378 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 2, 1895. 



f^dmfd Hjjiisforg. 



HOW THE ENTOMOLOGIST SAVED 

 THE PARTY. 



The season of 18 — in New Mexico was wet. The 

 prevalent delusion that the great -drought land of the 

 Southwest owes its desert-like facies to the lack of rain 

 was perfectly, if painfully, corrected in the case of a 

 party of hunters and prospectors who suffered repeated 

 losses and narrowly escaped being washed away by an 

 arroyo flood while encamped in a mountain cation, and 

 who declared that their tent was drenched four days out 

 of every seven from April to September, Every arroyo 

 was alternately the channel of a foaming torrent and a 

 dry line of boulders. But when the rain really ceased in 

 October we discovered the secret of the Western desert. 

 It is simply too well drained. It is a parvenu along 

 lands, and, lacking the culture of a glacial training and 

 the mellowing influence of years upon its soil, is unable 

 to retain or utilize even the prodigal wealth of rainfall. 

 In three days after the rain had ceased the soil was to 

 all appearance dry. In ten days the bright green carpet 

 of "gramma grass," which had clothed the'plains like an 

 Eastern meadow, was as sear and brown as if it had 

 passed through an oven, and the long converging cattle 

 trails began to stand out upon the surface— the plains- 

 man's only guide-board to the few permanent springs. 



It was in October of this year that our party crossed 

 the San Augustin plains toward the Datil range. To the 

 three of us who had hitherto constituted our party there 

 had recently been joined a quiet little person, who came 

 recommended in such a way that we could not refuse him 

 a place in the mountain wagon. We of the majority, 

 however, secretly resented the intrusion, especially as the 

 tin collecting case and insect net, which indicated his 

 profession, inconveniently cumbered our crowded van. 

 But the "bug sharp" was an adept at the art of minding 

 his own business, and had a quiet way of doing what 

 needed to be done about camp; so that we got on well, 

 especially as he accepted the guying that a tenderfoot 

 may always expect in good part. In fact, he had such an 

 appreciative way of attending to the various bits of wood- 

 craft and plains lore which we now and then dropped 

 with ostentatious carelessness that he became quite the 

 Boswell of the party. We looked' upon the insect collect- 

 ing as a fad betraying a weakness somewhere, but never- 

 theless an amiable weakness. It perhaps dawned upon us 

 gradually, from remarks dropped by the collector, that a 

 knowledge of insects might have some connection with 

 other kinds of knowledge; but certainly we never dreamed 

 that it could ever stand us in good stead at a moment of 

 dire extremitv. 



But we were, as I have said, crossing the plain which 

 forms a sort of inland sea, with the Magdalenas to the east, 

 the Gallinas to the north, the San Mattheos to the south, 

 while to the westward it extended nearly to the Gila. 

 We had reached about the middle when one of those 

 dreaded scourges whose coming no one can predict — a 

 sand storm — was upon us. We had experienced many of 

 them and, while we had found them painful and annoying, 

 had not learned to dread them as they deserve. But now 

 the sky was suddenly darkened — every object was instantly 

 obliterated and we could catch only an occasional glimpse 

 of our staunch little Navajoes, who with an instinct truer 

 than our own promptly turned and scampered down the 

 wind. It was useless to attempt to drive, so each swathed 

 his face in blankets and allowed things to drift with the 

 drifting sand, now almost filling the wagon box. It 

 turned bitterly cold and after four hours the strength of 

 the tired ponies seemed nearly gone. Happily we now 

 caught a view of a pine-covered ridge. We had crossed 

 the plains, but whither? Were we in the wood at the base 

 of the Gallinas, or had we drifted into the foothills of the 

 Black range? One thing was certain, we must at once 

 find shelter. The storm had scarcely abated, but we were 

 able to obtain some relief by driving to the lee of a piny 

 ridge and heaving to in the midst of a dense cluster of 

 pinons. A roaring fire was soon burning, with its alter- 

 nate factors of comfort and peril as it was lashed about 

 by the gale, and a very sorry attempt at supper, seasoned 

 regardless of taste by the ubiquitous sand, prepared us for 

 a dreary night, which soon became painful from thirst. 

 The ponies had been twelve hours without water and now 

 our own supply had given out. 



On the following morning the sand was still blowing, but 

 it seemed necessary to move on. Part of us thought that we 

 ought to turn northeast, while others were equally certain 

 that our course lay to the south. It ended in our allowing 

 ourselves to drift with the wind. On through park-like 

 openings among tall pines, then over endless sandy ridges 

 sparsely grown with juniper and pifion; finally, toward 

 nightfall, we reached rocky canons clothed with oaks, 

 mountain mahogany and a few pinons. Another painful 

 night, our throats were irritated beyond endurance by the 

 sand and our eyes burned as with fire, and it was evident 

 that the ponies were suffering more than we. 



