876 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[NoY. 2, 1895. 



SOME MAINE NOTES. 



Boston, Sept. 11 —Editor Forest and Stream: The 

 problems of rearing wild birds or animals in captivity, 

 and of introducing into any country any form of plant or 

 animal life not indigenous to it, have always deeply inter- 

 ested me. When, therefore, in June I foresaw that 

 business might take me later in the summer into the 

 vicinity of Auburn, Me., I rejoiced in the opportunity it 

 would give me of seeing something of tbe attempt being 

 made there to stock the State with prairie chickens, 

 sharp-tailed grouse, blackcock and capercailzie, by means 

 of young birds raised in confinement. 



Some time ago a good deal was said in the papers about 

 the experiment. Accounts were given of the forma- 

 tion of an association for the purprse, the raising of funds 

 by subscription, the purchase of birds and the erection of 

 wire cages on a large scale for their accommodation. 



I heard for a time some not very definite or encourag- 

 ing reports of progress, and then came silence. 



I have never been able to see how such an experiment 

 could possibly succeed, but I had never seen it tried and 

 I awaited with keen interest the result of the operation at 

 Auburn. 



I knew something of the natural habitat of the prairie 

 chicken and sharp-tailed grouse, and had much doubt of 

 either of these birds thriving in Maine. Of the blackcock 

 I knew very little. 



The capercailzie, however, did seem to me to be likely 

 to do well in Maine if once it could be given a chance for 

 itself there. I would not want either one of these birds 

 to be introduced if there were any danger to our native 

 ruffed grouse to be feared. The capercailzie is a big 

 strong bird. He would, beyond question, make a noble 

 addition to our avifauna. But I would not take even 

 him if it had to be in exchange for bonasa umbellus. 



Still, I could not easily suppose the larger bird would 

 harm the smaller one, and I was really hopeful that we 

 should come, by some means or other, to have the caper- 

 cailzie in our Northern Maine woods, where, so far as I 

 could see, the conditions were favorable for him. 



At the hotel at Auburn I fell into conversation with a 

 most genial gentleman, who soon proved to be not only 

 an expert in rods and guns, but a sportsman of rare en- 

 thusiasm and of great and varied experience. In addi- 

 tion to all this, or perhaps as a natural concomitant of all 

 this, he proved to be one of the best story-tellers I ever 

 met, and possessed of a seemingly inexhaustible store of 

 the very best and most enjoyable stories. To still further 

 heighten the situation it presently appeared that we two 

 had, though at different times, hunted in the very same 

 sections, and fished the same waters from Maine to 

 Florida, from Texas to Dakota, and among the Rockies, 

 and up and down the Pacific coast. I never saw any- 

 thing like it. 



The proof of each case was abundant. Familiarity 

 with details in the case of either one was instantly 

 matched by similar knowledge on the part of the other. 

 The climax was reached when it was found that we were 

 both occasionally in evidence in the columns of Fokest 

 and Stream. 



My new friend was waiting for the completion, at the 

 hands of an Auburn maker, of a new rod which was to 

 meet certaia transcendental specifications as to quality of 

 material, weight, balance, elasticity and I don't know 

 what else, and was thus to prove the one thing necessary 

 to complete the perfect sportsman's perfect happiness. 



I may as well say here that when the rod was tested it 

 was found a trifle too stiff in the third joint, and so per- 

 fect happiness was again postponed. 



But to return to the bird-raising experiment, Of course 

 my new friend was interested in it and delighted to 

 drive with me to the fish hatchery, near which were the 

 bird cages. 



Our way was past beautiful Lake Auburn, which has 

 been so successfully stocked with fish and has afforded 

 much good sport of late, I am told. I had hired what 



? roved to be a spirited and restless horse, and after what 

 had learned of him it did not surprise me to find that 

 my friend was every whit as expert a manager of such a 

 beast, and as great a lover and good judge of a horse as 

 of a gun or red. 



We first paid attention to the fish hatchery, which 

 seemed well located and fairly flourishing. The attend- 

 ant then went with us to a grove, or rather the edge of 

 what seemed an extensive forest of not very heavy 

 growth. 



On a gentle slope, at the foot of which ran a small rill, 

 were erected by means of wire netting four or five large 

 cages or inclosures. I cannot give their dimensions, 

 which I dare say have been printed in your columns at 

 some time. As I think of them now they seem to have 

 been each two or three rods long by a rod or more wide, 

 and 15 or 20ft. high. They were built among the trees, 

 and they each inclosed trunks and branches, and each 

 cage gave free access to the little rill of running water. 

