348 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 24, 1888- 



mal is a curious mixture of bravado and timidity. He 

 will not pass through, an open door; but if a hut is sealed 

 up will use every endeavor to break through, especially 

 if he scents the odor of molasses or pork. A common 

 plan of protection is to leave a chain stretched across the 

 open door of the storehouse, the clank of which frightens 

 bruin when he touches it. 



At this camp a curious nocturnal bird kept on the wing 

 until after midnight, uttering a harsh short note that 

 jarred the ear accustomed to silence at that hour. Num- 

 bers of kingfishers had perforated the bank beneath us 

 for their nests; we found the holes invariably sloping 

 upward, doubtless to afford more dryness by draining off 

 the water. 



Above this point we were delighted with the fresh 

 green woods on either side, so refreshing after the fire- 

 scathed country through which we had passed. Lovely 

 maples and elms and ash greeted us and a few noble 

 spruce and pine that had escaped the lumberman's axe 

 reared themselves nobly aloft, "fit for the mast of some 

 great admiral." Indian Falls gave us a rather severe 

 portage of nearly a mile, but somewhat repaid this in- 

 convenience by the charming and romantic scenery it 

 presented. 



At the Devil's Elbow we halted for two days. This is 

 the name bestowed on the best big trout pool of the river. 

 What connection the Prince of Darkness can have with 

 these lovely surroundings we failed to discover. Our 

 tent poles went up on a sloping pebbly beach, where the 

 river makes a sharp turn. Here we saw traces of our 

 American friends in the shape of heads of enormous 

 trout, wings of the shield duck and partridge. We have 

 omitted to record that we daily shot numbers of these 

 birds. We afterward learned that our friends had killed 

 an immense number of large trout, some six or seven 

 pounds in weight, had shot a wildcat swimming the river 

 and had unsuccessfully stalked a bear. We caught some 

 very large trout here, the largest drawing the scale to 

 5 ilbs. Some were beautifully tinted with red and ochre, 

 but their symmetry was sadly marred by the enormous 

 size of their heads, which gave them a look of ferocity. 



Two miles above this fine trout pool we found the 

 camp of a young Yale student showing unmistakeable 

 evidence of successful hunting. One bear skin was 

 stretched out with cords on a frame work of stakes in 

 the process of drying; two more already well dried were 

 spread as rugs on the floor of the tent; a fine beaver skin 

 and the enormous wings of a golden eagle, some mink 

 and musquash were also among his trophies of war. A 

 message, written with charcoal on a bit of birch bark, 

 informed us that he had gone on to the Lakes and would 

 return in a few days; near his tent was a deserted lum- 

 ber camp that had been a favorite resort of bears owing 

 to some stores having been left there. 



Rugged hills now loomed up blue in the distance and 

 beckoned us on. Pleasant bits of intervale were crowded 

 with a growth of choke-cherries, tree-cranberries and 

 squaw-bushes, whose fruit is so prized by bruin. 



Joe observed that he never saw more "works" about 

 the river, referring to the bears, which indeed had trani- 



Eled down the bushes well along the shore to get at the 

 erries, especially the fruit of the squaw-bushes, which 

 is white and has an acid, not disagreeable flavor. Squaw- 

 bushes are probably so-called because they are much used 

 by the Indian squaws for withes and basket making. 



We passed several pools full of enormous trout, but we 

 desisted from killing trout over four poinds in weight 

 simply because the sport had become monotonous. At 

 Lyman's Pool, so called after an Ameiican lawyer who 

 roughed it here in the brush with my man Joe for three 

 successive seasons, I killed a male fish of f our and a quar- 

 ter pounds weight, mostexquistely marked with carmine 

 and orange, especially on his ventralsand pectorals. Joe 

 had many stories to relate of his trip with Mr. Lyman. 

 Here Mr. Lyman shot a bear; there fell a bull moose 

 while standing in that "bogan" or cove; at that point a 

 fine caribou was missed, and so on. At the mouth of 

 Portage Brook, a stream of no inconsiderable size, we 

 found fine camping ground, evidently often used in the 

 past. Here we remained for two days attracted by the 

 beauty of the spot. Large trout lay in a pool some hun- 

 dred yards below the mouth well across the stream 

 toward the opposite bank. Fresh tracks both of moose 

 and caribou were seen in some meadow land close to the 

 river, while the numerous stalings of bears betrayed their 

 recent presence. We were evidently in a good game 

 country. Toward night we heard more than once a 

 stealthy crackling among some dry timber, but were at a 

 loss as to what class of game to attribute the noise. We 

 found about a mile to the eastward of the river a bog and 

 meadow intersected with moose paths. However, we did 

 not stumble across anything. Joe called in the evening, 

 making rather a poor effort, however, in comparison witli 

 the scientific skill of the Micmacs of Nova Scotia, and to 

 no effect. 



