June 28, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



453 



titty-tee, ah, Titty-titty-tee!" and lie repeats this time 

 after time till Titty-tee comes. That he intends this as a 

 call for her seems certain, for he sings entirely differing 

 notes when she is present. Indeed, this musical little 

 lover has quite a multitude of songs, and they are all 

 exquisitely turned. His mate does not sing, though I 

 often hear her answer him with a peculiar note when he 

 calls. When Titty-tee comes and has presented her gifts 

 to the little ones, they hop about in the tree together a 

 little while, seeming to be greatly happy, and then dart 

 away into the woods for more food. Can any one study 

 the ways of these sweet little creatures without loving 

 them? I judge not. And if he take not care some drops 

 of their sweetness may perchance fall into his own heart 

 and help to sweeten that too. I have reason to believe 

 that the marriage of these little birds is not for a season, 

 but for life. 



This is not the little brown wren I was familiar with 

 when a boy in North Carolina. This one has a longer 

 bill, crooked like that of the curlew, and is much on the 

 order of that of the hummingbird. He has also a longer 

 tail. The brown wren of the East is, I think, brown all 

 over. This one has a lead-colored breast and belly. The 

 other brown wren is a chubby little fellow, and about 

 as round as a bullet and not much bigger. The body of 

 this one is no bigger, but is longer. Their notes are 

 entirely different. I think this wren is probably pecu- 

 liar to western Texas and Mexico. N. A. T. 



Young County, Texas, May 17. 



[It is impossible to tell from the description here given 

 what the wren was. It may be remembered that our 

 correspondent who writes so charmingly of his bird 

 friends, recently told how he had taken in a bullsnake 

 and given it the freedom of his cabin. Next week will 

 be published the sequel of his experiment of entertaining 

 a serpent.] 



GROUSE IN CAPTIVITY. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



My pair of ruffed grouse have been doing finely all 

 winter and early spring, the male bird, although rather 

 wild, began by his actions to indicate the approach of the 

 mating season as early as the first mild weather in Febru- 

 ary. Since that time he has frequently been so demon- 

 strative that I have been obliged to shut the two birds in 

 separate coops. Previous to last Friday they had been 

 thus apart for several days, and on that day (May 11) the 

 sliding door between the coops had been removed. The hen 

 had seemed quite timid (although one of the tamest birds 

 I ever had), and would frequently hide when pressed too 

 hard by the male. On the day named I was very busy 

 and did not even look up the birds at noon, as I had 

 always done every day when at home. At six o'clock the 

 male was in the outside coop alone, but the hen was miss- 

 ing. A careful search was made which resulted in find- 

 ing her wedged under a board in the inside coop, and 

 quite dead. My only theory regarding the accident is 

 that in her efforts to escape from the male she had 

 crowded into the narrow space and become so tightly 

 fastened that she was utterly unable to extricate herself. 

 It does not seem probable that she was killed by the male. 

 He had never shown any of that malignant hatred of her 

 or disposition to punish her that was shown by a Canadian 

 male toward a Massachusetts hen in the same coop with 

 him two years ago. In the latter case the male would 

 undoubtedly have either killed or seriously injured the 

 hen if they had been allowed to remain together any 

 length of time. In the present case I feel sure that if 

 discovered earlier this bird could have been extricated 

 alive, and nothing but the unfortunate circumstance of 

 my unintentional neglect rendered the accident fatal. 



Though this was the 11th of May, and as many days 

 later than the same hen began laying last year, she had 

 shown no signs of nesting as yet, and I naturally had be- 

 gun to feel somewhat impatient. But an examination 

 after death disclosed a fine cluster of eggs, the largest 

 nearly ready for the shell, and in a very few days the 

 most forward would have been deposited. I think I never 

 saw a bird in finer condition. She was not fat, but was 

 very plump and fleshy, and all the organs indicated most 

 vigorous health. This bird was sent me by Mr. Wright, 

 of Pennsylvania, and had been in my possession since the 

 latter part of April, 1887. 



You can readily understand that I feel very much like 

 sitting down and crying, and perhaps I should if anything 

 could be accomplished by it. This year, the fourth of 

 my attempts at rearing ruffed grouse in confinement, I 

 believed that I had provided for every possible contin- 

 gency, and that I should be able to guard successfully 

 against all the rocks against which my previous ventures 

 had been wrecked. But this mishap was one that was 

 entirely unforeseen, and under all the circumstances one 

 that seems particularly unfortunate and exasperating. 

 This leaves me with but a single grouse, the male bird. 



At the risk of being tedious, I wish to add that all my 

 additional observation and experience acquired within 

 the past year goes to strengthen the belief that the rear- 

 ing of raffed grouse in confinement is not only possible 

 but practicable, and that some one will yet accomplish it 

 who has more good fortune if not more patience than the 

 writer. Jay Beebe. 



