B04 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 20, 188 



Stream have visited it; for at certain seasons, and with 

 the right kind of weather, there are few better localities 

 for geese and ducks on the Atlantic coast. 

 _ Some two days later, twenty miles fm-ther south, a 

 similar flock of larks was seen in a pastm-e field, but 

 whether a portion of the flock seen on the island or 

 another, is uncertain. 



Tliis occurrence brought to mind a somewhat similar 

 scene witnessed some years since while decoying on one 

 of the Thousand Islands in the St. Lawrence River. It 

 was perhaps a little after sunset, when attention was 

 called to a black cloud approaching us, which soon 

 proved to be numbers of blackbirds, winging their way 

 to their nightly roostiag place. Before settling they per- 

 formed several evolutions, whirling in tortuous circles up 

 and down, when siiddenly a third or fourth part broke 

 off, and selected a roost some 200yds. distant fi'om the 

 main flock, which had also settled in its roost. 



Such screaming and chattering as arose from either 

 roost is beyond description, for "the prancing pawing of 

 the eight tiny red deer" of good Santa Claus was nothing 

 to this baberof confusion. 



Occasionally a few birds would pass from one roost to 

 the other, and soon a stream of deserters left the smaller 

 flock for the larger, and continued to increase in numbers 

 till all had joined the main army. Soon after tlie last 

 arrival the hubbub ceased, and quiet reigned throughoxxt 

 the roost, except an occasional note to welcome a belated 

 bird. J. H. D. 



POTIGHKEEPSIE, N. Y. 



MOTHER CARE. 



MANY years since, while camped on the shores of a 

 lovely little lake in westei'n Mitmesota, I saw one 

 of those pleasing pictures that only occasionally catch 

 the eye of the wanderer among nature's secret hiding 

 places. It was a beautifnl morning in August, still and 

 fair, and as I wandered alone along the rush-lined bank I 

 saw, some five or six rods from the shore, an old female 

 dip-diver, or "hell-diver," with her four or five little ones 

 taking breakfast. Stooping down beliind the vegetation, 

 I crept along until nearly opposite them, when I stopped, 

 and peering'carefully over the tops of the rushes stood 

 silently enjoying the pretty sight for haK an hour. Tlae 

 little ones, looking like miniatui-e balls of do^vn, sat con- 

 tentedly on the glassy smface, waiting patiently upon 

 the labor.s of the industrious little mother as she dived to 

 the bottom in some 5ft. of water, and coming to the sur- 

 face with food in her mouth sat jjerfectly still while the 

 little ones swam up and took the food from her bill. 

 Wliat it was she was f eedijig them I was not qmte near 

 enough to see. 



This went on for some time, she working very steadily, 

 imtil, apparently becoming tired, she sat quietly resting 

 on the water. One of the Kttle ones now swam up to 

 her, and after some little efi'ort crawled up on her back, 

 and cuddling himself up like a kitten on a heartJi, sat 

 contentedly down to rest. 

 A prettier sight L never saw. 



Five minutes passed, when again the little mother 

 lowered her head, and with one of those graceful dives 

 by which this bii-d disai^pears ^vithoufc leaving a ripple on 

 the sm-face of tlie water, vanished again from sight, 

 leaving the little fellow sitting quietly, without the 

 iTemor of a muscle, above the spot where she went 

 doAvn. 



At another time, wMle walking alone through a pine 

 forest, I saw a red squii'rel on the ground to my left 

 front, some 50yds. distant, ranning toward a pine tree 

 directly in front of me. It was api^arently r'arrying a 

 pine cone in its mouth, but coming nearer it ai^peared to 

 be a huge excres(?nce upon the neck of the little animal. 

 When, ' howexer, it sprajig up the tree, 30ft. in front of 

 me, I saw that it was a young squii-rel clinging roimd 

 the neck of its mother, with its tail spread along her 

 back. 



