say — have 

 been again-t poor Reynard in all the long years that have 

 come and gone since the one became hunter and shepherd 

 and the other poultry wife. The shepheid and the heu wife 

 would destroy him off the face of tue earth if they could 

 have thtir way. but the hunter's hate is akin to love; he will 

 kill, but he would not exterminate; would eat his cake and 

 keep it, the cake growing at one side while he takes bitesoff 

 the other. He will kill nim relentlessly in his own way and 

 in his own time, but he is more unloving toward the man 

 who traps or poisons the fox, or destroys the young, than he 

 is toward his beloved enemy. 



If th re is any scapegrace without some leaven of good 

 traits it is not the fox. For one thing, in his prime and in 

 hia bravest attire, he has beauty of shape, color and motion, 

 and it is good to be beautiful. How his graceful ruddy-clad 



form dimly seen in the dull whiteness of the early winter 

 morning, enlivens the dead landscape as he mouses in the 

 orchard or pasture or meadow, where the tangle of aftermath 

 harbors mice under its blanket of snow, or when in the 

 white glare of day he takes with light leaps the fence-side 

 snow drifts, or picks his careful footsteps over the treacher- 

 ous crust that breaks beneath his heavier pursuer, the hound. 

 In this land it is good to be smart, and no one who has seen 

 Reynard's face while he studies tricks and hunts for scentless 

 footing when the hounds are bellowing on his trail, can 

 doubt his possession of this American virtue. It shines from 

 his eyes, radiates from his whiskers, the cock of his ears in- 

 dicates it, and the turn of his nostrils shows that he is "up 

 to snuff " But caught, what a sneaking, sorry varlet he is, 

 as unlike Reynard free as the culprit who sits to add his 

 portrait to the rogues' gallery is to the sharp rascal who was 

 robbing a house the night before. 



Last, and since usefulness has become of so little worth, 

 least, he is entitled to some consideration for the good he 

 does; this, perhaps, not from any pious intention, but because 

 it was appoiuted unto him to do. In the provisioning of 

 himself and his family he makes way with, besides many 

 other things not so well made way with, no end of pestifer- 

 ous field mice, and I have ripped his paunch in October 

 when it was ready to burst with grasshoppers, as many as 

 would fill the crop of the biggest gobbler of the dame's flock 

 thrice ove/. 



But one evil deed committed by fox or man cancels many 

 a good one, aud when Reynard departs from the path of 

 rectitude and |takes grasshoppers second-hand, after they 

 have been ground in the turkey's mill, and gone to the mak- 

 ing of gallinaceous flesh and fat, gobbles the gobbler, bolts 

 the mill, hopper, atones, grist and all, all his well doing is 

 forgotten, and he is nothing but a thieving, murdering fox. 

 Aud it must be admitted against him by his best friends that 

 at such times his bloodthirst gets the better of his few small 

 virtues. Let him once get among a flock of turkeys, and he 

 can never get enough of slaughter while one victim is left. 

 The blood of the last memb r of the flock must be the sweet 

 est, and he ravens like a wolf in the fold. Such deeds are 

 his undoing, for if he would temper his trencher-valor with 

 more discretion when these opportunities come in his way, 

 his enemies would be fewer aud less vengeful. One lamb at 

 a time usually suffices him, and old ganders will beat him 

 off with savage blows of their wings, so that he gets but now 

 and theu a straggling wife or child of their family. But 

 turkeys are his weakness, and when the dame goes to gather 

 her flock from the woodside field and finds it harried, two- 

 thirds, perhaps, killed outright, and the remainder maimed 

 or frightened out of their slender wits, her wrath and despair 

 struggle for the first places in her heart and voice. Ven- 

 geance is sworn against the spoiler, and woe be unto his 

 house if in the following May the vixen's nursery be in the 

 earth where pick and spade may prevail, and the farmer 

 finds it. And even if their house be builded in the rocks, 

 old and young are laid in wait for and unseasonably shot 

 down. But if some fox hunter gets wind of the intended 

 raid, he makes some disturbance about the threshold ; the 

 hint is taken, and the young are removed by the vixen to a 

 safer retreat. I knew one old hunter who took a litter of 

 young foxes from a hollow log and carried them in the bosom 

 of his frock to a den in the iocks, the mother following, 

 chiding him with her gasping bark. The family were his 

 debtors for some months of happy life, for which, at the 

 falling of the leaves and the first falling of the snow, he took 

 iu payment a dozen jolly days of sport with dog and gun, 

 and two thirds as many well-furred pelts. It is not at all 

 uncommon for a litter of foxes to be reared, or at least wi 11 

 started in life iu a burrow in an open pasture which, though 

 so exposed, is likely to be unsuspected of harboring such sly 

 folk, and has the other advantage of giving the watchful 

 mother a timely view of coming enemies. But it is quite 

 as much the custom of madame vixen to make her nursery 

 in the woods, in some sandy knoll that gives easy digging of 

 her cellar of many entrances, to whose neighborhood seldom 

 comes a worse enemy than the hound, not then greatly to be 

 dreaded. 