Early the next morning Tom climbed an adjacent ridge 

 and announced that we had drifted far to the north of 

 the Magdalenas, and that it would be a good day's drive 

 to town. We hitched up in silence, for speech was be- 

 coming difficult, when to our utter dismay the trusty 

 Navajoes balked and refused to stir. It required no long 

 experimentation to discover that they were a match for 

 us in stubbornness at least. What was to be done? It 

 was obvious that water must be found. Doubtless if we 

 knew where to look it might be but a short walk to some 

 spring. Shouldering a pick, Tom set us an energetic ex- 

 ample, and we divided into two parties to explore the two 

 canons which debouched near our camp. It was noon 

 when we reassembled, but no one had the heart to pro- 

 pose dinner. The entomologist alone of the party seemed 

 quite composed, and was busy turning over stones in the 

 arroyo bed when he uttered an exclamation which brought 

 us all eagerly to his side— it was the single word "water." 

 When we assembled about him what was our disgust to see 

 him looking intently at a half dozen glossy oval beetles he 

 had just uncovered. "Yes, water beetles of the genus — " 



"Water beetles be — ," ejaculated Tom, and I am afraid 



that we all sympathized with the strong language he used 

 respecting the "bug sharp." But the latter heard him 

 out and resumed placidly: "Nevertheless these beetles 

 never occur at any distance from water. Their hindlegs 

 are essentially natatory; they are of the same genus as 

 pur whirligig beetles back in Ohio. There has been a 



spring here and a few minutes' digging will find water. 

 The quiet conviction of his tone rather than any force we 

 saw in his reasoning induced us to ply the pick diligently 

 for a few minutes. It was not long before we were re- 

 warded by the discovery of an old irrigation trough, and 

 probably no searcher after Spanish doubloons ever bad 

 his hopes raised more ardently by the discovery of an 

 ancient oaken coffer. "By hokey, the sand is sure wet!" 

 shouted Tom, and before we had sunk our' pit 4ft. there 

 was an abundance of ice cold water. No draught this 

 side of paradise will ever taste so sweet as did that muddy 

 beverage. Our ponies appreciated it no less, and immedi- 

 ately began again to graze — in fact, "the kid began to 

 go," and we were able to resume our journey with suc- 

 cess satisfactory to all. 



Tom had become instantly converted into an admirer 

 of the entomologist, or, as he said, of the "bug sharp 

 thet ken give pointers to any plainsman livin' on his own 

 ground." Indeed, I recently learned that he had sent his 

 son to Denison University or wherever it is that the ento- 

 mologist is now lecturing on economic zoology. 



C. L. Herrick. 



New Mexico. 



Wood Ducks in Confinement. 



Toledo, O., Oct. 21.— Editor Forest and Stream: A 

 farmer living near this place has something of a novelty 

 in the way of a brood of wood ducks. 



Last spring he found a wood duck's, nest containing 

 twelve eggs. Securing the eggs he took them home and 

 set them under a hen. All of them hatched, but from 

 one cause and another five of them afterward died. 



He now has seven fine full-grown ducks, of which five 

 are drakes. He has them inclosed in a yard, and to 

 prevent flying removed the first joint of one wing when 

 they were very small. B. A. Case, 



The Bluebird Scarcity. 



Holland, Mich., Oct. 25.— For the information of your 

 Georgia correspondent, I will state that I have seen but 

 three bluebirds this year: one March 28, one this morning, 

 and a man brought me one two weeks ago. He found it 

 by the roadside, where some one had shot it. I wish I 

 knew who shot it, that I might teach him a lesson. One 

 boy paid |15 for killing a brown thrush and a wood- 

 pecker. A. G. B. 



Woodcock with White Primaries. 



Litchfield Co., Conn. — While hunting to-day I killed 

 a woodcock which had several pure white primary 

 feathers in each wing. In the left wing they were all 

 together, but in the right they were separated by some 

 brown feathers. 



The white feathers were the first or outer primaries, 

 and the bird is a beautiful object. H. W. Carter. 



*mt[e §zg md fftttu 



A TIGER HUNT IN SOUTH AFRICA. 