Running up the tree some oOft.. the mother squirrel 

 with her right forepaw unloosened tJie little one's grip 

 from her neck, and when he had fastened himself firmly 

 to a small limb, she ran swiftly down toward where I 

 stood at the foot of the tree watching tlie ciuming per- 

 formance, and coming within 10ft. of me, cliattered her 

 little wrath squarely m my face. 



I wonder if other readers of Forest and Stream have 

 seen similar sights? To me they were both entirely new 

 and vastly entertaining. Uncle Fuller. 



Thetis, Wasliington Ter. 



Wild Geese Vagaries.— Cleveland, O., Dec. 30.— 

 Wliile quietly warming myself by the fire a few moments 

 ago, I was surprised to hear the well -known honk, honk 

 of the wild goose from out of doors, and well over head. 

 Rushing out, what Avas my stu-prise at seeing twenty- 

 three Canada geese going over at a slow gait toward the 

 lake (Erie), and then slowly winging their way along the 

 shore until lost to sight in. the northeast. They were fly- 

 ing as though seai-cliing for a suitable lighting place, and 

 so low that the white on the throat was plainly visible. 

 We have had steady cold winter weather since the first 

 inst.. deep snow on the ground, every river, stream, pond, 

 and marsh frozen solid, the lake covered with ice as far 

 as the eve can reach from shore. Where did they come 

 from and where are they going this time of tlie year?— 

 Dr. E. Sterling. 



Habits op the Blue Grouse.— Cache Creek, B. C— 

 Editor Forest and Stream: In certain sections of the coun- 

 try— Vancouver Island, for example — the cock blue 

 grouse, when calling in the spring, will almost invariably 

 be found perched high up on some fir tree, and very rarely 

 on the gi-ound; while in other sections — east of the Cas- 

 cades, for instance— the order is reversed, nearly all of 

 the calling being done while the birds are on the ground, 

 a call from a tree being an exception. I would be glad 

 to receive some information as to the reasons of this 

 marked difference, for though simdry causes have sug- 

 gested themselves to my mind, they are not entirely sat- 

 isfactory.— E. M. C._^ 



Snowy Owls.— Swanton," Vt. , Jan. 12.~Five have been 

 captured in oiu- town this winter. Is it not very remark- 

 able that so many of these birds are about this part of the 

 country this winter? I have been hunting more or less 

 for the last forty years all through our section and never 

 yet saw a snowy white owl in the woods. Is this a sign 

 that we are to have Arctic weather in future ?— N. D. 



i^m^ md §ntf. 



Afldress all comrmmicat'ions to the Forest and Stream Piib. Co. 



A DAY WITH THE CORDELIA CLUB. 



I HAD received two letters from friends at Bouldia 

 Island in answer to inquiries respecting the shooting. 

 One said: "The rainstorm has driven the ducks all away; 

 not one where last week there were ten thousand."' The 

 other said: "Shooting very poor. A few English snipe 

 around. If you insist on coming I wiU do what I can to 

 make it pleasant for you." In spite of these discoiu-age- 

 ments, the next day at 2:45 P. M. I was within a few yards 

 of the Stockton boat, on my way to Bouldin Island, when 

 I met Cap, smiling and happy as ever. "Hello, Andy, 

 where are you going?" "To Bouldin Island," I repUed. 

 "Well now, you are not gomg to Bouldin Island at all; 

 you are just going up to Cordelia with Charley and me." 

 I can hardly tell why, but I refused, point blank, at first, 

 but finally; compromised by agreeing to go and see them 

 ofl; on their boat, which leaves in a few minutes. But 

 when Charley comes along — at the very last moment, as 

 he always does, but never too late— I am fully persuaded 

 and go with the majority. 



On the boat (Oakland fen-y) we meet our friend W. C. 

 Jones, of Collinsville, formerly of the Fish Commission, 

 but lat-ely returned from the Arctic regions, where he has 

 been to locate a salmon cannery for a San Ij'rancisco firm. 

 Before leaving us, at his destination, Benicia, he enter- 

 tains us with accounts of his adventures at the far North. 