Todedo, O., May 18. 



A VISIT TO AUDUBON'S HOME. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



In her entertaining narrative of the life of Audubon 

 Mrs. St. John mentions an estate or "plantation" on the 

 Perkioming rs having been occupied by Audubon while 

 he was a resident of this State. 



A short time since it was the writer's fortune to visit 

 this historic spot, and it may interest admirers of the 

 great naturalist to know something of his old home as it 

 now appears. It is to-day one of the finest among the 

 many splendid farms in a region justly noted for its 

 fertility and natural beauty. 



The valley N of the Perkiomen Creek is surpassingly 

 attractive in itself. The left bank of the stream, from 

 its confluence with the Schuylkill as far as the eye will 

 reach, is flanked by a thickly wooded ridge, rising in 

 places abruptly from the water's edge, with many ever- 

 greens showing here and there among the more numer- 

 ous deciduous trees. 



Along the opposite side are lovely meadows stretching 

 away far and wide, over which flocks of sheep and cattle 



roam and feed contentedly and luxuriously, or rest in the 

 generous shade of trees that, from their' great size and 

 age, must have graced the landscape in Audubon's time, 

 the whole scene presenting a charming picture of rural 

 peace and plenty. 



Local history tells us that here, about the beginning of 

 the present century, Audubon laid the foundation of his 

 great work, here also on April 8, 1808, he married Lucy 

 Bakewell, and here too his eldest son was born. 



Preparatory to his removal to Kentucky the naturalist 

 disposed of the farm to Joseph Williams, of Whitemarsh, 

 from whom it passed into the possession of M. R. 

 Ambler, Esq., the present owner. 



To one who has learned to appreciate the character of 

 the man and to realize the nature of his life work, a pil- 

 grimage to the home of Audubon is full of pleasure and 

 interest and brings to mind many pleasing thoughts of 

 him and his history. W. D. Zimmerman. 



Norristown, Pa. 



Plumage of the Mallard.— Verdon, Dak., June 17.— 

 Editor Forest and Stream: I have been interested in the 

 discussion on the change of plumage in the mallard drake, 

 which Occurred in your columns some months ago. I 

 have raised young mallards from eggs found in a nest, 

 and watched the young develop their plumage. They 

 were feathered in June and the drakes first began to tthow 

 green in then- heads about the last of September, but 

 were not in full plumage until the middle of November, 

 somewhat later than some wild ones which were in full 

 plumage when shot in October. I mated one of the 

 drakes with a tame duck, but her eggs did not hatch, he 

 sitting by the nest all the time. Another drake remained 

 with the hen which hatched him and sat beside her when 

 she was sitting on her next and then, when the chickens 

 came out, carried them to the water where they were 

 drowned while he was teaching them to swim. — J, L. 



ROONEY. 



Song of the Pratrie Lark.— In a recent number of 

 the American Magazine appears an interesting article 

 under the above title from the pen of Mr. Ernest E. 

 Thompson. The western meajjowlark has hitherto had 

 scant justice done to his powers of song, but Mr. Thompson 

 not only fully describes this liquid melody but has written 

 it out in musical notation so that any one may reproduce 

 it on an instrument. The article is illustrated by two 

 figures from Mr. Thompson's pencil. 



"VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 



BY ANOTHER LONG-FELLOW, 



q^HE "Voices of the Night" he sang, 



In most melodious numhers, 

 Nor thought of those whose ceaseless clang 

 Disturb our peaceful slumbers. 



We mean not noises, such as wake 



The dwellers in the city, 

 The roar of wheels, the windows' shake, 

 • The wandering minstrel's ditty. 



We speak of those which greet our ears 



In quiet country village, 

 Where lowing steers and chanticleers 



The naps of morning pillage. 



At night, that herald of the spring, 



The frog, begins his chorus. 

 Just as the shades of evening bring 



The thoughts of slumber o'er us. 



Peep-peep! Peep-peep! don't go to sleep! 



The small ones strike the lyre; 

 Ker-chug! Ker-chung! Let sleep be hung, 



The bullfrog joins the choir. 



If on the hill too late you've strayed 



To watch some sunset view, 

 The owl, from some old hemlock's shade. 



Salutes you, "Who are you?" 



Perchance you try a hook at night, 

 When through your window-dashing, 



Whiz! buzz! whiz! buzz! full in your light, 

 You find a June bug splashing! 



Then to disturb your quiet naps, 



The dire mosquitoes come, 

 Your ear alone receives the slaps 



Which almost break the drum. 



No nightingale, with mellow "jug," 



Your evening song shall trill. 

