464 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. e, 1887, 



tke bottom of a Bteej), sandy bank, wbere tbe river ran 

 swift and deep, with a tangle of vines and submerged 

 limbs of trees that made a ticklish business of getting on 

 board. We got afloat safely, however, and Tarpon said, 

 "You lead off till it begins to get dark and then I'll lead. 

 I know the channel from the footbridge and can make it 

 in the darkest night you ever saw." So I led off at my 

 best speed with a silent regret that we had not gone into 

 camp and waited until nest morning. An hour's paddling 

 and five miles of distance brought us to the footbridge, 

 which was a footbridge no more, having been carried 

 away by high water. It also brought on darkness and 

 Tarpon went ahead as pilot. It was fortunate that he 

 had seen fit to indulge in a white shirt for the cruise; it 

 made a beacon by whicli I could steer. The i-iver was 

 narrow and swift, with dense foliage meeting overhead 

 and cutting off the dim starlight. Sometimes I lost sight 

 of the dim, misty Avhite spot ahead and a terse dialogue 

 ensued about thus: "Hullo?" "Here you are." And then 

 I would hasten the stroke until catching sight of the 

 foggy beacon again. Several tbnes we came to the end 

 of the river tlirough running plumb into the bank at 

 abrupt timis, but T. always picked up the course in a 

 minute or two. 



At length we heard the faint swish and gurgle of water 

 as of an obstructed cun-e-nt and the next instant T. yelled 

 out sharply, "Halt! Tree across the river." I backed up 

 stiiSy, caught a limb in the dai-kness and held on for 

 what might come next. For a long time I could faintly 

 hear the rustle and plash of the flood trash as T. patiently 

 worked his way through the di'if t down to the tree which 

 held the surging mass against the current, but at length 

 he announced, "I've found the tree and got the canoe 

 over. If you can get through I tMnk I can lead the 

 Rushton over without getting you out." 



Carefully and with some trepidation I worked slowly 

 through the dangerous drift and found T. standing oil 

 the trunk of a green tree whicli the current had under- 

 mined. It had settled a few inches with his weight, and 

 this enabled him to pass me over in safety without leav- 

 ing my seat, and when fairly clear of that dangerous 

 midnight tangle, I must o^^vn I breathed more freely. T. 

 managed to board the Bucktail in safety, and he engi- 

 neered the whole affair with a coolness "and skill that 

 excited my admu-ation. I was very tired and thoroughly 

 disgusted with the trip before a misty glimmer ahead and 

 the receding forest on either bank gave notice that we 

 were entering the open marsh, where we could at least 

 have the benefit of starlight and tell water from land. 



It was still three miles to camp, but T. knew every rod 

 of the com'se and made no mistakes, though the river was 

 crooked as a wounded snake. 



It was getting late in the night when we ran the little 

 boats into the narrow canal which served us for a 

 landing, and I had not moved out of my seat since launch- 

 ing at the upper bridge, by which it happened that I was 

 so stiff and lame that it was only after several efforts that 

 I could get on my feet. 



Tarpon said, "Oh, this is nothing." To him, perhaps. 

 To me it was decidedly pokerish. The worst night cnoise 

 I ever made. 



Afterward I made a much longer cruise up the coast in 

 the same canoe, spending a week at different points. I 

 got plenty of beach bu-ds, and found the ti'ii> on the whole 

 interesting. But, if tliis meets the eye of any sojourner 

 at Tarpon Springs who contemplates' a trip along the Gulf 

 coast, let me advise going down the coast rather than up. 



Nessmuk. 



THE THOUSAND ISLANDS. 



