224 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



TApril 7, 1887. 



as the two came up to our blazing fire where the coffee 

 pot was already hissing among the crackling flames. 



"That reminds me of a good story I once heard," said I, 

 as we opened our several packages containing lunch, and 

 poured out our coffee in our tin cups. "Once two gentle- 

 men went hunting for quail. They stopped at a country 

 tavern. The first day they had bad luck, getting only 

 two birds, which they desired the tavern keeper to have 

 prepared for their breakfast. The next morning, before 

 the sat down to their meal, the host came to them, saying 

 that an Irishman had come for breakfast, and if they had 

 no objection a plate would be set for him at their table. 

 Certainly he should join them, said they. So the three 

 sat down. The two quail were placed on the table, 

 nicely stuffed and roasted, and, as these were not enough 

 for the three, a roasted chicked was also set on the dish 

 between the quail. So, one gentleman reached over with 

 his fork and took one quail ; the other took the other. 

 The Irishman for a moment, and but for a moment, was 

 taken back, but at once recovered his native presence of 

 mind, grabbed his fork and thrust in into the stuffed 

 fowl, carrying it bodily on his plate, with the remark, 

 'Iwery man to his bird, be gorry!'" 



"The tinkle of that cow bell off in the bush there," said 

 Sam, "reminds me of something I read the other day 

 about a clerk in a hardware store; and, Jerry, as you are 

 a hardware man, I tell this story for your special benefit." 



" Crack ahead with your yarn, and let it be a good 

 one," replied Jerry, taking a sip from his cup, and wink- 

 ing his eye at me, as much as to say, "Now, my boy, 

 is'nt this fun!" 



"Well," said Sam, "the story is this. A clerk in a 

 hardware store was trying to. sell a farmer a cow bell, but 

 the farmer wanted a larger size than was to be found in 

 the shop. In vain did the clerk endeavor to persuade Ins 

 customer that this bell was quite large enough, in fact, 

 just the thing. It was all no go with the farmer, who at 

 length turned on his heel and was leisurely walking out 

 of the store, when a happy thought occurring to the clerk, 

 he called his vanishing customer back with ' I say, uncle, 

 I think you'd better take that bell. It's really much better 

 than a larger size. One thing about it — it'll save you a 

 good deal of time looking for your cow.' ' How so?' 

 queried the other. 'Why don't 'you see,' said the wily 

 clerk, • if you have a large bell "on your cow, you can 

 hear it very far, and when you do hear it you'll travel 

 maybe a whole mile before you come up with your cow; 

 whereas, if you use a smaller sized bell, when you hear 

 that you'll know your cow ie'nt more'n about a quarter of 

 a mile off at the most, and you won't have to go near so 

 far after her!' The farmer at once bought the bell. 

 "Whether he was convinced by that logic, or as is more 

 likely, wished to reward the clerk's cleverness in bringing 

 a customer about, I am unable to say." 



"Good story!" was the unanimous verdict. Some one 

 suggested it was much like the boy's composition on pins, 

 in which he said, " Pins have saved a great many people's 

 lives." "How so," asked the teacher, "By not swallowin 

 'em, sir," was the quick response. "Or it is like a boy's 

 definition of salt," said another. "Salt, said the boy, is 

 that kind of stuff that makes field potatoes taste bad 

 when you don't put any on!" 



In such conversation our nooning hour passed away. 

 Such an horn-, with two or three genial companions, each 

 of whom can bear a hand at keeping up a spicy conversa- 

 tion, and tell his tale when his turn comes round, is quite 

 as enjoyable as the hunting. A fellow feels good after 

 his dinner : a little tired, to be sure, but not too tired. He 

 has had a good cup of coffee, sipping the last drop in his 

 cup as if it were veritable nectar (as it is); and then comes 

 his cigar or pipe — and a half hour's talk, until some one 

 hops up and says, 



"Well, fellows, let's be moving." 



We moved around a good deal that afternoon, down 

 in the ra vines, up on the sides of the ridges, out on the 

 edge of "The Barrens." At this distance in time I can 

 recall only a general impression of tramping over the 

 soft moss (into which one's foot sinks so noiselessly and 

 so deliciously), skimiisMng through the hard wood f orests 

 on the ridges, halting now and then to rally our lines or 

 to summon a comrade who had wandered too far off to 

 the right or left of the line, peering under many pine 

 bushes and squinting up many a hemlock tree, and keep- 

 ing my weather eye ever open and my gun ever ready 

 to throw up into position for a shot. 



It was somewhere toward the middle of the afternoon. 