I was spending a few days with a friend, Mr. Morton, 

 on his farm at Klip-Plaats, in June. It was midwinter, 

 but fearfully hot. The sun had just gone down behind the 

 Zwaart Euggies range of mountains, casting a lurid glare 

 behind them that contrasted vividly with the blackness of 

 shadow and night settling fast over the country. The 

 sky bore that steel gray appearance peculiar to South 

 Africa. Not a breath of air broke the terrible monotony 

 of heat and drought that the country had experienced for 

 the past seven months. Everything thirsted for rain, and 

 not a green thing could be seen as far as the eye could 

 reach over the parched veldt, and yet the brown karoo 

 bushes with their succulent branches afforded food to the 

 thousand or so goats and ostriches that ran over the farm, 

 Despite the heat the evening was a beautiful one. The ab- 

 sence of wind is always welcome in the Cape, where it 

 blows six days out of seven, raising clouds of dust and 

 blowing with such strength as to make it almost an im- 

 possibility to stand against it. We had been in the saddle 

 all day, and riding over the African veldt is anything but 

 pleasure, in fact a novice is kept busy sticking to his norse 

 in its erratic bounds to avoid jackal holes or ant hills. At 

 my feet lay a magnificent tiger skin. Mr. Morton told 

 me he had shot this tiger, and in answer to my request he 

 related the following account of the hunt that laid low 

 this monarch of the Zwaartkop Mountains. 



"Tigers in this country seldom attack men, but this fel- 

 low was an exception, and to my knowledge had killed 

 one Kaffir and two Kaffir children. I heard wonderful 

 accounts of the tiger's ferocity, and after his killing my 

 herd I determined to hunt him down at any cost. The 

 poor herd and another Kaffir were hunting in the moun- 

 tains when they found themselves face to face with the 

 tiger. They foolishly fired at it, with the result that the 

 infuriated beast rushed upon them, knocking down the 

 unfortunate herd, while his comrade, throwing away his 

 gun, bravely took to his heels, leaving his comrade to the 

 tender mercies of the tiger; nor did he cease his flight 

 till, breathless with terror, he threw himself at my feet 

 and recounted his terrible story. I immediately snatched 

 my rifle to go to the assistance of the herd, but neither 

 threats nor entreaties would move the frightened K-iflir 

 to go with me; and on second thought I knew the herd 

 must be beyond all human aid and his sufferings ended in 

 death long before. So I determined to organize a hunt 

 next day and kill the brute, if I had the good luck to get 

 a shot at him. For this purpose I gathered all the natives 

 I could lay my hands on, and armed them with assagais 

 and knob-kerries. My chief herd, Montsua, a Bechuana, I 

 knew to be a trusty hunter, and I allowed him to carry 

 an old army rifle, in the use of which he was quite pro- 

 ficient. If you had seen him pour powder and ball into 

 that ancient weapon, you would have doubted whether 

 the tiger or the shooter would get the worst of the dis- 

 charge. 



"Well, we started at daybreak next morning, the Kaffirs 

 vaunting their bravery by songs and rushing at imagin- 

 ary tigers, which they pounded to their intense satisfac- 

 tion. When we reached the mountains I called them to 

 order and we proceeded to the spot where the herd had 

 met his death. Here, as we found no trace of tiger or 

 herd, I divided my forces and beat up the mountain side 

 to a densely wooded knoll, where we expected to find 

 trace of our game. Leaving the Kaffirs spread out round 



the mountain side to turn the tiger should he attempt to 

 break away, I took Montsua with me and started in to 

 look*for spoor. We struck a bok path, and had not pro- 

 ceeded far when an exclamation from Montsua an- 

 nounced that he had struck the tiger's spoor and he 

 assured me that the beast had passed that morning.; 

 Following it we struck a sandy path, and here undoubt- 

 edly the tiger had passed within half an hour, as the dis- 

 turbed sand was still moist where he had trodden. Montsua 

 said by the spoor the tiger was a large one and I began* 

 to feel that we were in for business. I had never shot a 

 tiger, and must confess to a certain amount of nervous 

 feeling. I was not afraid, but realized that there was a 

 certain amount of danger. 



"Giving a good look to our arms, we pressed on cau- 

 tiously, Montsua's keen eye following easily on the spoor, 

 which led us to an opening, evidently a favorite resort of 

 the tiger, as the remains of sundry animals testified. But 

 the tiger was alarmed and had gone away. The spoor 

 still leading up the mountain side, we spoored him with 

 renewed caution, till at last Montsua caught my arm and 

 signified that the tiger was very near and to be ready for 

 a shot. We had now reached a small opening near the 

 mountain top and were stopping to pick up the spoor, 

 when a deep growl informed us that the tiger had turned 

 to bay. We could not tell exactly where the beast lay, 

 so waited breathlessly for further demonstrations. With 

 a low, snarling growl the tiger sprang into the 

 open not fifteen paces from me. There the mag- 

 nificent beast stood grandly defiant, lashing his 

 sides with his tail and growling in a manner any- 

 thing but pleasant to hear. What little nervousness I 

 had felt vanished at sight of my foe. Taking careful aim 

 at the left shoulder I fired. I heard a frightful roar, and 

 before I could realize the situation the tiger was upon me, 

 dashing me to the ground. Then the mountains echoed 

 with a report like a cannon and the tiger fell lifeless over 

 my body, shot at short range by the trusty Montsua. I 

 scrambled to my feet unhurt, but so shaken up by my 

 narrow escape that I could scarcely stand. I grasped : 