Partridges were very plentiful about this camp, and by 

 straying some fifty yards away we were sure of several 

 shots. I now began to use my rifle upon them, and suc- 

 ceeded after a little practice in decapitating the bird at 

 almost every shot. Occasionally the ball would hit the 

 body, when it would be mangled to such a degree as to 

 be useless, A few shield ducks passed up and down the 

 river in search of feeding grounds, and afforded some 

 wing practice. They proved very tough and inferior 

 eating, and we were obliged to stew them to make them 

 at all palatable. The hills at a distance of three miles 

 were seen to be wrapped in a dense smoke that must have 

 been caused by large forest fires to the windward. This 

 was disappointing, for Joe had hoped to descry bears feed- 

 ing on the rich blueberry feast which their steep sides 

 offered. 



Some sugar having been spilled here on the floor of our 

 camp, a surprising number of semi-colon butterflies 

 (Grapta s.) visited us and indulged in graceful air dances. 

 The Vanessa milberti butterfly, somewhat dwarfed in 

 size, was also on the wing in numbers, and a few of those 

 bird-like flyers, Danais arduppus, were also observed; 

 but on the whole insect life seemed very scarce. I much 

 missed the cheerful notes of the cicadas which in Nova 

 Scotia fairly make the woods resound, and have a mirth- 

 ful, exhilarating effect, when all else in nature is steeped 

 in the languor of a summer afternoon. 



I asked Joe if he had ever seen them. On describing 

 the insect he said oh, yes; his father once offered him a 

 pair of snowshoesif he caught one that he heard whistling 

 in a high tree, For a long time he looked this way, that 



way, for the cicada is literally a ventriloquist; at last he 

 climbed the tree at haphazard, saw him walking down 

 the trunk, made a prisoner of him, and got the coveted 

 snowshoes. Joe continued that some have checkers 

 marked on then- wings, some dominoes, and some card 

 spots, and that if you keep such wings in your pocket 

 you will excel at these games. 



Seeing many signs of bears about, we constructed a 

 dead-fall trap, so arranged that when bruin seizes the bit 

 of pork smeared with molasses (or still surer bait with 

 the rank smelling oil from the beaver castors), he brings 

 down upon his back a load of logs and stones that crushes 

 the life out of him. Joe maintains that bruin always 

 foresees his doom before he enters the fatal dead-fall, but 

 cannot help going to his doom. Destiny drives him on- 

 ward. He never goes straight for the bait, but prome- 

 nades quite around the inclosure. Joe once found a 

 young bear caught in his trap and the old dam keeping 

 guard over her dead offspring; refusing to escape, she 

 fell a victim to Joe's rifle— a striking instance of the 

 force of the maternal instinct in the brute creation. 



Near our camp is a grassy plot known as the Unlucky 

 Wigan. Every one that visits this spot, says Joe, is sure 

 to cut himself or injure himself soon after. The ground 

 is accursed. A lumber camp was once built there, but 

 one and another cut themselves with knives and axes, 

 till finally it had to be abandoned. 



In the evening, the small saw-whet owl flitted around 

 the fire. "Do not mock him," said Joe, "whoever laughs 

 at him is sure to burn himself as a punishment," 



These anecdotes serve to illustrate the superstitious 

 character of the Indian. Yet there is a strong vein of 

 humor through all their superstitions, which save them 

 from being degrading. The Indian character is not well 

 disciplined; he is the victim of moods, one day bright 

 and cheerful and obedient; the next, perhaps sulky, 

 churlish and discou rteou6. He has an evident affection 

 for "the beasts," as he calls the denizens of the woods, 

 and spares them when he cannot use their hides or flesh. 

 I consider Mm the superior of the coarse boorish lout, the 

 common type of the lumberman. Among themselves 

 the Indians are kindly, unselfish and hospitable. I often 

 think of Les Carbot's description of the Nova Scotian 

 Micmacs when he went among them with that French 

 courtesy and suavity which won its way to the Indian 

 heart and made them the firm allies of France. Writing 

 in 1G20 he says: "Verily of some families I know there 

 be among them some with whom, were they not Pagans, 

 Christ would come in and dwell." 



A close intimacy with the Indian character reveals 

 many lovable traits, much of the rough diamond. They 

 universally deplore the coming among them of the 

 white man. Before his advent fish and game, they say, 

 abounded everywhere and were easily killed, and small 

 estimation is set upon what the whites have given them 

 in return. How pathetic is their decline, melting like 

 snow at the touch of spring sunshine. 