 We had come out on what is called "The Barrens," an 

 open country, covered with sod and a sparse growth of 

 low, bushy pines. We were on the south face of the 

 ridge, and the birds would naturally find a good place 

 there to sun themselves or take an afternoon nap. Here 

 and there were great beds of moss and partridge berry, 

 and often one could walk around among the low-grow- 

 ing pine bushes, noiselessly, as if treading on the most 

 luxurious carpet. 'Twas that day that I stealthily crept 

 up to one of these great bushes only to hear my bird 

 getting on the other side, to my great chagrin. I was 

 wandering about among these thick bushes, peering 

 here and there for a bird, when I noticed an unusually 

 large bush some distance ahead of me, having its branches 

 very thick and growing down low to the ground. I de- 

 termined to make for that bush and see what I could see, 

 saying to myself as I did so, 



" Now, if I was a pheasant and was looking around for 

 an unusually fine bush under which to doze away an hour 

 or so of an afternoon like this, why, that's just the kind 

 of a bush I should select. I'll creep up very cautiously 

 and see whether I can't find somebody at home there." 



The ground was covered with soft moss. My footfalls 

 were noiseless. Like an Indian I crept up to the very 

 edge of the bush, stooped down and peeped under the 

 broad, drooping branches, and saw a magnificent cock 

 standing up from a doze, with a " cluck, cluck, cluck," 

 preening his head in the archest way imaginable, his ruff 

 about his neck standing out stiff like a beautiful collar, 

 and colored with all the hues of the rainbow— in all 

 the beauty of his wild nature I saw him, only a few feet 

 distant, a beautiftd sight indeed! My finger was on the 

 trigger, and I could have shot him, and intended to do bo, 

 too, after I had sufficiently admired him—but I admired 

 him only a fraction of a second too long, and he was off ! 

 I can't say that I was sorry. The sight of that cock in all 

 the arch beauty of his aroused wild nature was worth more 

 to me than many birds in my bag would have been. 



Not long after this we passed through a patch of hard 

 wood principally beech. We had got up a. flopk of birds 

 and tfe'd f ollowed them into the woods some distance, but 



they led us too far and we wheeled around, making a 

 circuit through this young beech forest. Sam and I were 

 close together, when I noticed something falling from a 

 high tree. It was large, and of a fluffy appearance, like 

 a big bunch of cotton, and it came down so very lightly 

 and leisurely that I could not imagine what it was. At 

 all events, I got ready to shoot, and when it lit on a sap- 

 ling about fifteen feet from the ground I shot it— a great 

 gray squirrel. Now, I had often shot gray squirrels when 

 a boy, but I had never seen one come down from a tree 

 top like that. 



"Why, you see," said Sam, "it's plain enough. We 

 came on him kind o' sudden. He was on this tree and he 

 couldn't get any further. He couldn't retreat, and he 

 couldn't advance, and so he had to jump for it. As he 

 was pretty high, he simply spread out his tail and his f our 

 legs, and made himself as flat as he could so as to break 

 his fall as much as possible by catching the air as he came 

 down, just like a parasol or umbrella would fall very 

 slowly from a housetop, if spread out. That's what made 

 him fall so slow and look so big." 



I will not trouble the reader with an account of all that 

 we experienced before night came. One cannot put on 

 paper any adequate description of the real enjoyment of 

 such a tramp as we had. We got some birds. We had 

 several ineffectual long range snap shots at rabbits in full 

 career across the Barrens. I found a relic in the shape of 

 a portion of a deer's antler, a rare thiug to find in the 

 mountains, I am told; and at four o'clock we found our- 

 selves eight miles away from home, tired and nearly 

 "played out." Sam was particularly done up, and as he 

 and I walked along-, he was saying that he wouldn't walk 

 another mile for all the pheasants in the mountain, when 

 Wh-wh-i-zzh! up went a flock of eight or ten on the other 

 edge of a clearing, making for a tangle of laurel. I need 

 hardly say that Sam and I both made after them like 

 school boys after a hot breakfast on a holiday, forgetting 

 all about our weariness in the excitement caused by the 

 whin- of those magic wings ; but as they went too far 

 into the bush for us, we couldn't get them, and our heavy 

 leg* and feet at once came back when this became ap- 

 parent. The sun was just sinldng when Jack came with 

 the buckboard to the appointed place, wrapped us in great 

 heavy overcoats (for the night was coming down sharp 

 and cold), and drove us eight miles to our hotel to a good 

 warm supper, a soft bed and dreamless sleep. H. M. K. 



Baston, Pa. 



UNOFFICIAL LOG OF THE STELLA.— V. 



BEAUFORT, N. C, March 28.— We are lying at the 

 wharf in this quaint old Southern town, where we 

 have been since the 24th, repairing some damages we 

 received on the afternoon of the 23dinst., of which the 

 report sent North is all wrong. 



