320 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



I May 5; 1887. 



bodies around the pools which are found all through these 

 pine forests. We saw also the very fragrant yellow jes- 

 samine, in one case climbing the red bud close up to the 

 white top of the blossom-laden neighboring wild plum, 

 sprinkling the masses of lilac and white with its own yel- 

 low and filling all the surrounding air with its delicious 

 fragrance. But with all of its beauty and fragrance the 

 yellow jessamine is poison. 



As we rode slowly past these lovely scenes, the balmy 

 air and cloudless blue shy made me feel as if, in my own 

 distant Canadian home, the storms and snows of icy win- 

 ter must also have given place to the delicious breath of 

 early summer. As if to add another charm to the scene, 

 the blue and red birds frequently made their appearance 

 amid the boughs, the bluebird, whose color is that of co- 

 balt, is the harbinger of the Georgian spring. The red- 

 bird seemed to be of the most brilliant purple. 



Edward Jack. 



Bainbiudge, Ga., March i. 



Addresss all eornmmiications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



TROUBADOURS AND TROUVERES. 



THE long Northern winter is not wholly cheerless nor 

 unrelieved by seasons of pleasant inspiration. There 

 come bright, glorious days, when a walk in the woods 

 and fields is a positive exhilaration, when the melting 

 snow assumes Protean forms of leaf and flower, mosaic 

 and arabesque. Stripped of enshrouding foliage we 

 learn the true meaning of the shrub, the bough, the tree. 

 Sun and wind carve the ice-incrusted rocks and hills into 

 forms of rare beauty. June is a painter; December the 

 grandest and most tireless of sculptors. 



It may be that in the dearth of light and color we learn 

 to value more justly the wealth that remains. What 

 sketches in black and white the snowbanks yield after a 

 day of windy turmoil! Surely clinging vine of grape and 

 twining honeysuckle were never clothed with such 

 graceful vesture as that bestowed by the kingly frost; 

 and as we tread the lonely forest aisles the hoarse call of 

 the crow, the scream of the jay or the chirp of the chick- 

 adee remind us that our winged friends have not wholly 

 forsaken us. 



These are our troubadours, atoning for hoarseness of 

 voice and infrequency of song by that firm constancy 

 which will not permit them to desert in their age and 

 decrepitude the fields and forests which wooed them with 

 the June time's warmth and affluence. Southern airs 

 may be balmier, Southern plains more bright and flower- 

 strewn; they will not be seduced from their allegiance. 



The little snowbird is the true moral hero of the 

 feathered clan, extracting sunshine from the darkest day, 

 sweetness from the sourest fate. No stalk of grass so dry 

 and withered but he can find a hidden seed lurking for 

 his delectation; no bramble so forbidding, no weed so 

 bare, but that it furnishes him nourishment and support. 

 His niate is a veritable Ruth in the field of gleaners, 

 eking a rich harvest from the deserted stubble; and the 

 ruby seed caskets of the wild rose, the flower-like berries 

 of the bitter-sweet, furnish a dessert for the hordes of her 

 followers. Drifting like the dead leaves, from which 

 they are scarcely distinguishable before the gale, they 

 form solid encampments upon our lawns, repaying with 

 cheerful twitter the crumbs bestowed upon them. 



A noisier suppliant is the chickadee, appealing to our 

 benumbed sympathies with his ceaseless call of com- 

 plaint. Let us harden our hearts against him, turn a deaf 

 ear to ibis cajoleries and the laudations of the poets. What 

 though his feet be cold with the storm and his heart 

 a-flutter with forebodings of the fierce butcher bird, who 

 thinks no more of impaling him upon a sharp bough than 

 did the redoubtable Cyclops of spitting the unfortunate 

 comrades of Ulysses. He is an ingrate; he will graciously 

 receive our benefactions and reward our generosity when 

 the spring shall come by picking to pieces the buds of our 

 loveliest roses, our choicest fruit trees, in search of the 

 incipient worm or insect. The chickadee is your true 

 floral critic. 



In the sunny mid-day I hear a low di-iunming among 

 the locust trees. The woodpeckers are at work in the 

 track of the borer. The whir of their wings gives life to 

 the dead boughs, but like the jay they appeal to the eye 

 rather than the ear, and win by silence. 



On the bough of the great oak in the pasture near by, 

 are perched the traditional two crows, "as black as black 

 can be," and their hoarse cawing proclaims all manner of 

 approaching evil. The crow is your born pessimist, the 

 prophet of unfaith among the loyal minstrels. Himself 

 is the paragon of fidelity. Would he were less so; faith- 

 fulness in an evil nature has its disadvantages. The burr 

 and the wood tick have an adherent constancy with 

 which we w r ould gladly dispense. 



