164 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 22, 1887. 



Our Badger is very fond of young "prairie dogs" (Cyno- 

 mis), and undoubtedly feeds also upon many other small 

 mammals which inhabit the same regions^ gophers and 

 mice. Audubon figured his Badger with a horned lark 

 (Otocoris alpestris) in its claws, but we must believe that 

 the animal captured, in this case, wasa sitting bird, for it 

 by no means possesses the requisite agrBty to take birds in 

 anj other way. It has not been satisfactorily proven that 

 the American Badger is as fond of honey as the European 

 species is long known to be, which latter will dig up bees' 

 nests to obtain the luxury. The taste, however, runs in 

 the family, as the generic name of fJie Ratel will indicate 

 {Mellivora capensis). 



So far as trapping Badgers goes, the writer -has no ex- 

 perience with it, but I have often wondered how a very 

 ingenious trap the Indians have for the "prairie dogs" 

 would work. The Indians will take a small barrel with 

 both ends knocked out, and stand it up on end so as to 

 include the entrance to the burrow; they then fill it with 

 sand, and continue to do bo until it ceases to run down 

 the slanting descent of the burrow, and the barrel itself 

 is full. The "prairie dogJ" soon wishing to get out, conies 

 up to the entrance, and fmding it filled with sand loses no 

 time in scratching his way through it and tlrrough the 

 sand in the barrel, but this material immediately fills in 

 behind him as he digs, and upon appearing on the sand 

 on the outside and on top of the barrel the waiting Indian 

 makes a rush for him. The doomed animal quickly turns 

 and endeavors to find his way back through the sand to 

 his burrow, but the Indian wheels the barrel one side, 

 and running bis bared arm down tlrrough the loose sand 

 in it firmly grasps the struggling marmot and drags him 

 once more into the light of day, when he ignominiously 

 knocks him on the head, as the good quality of the flesh 

 of this ground squirrel is well known to most Indians. 

 It would interest me very much to see this tried on some 

 wily old Badger just to see how he would take it, but I 

 would advise the wearing of cast-iron gloves while en- 

 gaged in fumbling in the sand in the barrel to ascertain 

 "if the bar was thar." 



My captive Badger, an old one, soon became quite tame, 

 and when in a good humor allowed one to stroke and 

 even handle him. He was fed principally upon raw meat, 

 but ate nearly anything and everything that was offered 

 him. They are very fond of water and drink a good 

 deal. Incidentally I would like to remark here that I 

 have kept tame "prairie dogs" too, and have a most en- 

 gaging little pet of one now, and it is a very prevalent 

 and very erroneous notion that they do not drink water, 

 for they are more than fond of it, and at once show the 

 effects when they cannot obtain their regular supply. 

 These little animals will also eat almost everything they 

 can get a hold of, and I have already published in Science 

 their fondness for raw meat, but some people would smile 

 to see mine sit up on his haunches and enjoy a slice of 

 oyster pie. But we are digressing, and to return to our 

 Badger, I would, before closing, call attention to some of 

 the economic uses of the animal, and to do this I cannot 

 present the matter in better form than to quote from Coues's 

 admirable account already alluded to; this distinguished 

 mammalogist says that "The flesh of the Badger, like 

 that of the Skunk, is eatable, and doubtless often eaten 

 by savage tribes, though not to be recommended to a 

 cultivated palate." 



The specimens I have skinned, even the young one be- 

 fore mentioned in this article, emitted during the process 

 such rank and foul odor as to be simply disgusting. The 

 Badger yields a valuable and at times fashionable fur, 

 used for robes, and for muffs, tippets and trimmings. 

 Thousands of shaving-brushes are said to be annually 

 made from the long hairs, which are also extensively 

 used in the manufacture of artists' materials, one of which 

 is a "badger-blender." In 1873 the London sales of 

 Badger skins by the Hudson's Bay Company were 2,700, 

 at prices varying from one to seven shillings, averaging 

 Is. Gd. The leading American journal of the fur trade in 

 1876 quoted Badger skins at $1 for prime, 50 cents for 

 "seconds," and 10 cents for "thirds." The colors of the 

 Badger pelt, though not striking, are pleasing, being an 

 intimate and harmonious blending of gray, tawny, black, 

 and white, the colors ringed in alternation on individual 

 hairs. The gray predominates, the general "tone" or 

 effect being a grizzled gray, which has given rise to the 

 well-known adage "as gray as a Badger." ("Fur-Bear- 

 ing Animals," pp. 288-289.) 



We still stand in great need of concise accounts of the 

 more obscure habits of our Badger, and so far as I am 

 aware, there are no published accounts of accurate and 

 reliable details of the reproduction of the species, nor the 

 periods of gestation and lactation, subjects as yet, I be- 

 lieve, unknown to science. 