Though I call Joe Indian, yet his lineal tree shows a 

 strain of white blood three generations back. A certain 

 John Young, adventurer from England, where his life 

 was forfeited to the Crown, made a lucky escape, and, 

 coming hither in a trading ship, married a squaw and 

 became a great sachem or chief. He lived to a ripe old 

 age, and before his death sent home to His Majesty of 

 England three canoe loads of bear, beaver and otter skins, 

 with a petition for a grant of land for the Indians; and 

 this was assented to. John Young was Joe's great-grand- 

 father, and though Newgate lost a victim for the noose, 

 Bathurst gained a useful citizen. 



Our canoe showing symptoms of leaking, we hauled 

 her up on the bank to dry, bottom up in the sun, prepar- 

 atory to applying rosin. Here let me express my intense 

 admiration of the birch bark canoe, that incomparable 

 vehicle of river navigation; let me pay tribute to its light- 

 ness and strength, its beauty and fitness. 



"All the forest life is in it, 

 All its mystery and magic, 

 All the toughness of the cedar, 

 All the lightness of the birch bark: 

 And it glides upon the Waters 

 Like a yellow leaf in autumn- 

 Like a yellow water lily." 



The very soul and poetry of motion, how serenely it 

 rests upon the distracted waters, calm as the iris that 

 broods over the raging cataract, and with how gentle 

 and swift a flight it can traverse the placid lake, as 

 silently as the silver moon beam that steals across its 

 surface. 



No wonder that when the old Micmac warrior lay 

 down for his last sleep, to be borne by his weeping- 

 braves to the great burial place at Ponhook, or Sable Is- 

 land near the shore, where the sea was forever to chant 

 his funeral dirge, he was rolled in the sheet of yellow 

 bark which during his life had served him in such good 

 stead. Had it not formed the house that had sheltered 

 him from the scorching sun and driving snows? Had it 

 not made the flamb eau with which he had searched the 

 dark stream by night for the lurking salmon? Had it 

 not meant for him kitchen utensils, pots and pans, cups 

 and saucers? Out of it had he not fashioned the horn 

 with which he had lured the mighty moose to his doom? 

 Best of all, had it not equipped him with the canoe? As 

 has well been said: "What the steed is to the Arab, the 

 camel to the Abyssinian, that is (or was) the canoe to 

 the Micmac Indian." 



He believes that Providence had his needs in view 

 when were created birch bark and cedar bark — these 

 seeming requisite for supporting life in the North Ameri- 

 can forest. When from the cedar is torn the outer bark, 

 a shaggy covering, there is found inside a strong fibrous 

 sheet, like wood pulp felt, which being cut into long 

 strips furnishes both cord and rope. Moreover, the wood 

 of the cedar being very light, is valuable as a lining for 

 the canoe, and when the summer heats have dried up the 

 streams so that even this light draft boat scrapes on the 

 sharp rocks of the river bottom, he lovingly protects the 

 frail sides of the vessel with long strips of cedar splints 

 bound together so that it glides unharmed over the pebbly 

 bottom. Arthur P. Silver. ' 



In another column will be found the advertisement of Isaa,c J. 

 Boothe, Birmingham, Coun., with some things of interest to 

 anglers. He makes a large line of reels, rod trimmings, tie guides, 

 etc., and is prepared to meet the demand for best quality of work. 



—Adv. 



SOME AUTUMN BIRDS OF THE ST. 

 MARY'S LAKE REGION. 



BY GEO. BIRD GRINNEIX. 



THE region covered by the very superficial observa- 

 tions to be detailed below is quite limited, but from 

 the varied character of the country, and the fact that it 

 lies directly in the path of migration of many species of 

 our water fowl, its bird fauna is one of unusual interest. 

 This is the more tiue because few ornithologists have 

 visited the northern portions of Montana, and there are 

 many species of birds which, while we feel certain that 

 they must occur here, have never been recorded from 

 this region , nor indeed from anywhere near it. 



The St. Mary's Lake region has been described in these 

 columns by various correspondents within the past three 

 years, and its features require but a brief notice. 



The parallels of 48 30 and 49° north latitude and the 

 meridians of 112' 30' and 113 1 30' west longitude will take 

 in the extremes of this country. 



The area covered by these notes lies chiefly about the 

 headwaters of the St. Mary's River, an important stream 

 which forms the south branch of Belly River, and in the 

 volume of water which it carries quite equals, if it does 

 not surpass, in size the north branch, which bears the 

 name of the main stream. The lakes from which this 

 river flows are of considerable size, the lower being from 

 6 to 8 miles long and the upper somewhat longer. At 

 their broadest part they are perhaps a mile in width. 

