392 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 26, 1887. 



heard of another specimen being seen north of the forty- 

 fifth parallel. 



There is no doubt that with the gradual extermination 

 or rather thinning out of the destructive wild animals in 

 the Territories, farmers and cattlemen of the West will 

 have just as big a job on then hands to get rid of the 

 prairie dog pest. The former were a nuisance in their 

 way, and the latter bids fair to be just as bad. If any 

 one will stop a moment to think and consider facts, they 

 will soon find that the prairie dog is multiplying at an 

 alarming rate instead of retreating before the advance of 

 civilization, and that the little pest is emigrating there 

 can be no possible question; but the curious part of the 

 matter is that he is migrating east instead of west. They 

 meet civilization half way, and unless checked are cer- 

 tainly going to get the best of it. Man has destroyed 

 wolves, badgers, panthers, rattlesnakes and other reptiles 

 and animals which have preyed upon prairie dogs, and 

 7iow the prospect in store is that the vast free ranges of 

 the West, instead of being a cattleman's paradise, will 

 before long become a veritable verdureless desert. Draw 

 a Hue from the Red River of the north, south to the Gulf 

 of Mexico, and you mark the present boundary of prairie 

 dog emigration. Scarcely a dozen square miles of the 

 immense territory west of this boundary is without mem- 

 bers of the prairie canine or wish-ton-wish family. A few 

 years ago the line was somewhere back in western Ne- 

 braska, Kansas and Indian Territory. When it is possible 

 to get grain it is foolish to suppose that the little pests 

 will feast on dry roots and grass. Western people are 

 "alive to the danger, and scarcely any Western paper 

 is without an ad. to the effect that prairie dog poison is 

 sold by so-and-so in mu united quantities. It won't be 

 long either before the Territorial papers will be offering a 

 bonus and free strychnine to all who will use it freely and 

 to some purpose. Cattlemen are aroused and they have 

 good reason to be. On the ranges they are particularly 

 dreaded, because they not only destroy the grass, leaving 

 the prairie as bare as a billiard ball, but their holes are a 

 constant source of danger to the reeklcss coy boys who are 

 always galloping over the plains rounding up and. cutting 

 out beef cattle. Many a lariat swinger has been violently 

 hurled to the ground and seriously if not fatally injured 

 by his pony un wittingly plunging into some gaping prairie 

 dog hole. It takes all the romance out of cowpunching 

 after you get a fall or two and perhaps a sprain calculated 

 to lay you up the balance of the season. 



It is very funny to watch a tenderfoot fresh from the 

 States, who has the reputation of being the crack shot of 

 his locality, attempt to shoot a prairie dog sitting bolt 

 upright on the summit of his mound. Experience teaches 

 that it is better to aim 6 or Tin. lower than usual, although 

 the reason for the deception is hard to explain. A man 

 from the States, too, if fortunate enough to "plug a mug" 

 as the saying goes, cannot understand why, nine times 

 out of ten, the tarnal little miscreant escapes. It is suf- 

 ficiently clear to those who know , because they are aware 

 that the dying struggles are used in making their escape, 

 and which, although shot to the death, is generally ac- 

 complished by wriggling and squirming back into the 

 barren holes they call home. Prairie dogs are easily 

 caught, that is, if you known how to go about it. Simply 

 pour enough water into the aperture until the half- 

 drowned creatures poke then heads out, then with a gunny 

 sack or something else of the kind held ready, it is not a 

 hard matter to make prisoners of a few. After beiag 

 caught and kept awhile they become somewhat accus- 

 tomed to civilizing influences, and you will find it not 

 such a difficult matter after all to tame thein like as you 

 would a squirrel, rabbit, or some other animal ferce 

 naturce. J. M. Trimble, 



Fort Keooh. M. T. 



VICISSITUDES OF COLLECTING. 



IN an 1886 number of the Ornittiologist and Oologist 

 a very amusing article was written by one "J. M. W," 

 entitled "Pleasant." Nearly every collector has during 

 his tramps more or less of these pleasant experiences". 