And, those who may be residing in parts of the country 

 where Badgers are plenty, can make a very acceptable 

 contribution to our knowledge of American mammals by 

 collecting and making careful observations on these sub- 

 jects and duly publishing them. 



Sparrows Driven Out by Worms.— Sing Sing, N. Y. 

 — Until two or three day since a brood of English spar- 

 rows have had their roosting place in a Virginia creeper, 

 just outside a window of the room where I am writing. 

 This year the web caterpillars have been unusually abun- 

 dant in the neighborhood of Sing Sing. They are found 

 crawling everywhere in the village. After they had strip- 

 ped a mulberry tree — that grows at the end of the piazza 

 — they seized upon this Virginia creeper. A number of 

 them are now denuding it, and at length have exposed the 

 covered angle of the chimney, where the sparrows had 

 their cosy roosts. Such behavior on the part of the cater- 

 pillars has been too much for the sparrows. They have 

 had to give way and move off. This time the sparrows 

 have been driven out by the worms. — A. H, G. 



Our extinct volcano has always been the admiration of our 

 townspeople and of the strangers who have come within our 

 gates. Rising by a graceful elevation on one side, from its 

 long cape stretching far out into the western waves, display- 

 ing at its top the perfect rim of its crater leaning gently over 

 toward the town, and its other side running abruptly into 

 a ridge of peaks that drop down lower and lower till they are 

 lost in the interminable mass of mountains to the north, it 

 stands a most notable landmark, and beautiful background 

 to the island-gemmed bay of Sitka. We have often heard it 

 compared to Vesuvius, and the bay to that of Naples, by 

 travelers who had seen the glory of the Mediterranean, and 

 we have given our fancies piay in picturing the grand effect 

 that must have illuminated these rugged peaks, and the 

 tumultuois billows of the dark Pacific, when Edgecombe 

 was sending forth his volcanic flames.— Sitka Alaslum. 



wnt j§ng mi §luq. 



Aadrem all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



TIGE. 



HOW the changing season brings changing moods t 

 With the soft April winds, with the willows grow- 

 ing green down by the spring came the impulse to get 

 rods and reels in shape; now with the air sharp and keen 

 with September frosts, and the willows withering in the 

 cold winds that will soon leave their long gaunt arms 

 swinging in the winter blasts, rods and reels are forgot- 

 ten- and our tw r elve-bore is brought from its resting place. 



This has been a season of disappointment to me, and 

 bright anticipations have been turned to sad experiences 

 and painful realities. When about ready to start for the 

 Mastigouche Lakes a great shadow filled those June days, 

 and through its darfiness I carried a dear friend to her 

 long home. September came, which I had looked for- 

 ward to for my Canada trip, and found me bolstered up 

 in bed. As I lay there I found pleasure in living over 

 again pleasant days spent in camp; remembering how 

 beautiful were the woods, how bright the waters that 

 hurried down from their fountains hidden far back 

 among the hills to swell the waters of Pine Creek, as it 

 too hastened to the sea. 



We had broken camp; a lumberman with his ox team 

 had come to take us out to our new camping place some 

 ten miles away by the roundabout wood road, while 

 across the mountain it was hardly half the distance. 

 Dana and Jake, my companions around many a camp 

 lire, started with the team, while I concluded to go over 

 the mountain, promising to meet them at the lumber- 

 man's house, from which we were to start in the morning 

 for our new hunting grounds. I strapped my blanket on 

 my shoulder and taking my rifle started on the tramp, 

 first taking a good look at my compass that was to be my 

 only guide through the pathless woods. A long walk 

 brought me to the summit; a forest fire had killed the 

 timber and it would have been a desolate place only that 

 the fire as it burned the great trees away opened up a 

 vista as beautiful as I had ever looked upon. Away tow- 

 ard the Susquehanna the hills lay dark in their own 

 shadows; to the east, the mountain tops reflected the 

 golden light of the setting sun. I stood on a carpet of 

 crimson and green, where the polished leaves partly hid 

 the bright wintergreen berries, and looked upon the beau- 

 tiful picture quite forgetful of the long walk before me. 

 At last a great deep shadow came over the mountain and 

 filled the valley; the sun dropped out of sight, no twilight 

 seemed to stand between the day and the night; and be- 

 fore I realized it I was shut in by the darkness. It was 

 too dark to think of going further, so finding a large pine, 

 that after fighting flame and storm had been beaten to 

 the ground, I started a fire, piling against the trunk the 

 limbs that were scattered near. Eating a piece of je; ked 

 venison that f ortunatly I had in my pocket and for dessert 

 a handful of terries, I wrapped my blanket around me 

 and was soon asleep, tired out with my tramp; it was 

 that full resting that only a tired hunter — one who loves 

 the woods — ever enjoys. 