 Leaving Benicia we glide swiftly along beside the glassy 

 bay and soon reach Teal station, where the train makes 

 a rnomentary halt and we make a long step down and 

 wait for the big ugly thing, which seems to crowd every- 

 thing else off into the marsh to go clanking and thunder- 

 ing away. Then we become aware, of the presence of a 

 pleasant-faced young man, who is introduced to us as 

 Fred, who possesses himself of our gun and packages and 

 we follow him down a flight of steps to the skiff. Get- 

 ting aboard, Cap and Fred take the oars, and after a few 

 minutes' row we shoot under the railroad bridge and up 

 by a cliicken ranch, where the bmiy proprietor sits in a 

 huge wooden chair in his back kitchen door smoking the 

 pipe of peace and contemplating his flocks. Then on up 

 the Cordelia and Fi-ank Horn sloughs with a flood tide, 

 a tliree miles puU, till the yacht Whitewing is reached, 

 moored to both banks, as she'fairly fills the narrow slough 

 at this point. Some of my readers may remember in my 

 article in Vol, XXVI., No. 8, the long pull before day- 

 light from the railroad bridge, where the yacht then lay, 

 up to this point. The boys have since much improved on 

 that arrangement by towing the yacht, not without her- 

 culean labor, up the slough to the immediate neighbor- 

 hood of their ponds, and we ai-e now right in the home of 

 the ducks and geese and we can hear their conversation 

 going on all around us and, as Charley says, no better 

 place could be found to study the call notes of different 

 birds. But it is getting chilly and we will go aboard. 

 Up the side, round into the awning-covered standing room 

 and down into the roomy and cheerful cabin; brilliantly 

 lighted, and witli the guns of the memljers of the club 

 artistically arranged on each side and, most attractive of 

 all, a smoking hot dinner awaiting us, it seems a veritable 

 hunter's snuggery. Then Charley shows us the state- 

 rooms, four in all," fitted with every comfort and conven- 

 ience, with beds so luxurious that I begin to wonder how 

 I can "turn out'' of one of them at 5 o'clock the next 

 morning. Then we go to dinner, well cooked and admir- 

 ably served by neat and trim little Japanese George, after 

 which, over coffee and cigarettes we talk over our himting 

 trijis of the past nine years, enjoying aU the detafls as 

 each caUs to mind some incident forgotten by the rest — 

 how A. came in from a hard morning's work on liis first 

 ducking tiip flushed with success and with a game strap 

 full of mudhens; poor boy, how we hated to have to tell 

 him that they were not good ducks. How B. had joined 

 us, after we had been several days on a tiip, and dined, 

 with great apparent relish, on the only canvasback killed 

 up to; that time. How F. iired twice at a wooden decoy 

 and then wondered "what ailed the blamed duck." How 

 W. Idst his duckboat and bearings at the same time and 

 had to wade back a mUe through the ponds to the yacht. 

 How T. had his decoys stolen from him wliile asleep in a 

 bUnd. And so the evening weaxs away. Cap has gone to 

 sleep and is gently "diiving his pigs," and Charley and I 

 tumble into bed, first waking Cap, who succeeds in get- 

 ting to bed before us, so as not to have to put out the 

 lights, and in a few moments silence reigns. No thunder 

 of freight trains roaring over our heads at dead of night, 

 as on former trips. We are awakened by the tinkling of 

 a little bell (no racket of alarm clocks on this excm-sion) 

 and rise refreshed, a.nd dress by the cheerful coal fixe, the 

 jokes and laughter and good fellowsloip being taken up 

 where we left off last night. 



An appetizing breakfast of ham and eggs, hot biscuits 

 and coffee comes next, and then we insea-t ourselves, with 

 more or less difficulty, into the long gum boots. Until 

 within a few years it seemed to make no difference with 

 me whether I wore long boots or not, for T invariably got 

 wet through before the first night, but lately I have given 

 up the monopoly of that business to younger men. Some 

 men seem never to get wet; I never Icnew Charley to fall 

 into a hole but once and then he fell into the coalhole on 

 the yacht Lolita and I believe he was entirely sulmierged. 