 The lower lake is bounded on either side by rolling ridges, 

 for the most part timbered with pines, spruces and 

 aspens. These extend back on the west for half a mile or a 

 mile, and then the foothills of Flat-top or Bastion Mountain 

 rise more sharply, until they meet the cliffs of bare rock. 

 On the east side the hills are lower, but the ascent is still 

 very sharp, so much so that it is only here and there that 

 a wagon can be hauled out. When the summit of the 

 ridge is passed, however, another drainage is met with, 

 the waters flowing into tributaries of Milk River 

 and so through the Missouri and Mississippi into the 

 Gulf of Mexico. This lake lies nearly due north and 

 south. 



The upper lake, which receives almost all the water 

 whim flows through the St. Mary's River, is bent almost 

 at right angles about one-third way back from its outlet, 

 its lower third lying nearly north and south while its 

 upper two-thirds lie nearly east and west. It is walled 

 in on either hand by mountains of great height and 

 steepness, and has, except at its lower end, no valley, 

 roperly so-called. On its western and northern side 



ingleshot, Otu Komi, Goat Mountain and Going to 

 the Sun form its inclosing walls, while to the east and 

 south Red Eagle, Little Chief and other peaks, as yet 

 nameless, overlook it. These mountains are all snow- 

 clad for the greater part of the year, and in many of 

 their sheltered basins there are far-reaching fields of 

 perpetual snow. 



About five miles below the outlet of the Lower Lake a 

 mountain torrent, fitly named Swift Current, enters the 

 St. Mary's River from the west. It carries a large vol- 

 ume of water, and near its sources, which are in two or 

 more extensive glaciers among the peaks less than twenty 

 miles from its mouth, are a chain of at least thirteen 

 little glacial lakes. The valley of this stream is very 

 narrow and is inclosed on either hand by very high, 

 rough mountains. 



To the north and east of the Lower St. Mary's Lake is 

 the prairie, at first rough and rolling, the streams all 

 flowing through deep canons, across which it is only here 

 and there possible to drive a wagon, but gradually becom- 

 ing lower, smoother, and with wider valleys. On this 

 prairie, especially to the north of the North Fork of Milk 

 River, but on that drainage, are innumerable shallow 

 prairie lakes. 



To the south, after passing over Milk River Ridge, the 

 mountains are not less rugged and precipitous than about 

 the St. Mary's Lakes. The heads of Milk River, except 

 the south branch, rise in the prairie, at the foot of, rather 

 than in, the mountains; but the two streams next south, 

 Cut Bank and Two Medicine Lodge Creek, have then- 

 heads far back in the mountains, and flow through nar- 

 row gorges. 



The region is one of great precipitation. The warm, 

 moisture-laden winds from the west striking the tops of 

 the cold high mountains are condensed and fall as rain 

 or snow. A number of glaciers exist at the heads of cold 

 narrow valleys which the sun warms only for a short 

 part of each day. During the month of September it 

 rains or snows every day, and the wind blows with great 

 violence for the greater part of the time. In October 

 there is less rain and more snow, with some very cold 

 weather. Winter usually sets in during November, but 

 sometimes not until Christmas. 



The altitude varies from about 5,000ft. at the foothills 

 to 10,000ft. or more on the highest peaks. 



The map which accompanies these notes is based prin- 

 cipally on the observations of Lieutenant S. C. Robert- 

 son, U.S.A., to whose kindness I owe a copy of his Map 

 of a Reconnoissance from Ft. Assinaboine to St. Mary 8 

 Lake, M. T. This map, if I mistake not, was made from 

 notes taken in the autumn of 1885, after my first visit to 

 the country. To this map some details were added by 

 Lieutenant J. H. Beacom, U.S.A., who took compass 

 bearings during the few days which he spent at the lakes 

 in October and November, 1887, when in my company he 

 penetrated to within a few miles of the glacier which he 

 has named for me. Finally having ascended this glacier, 

 and from the summit of several high peaks gained some 

 idea of the general character of the country, and having 

 visited Red Eagle Lake, I have ventured to add to the map 

 some of the more important features of the last named lake 

 and its outlet, and of the heads of the two branches of 

 Swift Current. For these additions I alone am respon- 

 sible, and, while they do not profess to be exact, they 

 are sufficiently so to serve as a guide to any one who may- 

 hereafter visit the region. In other words, they are bet- 

 ter than nothing. I am unable to learn that up to the 

 date of my visit to the lakes in 1885, any one had ever 

 been to Red Eagle Lake or had pushed further up Swift 

 Current than the lake above the lower falls. This map 

 gives an idea of a few miles of both these valleys. 



While attached to the Northern Boundary Survey in 

 1873, Dr. Coues passed to the north of this region, and it 