 The ground in each was picked clean of every green 

 thing. There were inequalities in the ground and enough 

 brush and old boxes, etc., to afford some little cover and 

 concealment for confined bir.is, but not a great deal. 



In the first cage, as I re call it, were seven or eight sharp- 

 tailed grouse. A sleepy and tame-looking group they 

 were, huddled near the center of the cage. As we looked 

 through the wire meshes one or two walked about a bit 

 and eyed us with a little curiosity. We were told that 

 they were fed mainly if not entirely on corn. Noting the 

 absence of grass and leaves, we plucked some handfuls of 

 blackberry and other leaves and threw them into the 

 cage. 



Instantly several birds came forward and rapidly 

 picked up and swallowed every leaf. 



In the next cage were perhaps as many prairie chickens, 

 and behaving in much the same way. In spite of their 

 dull appearance it gave me a thrill of delight to see a live 

 prairie chicken again, a sight I have not had before 

 in some years. Many and many a memory flashed 

 through my mind of mornings and evenings on the 

 prairies in my boyhood, many haps by field and river, and 

 all associated with the voices and faces of never-to-be- 

 forgotten friends. These were real live prairie chickens 

 and no mistake, but looking and behaving so unlike the 

 free bird of powerful wing that I used to know. 



Something of this was inevitable, of course, yet every- 



thing seemed to emphasize every theoretical misgiving I 

 had had about this whole experiment. 



In the next cage were three or four blackcock. I man- 

 aged to get a good view of one male and one female some- 

 where in the center of the inclosure, but they kept them- 

 selves as far out of sight as possible. The next cage had 

 been devoted to the capercailzie, but not a single tenant 

 remained. 



I was told that of the number shipped to this country 

 for the Auburn experiment — eight, if I remember cor- 

 rectly — only two arrived in Auburn alive and these died 

 in a few days after arrival. 



Anxious to see more of the blackcock, I passed around 

 the whole group of inclosures and made my way through 

 the brush and trees to the rear of their inclosure. Some- 

 thing caught my eye near the wire, and going close to the 

 place I saw a sad sight: two birds, a male and female, 

 lying together dead , a sodden mass, and looking as if they 

 had lain there quite a long time. This completed the 

 picture. I did not see the person who is supposed to have 

 charge of these birds. I was told that he was a farmer 

 who lived in the vicinity. How often he inspected the 

 cages or fed the birds I do not know. 



I was told that a few young birds had been hatched in 

 the cages, but that nearly all had died. I could discover 

 no young chicks, but was told that there were two or 

 three in one of the cages, I cannot now rem ember which. 



I confess that my information is not of the most ac- 

 curate sort and that I am not well versed in these mat- 

 ters. 



I can only say that I have great interest in them and 

 that I would like to hear from those who are well in- 

 formed. 



But as I stood by these cages the experiment not only 

 seemed to me a dismal failure, but to have been fore- 

 doomed to be such from the beginning. 



How any one could have ever thought that the way to 

 stock the woods of Maine was to try to rear birds in cap- 

 tivity, and so provide enough young birds to stock the 

 State or any part of it, seems a mystery. How any one 

 could conceive that these wild and shy creatures, taken 

 from their natural environment, and arriving frightened 

 and worn from such a strange and, to them, terrible ex- 

 perience, could settle down to domestic persuits, it is diffi- 

 cult to see. 



But what is harder yet to understand is why any one 

 should think that they would do this better in confine- 

 ment and under human supervision than if turned loose 

 on the mountain side. 



I was told that in the case of the prairie chickens and 

 sharp-tailed grouse the cost of the birds was a dollar 

 apiece, and of transportation to Auburn another dollar. 

 According to this the cost of fifty birds delivered at 

 Auburn would be $100. I was further told that nearly 

 $1,000 was raised for the Auburn experiment. However 

 that may be, does it not seem that all expense for wire 

 cages, food and attendance is a clear waste, and that the 

 full sum would be best expended in bringing the birds to 

 Maine and liberating them in the places most likely to 

 prove suitable for them? Of course, if one wishes to 

 experiment with captive birds and can afford the expense, 

 it would be very interesting and commendable, but if the 

 purpose is to introduce new species of game birds into 

 the Maine woods and to secure as speedy multiplication 

 of them as possible, it seems to me that the Auburn plan 

 is the poorest possible. So thought my companion also. 

 If I am all wrong about this, I shall be exceedingly glad 

 to be set right. 