Soundly I slept, and only awoke as the gray dawn told 

 of the coming day. But where was I? In my dreams I 

 had forgotton the experience of the day before; all around 

 me was the ocean; as far as I could see was the slow, still 

 motion of its waves; no shore in sight as it stretched out 

 until it met the sky; here and there were little islands, 

 just such as the one on which I stood. For some moments 

 I gazed and wondered. A little flame started up from 

 the embers of my fire, then I remembered that not long 

 ago, somewhere, I had started a fire against a great log; 

 there was the log nearly burned through; in the flicker- 

 ing flame I saw my rifle covered over with a strip of bark; 

 little by little I unravelled the mys ery; as I wound up 

 the tangled thread the sun lighted up the heavens and 

 touched the top of the waves until they burned like fire 

 opals; higher and higher it rose, and as it sent its warm 

 rays deaper and deeper, this great sea of fog lifted and 

 floated away in fleecy clouds; the little islands, on one of 

 which I stood, were the tops of the hills that had lifted 

 their heads above the mist, and all night long had been 

 looking up to the twinkUng stars. Along the valley of 

 the big creek the fog lingered, and by these white signal 

 flags I could trace its way to the river. A walk of an 

 hour brought me to the little clearing. "Well, wethougt 

 you were lost" was the greeting of my friends. 



While eating our breakfast we discussed our plans and 

 wondered how we would make out with our footsore dogs, 

 whose feet were so tender, running on the frozen ground 

 (for the good name of the party, let me say we only used 

 them for 'ridging;" they were broken to come back after 

 starting the deer and never ran longer than a half hour), 

 and the little tracking snow was fast disappearing. Our 

 hosfc told us he had a good dog, and if we would spend 

 the day with him he would show us a deer in an hour. 

 He was a whole-souled fellow, and the generous way in 

 which his invitation came decided us at once. His long, 

 full-stocked rifle was taken down from behind a pair of 

 great spreading antlers, and we started for the log shed 

 to get the dog. As he pulled the pin a great surly brindle 

 bulldog pushed his way tlrrough the door, and only after 

 a cuff from his master did he cover his teeth that he had 

 been show-ing to the strangers. Our surprise was only in- 

 creased when, with a laugh, John said, "There, boys, is 

 Tige, the best deer dog in the country." We had our 

 doubts about it, but thought by sundown we would know 

 for ourselves. 



Across the creek and into the woods we filed and has- 

 tened up the ascent until we reached a bench half way up 

 the mountain, stretching along its side for a long way. 

 North of us, and in a sag of the mountain, was "Dark 

 Hollow," where our guide told us he would start the deer. 

 Dana was to take his place on the other side of the bench ; 

 Jake was to stay near where we stood, while I was ordered 

 to go on through a piece of large timber to find a knoll, 

 and there to take my stand. I noticed John was very 

 particular in his instructions to me. and as he turned to 

 leave us there was a smile on his face as he said, "Young 

 fellow, keep your eye out." In a minute he was hid by 

 the bushes, his brindle dog close at his heels. 



I hurried on and soon found the grove of great trees, 

 and on the other side the little knoll where I was to take 

 my place. The air was cold and chilly under the shadow 

 of the tall pines, alth®ugh the bright sunshine came sift- 



ing through their tops. Soon I had a fire built; standing 

 against the tree I kept a keen watch. Somehow I had a 

 presentment that a deer was to come that way and he was 

 to be my venison. Far away through the timber I caught 

 a glimpse of something on the move. I hardly had time 

 to reach my rifle before a noble buck came bounding into 

 sight. He kept a straight coui'se toward me until within 

 a hundred yards, when he quickly turned at right angles. 

 I threw my rifle into an open space ahead of him, and as 

 soon as I saw hair, I pulled. As the smoke lifted I saw 

 him floundering on the ground. I loaded my rifle as I 

 walked toward him. Once or twice he rose up on his 

 hindlegs, but could not straighten up in front. I felt 

 quite sure I had broken his shoulder; but what was my 

 surprise to see him jump up, and before he fairly started 

 the brindle dog Tige had him by the nose. The most 

 savage fight I ever saw was between this great buck and 

 the fierce dog; they were so "mixed" I was unable to get 

 a shot, until the deer with his antlers was pressing the 

 life out of the dog as he held him down; a quick shot and 

 he rolled over dead. I took out my knife and walked 

 up to cut his throat, when the dog turned his blood-shot 

 eyes toward me, and with an ugly growl gave me to 

 understand he claimed this meat and to keep hands off. 

 Soon echoing through the woods came the words, "Let 

 him alone, let him alone." I thought there was little 

 need of his making quite so much noise or telling me so 

 o'ten what I had already found out. Soon John came in 

 sight. After cutting a great ox goad he walked up to 

 his dog and ordered him away; but only after using the 

 whip could he make him mind; several times I thought 

 he would fly at his master. This I found to be an old 

 trick, arid with every deer he pulled down his master had 

 to give him a like thrashing. 