NOTHING can surpass in gi-andeur and picturesqueness 

 the scene which breaks upon the eyes of the traveler 

 entering that vast exjianse of the St. Lawrence, known, 

 on account of the innumerable openhigs of the river 

 through the granite rocks, as the Thousand Islands. In 

 ages gone by the vast volume of water pent up in the 

 immense inland basin of North America, weaiy of its 

 confinement, has burst its way tlu-ough the rocky barrier, 

 and rushing over rapids and falls, at last flows silently 

 but swiftly into the ocean. Nature is here found in every 

 whim of its changing fancy; for great is the contrast be- 

 tween the islands, some being rocky and precipitous, 

 covered with a dense growth of trees and bushes of every 

 variety, while others are low and bedded with moss and 

 ferns; many are miles in extent, but the "Devil's Fiddle 

 Box" pushes not more than a few square feet of rock from 

 beneath the water. 



The river at this point is divided into two main chan- 

 nels about a mile axjart, and connected with each other 

 by numberless small straits so twisting and meandering 

 in their course as to render an experienced boatman 

 necessary for a day's row or sail. The islands about the 

 American channel are, for the most part, inhabited dur- 

 ing the summer months, and present a gala-like appear- 

 ance with their pretty cottages and bright-colored tents. 

 On the other hand the Canadian islands are left almost 

 entirely in then natural state of wildness and beauty. It 

 is here that the tourist takes delight in spending a day 

 rowing leisurely about, with a trolling spoon dragging 

 from the jboat should he be a disciple of Walton's, and 

 drinking' in nature visible in all its lovehness. On one 

 side a huge mass of tangled rock rises abruptly out of the 

 water, its sides covered with the moss of ages, to wliich 

 cling with wonderful tenacity huge trees shooting their 

 heads out over the stream and softening the steady glare 

 of the sun by their dense mass of quivering foliage. And 

 on the other side stretches a low, rolling patch of green 

 sward, edged by a sandy shore and framed with willow 

 and alder, picturing a perfect camping ground of the 

 once mighty Iroquois. So as one floats along each turn 

 presents in quick succession some new fauy picture, 

 whose banks of rocks and tops of green are so perfectly 

 reflected in the transparent waters of the labyrintliine chan- 

 nel that the boat seems to glide over dense copses, and 

 each moment one expects to dash against the rocks that so 

 deceivingly appear to tlnust their heads out of the river. 

 A huge cavern in the depth of one of the islands, con- 

 nected with the outer world by a pass;ig-e just admitting 

 the entrance of a small boat, is called the Devil's Oven. 

 Tradition has it that a young Indian chief of tlie Iroquois 

 having been condemned to torture, escaped and hid hini- 

 self in this cavern for many weeks. The reflection of his 

 fire on the cave's entrance and surrounding water gave 

 a weird appearance to the rock at night, which, being 

 seen by the superstitious Indians and believed by them to 

 have been kindled by the Evil One's ovm hand, gave rise 

 to the name. The Lake of the Isles is a nan-ow winding 



channel a few hundred yards in length and scarcely as 

 many feet in breadth, hemmed in on aU sides by a high 

 bulwark of solid granite, which is surmounted by a mass 

 of green so tangled and interwoven that one sees only a 

 narrow strip of the blue sky overhead . The little excmsion 

 steamers twist their prows in every direction to avoid the 

 rocks, and the quick throb of their engines echo and re- 

 echo so quickly and distinctly from rock to rock that all 

 nature seems to pulsate with the consciousness of its own 

 beauty. No pen can fully depict the ever-changing love- 

 liness of the scenery; no brush can portray the brilliant 

 coloring of the sky. Venice, with its lagoon and slug- 

 gard-like canals, might well envy the noble Iroquois, em- 

 bracing with its swift flowing and transparent waters the 

 Thousand Islands. Days passed on the St. Lawrence are 

 as the rays of the sinking sun, falling beneath the horizon 

 of the past and leaving behind the rays of memory, glori- 

 ous in their ever-deepening color. F'lin. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



ARIZONA BIRD NOTES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Notwithstanding the several articles published on the 

 subject, bird life in Arizona is as yet but little known, 

 and to ornithologists in general, less understood than 

 elsewhere in the United States. The dangers that men- 

 aced human life and the intense heat of the treeless 

 plains, were, I know, much to contend with. Geronuno, 

 the Chnicahua chief, and his following, spared no huiuan 

 shape that feU then way. For twenty years the Apache 

 Lidians sapped the very life of the Territory, as the graves 

 of fourteen hundred of our murdered people truthfully 

 attest, but thanks to General Miles, his brave officers and 

 men, Arizona and her people have at length been rid of 

 one of the worst bands of cuttlnoats that ever infested 

 earth. With the exceiition of an occasional mishap on 

 our southern border, life is now as secure in Arizona as 

 in the older settled regions of the Atlantic States. 