 (He is a carpet naturalist if he don't.) Pleasant, perhaps, 

 to look back upon, but not quite so delightful when 

 viewed from the present tense. It is remarkably reviv- 

 ing after you have spent three-quarters of an hour shin- 

 ning a smooth stub, barkless, and with none too many 

 limbs, your poor body nearly blown inside out by your 

 exertions, to gaze upon, instead of the handsome set you 

 had hoped — expected to view, a solitary, dung-bespattered 

 egg- 



Take it in early June. Suppose you are out for a tramp 

 and mark the fresh hollow of a downy woodpecker for 

 future reference, a nest of the chewink with unfinished 

 complement, and a tanager's poor excuse of a home contain- 

 ing a pair of beautiful eggs. Passing that way a few days 

 later, you stop in to investigate the sapsucker's domicile, 

 when lo! the hole has increased in size since your last 

 acquaintance, and you mutter, "Boys!" and mad you are 

 as you scale the wall , and down your heel comes on to as 

 handsome a set of oven birds as you ever saw — that is, 

 provided you are good enough judge to tell what the 

 mess resembles. Disgusted, you pick yourself up, and 

 after getting together, make a circuit, and after tacking 

 right and left to get rid of that vile creeper, the "stop-a- 

 bit" or "tear-all," as it is sometimes called, reach the 

 little grove of scrub oaks, where you thought the tana- 

 ger's nest was. But where is it? That is a query which 

 the owner can answer better than yourself. And so I 

 found myself gazing ruefully at the transparent platform 

 of fagots, which was all that was left of what was once 

 a nest._ A valuable experience had been taught me, 

 which A would, however, have gladly exchanged for the 

 unhatched chickens I had been counting on. Moral: 

 Never trust a tanager. "All is not gold that glitters." 



The chewink's nest was the only one left me now, my 

 only hope, I thought, as I crossed the sluggish creek 

 which wound through William's back lots, and after de- 

 scending a series of cascades transforms into a delightful 

 little rivulet and at last empties into the river. On my 

 chewinks I was not destined to be so badly disappointed 

 as in the former cases. Here I had the punctured shells 

 to show me that the loss of the eggs was not the cause of 

 my own verdancy. This work was done by that miserable 

 fellow, the bluejay, thinks I, but just you wait old boy, 

 I'll pay you with interest when the chance offers. Later 

 in the season a Wilson's thrush's home, for which I had 

 made room in my cabinet, was also waited on by one of 

 the rascals, but we gave him tit for tat by taking Ins own 

 nest hard by. 



Is there anything more aggravating than after spurring 

 your way up a seventy-foot chestnut to find a trio of sav- 

 age little buteos in place of the pretty set you had pic- 

 tured ? I think there is, for when the old lady swoops 

 down and gives you as hard a crack on the head as she 

 did to one of my companions, the fun in collecting eggs 

 of Uneatus looks decidedly obscure. On Rocky Hill, a 

 sort of magnet in our collecting trips, we were once be- 

 sieged by a pair of brown thrushes that kept up such a 

 Bedlam of alternate chattering, scolding and crying that 

 an inquisitive member of the party was tempted to see 

 what such a fuss could be about. 'The thrashers led him 

 to the densest tangle I ever had the luck to gaze upon. 

 He tried to thread his way in the intricate mazes, but the 

 further lie got the more tangled up he became, and giving 

 up all thought of the thrashers and all else except free air, 

 he tried to back out. The wait-a-bit clung with surpris- 

 ing tenacity, and with his snuff -colored hunting jacket 

 he resembled a fly in a cobweb as strongly as anything 

 the imagination can picture. 