 The ghost of some dead pedagogue 



Keeps shouting, Whip-poor- Willi 



Far worse than he, that insect green 



Among the branches hid, 

 Whose strident voice, while all unseen 



Persists that Katy-did! 



When autumn nights have cooled the earth, 



You hope at last to sleep. 

 When lo! the cricket on the hearth, 



Begins his cheep, cheep, cheep! 



You spring from bed, a lamp you light, 



The babe sets up a roar, 

 You wish the "voices of the night" 



Were all outside your door. V< 



Grand Excursions to California. — The Burlington 

 Route is the official route for the teachers bound for the 

 National Educational Meeting at San Francisco. Join 

 the splendid official excursion party from New York, 

 Pennsylvania, Brooklyn, New England, Ohio, Michigan 

 and Indiana, leaving Chicago July 3. 5, 8, 9 and 10. 

 Magnificent trains, free chair cars, Pullman and tourist 

 sleepers, etc. The public entitled to one fare on this oc- 

 casion. For further information write E. J. Swords, 317 

 Broadway, New York city; H. D. Badgley, 30b" Washing- 

 ton st., Boston, Mass., or address P. S. Eustis, G. P. & T. 

 I A., C. B. & Q. R. R., Chicago, Illinois— Adv. 



\mnt J?#g mid 



Antelope and Deer of America. By J. D. Caton. 

 Price 82.50. Vfing and Glass Ball Shooting with the 

 Rifle. By W. C. Bliss. Price 50 cents. Rifle, Rod and 

 Gun in California. By T. S. Van Dyke. Price $1.50. 

 Shore Birds. Price 50 cents. Woodcraft. By "iVes.s- 

 muk." Price $1. Trajectories of Hunting Rifles. Price 

 50 cents. The Still-Hunter. By T. S. Van Dyke. Price $2. 



GAME SEASONS. 



SOME of the statutes prescribe a close season when game may 

 not be killed; others name an open season when game may be 

 killed. In the following abstract the style of each law has been 

 followed. 



CALIFORNIA. 



Forbidden to kill quail, partridges, grouse, rail, between Marcih 

 1 and Sept. 10; doves between Jan. 1 and June 1; male antelope, 

 deer or buck, between Dec. 15 and July 1 in the year following; or 

 female antelope or deer at any time. 



CONNECTICUT. 



Forbidden to kill woodcock, quail, ruffed grouse, partridge, be- 

 tween Jan. 1 and Oct. 1. Forbidden to export game from the 

 State. 



GEORGIA. 



In Richmond county it is forbidden to kill deer save only be- 

 tween Oct. 1 and Dec. 31; wild turkey, partridge, between April 1 

 and Oct. 15; summer duck, dove, between April 1 and Aug. 15; 

 woodcock between Jan. 1 and Aug. 15. 



MASSACHUSETTS. 



Forbidden to kill pinnated grouse, woodcock, botween Jan. 1 

 and Aug. 1; ruffed grouse, partridge, between Jan. J and Oct. 1; 

 quail between Jan. 1 and Oct. 15; wood or summer duck, black 

 duck, teal, any duck, between April 15 and Sept. 1; plover, snipe, 

 sandpiper, rail, any shore, marsh or beach bird, between May 1 

 and July 15; wild pigeon, gull, tern, between May 1 and Oct. 

 1: gray squirrel, hare, rabbit, March 1 and Sept. 1; deer at any 

 time. 



MICHIGAN. 



Forbidden to kill deer save only from Nov. 1 to Dec. 1 inclusive 

 in Lower Peninsula, and between Oct. 1 and Nov. 15 in Upper 

 Peninsula; dogs may not be used: deer may not be killed in water; 

 venison may not be exported from State. Forbidden to kill wild 

 turkey except in months of October, November and December; 

 woodcock, partridge, ruffed grouse, wild duck, wild goose, other 

 wild waterfowl, snipe, save only from Sept. 1 to Jan. 1; colin, quail, 

 Virginia partridge, save only during months of November and 

 December; pinnated grouse, prairie chicken, save in months of 

 September and October. 



NEW HAMPSHIRE. 



Forbidden to kill plover, yellowlegs, sandpiper, duck, rail, be- 

 tween Feb. 1 and Aug. 1; woodcock, ruffed grouse, partridge, quail, 

 between Jan. 1 and Sept. 1; deer, moose, caribou, between Dec. 1 

 and Sept. 1 following: mink, beaver sable, otter, fisher, between 

 April 1 and Oct. 15; raccoon, coon, gray squirrel, between Jan. 1 

 and Sept. 1; hare, rabbit, muskrat, between April 1 and Sept. 1. li 



NEW JERSEY, 



In counties of Bergen, Essex, Hudson, HunterdoD, Middlesex, 

 Morris, Passaic, Somerset, Sussex, Union and Warren, it is for- 

 bidden to kill American pheasant, ruffed grouse, quail, gray 

 squirrel, hare, rabbit, except only between Nov. 1 and Dec. 15; 

 woodcock, except during last 15 days of September and the months 

 of October and November. 