The rest of the party hearing the shots soon found us 

 and the story was told. Dana calls out, "Shot twice, did 

 you miss once?" "No sir!" "Well, there is but one ball 

 hole." There the deer lay stretched out showing the side 

 that was toward me at both shots; I was puzzled. We 

 noticed one of his horns was off. but thought that in the 

 fight it had been broken. We turned him over and there was 

 only the mark of one ball as it passed out. "Here it is," 

 and Jake showed where the first ball had plowed a groove 

 along the skull and cut half the horn away at the very 

 base; so the shot I thought had broken Ms shoulder had 

 only stunned him and he was getting his senses as the 

 dog came up. We soon had him dressed. John as he 

 brings the pole on which we were to carry our game calls 

 out, "Say, fellers, I s'pose it is pretty late, but I guess I 

 ort to have told you, my dog never barks; he runs swift 

 and orful still." I then brought to mind how swiftly 

 that deer ran when he tame into my sight, how every 

 hair seemed to stand on end as I first walked up to him, 

 frightened an hundredfold more by this wolflike enemy 

 than a hou d baying on his track. As we hung him up 

 in the shed that afternoon we found he weighed 1951bs., 

 the largest deer I ever killed. I tried to make friends 

 with old Tige as I fed him, and all voted that "he was the 

 best dog in the country." Spicewood. 



Centbalia, Pa. 



MAINE WOODCOCK SHOOTING. 



W OODCOCK shooting in Maine is something of a nov- 

 elty, and yet under game protection there begins 

 to be something of a chance for that best of sport. In 

 locations where twenty or thirty years ago such a bird as 

 a woodcock was not known there is pretty fair shooting 

 to-day. This pertains to portions of the State not more 

 than forty or fifty miles from the seashore, since in the 

 interior and the more northerly portions of the State the 

 climate is thought to be too severe for the woodcock to 

 thrive. My attention has been called quite forcibly to 

 the possibilities in regard to this bird in that State within 

 a few days. The 5th day of September was a legal holi- 

 day in Massachusetts, and it was possible for me to get 

 away to the woods. With work finished on Saturday 

 evening, 7 o'clock found me on board the cars on the 

 Boston & Maine, bound for Lewiston, and then up into 

 Oxford county, where t e grouse are fairly plenty. No 

 thought had been given to woodcock, though the open 

 season had begun on those birds on Sept. 1 , the same as 

 on the partridge. By 2 o'clock A.M. I was at Lewiston. 

 A few hours of needed rest were taken, but shortly after 

 daybreak I had started, gun in hand and on foot, for 

 Hebron, a town fifteen miles to the north of Lewiston. 

 My gun was in the case, for it was Sunday morning, a 

 legal close time, in all seasons, on game in the Pine Tree 

 State. But the beauties of that September morning I 

 shall not soon forget. The weather w T as perfect. Not a 

 breath of wind, and yet the air was crisp and frosty. All 

 Lewiston and Aubum, cities including some 40,000 or 

 50,000 inhabitants, was as silent as the morning itself. 

 As I left the town almost a feeling of loneliness crept 

 over me, and I thought perhaps I might see even a social 

 dog, but no dog came in sight. A single Thomas cat 

 made a leap from a front yard fence as I passed, and ran 

 after a rival, catching him astern and administering a 

 drubbing that made a good deal of fur fly, even if it hurt 

 no f urther. 



I had started out for a long walk, though I by no means 

 intended to walk the whole distance to Hebron; for an 

 arrangement had previously been made for Horatio to 

 start with the team at about the same time that I left 

 the town, and to drive toward-Lewiston, on the new road, 

 till he met me. But this new road proved to bo just what 

 I wanted. It has been built but a few years and for a 

 number of miles there are no dwellings on it. It runs up 

 the valley, beside the pond and mainly through the 

 woods. The first human being I met was a milkman on 

 the road to Auburn with his oans and a quantity of sweet 

 corn and other vegetables, evidently for the Sunday din- 

 ner of some of his customers. He saw my gun, though 

 in its case and he accosted me with: 



"Going to try the woodcock to-day?" 



"No; possibly I may try them to-morrow. But it is 

 close time in your State on Sunday." 



"That's so; thought possible that you didn't know it. 

 But seein' it's you, you can really get some woodcock up 

 the valley to-morrow and not go rnor'n five miles from 

 Lewiston. The corn canning shops are all running about 

 here just now and the gunners are nearly all at work; so 

 that the birds are undisturbed. I went out only an hour 

 the next day after the law was off and I got four." 



"Well," thought I, "that is pretty good for a milkman's 

 shooting," I had hardly gone half a mile further w r hen I 

 met another milkman. 