My companion so often referred to, and whom I would 

 name if I had his permission, was rejoicing in the belief 

 that he had won the $25 in gold prize of the year for the 

 largest trout taken on a Natchaug line, he having recently 

 taken in Moosehead Lake a laker weighing over 201bs, 



At Farmington I met Mr. C. A. Wheeler, a noted rod- 

 maker and expert fly-caster, who was hoping that by his 

 capture in June last, in Clearwater Pond near Farming- 

 ton, of a laker weighing 16ilbs. he had secured that very 

 prize. It was my misfortune to be the bearer to him of 

 the story of the larger fish taken at Moosehead. 



I did it unwittingly, not knowing of Mr. Wheeler's 

 own hopes in the matter, but he bore it with perfect 

 equanimity. He showed me pictures of his fish, which 

 was in itself a prize any man might be proud of. 



Having to go to Phillips, and finding myself greatly in 

 need of a little rest, what better thing could I do than to 

 take the narrow gauge still further to Rangeley, and the 

 next morning to go on by buckboard to Kennebago Lake? 



The ride is a rough one, but I hope it will long remain 

 such and that Kennebago may long retain its character. 



It is a beautiful lake, four or five miles long and half a 

 mile wide, wooded to the water's edge, surrounded by 

 mountains of fine outline, and swarming with small trout. 

 Thire are some smaller ponds in the neighborhood which 

 furnish trout of 2 to 4lbs.; but I think Kennebago trout 

 seldom weigh more than 41b., and the great majority are 

 smaller. 



I wonder what condition governs this matter of size 

 and weight. 



If the food supply in Kennebago is scanty, why is it that 

 the trout, though small, are so very numerous? I had not 

 taken a trout in summer for a long time, and was eager 

 for the experience. I caught all I wanted to catch, and 

 as fast as I cared to, and not infrequently two and three 

 at a cast; but all of the small size I have mentioned. They 

 were all long and very slender, not a plump trout among 

 them. 



Some five years before I had made a trip to Kennebago, 

 and found that a family of beaver had extensive works 

 around the outlet and in the thoroughfare between it and 

 the stream that comes from Little Kennebago on the 

 north. I determined to see if they were still there, and 

 on the afternoon of my second day on the lake I went 

 over to the outlet, and going out in my canoe alone, just 

 before sunset, floated silently down the stream through 

 the thoroughfare and up the Little Kennebago stream. 

 Soon I was delighted by abundant evidence that the 

 beaver were there and flourishing. Their works were 

 all about me, and the wonderful animals themselves were 

 in sight much of the time. I hardly know what sight 

 more interesting is furnished by the forest. I was able to 

 watch their movements perfectly and at short range. 

 Those who have been startled on some night excursion in 

 a canoe by the resounding slap which tbe diving beaver 

 gives with his tail will understand with what interest I 

 watched the operation. The noise is so sudden and so 

 amazingly loud that if it comes about a rod from your 

 boat when you are gliding along in the dark and expect- 



ing, nothing of the sort it will almost scare you out of the 

 canoe. It seems as if a ton of mud had fallen from the 

 sky. 



Jock Darling is quoted in the last or a recent number 

 of Forest and Stream as saying that the beaver makes 

 two slops when he dives. 



I must believe that this is not always the case, for I re- 

 member but one. I paddled close to the houses of the 

 beaver — rude piles of peeled sticks without, but with cosy 

 place within and ample approaches well under water. 

 In one case 1 could hear the whimpering and squealing 

 of the beaver within. 



Everywhere the deer had trodden up the muddy and 

 sandy places on the shore, and by all accounts and signs 

 deer were never so plentiful in the Maine woods. I 

 should judge that to-day the State of Maine is by far the 

 best stocked and largest deer park on earth. 



My evening among the beaver did me a world of good. 



Around Kennebago the white-throated sparrows abound 

 and I occasionally heard them as far south as Auburn. 

 This also was a keen pleasure and worth going miles for. 

 The silver clear and penetrating whistle, "Old Sam Pea- 

 body, Peabody, Peabody," came to me from every copse. 

 Sometimes the song begins on a low note and rises, some- 

 times the reverse. In the latter case the boys sometimes 

 interpret it as saying, "All day, fiddley, fiddley, fiddley." 



Two days were all I could spare. So ended my brief 

 outing. C. H. Ames. 



UP THE OCKLAWAHA ON A POLE. 