Briefly, we lost our rudder fifteen miles off shore in a 

 strong S.W. blow and heavy sea. We did not work her 

 off under the foresail, nor with the jib; nor would all the 

 devices known to mariners suffice to get her before the 

 wind under any or all of her sails. We rigged a spa r-raf t 

 with guy-ropes, got steam on her, and tried to steer her 

 With that. It failed us. We had a sea-drag all ready for 

 use, and we got it out ahead to keep us head to. This 

 brought us up in the wind's eye; but in less than five 

 minutes the hawser parted, the drag followed the rudder 

 to the bottom, and we fell off into the trough of the sea. 

 The exceptional seaworthy qualities of the little yacht 

 were all that let us live at this crisis. At last we dropped 

 the light anchor with thirty fathoms of chain, and this 

 brought us head to and held us while we dismantled the 

 mainmast, took the main gaff for an oar stem, tore up the 

 cabin floor for boards to make a rough but strong blade, 

 cut away the rail aft, rigged guys on either side of the 

 clumsy sweep, got three strong men on this Unique steer- 

 ing gear, and made ready for -a final attempt to get way 

 on her with her obstinate head inshore. It was a partial 

 success, inasmuch as we brought her round, but the test 

 we could get her to do was to get her to run in the trough 

 of the sea: not another point off would she go, The 

 pitching and rolling was fearful; but, as she washSading 

 for the beach, the best we could do was to hang on. In 

 storm and darkness we made the land, ran within half a 

 mile of the beach, let go both anchors and held her up by 

 help of steam. 



Luckily the wind went down about midnight, and in 

 the morning it came offshore. We improved our steering 

 oar and stood up the coast for Beaufort, arriving before 

 noon. 



There were six souls on board, all of whom have been 

 familiar with deep sea sailing; and each man says it was 

 the closest shave in his experience. Coolness and sea- 

 manship in the skipper and crew brought us safely off. 

 Demoralization and fright would have drowned the whole 

 business. ["Nessmuk" reported at the Forest and 

 Stream office yesterday.] Nessmuk. 



"That reminds Die." 

 207. 



T WAS up-stairs in my room, enjoying the perusal of 

 X Long's "American Wildfowl Shooting," when 1 was 

 interrupted by hearing my friend B.'s voice, saying: 

 "Hullo, Jack, come down-stairs quick; there's an owl 

 sitting on the fence!" I grabbed my gun and started 

 down-stairs, slipping in two cartridges as I went. When 

 I got to the door, sure enough, there was his owlship, 

 sitting placidly on the stone wall, not more than 100yds. 

 distant. Cautiously, very cautiously I approached the 

 gentleman, who paid not the slightesti»at tent ion to me, 

 because, I suppose, he couldn't see. When I got near to 

 him (I won't say just how near) I stopped, and raising 

 my "trusty double barrel," took careful aim, fired and 

 missed. Oh, the shout of derision that greeted the result 

 of my shot! B. immediately went to work and told every- 

 body he met that ' 'Jack had crawled up on an owl, and 

 when he thought lie was near enough raised his gun, 

 stuck the poor bird under the chin and scared it off, and 

 then fired at the place on the stone wall where the owl 

 had been." 



I thirsted for revenge, and soon I had it. This is how 

 it. came' about: I rigged up a diving decoy, in 'the cove a 

 little distance from the house, one day when B. had gone 

 to the. village for the mail, and qn Ins way back he saw 

 this coot out there, which immediately sunk from sight 



when I pulled the string. Taking advantage of the dive, 

 he rushed to the house, and seizing my little single barrel, 

 together with some cartridges which I had loaded ex- 

 pressly for his benefit, and which had "some" powder 

 and shot in them, he came down to the beach cautiously, 

 and not seeing the coot, waited for it to reappear. Ah, 

 there it is. Now he raises the gun — bang! "Holy smoke! 

 that gun's got somethin' in it!" Didn't get him— one 

 more— bang! "Christopher Jenkins, what ails that gun?" 

 And tli ere sat that coot as if nothing had happened. He 

 decided to make one more trial, and loaded up again. 

 This time the gun spoke like a small cannon, and imme- 

 diately after the report B.'s voice could be heard quite a 

 distance off anathematizing that kicker. TJpon this I 

 jumped up from my hiding place, and then B. saw the 

 joke (?). I put this question mark because he seemed a 

 little doubtful about that particular point. I went and 

 brought in the decoy. It wasn't touched. Either there 

 was something the matter with the gun or B. was a little 

 "off" in his aim. He thinks the former, but I don't. 



J. W. Jr. 



Address all commtm fcatioHs to the Forest and Stream Pub, 0>. 



ODDS AND ENDS. 