Outside the yacht, how cold and damp and disagreeable 

 it is. Only a gleam of daylight shows in the east as I 

 step into the duckboat. in which I find my gun and bucket 

 of shells, and I pole and paddle along through ditches and 

 small ponds until Charley, just ahead, says, "Here is your 

 pond, Andy;" and I recognize my old friend of several 

 years ago, the Judd Pond, considered, I believe, one of 

 the best on the marsh. My decoys are akeady out, and 

 I have nothing to do but draw my boat into a well-built 

 blind. A few moments in my concealment convinces me 

 that the sport to-day will be tame, for there is hardly any 

 flight of birds: a few teal coming in singly and at long in- 

 tervals, a small flock of traveling ducks high up out of 

 gunshot, are the only ones seen. The recent rains have 

 driven the birds away, just as reported at Bouldin. The 

 morning is calm and very unfavorable. (And right here 

 before I fire a shot, I must explain to aiiy reader who is 

 expecting me to make a big bag, not to wait another 

 minute, but to go right over to the next pfond, the Penin- 

 sula, where he will find Charley, who is a^ood shot. As 



for the "Critic," who wrote to the Forest and Stream 

 a few months ago and who wanted nothing but hard, 

 bare facts and who was so unmercifully criticized by 

 other critics, I know he is not following me.) Daylight is 

 now coming, I score a miss with my lirst shot. At my 

 second a teal flutters down with a broken wing and dis- 

 appears in the tules — much worse than a miss^ Then a 

 spoonbill comes dodging in and drops dead on the pond. 

 Then two teal in succession stop in their swift fLiglit and 

 faU among the decoys. Then after a long rest a drake 

 sprigtail flies swiftly', high overhead, so high that I think 

 I cannot possibly hit him, but I try, however, aiming weU 

 ahead, and he lets go everything and comes down, but is 

 not killed dead, for he is swimming away, when Fi"ed 

 comes and succeeds in captm-ing him. 



Now the sun shows a sullen and dissipated eye tlu'ough 

 a rift in the watery clouds, as if he disapproved of this 

 liunting business. Mount Diablo, too, has hidden himself 

 in a blue blanket of cloud. He and Tamalpais were out 

 all last night on a "high old time," and now Diablo won't 

 be seen again till his head is clearer. 



One more teal falls a victim to his cmiosity and the 

 supply of ducks seems exhausted. Fred comes into the 

 blind with me and we chat a while and I find him very 

 intelligent and pleasant. He is a native of that country 

 wliich many years ago sent us Jenny Lind; and he has 

 only lately come from New York, where he was employed 

 on one of the big yachts. We soon hear Charley and Cap 

 coming and Fred goes out and picks up my few ducks and 

 the decoys. "Well, boys, how many birds have you?" 

 "Only nine." So I am not so badly beaten after all. We 

 leave the boats and strike out on foot for the yacht, liaK 

 a mile distant. 