The summers of tliis "sun-kissed land" are proverbial 

 for their wai-mth, and for them we offer no excuse. We 

 sometimes complain of them ourselves, and would per- 

 haps feel disappointed if newcomers failed to echo our 

 feelings. Ai-izona, to the scientist, is full of interest, as 

 likewise are the contiguous Mexican States of Sonora and 

 Chihuahua. The former is somewhat unsettled toward 

 its coast, where the Yaqui and Mayo Indians, imder the 

 leadership of then Idng, Cajame, are in revolt, and have 

 thus far successfully withstood the assaults of the Mexican 

 National troops, and while thej^lthus continue, that por- 

 tion of the Republic will be unsafe for travelers, wliat- 

 ever be then calling. The lands lying intermediate are, 

 however, comparatively fi-ee from danger. Much like 

 Ai'izona, the heat only is to contended with, their winters 

 being like ours mild and even-tempered, and cannot be 

 smpassed the world over. 



Strange it seems to me, but it is nevertheless true, that 

 dm'ing our so-called winter months bird life d^odndles to 

 a miniuium. They go south, but for the time they stay 

 the move is hardly worth the making. In this respect, 

 however, no two years give a like result. In the winter 

 of 1884 the common house finch {Carpodacus frontalis) 

 disappeared almost to a bii-d; the winter of 18S5, although 

 much the colder of the two, gave no visible diminution 

 of their numbers. The fall of 1884 (Sept. 28) was marked 

 by an incoming of Lewis' and Clark's woodpeckers {Asyn- 

 desmus torquatus), but the autumns of '85 and '86 have 

 failed to bring in a single bird. In 1884 tliey destroyed 

 almost the entu'e pomegranate crop, as did the mocking 

 thrush {Minms polyglottus) the grape crop two months 

 earlier. Last year the mocking thrushes, although abun- 

 dant, were in point of numbers with the previous year, 

 comparatively few, this year they are altogether absent. 

 The Western xohrns {Tiirdus inigratoriu^ common 

 on the Santa Cruz bottoms last winter. Dming the 

 entii'e two years previous I had seen but tliree of these 

 birds. Oregon snow birds {Junco oregonus) were likewise 

 to be had, something I have never before noted here- 

 abouts. Tliey flocked with the house finch. White - 

 winged blackbirds (Calamospiza bieolor) are common 

 here" the year through. Likewise shore larks (Eretnophila 

 alpestris ehrysolcema). They can be found on desert and 

 plain from the Mexican boundary line to the base of the 

 Superstition Mountains, and possibly far beyond, but that 

 is as far north as my observation in this particular instance 

 goes. American titlarks (Antlius ludoviciamis) are always 

 common. The Texas cardinal (Pyrrhuloxia sinuata) and 

 the new cardinal {Cardinalis superbus) both winter here. 

 The Gila, so far as my observation goes, is the northern 

 boundary of the latter bird. Hereabouts they are never 

 common. On the 10th of last January Texas cardinals 

 had api)arent]y paired off, but a cold wind from the 

 mountams again bunched them. 