In my spring collecting rambles I was led, with my two 

 companions, to the borders of quite a body of water, 

 where those dainty little warblers, the blue yellowbacks, 

 were said to breed. Starting on our first morning at 

 sunrise, we slowly sailed up the river, with the help of a 

 slight southwest breeze, to where, I confess for one, we 

 expected to "strike it rich." There seemed to be no 

 scarcity of bird life. Red-winged and crow blackbirds 

 were nesting by the water's edge, the latter invariably in 

 some bush or tree. Now and then a heron of the poke- 

 shite variety sailed over, lazily flapping its wings. Three 

 sheldrake bound due northeast passed over within rifle- 

 shot, and blue yellowbacks in the wet and swampy 

 thickets lisping their zeepy-zeepy-zeepy-zeep. Not long 

 had we been on the river when a nest was spied in the 

 crotch of a maple bough overhanging the water. The 

 ascent was quickly made, but after the limb had been 

 partially severed it was found impracticable to reach the 

 mossy home without the use of a forked stick. Measures 

 were being made to procure one when the fearless female 

 put in an appearance, and, oblivious of the fact that the 

 branch was well nigh separated, entered her abode. Her 

 tiny weight was sufficient to precipitate the contents to 

 the water below. Then, elated as she seemed, her happy 

 little song came grating from her throat, and we had no 

 doubt but that she had an inward satisfaction at seeing us 

 thus baffled. We could have encored, but felt a little top 

 blue. We were partially appeased, however, by another 

 nest low down in a huckleberry on the opposite side of 

 the stream, containing the full complement. 



The next discovery was a gigantic oak, draped with 

 usnea, some rods away on a meadow. The marsh looked 

 treacherous, but seeing cows feeding at no great distance 

 I resolved to try it, and after some circuitous maneuver- 

 ing succeeded in reaching the desired tree. A nest with 

 contents secured, I started back. In returning I was not 

 so lucky as on the previous detour. I tried to take the 

 same course, but luck was apparently against me. Sev- 

 eral times I was immersed to the hips in pure muck. My 

 chief function was to keep the nest and its contents from 

 danger. I had no box and the way they went up above 

 my head when I sank would have made an ordinary 

 martyr enviable. The boat at last reached, I was pretty 

 well blown and wanted to get off my leaky rubber boots 

 which were pumping water after the manner of an "im- 

 proved centrifugal." My specimens were forgotten, and one 

 of my companions admiring the architecture of the bird's 

 nest, was greatly interested in the way the skillful little 

 creatures had woven the bottom of the fabric. So the 

 eggs took a trip to the thwarts, and the fresh yolks only 

 made things more aggravating. We felt like getting out 

 of the unhealthy region, so took advantage of a breeze 

 which had sprung up and sailed out over the breakwater 

 into the lake. Our troubles were not yet ended, however, 

 for when we were reaching the wharf my companion was 

 seated on the gunwale and the captain (my other com- 

 panion), who was somewhat of a novice, made a slight 

 blunder, and you all know what is liable to happen when 

 she gibes, nautically speaking. Suffice to say my friend 

 considered that he never hid a better chance to sound 

 the lake, which he did in a manner that gave him a good 

 deal of credit. 



An incident now occurs to me in which a green sports- 

 man figured pretty strongly. I was out for "most any- 

 thing" and would have given "most anything" to have 

 bagged above all things some duck flesh. Singular to say 

 my wishes seemed about to be gratified. I slowly rowed 

 my fishing boat across the lake, and as I was rounding a 

 little promontory I saw a fine male old squaw reposing in 

 the sand not J 5yds. away. I quickly concealed myself 

 behind a huge pudding stone and tucked in two No. 4s 

 and arose. There he lay as large as life and I was sure 

 of him. But somehow he looked so comfortable that I 

 took compassion on him. So I took a long aim and he 

 never budged. He's dumpy, think's I, so I'll stand out in 

 broad sight and give him gome chance. So I drew another 

 bead on him and there he lay as motionless as any decoy 

 you ever saw. After seeing what kind of wood he was 

 made of I left the clever image for the shot of some 

 hunter who should show himself as unsophisticated as I 

 had proved to be. A. H. C. 