Notwithstanding his outlawry, the fox holds his own 

 wonderfully in the continual warfare that man wages against 

 him. Perhaps iu the economy of nature he is as valuable- as 

 a turkey or a lamb. Verily, 1 think, by the way she cher- 

 ishes him that she loves him more than them or their owners. 

 How should we prosper, endure even, so persecuted, or they 

 without our constant care? Perhaps we are not of such 

 great accouut in the world as we think. If in some y T ears 

 or seasons the fox is hardly to be found in a certain range, 

 the scarcity seems due only to a partial migration, for likely 

 enough in the next year or month his tribe is there in force. 

 This winter in this region foxes are plenty enough within a 

 mile of the lake shore, while it is hard starting one three 

 miles back among the hills. Why within a half hour's run 

 of a fox, one locality should be much frequented and the 

 other almost deserted, it is hard for any one but a fox to tell. 

 They are plentier in the oldest settled parts of the country 

 than in the wilderness, aud probably plentier now than they 

 were two hundred years ago; certainly so if as some hold, 

 our red fox is of European oiigin, concerning which I for 

 one have reasonable doubts. For his protection and main- 

 tenance the fox has his cunning, ranges of woodland aud 

 rocky hills for his haunts and fastnesses, his ability to sub- 

 sist on short commons, and a varied bill of fare to choose 

 from, whereof if one article is not to be had another will do 

 —mice, grasshoppers, poultry, lamb, carcass of domestic 

 animal aead of old age, disease or accident, hares, grouse, 

 quail, muskrats dug out of their houses in winters that favor 

 the fox but not the poor muskrat, beech nuts, and at a pinch 

 of hunger even frozen apples— all are grists that come to his 

 mill's grinding, and keep him alive and alert and active in 

 all weather and seasons. Is it a peculiar odor, or is it a soit 

 of free masonry instituted when fox and dog were nearer 

 akin, or is it the gallantry of the d<>g toward the weaker sex 

 that protects the female fox from her canine foe during her 

 breeding season? Whatever it is, it helps the race to endure 

 in spite of its enemies. 



Foxes taken young are seldom long kept in captivity. If 

 death does uot release them a slipped collar or broken chain 

 does. Even though one becomes so tame that he will play 

 with his master, come to his call and follow him like a dog, 

 soon or late the sleeping spirit of wildness arises pnri takes 

 possession of him, carrying him off to raid and trt lie u ider 

 the stars with his fellows, and henceforth he is as w ild as the 

 wildest of them An acquaintance of mine had a uoz u, the 

 result of unearthing two litters, which he kept iu a tight 

 board pen till they were nearly grown, when one of them 

 in his continual prying and spying, found where he could ! 

 tunnel his way to freedom, and presenily there was a jail 

 delivery and twelve foxes, sharp set for mischief, were at I 



large among the turkeys of the neighborhood. Two or three 

 of them were killed in a day or two before they had got 

 their land legs on. but the others got to the woods, and soon 

 picked up the broken thread of wild life and strengthened it 

 perhaps with some boldness spun in during their close ac- 

 quaintance with mankind, so that there were none of their 

 tribe in the county better outfitted for getting an honest 

 living. 



The sorriest hunt I ever saw or took part in, and one that 

 would almost disgrace Newport was when a fox that had 

 been in captivity since bis early cub-hood, was turned out 

 before, four or five dogs in the first winter he had seen. He 

 knew not what to make of seeing the men who had fed him 

 and played with him. a minister among the lot. all at once 

 turned enemies, cheering on the hounds that had been his 

 familiars to worry him, and at first would not run, aud 

 afterward only in a dazed uncertain fashion, as if he knew 

 no outdoor tricks of his kind, nor any of the runways of 

 his foregoers and brethren. When his legs gave out and 

 refused to carry him further, the hounds were so loth to lay 

 hold of bim that he was picked up and put in a bag before 

 his body got much hurt. Yet his poor soul was so sorely 

 wounded by the sudden and unaccountable persecution that 

 he pined away, and his sordid owner knocked him in the 

 head to save his life— and his pelt. 