Last winter was unusually severe (if such a term is 

 applicable to southern Arizona). The spring migTants 

 failed to arrive on time, and nesting was, with a few ex- 

 ceptions, correspondingly late. Feliruary 21 Pahner's 

 thrashers {Harporliynehus curmrodrifi palnieri) had their 

 nests in shape, and by the 38th egg-layiaig with them was 

 well under way. They are winter residents and first of 

 the Turdinaj to begin the work of nidification. January 

 24 the fii-e-capped fly-catcher {Pyroeeplialus ruhineus 

 viesdcanus) put in appearance, but it was late in April 

 before they began nesting. January 17 I noted the 

 first song sparrow {Melospiza fasciata fallax). ^larch 6 

 I took one in fuU moult. On the latter date I chronicled 

 the fii-st arrival of the Maryland yellow throat {G. trichas). 

 October 19 witnessed their departure. 



Feb. 21 1 was in the Santa Catalina range, a massive 

 chain of mountains north of Tucson, and well up then- 

 sides the blooming oquetillas were well .patronized by 

 humming birds, and in the deep canons at midday bats 

 were constantly on the wmg. By Oct. 8, 1885, the last 

 oriole had gone and did not reappear till April 10 follow- 

 ing. On that date I noticed but one, a male (leterus eucid- 

 latus). On the 11th they came in on a warm south wind 

 by the score, /. hullocki and I. cwcuZZafus were especially 

 numerous. They were fully two weeks behmd their 

 migration of 1885. April 15 brought in the glossy ibis 

 {Plegadis giiarauna),iiie 16th Lincoln's finches (JfefeZosp wa 



lincolni), and on the 32d the bats hibernating in town 

 buildings quit their winter sleep and filled the aii-by thou- 

 sands. 



Score another point of intelligence for the crow. In 

 November last, on the plains west of Casa Grande, I saw 

 them foraging for breakfast, The coimtry at this point 

 is covered with a stunted growth of white sage into which 

 gi-asshoppers, horned toads, lizards and other crow game 

 sought to escape when pursued, only to be systematically 

 driven therefrom. The crows would fly up, strike the 

 bushes with their feet, then drop aside and watch for 

 then victims. If a bush was low and closely gi'own a 

 crow would alight on top, strike with its feet, and then 

 from that point of vantage await results. If any luckless 

 insect or reptile attemiited to escape its would-be devom- 

 ers were all legs and wings in close pursuit. Tliey won 

 my admiration for the systematic, effective and intelli- 

 gent manner in which they worked. They worked only 

 one way and dehberately beat every bush in front of 

 them. 



During the past year 1885, Arizona quail (Laphortyx 

 gambeli) have been very abundant. On the Salt and 

 Gila rivers Indians and white men snared them by 

 thousands. In September of that year I was in Phoonix 

 and saw one man (a ranchman on the river bottom) drive 

 in town with 600 live quail in one crate. Tliey were pur- 

 chased by a Mr. Whipley, a produce dealer, for 45 cents 

 per dozen. The vender Avas anxious to conti'act for 1,500 

 more birds for the week following, but the offer was re- 

 fused, as they were a drug in the market. This was what 

 I called pot-hunting with a vengeance. This may be a 

 quail story, but is a true one nevertheless. 



TUSCON, Ai-izona, Nor, 10, 1886. HERBERT BROWN. 



Snowy Owls.— Dansville, N. Y.— I notice in recent 

 issues of Forest and Stream occasional captures of 

 snowy owls in this State. A large siiecimen of this 

 handsome bnd was recently captured by a farmer eight 

 miles west of this village, and brought here and sold to 

 one of our dealers, where it attracted considerable atten- 

 tion. Snowy owls are very scarce in this radius of coun- 

 try, as this is the only instance of one having been cap- 

 tured within a period of ten years or more. — Uncas . 



Forreston, 111., Dec. 30,— Just received by express from 

 Calhoun county, la., a fine snowy owl ahve. He is snow 

 white with the exception of a few dark specks. He ate a 

 pigeon yesterday and di-ank water, but is very pugnacious, 

 snapping his bill and hissing nnich like great horned 

 0W& do. I shall keep hun alive for a time at least. A 

 few are killed in Calhoun county every winter. — H. A. 



Kline Rocky Ridge, O., Dec 31,— About two weeks 



ago a snowy or white owl was sent to me for mounting. 