 Montsua's hand with a feeling of gratitude only to be 

 understood by one who has been saved from a terrible 

 death. It was well for me that I had taken Montsua with 

 me; most Kaffirs would have run for their lives under the> 

 same circumstances. The tiger, a3 you may judge by this;] 

 skin, was a very fine one. On examination we found that' 

 my bullet had struck too high, and had only served to 

 infuriate the brute. Montsua's collection of balls had 1 

 created sad havoc in the head, but not a moment too soon 

 to save me from a good mauling or worse. The report of ! 

 our rifles brought the Kaffirs up on the run, and with 

 shouts of delight our game was borne in triumph home. 

 Of the unlucky herd we never found a trace: the tiger had. 

 evidently dragged his body into the bush, and what he, 

 did not eat the jackals would make short work of." 



Lewis Thackwell. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



You are perfectly correct in saying that there are no 

 tigers in Africa, although if you were to tell that fact to 

 an Africander he would argue that there are tigers in the 

 country, simply because in South Africa the large moun- 

 tain leopards are called tigers, and the various smaller ! 

 varieties are called tiger cats. In my account of Mr. i 

 Morton's experience with a leopard I spoke of the beast as , 

 he was introduced me, that is as a tiger, and ninety-nine 

 out of every hundred Africanders would so style him, yet 

 in so doing would be at war with natural history. I 

 recognize the fact that your American readers would feel 

 surprised at an African tiger. L. T. 



TURKEY HUNTING EXTRAORDINARY. , 



Believers in the Darwinian theory would claim that 

 the love of hunting and fishing, still so strongly felt by | 

 individuals, is a remnant of the original instinct of the i 

 human race, when, in a condition of barbarism, man was 

 dependent on such pursuits to obtain his food. Now the 

 arts of civilization have so changed our environment that 

 the chase of game is no longer necessary to obtain food, 

 except on the extreme frontier, still many of us feel the i 

 keenest pleasure in sUch sport. 



The instinct probably crops out in boys mote than iti 

 grown men, mainly for the reason that men have other 

 and more important duties which require their time and 

 attention, but if the Nimrod is in a man it will surely 

 manifest itself. 



The writer, himself an ardent sportsman, has lately 

 seen a case where the circumstances show how strong the 

 instinct may be and under what difficulties the sport may 

 be engaged in. 



Rev. Mr. Vann, a well-known Baptist minister in North 

 Carolina, when a boy had the misfortune to lose his hands 

 by an accident with a cane mill. His left arm had to be 

 amputated just above the;elbow and his right just below it, 

 leaving a very short stump of his forearm below the elbow 

 joint. 



Any one would suppose that such a mutilation would 

 forever debar one from handling a gun, but Mr. Vann 

 still manages to use his gun and is said to be not only a 

 good preacher, but a very fine wing shot. How a man 

 without hands can possibly use a gun is a mystery until 

 his method is seen, and to state that he pulls trigger with 

 his teeth would appear most absurd, but it is really a fact. 



The stump of his left arm is barely long enough to sup- 

 port the barrel, while the short piece of forearm at his 

 right elbow sdpports the butt of the stock and resists the 

 recoil. The trigger has attached to it a leather strap sur- 

 rounding the grip of the stock and terminating with an 

 end piece which he grasps with his teeth. When his gun 

 is thus held and sighted he gives his head a slight back- 

 ward jerk and the trigger is pulled. 



To load, he holds the barrel under his left armpit and 

 releases the catch with his right stump, and so opens the 

 breech. With this same stump he raises his cartridge 

 bag until he can grasp the head of a loaded shell with his 

 teeth, and so places it in the chamber and closes the 

 action. 



One of the State papers recently described a turkey 

 hunt in which the reverend gentleman not only called up 

 the game, but shot a fine gobbler and brought it to his 

 "blind." 



The ordinary turkey call or yelper he cannot use, but 

 contrived to imitate the call of the turkey by means of a 

 cigar box, a nail and a piece of broken school slate. The 

 nail was driven into the box and its projecting end made 

 to sound by dragging the bit of slate across it. The cal 