IN DECIDING whether squirrels hibernate, it seems 

 necessary first to determine what hibernation is-— 

 whether it is a lethargic sleep which continues with rare 

 or no interruptions during the entire strip of winter, Of 

 only an occasional nap of a few days' duration at its long- 

 est. Here in the center of western Vermont we see the 

 red and gray squirrels active and abroad in some of the 

 coldest days when the sun shines — sometimes w hen it is 

 storming furiously — and then for a day or two perhaps we 

 see none. But we have never thought that for these brief 

 disappearances we might call them hibernating animals', 

 as we do their little cousin, the chipmunk, who, when he 

 retires to winter quarters a good while before there seems 

 any pressing need of it, goes in "for good," and so does 

 the woodchuck; and when they come forth again we are 

 assured that the "heart of winter is broken." 



A great midwinter thaw disturbs not their tranquil 

 slumber, though it awakens the coon, who certainly 

 hibernates in the strictest sense of the word, but is fooled 

 out of a part Of his comfortable nap by the siren song of 

 the south wind, and wanders forth in uliestof something. 

 If food, he never finds it, nor as far as I have been able 

 to determine, does not even seek it. I should imagine 

 reading the record of his journey as he prints it in bin 

 course from hollow tree to hollow ledge, to other hollow 

 trees and hollow ledges, that he had been awakened to a 

 sense of loneliness arid was seeking old friends in familiar 

 haunts, with whom to talk over last year's cornfield raids 

 and frogging parties in past summer nights— perchance 

 to plan future campaigns. Or is it an inward fire and no 

 outward warmth that has thawed him into this sudden 

 activity? Has he, like many of his biggers and bettersi 

 gone a courting in winter nights? Poor old Mr. Coon! 

 How fashionable it is nowadays for others to wear the 

 coat which becomes him so much better than them, and 

 which once robbed of he can never replace — and his life 

 goes with his coat. 



If I outlive the last of his race, as I pray I may not, 

 though it now seems probable, he will have one sincere 

 mourner. He is one of the few remaining links that con- 

 nect us with the old times, when there were trees older 

 than living men, when all the world had not entered for 

 the race to gain the prize of wealth, or place or renown, 

 when it was the sum of all happiness for some of us to 

 "go a-coonin'." It is pleasant to me to see the track of 

 this midnight prowler, this despoiler of cornfields, im- 

 printed in the mud of the lane or along the soft margin 

 of the nook, to know that he survives, though he may 

 not be the fittest, well, when he has gone forever, those 

 who outlive him will know that it is not his quavering 

 note that'jars the still air of the early fall evenings and 

 must confess that is only the voice of the owl — if the owl 

 too, has not then gone the inevitable way of all the wild 

 world. 



The skunk sleeps not so soundly as the coon. Often in 

 very cold mornings when there is not the faintest promise 

 of thaw in the chill air you may see the diagonal track 

 of his slow midnight gallop in the powdery snow, and he 

 Avill proclaim as distinctly as with words", more unmis- 

 takably than by the imprint of his foot, his presence and 

 recent awakening to some sort of active fife, when he has 

 had a slight misunderstanding with the cats in the barn, 

 where you go to fodder. And poor me/ph Mis must go too, 

 for his fur under names that he would not recognize as 

 his, is sweet in the nostrils of the fashionable world; and 

 bugs and pestiferous'mice shall thrive in his downfall, and 

 unborn generations of mankind shall miss his fragrance. 



I have more than once heard the shrike utter notes 

 almost melodious, and quite Unlike the harsh voice where- 

 with he usually announces himself, but it never occurred 

 to me that he was attempting an imitation of some other 

 bird's song. Always when I have heard Mm engaged in 

 these musical performances, he was perched in some ex- 

 alted place, and was evidently bent on doing his best. I 

 am sure the custodian of nature, whom America is so 

 fortunate in possessmg, has himself noted this, otherwise 

 it would be presumptuous to mention it, for what he has 

 not seen no one can have seen. 



The shrike has been maligned, evil has been spoken of 

 him, and he has been called hard names by others than 

 ornithologists. I for one hereby retract all that I have 

 ever said or thought against him, for more than once I 

 have seen him chasing and capturing English sparrows, 

 a nd doing all he could to make more miserable the hives 

 of those imported pests — those feathered weeds that are 

 overrunning the native birds that blossom into spring- 

 time song and beauty. May the tribe of the sMike in- 

 crease. 



A friend has just told me that on the 25th inst. he saw 

 a flock of about fifty wild geese flying north! The poor 

 f ellows must be having a hungry and thirsty experience, 

 for where in all these snowy wastes can they find a morsel 

 of food, or where, this side of a possible open polar sea, 

 any body of unfrozen water ? In the tMee or four days 

 which have elapsed .since their passage, winter has not 

 loosened it's hold on the earth here, What brave adven- 