Taunton, Mass. 1 



Grouse and the Snow Crust.— There can be no doubt 

 that "Pine Tree" (Agawani, Mass.), in Forest and Stream 

 of May 5, is correct when he states that he does not think 

 that ruffed grouse ever get crusted in. In confirmation 

 of this, I give the following information received from a 

 friend and hunter whose accuracy I will vouch for: 

 "When camping on the Nash walk (a branch of the St. 

 John) a number of years ago, I snared a spring partridge 

 by a noose, which I threw over his head by means of a 

 long pole. It was a very pretty cock, and I determined 

 to carry him home with me, as I was about leaving in a 

 few days. The crust at this time was so very hard that I 

 could walk on it without snowshoes anywhere. I cut a 

 square hole in this crust near my camp and trod down 

 the snow in it, so as to make a roomy spot for my bird, 

 w Inch I put in it, covering him with the square piece , winch 

 I made fit in as a cover. On top of this I placed a heap 

 of snow, and felt sure that my captive was safe. To my 

 astonishment on returning at the expiration of two hours 

 and a half I found that he had left. He had worked his 

 way for about 3ft. from the hole, following where the 

 snow was softest, and made a hole in the crust, through 



I which he regained his liberty. The work had probably 

 been done by his active bill." — Edward Jack (Frederic- 

 ton, N. B.). 



CARIBOU NOTES. 



FREDERICTON, N. B.— As regards the female caribou 

 having horns, it is a matter of frequent occurrence, 

 but not an universal rule by any means. Gabe, the 

 Abenaqui hunter, who resides opposite this city, tells me: 

 "When I first remember, caribou were very plenty in 

 New Brunswick. When about fifteen years of age I first 

 went out with the hunters, we then seldom saw on the 

 plains less than fifty caribou a day. The best place for 

 them was on the head of Cain's River, one of the branches 

 of the Mirainichi. They are yet tolerably plentv there. 

 Formerly they remained on the barrens; now they seek 

 the green woods more. This is owing to the great num- 

 ber at forest fires of late, which have burnt away much 

 of the white moss on which they feed. They are also 

 very fond of the black moss, which grows on the branches 

 of the tamaracks and scrubby spruce trees which surround 

 the barrens. For the white moss they will dig three feet 

 beneath the snow. I never knew them to eat either the 

 leaves or bark of trees, nor will they eat grass. They 

 are not at all particular as to the quality of the water 

 which they drink, they are not quick-sighted, nor do they 

 seem to trust to their eyes. Sounds do not seem to dis- 

 turb them. With the wind blowing toward them they 

 will smell a man at 400yds. distance. 



"They are great travelers. I have seen them asleep on 

 the big barrens in very cold weather, when the northwest 

 wind was blowing and the snow drifting, with only their 

 heads above the snow, no other parts of their body being 

 visible. Both bull and cow have horns,'those of the bull 

 being much larger and longer and having more branches 

 than those of the cow. They shed their horns every year, 

 the bull about November, the cow not until April. Two- 

 year old bulls carry their horns until about March 1. The 

 bull is in full flesh about August 1, when his horns are 

 completely grown. In October his flesh is strong and 

 unfit to eat. They calve on the edge of barrens m the 

 month of May. I never saw more than one calf with a 

 cow. I once killed a cow whose calf refused to leave its 

 mother's body, but stood close to it until I killed it." 



Edward Jack. 



Old Pomp.— Philadelphia, May 18.— Old Pomp, the 

 blind and toothless lion, died to-day in his cage at the 

 Zoological Gardens. Pomp's wife, Sally, died a year ago 

 and he never fully recovered from the shock. For the 

 past two weeks Pomp refused to touch food, and this 

 afternoon when Keeper Shannon went to his cage and 

 pushed in some tempting morsels of beef the old lion 

 rolled his sightless eyes mournfully toward his attendant, 

 gave one last roar that shook the building, and died. 

 Pomp was about .29 years of age. Lions in captivity 

 seldom live to be over 25. He and Sally were purchased 

 by the Zoological Society on Dec. 24, 1874, from Dr. Geo. 