The nights lengthen, the cold strengthens. A long- 

 drawn note of onset, and the turmoil in the poultry yard 

 proclaims that the horrid owl is abroad in the land. 

 Sometimes we are wakened from slumber by the un- 

 earthly shriek of a viewless and disembodied spirit, and 

 it takes some moments of severe mental discipline to 

 assure us that it is only the cry of the harmless little 

 screech-owl which has disturbed our rest. 



As the days grow longer and the field supplies begin to 

 fail, prairie chickens draw nearer human habitations, 

 and the quail, forgetting their timidity, frequent the 

 lawns and barnyards. Their voices, Mke the fingers of 

 the ordinary musician, are out of practice; they give us 

 no tuneful assurance of "more wet" in store for the sub- 

 merged lands, nor relate in gossipy phrase the old story 

 of "Bob White V' countless derelictions. They are wholly 

 absorbed in pleasures of the palate, and emerge from 

 their winter's banqueting round, plump and lazy. 



The days slip by, and before we are aware April is tap- 

 ping on the pane with the blushing fingers of the maple 

 boughs. Some misty morning the far-off reverberant 

 "boom" of the prairie chickens announces the advent of 

 spring. Wild geese are flying northward, followed by 

 the vast army of ducks, large and small; mallard, canvas 

 or wood; black, white and mottled. Flocks of pigeons 

 cross the sky, great hawks float with suspicious indiffer- 

 ence above the poultry yard. Is that a fleeing patch of 

 sunlight among the evergreens or the breast of a robin? 

 And surely that bit of flying azure can be nothing but 

 our errant bluebird, 



Another morning and our doubts are put to rest. We 

 are wakened by a stormy burst of melody from locust, 

 oak and maple. The Trouveres are here, and the black- 

 birds open the melodic joust with an overture of trumpets 

 and cymbals. The clear flute notes of the meadowlark 

 pierce the chorus; the robin, soft-voiced and gentle, with 

 winning caressing ways, supplicates remembrance; the 

 plover calls from the steaming marshes; a saucy killdeer 

 utters his challenge of defiance; the bluebird is all alive 

 with the ecstasy of his song, and the jubilant warblers 

 long-tarrying, low-flying, add strength' and numbers to 

 the harmonic force. 



April brightens into May; the woods are white with 

 bloom; the wild plum waves its flag of truce; falling 

 apple blossoms carpet the orchards. One sunny morning 

 as I take my way across the meadow, a saucy bobolink 

 darts up from the willows, his black coat as fresh and 

 shining, his white cravat as neatly adjusted as if he were 

 but just escaped from the hands of his valet. He will 

 not honor me with a nod of recognition, albeit I am 

 assured he has not forgotten our long flirtation of a pre- 

 vious summer. His stare of indifference means, "we 

 meet as strangers;" and take the hint and walk by on the 

 further side. Vanity, however, is still his besetting 

 Aveakness; he may be distant in demeanor, but I must 

 not forswear my allegiance. As I pass on my way a 

 strain of seductive music bursts on the air, so wild, so 

 sweet, so thrilling, that the tears come unbidden to my 

 eyes, and buried in the crowding memories of far away 

 springtimes, I forgive him his coquetries. 



The garden is in its glory; we are luxuriating in the 

 thought of ripening berries, when one morning pater 

 familias complains of the depredators among the pea 

 vines. We have not far to look for the miscreant, whose 

 lair is in the gnarled apple tree. His hanging nest swings 

 to and fro in the breeze, and liis flame-red plumage shines 

 like a torch among the green leaves, while he pours forth 

 an aria rapturously exultant. Prey upon our borders 

 as you will, Sir Oriole! Take your pick of our choicest 

 esculents, our daintiest fruits; only repay us now and 

 then with song that makes us forget our toil and care, 

 that runs like a tiny golden thread through the warp and 

 woof of our dull material lives. 



The South has its mockingbird, the prince of the 

 Trouveres; yet not to be despised or overlooked is its 

 Northern cousin, the brown thrush, who has a leafy perch 

 among our maples, and drives the lesser singers to dis- 

 traction by his faultless execution. Who can tell what 

 wild jealousies, fierce contests and mad revenges are in- 

 spired by thine dulcet strains? True minstrel that he is, 

 only to the inspiration of the master passion will his muse 

 respond. 



The langorous midsummer is at hand. The quail pipes 

 softly in the stubble. Tn the quiet afternoons Ave hear 

 the wood dove's melancholy complaint from the forest's 

 deep recesses. The harvest moon builds a bridge of gold 

 across the lake. Crickets chirp a shrill reminder of time's 

 fleetness, and the whippoorwill, never forgetful, never 

 to be consoled, bemoans its loss through the solemn 

 twilight. 