 It was killed by ]Vii-. Henry Mears on the A. W. Meeker 

 farm, one mile east of Hmon, on the shore of Lake Erie. 

 It is a female, and in nice plumage. Weio;ht in the flesh 

 about 41bs. Its stomach was fuU of clucken feathers. 

 This, I believe, is the first sno^vy owl captured in tliis 

 part of the country for some years. Although it is re- 

 ported that several had been seen near wliere this vraa 

 Idlled, so far none have been captured.— F. Lehmann. 



Sparrow-Ha-wtc in an odd Place.— New York, Deo. 

 15. — Fneman Patrick Kennedy, of Hook and Ladder No. 

 14, Harlem, met with a singniar visitor when he went to 

 strike the hour of twelve at Mount Morris Park on Satur- 

 day last. This was nothing else than a sparrow-hawk 

 (Tinnuncuhis s2M7-ve7Hus), which found its way into the 

 old watch tower above the bell. The bird was flying 

 from side to side and cUnging to the window sashes as 

 Patrick came up-staus. How it got there was the ques- 

 tion until a stovepipe hole was discovered up under the 

 eaves. The fireman left the bell tower carrying the hawk 

 carefully grasped in his hand, his forefinger not far from 

 the bird's beak. All at once he felt a fearful pinch on 

 his finger. The bird with wicked-looking eyes was teai*- 

 iiig away at his hand as though it meant to swaUow his 

 finger down whole. Without thinking and in his aston- 

 ishment Patrick opened his hand and the hawk simply 

 flew away. The bird was a male in beautiful plmnage 

 and perfectly unharmed. In my own experience I never 

 remember seeing any other than male birds of this species 

 in this part of the coimtry at this season of the vear. — A. 

 H. G. 



A Domesticated Grouse. — Earlville, N. Y. — Twelve 

 years ago a female ruffed grouse was caught in an orchard 

 near the village, having been driven there from the woods 

 by a hawk. The boy who caught her sold her to I. W. 

 Rowe, oiu- present postmaster. He placed her in a roomy 

 cage, and for some days she refused to eat; but in a slioii; 

 time became quite tame. For three years she was kept 

 confined in a cage, but one day by accident the cage was 

 overtm-ned, and she flew out and perched on a neighbor- 

 ing house. Mr. Rowe went to catch her. Wlien about 

 to place his hand upon her, she flew back to her home 

 and entered the cage. On another occasion she was out 

 and flew to a barn across the way. Mr. Rowe called her; 

 she flew and lit on his hand and endeavored to crawl up 

 liis coat sleeve, seeming to express great joy at seeing 

 him. Mr. Rowe kept her seven years. She died from 

 roup, caught by roosting with a pair of bantam chicks. 

 This bird was caught in the fall and undoubtedly was 

 a spring bird, and if any doubt the above statements tliey 

 may write to any resident of our village. — Grouse. 



Clarke's Crow in British Columbia.— Victoria, B. C. 

 — The Clarke's crow (Picicorvus eolumbianus) is found in 

 British Columbia, east of Cascades from our southern 

 boundary north to the Upper Stickeen River, accidentally 

 west to Vancouver Island. During my observations, ex- 

 tending over a period of fifteen years, I have only once 

 seen this bird west uf tin? Cascades. It is a peculiar bird, 

 having the habits of several species. It will clmg to an 

 old stump while it extracts the grubs and woi-ms found 

 therein as do the woodpeckers. When on the ground it 

 closely imitates the actions of Steller's jay, and, mdeed, 

 both birds are very often fouiid in company. It hops, 

 both feet leaving the ground together. It spends much 

 of its time liigh tip in the foliage of the fir and pine trees, 

 feeding on the cones and constantly uttering its harsh 

 discordant note, which may be heard nearly a mile away. 

 The tongue of Clarke's crow is bifurcated, a clear slit of 

 about half an inch in length dividing the tongue into two 

 distinct points.— John Fannik. 