 R. Spaulding. He was considered one of the largest and 

 finest specimens of the African lion in this coxmtry. 

 George and Minnie, the two lion cubs in the adjoining 

 cage, witnessed Pomp's death, and they refused to be 

 comforted. They were much attached to him, and after 

 his death none of them would touch food. Pomp was of 

 an affectionate and gentle disposition, and was never 

 known to attempt violence upon his attendants. His 

 skeleton will be set upon frames and placed in the 

 museum attacked to the garden. 



"Copper Belly" Snake.— Aberdeen, Miss., May 15.— 

 On reading the account of strange snake mentioned by 

 "Coahoma" in your issue of May 12, I was reminded of a 

 similar specimen that I saw a few days ago. This snake 

 was between 3 and 4ft. long and shaped as the specimen 

 detailed by "Coahoma." It was jet black on back and 

 sides and underneath the tinge was quite red. I was in 

 a vehicle some little distance from the snake and did not 

 observe any white markings, although they may have 

 been present. My companion and the negro driver pro- 

 nounced it a "copper belly" and said it was venomous. I 

 am inclined to doubt this latter statement, as its head 

 was shaped very much like the ordinary blacksnake, and 

 it did not coil when struck. — Will. [It is impossible to 

 identify the species from the description given. Possibly 

 it may have been Farancia ahacura, the red-bellied 

 horn snake, or Abastor erythrogrammus, the red-lined 

 snake. Neither of these are venomous.] 



Eagles Breeding in Captivity.— Editor Forest and 

 Stream: My eagles have again bred in their cages. March 

 24 the female laid an egg, and on the 25th there were two 

 eggs in the nest. May 1 one bird hatched, and on the 2d 

 two young eagles were seen in the nest, the period of in- 

 cubation being just thirty-seven days, a variation "of two 

 days from last year's hatching. The female stays close 

 by the nest all the time while the male bird stands guard. 

 When I give him a fish he carries it directly to the nest, 

 gives it to his mate and comes back for another, which 

 he eats himself. Last year's bird is a great pet and a fine 

 specimen of the true American eagle. — Henry Hulce 

 (Toledo, O., May 15). 



Breeding Wild Geese.— Berlin Heights, O., May 17. 

 — The wild goose came off the nest this morning with 

 three young. I wrote you that she commenced incubating 

 the 17th of April. Could any of the readers of Forest 

 and Stream give the number of young usually produced 

 each season in a wild state? A gentleman from Minnesota 

 claims that the brood never exceeds five. Three seems to 

 be the number of this pair. — M. M. BENSCHOTER. 



WISCONSIN SONG BIRD LAW. 



CHAPTER 413. An act to prevent the killing of birds for mil- 

 linery purposes. The people of the State of Wisconsin, rep- 

 resented in Senate and Assembly, do enact as follows: Section 1. 

 That any person who shall shoot, kill or catch by means or use of 

 any net, snare, trap, gin or spring gun, any robin, sparrow, 

 thrush, bluebird, swallow, catbird, kingbird, woodpecker, flicker, 

 pigeon, dove, blackbird, wren, finch, lark,pewee, oriole, humming 

 bird, bunting, grackle, grosbeak, warbler, flycatcher, swift, wax- 

 wing, creeper, chickadee, goatsucker, tanager or wbippoorwill, for 

 millinery purposes, shall be deemed to be guilty of a misdemeanor, 

 and upon conviction thereof in any court of competent jurisdic- 

 tion within this State, shall be punished by the payment of a fine 

 not exceeding the sum of one hundred dollars nor less than Ave 

 dollars for each offense, to be collected as provided for by the law 

 of this State for the collection of fines. One-half of such fine when 

 collected shall be paid to the county treasurer, and by him paid 

 into the school fund; the remaining half shall be paid to the in- 

 former. 



Sec. 2. This act shall take effect and be in force from and after 

 its passage and publication. 

 Approved April 11, 1887. 