After lunch, at Cap's suggestion, Fred and I prospect 

 some mallard holes not far away, but they are dry, the 

 tide being out. On fm-ther, we" carefully approach the 

 Southwest Pond and, I see a single teal feeding near the 

 middle. I fire and the httle fellow flattens out, but at the 

 report a fine drake mallard jumps up quacking, with his 

 bright plumage ghstening. At the report of my left bar- 

 rel he drops beside the teal, requiring another sliot, how- 

 ever, to make him keep quiet. Now how to get these 

 birds is the problem, as the water is four feet deep and 

 the mud an unknown quantity. At last we go away to 

 another pond, where I wing a sprigtail, which falls in the 

 tules. Fred, who is a splendid retriever, finds it after 

 much patient waiting and listening. We go back and 

 find our mallard has come ashore with the supposed teal, 

 which turns out to be a diver and worthless. Then we go 

 back to the Judd and wait for the evening flight, which 

 at last comes with a rush after it has become too late to 

 shoot. I kill three teal, however, and at last there comes 

 overhead a bird so large that I can plainly see lum, I fire 

 and he.comes down witli a gratifying splash, and pickmg 

 him up I find I have another drake mallard. Cap and 

 Charlev now come along with fifteen ducks, nearly aU 

 teal. I am badly beaten, but then they had Cap's splen- 

 did setter Gyp to help them and probably did not lose a 

 single cripple in the darkness, as I know I must have 

 done. We push on for the yacht, and how cheerful we 

 find her warm, bright cabin. There are no dehcate ap- 

 petites around the dinner table to-night. Everything 

 eatable seems to "go right to the spot." Poor Gyp \yith 

 her expressive eyes seems to say, as she peeps down into 

 the cabin, "I wonder if they liave not almost finished." 



We do not sit up late nor tell many yams to-night. As 

 soon as m bed we sleep as only tired men can, and at the 

 caU to breakfast there is not much huny, but a decided 

 disposition to dally over the coffee. Charley ^oes to the 

 Little John, a pond quite near^ but soon gets discoxu-aged 

 and goes sculling up Frank Horn .slough with Fred, re- 

 turning at noon with twentv-six ducks, teal being in a 

 majority. Cap and I go to the mallard holes and put in 

 a few decovs. At last Cap gets impatient, goes prospect- 

 ing and drops a maUard; and dming Ms absence I get one 

 also. We are natiu-ally "all broken up" when we get 

 back and see Charley's birds, which with those killed 

 vesterday bring his score up to fifty. I have killed a 

 dozen, just the number I wanted, and am perfectly satis- 

 fied. After lunch we get together our game and guns 

 and taking the skiff are'soon bowling along down between 

 the muddv, dripping banks of Frank Horn slough with 

 the fast ebbing tide. Coming into the CordeHa we pass a 

 mallard, roosting up under a shelving bank and looking 

 as if asleep. Backing water we come near her, when she 

 wakes up and by great apparent effort flutters feebly 

 away, ju.st clearing the opposite bank. It seems that 

 some hunters in this vicinity have (ignorantly, we will 

 hope) dumped a lot of barley, which had not been cleaned 

 and still retained the beard, into thepouds, and the ducks 

 feeding upon it had been strangled and had been found 

 dead or dying m large numbers on the marshes. The 

 duck just seen was probably suft'ering from this cause, as 

 she did not appear to be wounded. Passing the chicken 

 ranch we soon come to the railroad and Teal station, 

 where we place om- baggage in readiness for the train, 

 now due in a few minutes. The station we find filled 

 with sacks, a few containing clean wheat, many others 

 with dirty, half-cleaned barley, sweepings of a warehouse 

 apparently. But what excites our cmiosity is a large 

 number of sacks of beans, and we speculate a gi-eat deal 

 on the use for wliich they are intended, but at last the 

 mystery is solved, A member of a shooting club near 

 here having been told that "Boston ducks" were coming 

 in lai-ge numbers, and taking advantage of the cut in 

 overland rates, had conceived the brilliant idea of bait- 

 ing the ponds with beans, hoping to entrap some of the 

 new comers. 



But here comes our train, and after hasty hand-shakes 

 and good-byes with Cap and Fred, we are once more 

 aboard the iU-smelling train and in due time reach Six- 

 teenth street station, where Charley finds liis carriage 

 awaiting him, and a moment later I am alone, though in 

 a crowd of strangers, with my mind filled with pleasant 

 recollections of two happy days spent ynth my friends, 



Andy. 



San Francisco, Califo rnia. 



Shooting on a Long Island Farm.— We know of a 

 farm of 700 acres on the Great South Bay on which the 

 shooting can be leased by a club or individual for a term 

 of yeai's. The farm is not far from Islip, and covers good 

 snipe and upland shooting. On the place is a large farm 

 house which would also be leased, and might be fitted up 

 do headquarters for the persons taking the shooting. 

 - urther particulars may be had on apphcation by letter 

 ..his office. 