Swiftly the days pass by. Golden rod and aster bloom 

 where but a few weeks since the wild rose showered its 

 petals. The oaks turn scarlet, the maples crimson and 

 gold. A strong wind smites the forest and it reels leaf- 

 less and shivering in its desolation. The skies darken; 

 there is a whir of wings, lone bugle calls from solitary 

 trees, grand battle marches from the hosts encamped 

 among the orchards and groves. The wild goose sounds 

 the retreat. Fainter and further sound the echoes. The 

 last note dies in the distance and our Trouveres have 

 departed. Oh, balmy Southland, give them a grateful 

 welcome! Sarah D. Hobart. 



Wisconsin. 



MIGRATION OF THE FOX SPARROW. 



IN the Forest and Stream of April 23, 1885, Prof. 

 Charles Linden, of Buffalo, reported "the capture of 

 the first fox sparroAV taken on the spring migration." On 

 May 7, of the same year, I reported my observation to 

 be right the reverse, never having seen but one specimen 

 during the fall migration, but always seeing them in the 

 spring. In 1886 1 began to have my doubts about making 

 my usual observations, but early on the morning of April 

 26 I saw one under ch-cumstances that relieved me of all 

 doubt. My attention was called to a bird sitting on the 

 very top of a maple tree in front of my house. Securing 

 my field glass I had a good view of him from an upper 

 window; it was a fox sparrow, and he was enjoying a 

 morning song. I had never before seen one in the act of 

 singing, nor so late in the season, my last observation in 

 1885 being April 25. After he had finished his song he 

 dropped to the lower branches of the trees on the oppo- 

 site side of the street. I went out and followed him for 

 some distance as he flew from tree to tree, always keep- 

 ing a good distance betAveen us. 



A Aveek ago last Tuesday (April 19) I started out about 

 4 o'clock P. M., and, as usual, took the light collecting 

 gun with me, little expecting to use it, as I am not shoot- 

 ing as many birds as formerly. About five minutes Avalk 

 from my house I came to some evergreens that inclose 

 two sides of an apple orchard, and when within a few 

 rods of them I saw a fox sparrow alight in an apple tree 

 standing against the evergreens. My first thought on 

 seeing it was of my promise of May f , 1885, through the 

 Forest and Stream, to send the first specimen that I 

 secured on the spring migration to Prof. Linden; and 

 Passerella iliaca seemed to divine my thoughts as he kept 

 a good gunshot distance from me; going from one apple 

 tree to another until he came to the corner, when he went 

 into the evergreens, and that was Iris fatal mistake, as his 

 bright russet coat showed to better advantage against the 

 dark green foliage, and the next moment it lay in my 

 hand. After properly packing it away I returned toward 

 where I first saw it, and on looking through the ever- 

 greens I saw another sitting in an apple tree not 25ft. 

 away, and Avhile watching it through my field glass 

 another came into the same tree, and then two others. I 

 watched them for some time and then walked a few rods 

 aAvay and went through the evergreens and approached 

 them from that side, and in the next tree there were 

 three more, making seven in the two trees, and with the 

 one I had seemed eight fox sparrows in the flock. I had 

 never before seen more than a single one at a time, and 

 can account for there being so many together only that 

 there was a cold northeast Avind, and the sun shining on 

 the west side of the evergreens protected them from it. 

 There was one much better specimen than the one I had 



secured, but I did not care to kill more of them, although 

 I could have secured tAvo at a single shot had I wished to 

 do so. The specimen secured was duly forwarded to 

 Prof . Linden that evening, and I have received a very 

 interesting letter from him in regard to Ms observation 

 of the species, and also of his receiving a specimen of the 

 evening grosbeak, secured at Brant, wdthin thirty miles 

 of Buffalo, which I trust he Avill clulv report to the 

 Forest and Stream. J. L, Davison. 



Lockport, Niagara County, "N. Y. 



MONGREL OR HYBRID GEESE. 



A CORRESPONDENT in a late number of the Forest 

 and Stream expresses a good deal of interest fcn the 

 question as to Avhether certain domesticated wild geese 

 will cross with the common tame variety. Permit me to 

 hazard the prediction that there will be no special trouble 

 on that score if the birds are properly mated. But it 

 seems hardly correct to speak of the progeny of such a 

 union as "hybrids." More correctly, Avould they not be 

 "mongrels" instead? A hybrid is a mongrel, but a mon- 

 grel is not necessarily a hybrid. Webster, it is true, does 

 not exactly bear out this distinction, but then he is in 

 the habit of blurring some of the finer shades of meaning 

 that ought to exist between similar words in the English 

 language. A mongrel might be said to be of mixed or 

 impure blood, the offspring of two different strains of the 

 same species; a hybrid would be the resulting product of 

 a cross between two birds or animals of different species. 