Early one morning in September I found myself in the 

 picturesque little town of Pilatka, Fla., on the eve of em- 

 barking for a small town near the center of that State, in 

 a scow. The captain was a friend of mine, and I chose 

 making the trip there in his company rather than wait- 

 ing for the grimy little steamer, which lay- at its dook 

 hard by and did not start until some days later. 



Our craft was just from the hands of the builder, 40ft. 

 in length with 12ft. beam, and unloaded drew some ISin, 

 of water. She had a small cabin aft, very much after 

 the pattern of a hen coop, and was painted a bright brick 

 red. 



After victualing the ship and getting all hands on 

 board— not without difficulty, for the two negroes who con- 

 stituted the crew were inclined to desert and leave us to 

 get to our destination as best we might — we cast loose our 

 moorings and set sail. This was no easy matter, for the 

 wind was blowing a gale and our boat, being unloaded, 

 sat so high out of the water that it was all we could do 

 with our combined efforts to get out of the little cove 

 where we lay into open river. 



Our means of progression was poling. Each person^ 

 has a pole some 30ft. in length, made of light, strong, 

 wood. One end of this is placed against the bottom and 

 then said person plays steam engine by putting the other 

 end against his shoulder and walking the length of the< 

 boat, thus starting her ahead. Then he walks back to thei 

 bow, dragging his pole after him, and repeats the dose ad', 

 libitum. 



All hands were green in the management of the pole,s 

 which requires skilled handling to become efficient, and^ 

 consequently we made but slow progress. 



The^e were five of us in all, the Captain, John L. , yoari 

 humble servant and two negroes. 



We took turns at steering, and by dint of hard work 

 and perseverance succeeded in getting across the river, J 

 but not before the middle of the day. The bottom of the( 

 St. John's is not very firm, being sand at best, and in 

 many places we could get no "set" at all; and then our 

 poles would get stuck in the mud whenever we were un-i 

 lucky enough to find mud, which was pretty nearly all 

 the time, and first one and then another of us would! 

 be unceremoniously pulled overboard by his unruly pro-i 

 peller. 



The Captain soon came to the conclusion that it was: 

 worse than useless for us to keep up the original pro-i 

 gramme, as we were somewhat like the little boy who,i 

 on an icy morning, gave as an excuse for being late at 

 school that when he took one step forward he slipped 

 back two; and unfortunately we could not, as he did,' 

 make progress by turning around and going the other 

 way. 



A bargain was soon struck with the master of a small 

 tug to tow us to the mouth of the Ocklawaha, and throw- 

 ing our weary bodies prone upon the deck, we were rap- 

 idly pulled along by the small busybody in front of us, 

 which f urnished so apt an illustration of the superiority of' 

 mind over matter. 



We arrived atWelaka, just across the St. John's from 

 the mouth of tbe Ocklawaha, about dusk, and tied up for 

 the night. After a hearty meal and a pipe, we availed 

 ourselves of the kind offer of the proprietor of a store in 

 the town and turned in in an empty room over his estab- 

 lishment. As John remarked, we slept at the "Widow 

 Sprawl's" — i. e., lay down and sprawled out on the floor. 

 In spite of our wet clothes and the numerous mosquitoes' 

 which preyed upon us and made "music in the air" 

 throughout the night, we slept quite well. 



The next morning we were up bright and early, and 

 just as the sun rose we entered the mouth of the Ockla- 

 waha. 



How dark and solemn its waters looked, even where 

 the sun struck through the dense foliage and glimmered 

 upon its surface. 



It is a romantic stream, hemmed in by giant cypress 

 trees which have stood sentry along its banks these hun- 

 dreds of years and watched the steady maroh of civilized 

 man. They have seen the light hearted Indian, the 

 native of their soil, slowly retire before his footsteps, as 

 surely and steadily as the waters at their feet flowed on- 

 ward to the ocean. 



These patriarchs have themselves suffered greatly at? 

 his hands, numbers having been hewn down every year 

 as the demand for their timber increased, for logging 

 was one of the first industries of the State. How fragile 1 

 seem the works of man among these grand old trees, as 

 with their hoary locks of dark gray moss — fit emblem of 

 their age — they look calmly on and nod their stern heads 

 to one another, ofttimes sighing and sobbing as if griev- 

 ing for the loss of their old comrades, or weeping at the 

 fate of the simple inhabitants of their shady nooks, only 

 a remnant of whom now remain. One cannot wonder, 

 that the Druids of old worshipped the forests, nor sup- 

 press a feeling of awe when in the depths of the back- 

 woods, far from the habitations of men. 



We found it no easy task to pole up the Ocklawaha, 

 there being at least a three-mile current, but slo svly and 