In counties of Atlantic, Burlington, Camden, Cape May, Cum- 

 berland, Gloucester, Mercer, Monmouth, Ocean and Salem, it is 

 forbidden to kill American pheasant, ruffed grouse, quail, gray 

 squirrel, hare, rabbit, except only between Nov. 15 and Dec. 25; 

 woodcock, except during last 15 days of October and between Nov. 

 15 and Dec. 25; Englisli snipe, except only between Aug. 31 and 

 Nov. 1; rail bird, marsh hen, except during months of September 

 October and November. 



OHIO. 



Forbidden to kill quail, except between Nov. 10 and Dec. 15 in- 

 clusive; squirrel, except between June 1 and Dec. 15 inclusive; 

 woodcock except between July 15 and Nov. 1 inclusive; ruffed 

 grouse, pheasant, prairie chicken, except between Sept. 1 and 

 Dec. 15 inclusive; wild turkey, except between Oct. 1 and Dec. 15 - 

 inclusive; wild duck, except Sept. 1 and Dec. 15 inclusive, but 

 wild ducks may not be killed on Sunday, Monday or Tuesday of 

 any week. Forbidden to kill deer, except between Oct. 15 and 

 Nov. 20. 



RHODE ISLAND. 



It is forbidden to kill lark, robin, woodduck, gray duck, between 

 Feb. 1 and Sept. 1; grouse, heath hen, between Jan. 1 and Nov. 1; 

 woodcock, from Jan. 1 to Sept. 1, ruffed grouse, partridge, Jan. 1 

 to Sept. 1; quail, from Jan. 1 to Oct. 1; Bartram's tattler, upland 

 plover, grass plover, from April 1 to Aug. 1; dusky or black duck, 

 woodduck, summer duck, blue or green-winged teal, from March 

 1 to Sept. 1; wild pigeon, trom Jan. 1 to Aug. 10; rabbit, hare, gray 

 squirrel, between Jan. 1 and Sept. 1. 



VERMONT. 



Forbidden to kill deer prior to Nov. 1, 1890. Forbidden to kill 

 mink, beaver, otter, fisher, between April 1 and Nov. 1.; quail, 

 •'woodcock or ruffed grouse," partridge, between Feb. 1 and Sept. 

 1; woodcock, between Feb. 1 and Sept. 15; wild goose, wild (other 

 than wood) duck, between May 1 and Sept. 1. Forbidden to export 

 ruffed grouse. 



WISCONSIN. 



Forbidden to kill woodcock save only during July after the 3d 

 day thereof, and during August, Sept. and Oct.; prairie hen, white- 

 breasted grouse, sharp-tailed grouse, prairie chicken, save only 

 during August (after the 14th day), and the month of Sept.: quail 

 or partridge, save only during months of Sept., Oct. and Nov.; 

 ruffed grouse or pheasant, save only during September, October 

 and November; wild duck, wild goose, brant, any aquatic fowl, 

 save only during Sept. after the 15th day, and during Oct., Nov. 

 and Dec; deer, elk, moose, save only during Nov. Exportation 

 forbidden. 



[to be continued.] 



A WOUNDED BUCK. 



I HAD traveled a long distance to get to the hunting 

 grounds in northern Pennsylvania, At that time 

 there was not such a network of railroads through the 

 timber as there is now, and those who went into that 

 region after the large game which was so abundant, had 

 to go most of the way by wagon, and then afoot to the 

 place where he would fix his camp. 



The country was heavily timbered with both soft and 

 hard woods. The land was rolling, and of such a same- 

 ness of character, especially when one was shut in by the 

 tall growth of timber, that it was an easy matter to get 

 lost, and not so easy to get oneself found again. Until 

 one learned the direction of the streams, and the lay of 

 land between them, he might calculate on being lost 

 nearly every time he ventured far from camp. I always 

 carried a good compass, and had certain points fixed in 

 my mind, so that if I did get a little off the track, it was 

 only a matter of a little more walking to reach some 

 place which I knew, and thus I could turn up at camp all 

 right. But with the best arrangements that could be 

 made a hunter was often compelled to spend the night by 

 some log, with a fire in front, both to keep him warm, 

 and to keep the bears from disturbing his slumbers. I 

 have traveled for half a day with the compass in my hand 

 to keep myself from being led astray by the sameness of 

 the appearance of the surroundings, and then, especially 

 if it was near night, and I was far from camp, could 