 The progeny of a bulldog and a shepherd would be a 

 mongrel; the progeny of a hound and a wolf would be a 

 hybrid. What do the breeders say to this distinction? 



Jay Bebee. 



Toledo, 0., April 28. 



Editor Forest and Stream : 



I have kept wild geese for the last fourteen years. Last 

 year a pair of them mated and bred three, which I have. 

 The old couple have bred again this year, having com- 

 menced incubating April 17. The gander of the pair 

 never mated, but bred with a China goose (or swan), a 

 Avild goose and a large roven duck, all in the same sea- 

 son; but, as I said, did not mate with any nor shd\y any 

 attachment, as he did last season and does now for his 

 mate. The China goose raised from this wild gander 

 seven young. I kept them two years, but they si lowed 

 no signs of breeding, and as the ganders AA^ere the most 

 vicious birds I ever had about me, I killed them for the 

 table. M. M. BENSCHOTER. 



Berlin Heights, O,, April 19. 



CATS AFIELD. 



MIDDLETOWN, Conn., April 11. — I suppose snake- 

 catching cats are common enough, but one never 

 came under my personal observation until the other day. 

 My daughter, walking in the Avoods near the house, saAv 

 one of our cats, a pet male Maltese, playing with a snake 

 some 18in. long. After killing it the cat ate a mouthful 

 or two, and then, running up the bank, put his head and 

 shoulders into a hole and tugged away quite awhile until 

 he drew out by the tail another snake, about 2ft. long, 

 which he proceeded to bite and play with. Just then a 

 mastiff puppy ran up to see Avhat was going on and 

 stopped the performance. So I cannot say whether the 

 snake would have been eaten or not. The cat must have 

 hunted these snakes either from fondness for the sport or 

 because he liked the flavor of snake, for he is well fed 

 and has a large preserve of rats much nearer. 



J. W. Alsop. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Forest and Stream has for many years done laborious 

 and intelligent work to develop and elevate the dog fam- 

 ily, with its many varieties, so essential to the welfare of 

 mankind; but never a Avord has been said for the cat. 

 From the sportsman's outlook she is classed with the 

 vermin that destroy his pet game, and the word goes 

 forth, "Shoot her on the spot whenever found afield." 

 The cat's pedigree is never mentioned. Where she goes 

 at night, on the housetop or over the fields, no one knows 

 and no one cares; but the little kittens are found around 

 the hearthstone in then season all the same. The breed 

 continues to thrive Avithout the aid of man, and unnoticed 

 rats and mice by the tens of thousands are killed by her 

 a,nnually, a quail or perhaps a canary bird occasionally, 

 I have always had a fondness for cats, and among the 

 many heroes of the hosts I send you a photograph of the 

 little Maltese cat Lucy, noAvin her sixth year, the mother 

 of seventy-seven kittens, and with good prospects for 

 another "brood" within a feAv days. Throughout all these 

 long and trying years of motherhood Lucy has lived m a 

 surrounding infested with rats and mice, but none of this 

 A-ermin has ever annoyed the house she lives in. 



Dr. E. Sterling. 



Cleveland, O., March 26. 



Food of Hawks and Owes. — Agawam, Mass. — The 

 night herons or "quaks" are coming in increased num- 

 bers this spring. There Avas formerly a large heronry 

 near here, but it was broken up by the feather butchers, 

 and the herons almost entirely disappeared, but they 

 seem to be returning. These, Avith an occasional blue 

 heron and eagle, show that the wild life is not extinct 

 yet. I was much interested in the discuss'on of the food 

 of oavIs and hawks. In the town of Hatfield, from the 

 nest of a pair of large hooting owls, in the month of 

 April, several years ago, two young owls about one-third 

 groAvn were taken. There Avas n the nest parts of two 

 muskrats and a wild duck. An old trapper resident here 

 once told me that one morning, in the month of Febru- 

 ary, track ng a skunk on snow r that had fallen the evening 

 previous, he found the body of the skunk in open ground, 

 with head split open and carcass partly eaten, and no 

 signs of a death struggle, but on looking closer he saw a 

 single track of a large oavI close beside the body of the 

 skunk, proving the bird powerful enough to kill so large 

 an animal as Sir Mephitis with a single , blow of beak or 

 claws. We are in the midst of one of the worst snow- 

 storrrs of the season, and yet last week a couple of fresh 

 laid hawk eggs were found in a nest near here. — Pine 

 Tree. 



Swallows in Maine.— Portland, Me., April 26.— Saw 

 sAvallows here April 21, which is two to three weeks 

 earlier than they generally arrive. — H. F. F. 