Reynard's human enemies have many devices for his tak- 

 ing off. Poison is sometimes set for him with deadly effect, 

 but this dangerous and unlawful practice is discountenanced 

 by almost every one. Trapping in the old way, in a pre- 

 pared bed of ashes or chaff, baited with toasted cheese and 

 lard scraps for some days before setting the trap, which was 

 first carefully smoked to disguise the scent of the iron, so 

 it was said, was never destructive enough to work much 

 harm to fox or fox hunter. The fox cares no more for the 

 scent of iron than for that of wood or stone, which is evi- 

 dent, from the fact that he crosses a railroad track as uncon- 

 cernedly as he does a fence or a rock. The odor that he is 

 shyer of than any other in the world, under conditions that 

 bear a suspicion of foul play, is the scent of human kind, 

 though he will often run in the newly made track of a man, 

 and his nose is so keen that it will dt tect this hateful odor 

 many days after a trap or bait has been handled. I should 

 justly incur the displeasure of all honest fox hunters if I 

 told the secret of the modern fox trapper's success, and I 

 will only say that everything tainted with his touch is cov- 

 ered by something which completely deodorizes it, even 

 beyond the suspicion of a fox's sensitive nostrils, and the 

 bait is fragrant with a compound that allures his victims 

 from afar off. This also often betrays the neighborhood of 

 the trap to the fox hunter, who then ferrets out the cun- 

 ningly hidden gin of his sneaking rival and makes it harm- 

 less. 



When "holed" by dogs the fox is sometimes taken by set- 

 ting a trap just inside the entrance to the burrow, that being 

 then stopped. In such dire extremity the fox has been 

 known to have faithful friends among his kindred. Two 

 fox-hunting acquaintances of mine, whose word I have not 

 the least reason to doubt, told me that having slightly 

 wounded a fox, he "holed," which is New English for going 

 to earth, wherein I think the New English is better for us 

 than the old, as our foxes often take to holes in the rocks 

 and in hollow logs. They stopped the entrance to his retreat, 

 which was in a ledge, and getting a trap, set it just inside the 

 blockade. They visited the place every day, expecting that 

 starvation would bring their prisoner to the door and so into 

 the trap. But in this they were for some time disappointed, 

 till at last they discovered fragments of mice and squirrels 

 close by a crevice so small that they had not thought" it 

 necessary to stop it. They were satisfy d that outside foxes 

 had fed the captive through it, and cutting off this channel 

 of supply, in a few days more they caught the poor fellow. 

 Under ordinary circumstances it seems more in the spirit of 

 fair play for the huuter to give up beaten when the fox takes 

 sanctuary in the bosom of our common mother; especially in 

 this case it would have been magna uimous to let the captive 

 go, in consideration of his friend's feelings if not of his own. 

 But 1 am sorry to say that his pelt went to market at the 

 common price, though he was not quite a common fox— in 

 experience. It is not to be denied that some hunters are im- 

 pelled by a greed more iguoble than bloodthirst. 



When the fox is pursued by hounds he has endless devices 

 for eluding them, some inborn, some learned. This of hol- 

 ing is ordinarily his last card, though in some seasons ho 

 seems more drawn thereunto than in others, and holes with- 

 out apparent necessity, to the great aisgust of his two-legged 

 and four-legged pursuers. The oldest hunters tell us that in 

 by-gone days, when there was more forest than cleared land, 

 the foxes were very apt to run into hollow log* after a short 

 run. But they are wiser now, and if such vulnerable 

 fortresses wi re as easily come to now, I doubt if they would 

 use them except at the last pinch. Doubtless in his own 

 hunting the fox has learned that treading often in his own 

 tracks is confusing to his pursuer, has discovered the 

 deo 'orizing iffect of fresh earth, that glare ice holds no 

 scent, tnat wind blows the subtle odor away, and that one 

 scent neutralizes another. Aud so when he hears the bugle 

 of the bound sounded on his trail, profiting by experience 

 and the traditions of fox lore, he runs in circles, across newly 

 plowed fields, on ice, over naked rocks, on fence tops, in 

 the paths of hare«, in highways and through flocks of sheep, 

 and when it rains or suows he trusts in the kiudly skies to 

 quench or smother the reek of his footsteps. To cope with 

 him and foil his tricks the hound must be wise as a serpent, 

 full of experience and endowed with all the gifts of his 

 breed, keen nose, strength of limbs and wind, and steadfast- 

 ness in holding to his work. A tried old hound so possessed 

 is greatly valued by hunters, and is a dog of note through- 

 out half a county. 



Unseasonable and almost uninterrupted persecution which 

 unenforced game laws do but little to prevent, has made the 

 pursuit of almost all furred and feathered game an unprofit- 

 able pastime in the older Spates, but sill the fox endures for 

 the few who care to hunt him in our wi'y. The hunting of 

 him in the common fashiou of the North, on foot with hound 

 and gun, has never been much in tavorwith those who think 

 it great sport to shoot little birds over dogs, and silly hares 

 before them, or float for deer at night, or row up to them in 

 daytime and club them to death. Some are honest enough 

 to confess that it is too hard work to tramp so far for so few 

 shots, perhaps none; others say that it lacks the element cf 

 fair play, though why more than hare or deer shooting is un- 

 explained. 1 never saw one of these disparagers of our 

 Yankee sport who, if he had the luck, was not proud of the 

 shooting of a fox. It is no feather-bed sportsman's work to 

 tramp all day over the rough hilly country, and it requires 

 knowledge of the animal's ways to give one a reasonable 

 chance of a shot at times, and that got, good shooting to 



