432 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 9, 1887. 



On the Raquette I passed a few pleasant hours. At 

 one of my favorite Adirondack resorts, "Under the Hem- 

 locks," as at Merwin's, I was first guest of the season, 

 and Landlord Bennett, as did Merwin, exerted every 

 effort to make it pleasant for me, and succeeded. I am 

 prepared to testify that the people of the woods live very 

 comfortably, even when the season has not yet opened. 



A fine large hotel is building on the site where last 

 season stood the Blue Mountain Lake House, more com- 

 monly known as Holland's, and I believe will be ready to 

 receive guests by Aug. 1. 



I am told that the rush for the woods is increasing, and 

 that the various hotels have more rooms spoken for now 

 than were taken a month later last season. 



Speaking of the food supply of the people, they don't 

 seem to care much for the bass. This may be partly due 

 to prejudice, for one and all of the natives with whom I 

 talked seemed to agree that the bass planting was a mis- 

 take, and a serious "one, unless a suitable amount of food 

 fish is provided for them. They claim that the Commis- 

 sioner was mistaken in considering the trout supply of 

 the Raquette practically exhausted when, some fifteen 

 years ago, it was stocked with bass; that there were then 

 a great many trout left for those who knew when and 

 where to get them. And I know this. During my stay 

 a guide trolling in South Inlet caught a number of large 

 speckled trout, seven or eight, I believe, aggregating 

 131bs. I myself, trolling along the bays of Raquette Lake, 

 had several fair strikes which, through defective gear, I 

 lost; and Taylor assures me that it is very unusual for 

 him to troll near the shore in the various lakes at this 

 season without fair success, always large ones. At Ben- 

 nett's I was shown four two-pounders, which, with six 

 others that had been consumed, were caught from his 

 wharf the day before on live bait. 



Thus, one thing would seem evident, either the work of 

 the bass during fifteen years has not been as destructive 

 as is commonly claimed, or the lake was not so depleted 

 as it was supposed when the bass were put in, for I thus 

 know actually of some thirty odd pounds having been 

 taken by two' men in two days, and that's mighty good 

 trout fishing anywhere. Piseco. 



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



CONCERNING HERBERT. 



THERE can be no dispute as to much of "Veteran's" 

 article upon Herbert in the Forest and Stream of 

 May 26, but still, it seems to me, the article hi its entirety 

 scarcely does Mm justice. On the contrary, it strikes me 

 as being too severe. I think I am not one bf those given 

 to overpraise him, and certainly not one of those who 

 almost deify him — if there are such — but yet I have 

 always felt that the sportsmen of this country owe him a 

 large debt of gratitude. 



It is difncult at this time and with our present surround- 

 ings to understand fully the conditions under which Her- 

 bert undertook to perform his self -assigned mission, which 

 was none the less a mission because it subsequently be- 

 came a means of sustenance. There were not then in 

 existence in this country any of the papers or periodicals 

 which now in every quarter enrich the domain of sport. 

 There were not then the hundreds of thousand readers 

 of them, nor the hundreds of writers and critics con- 

 stantly contributing to them. Porter's Spirit of the Times 

 was the first, and for a long time was the only exponent 

 of sportuien's views; and that was governed and colored 

 by general sentiment of the day, of which, regarding such 

 views, it may be safely and mildly said that the senti- 

 ment was not always moral or healthful. 



It is somewhat difficult, too, to appreciate now with 

 accuracy and candor all the personal relations and cir- 

 cumstances which blighted Herbert's career, and which 

 finally destroyed his lif e. That these unhappy relations 

 and circumstances were brought upon him by himself is 

 not to be denied, and as "Veteran" proj>erly" says, "The 

 example of his private fife is one not profitably to be fol- 

 lowed." But yet, they are to be considered when making 

 an estimate of him as an author and a teacher. We are 

 to read his works as we read the works of the early poets 

 and novelists, and take "the form and bod}' of the times" 

 as part of themselves. 



Herbert was a writer of strict purity. It is not only 

 that his diction was pure and his style charming in its 

 ease and grace, but that there is not a line of immorality 

 or an unworthy precept emanating from him. If it shall 

 be said that he brought potations into prominence, it must 

 be remembered that that feature was an inevitable ad- 

 junct of the social system then prevailing among all 

 classes, and that indulgence in it was his misfortune and 

 his ruin. 



He opposed all shams, all dishonesty, and all double 

 dealing. He upheld honorable sportsmanship and incul- 

 cated manliness. If, perchance, he showed an English- 

 man's deference to rank and position, he did not carry it 

 to servility; and if , sometimes, he expressed contempt for 

 things American, it must be admitted that there were 

 many things American which purposely were presented 

 to him in an unattractive aspect. The truth was, he was 

 here a stranger in a strange country, and in some sense, 

 an outcast in it. It is not surprising, therefore, that ideas 

 acquired at home should cling to him here, even to the 

 extent of becoming bitter prejudices; nor that a superior 

 education and a dominant nature should have made him 

 appear imperious and offensive. But without that he was 

 kind, generous and companionable. 



That he did not foresee that the breechloader would sup- 

 plant the muzzleloader is charged against him. But he 

 is not alone in that want of forecast. English authors 

 ridiculed the gun as much as he did, the elder Greener 

 and "Marksman" being among them. It is also charged 

 against him that he occasionally fell into error regarding 

 both fish and game, but who does not fall into error oc- 

 casionally when dealing with any specialty ? 



All such defects may fairly be set down as minor 

 defects when casting up the grand total of his merits. 



I have heretofore endeavored to make up an impartial 

 judgment of him, in his public capacity, and I conf &ss to 

 an admiration for him in that light. It is an admiration 

 which is elicited by the fact that he stood as the pioneer 

 for the elevation and dignity of sportsmanship, for the 

 enforcement of law, and for the protection of fish and of 

 game; that he proclaimed his opinions honestly, sturdily 

 and in classical English; and that, thanklessly then, but 

 fearlessly and persistently, he sowed the seed which now 

 is bearing such good fruit throughout the land. Gloan. 



ClNCTNNATI, O. 



DUSKY GROUSE GOSSIP. 



THE Forest and Stream columns, I notice, often con- 

 tain letters from Pacific slope contributors, describ- 

 ing that peculiar and weird sound made in the spring of 

 the year by the cock dusky grouse {Tetrao obscuro), and 

 commonly known as "hooting." 



Nothing, however, that I have seen, has been written 

 concerning the hoot of the hen bird. Perhaps it has been 

 forgotten by those who have written, or, perhaps, not 

 identified by them as a sound made by a grouse; for it is 

 a strange, mysterious cry, and one hard to locate in the 

 woods. Moreover, I have found that it is not often made 

 save by birds that frequent more sequestered parts — 

 places where they are likely to be undisturbed during the 

 breeding season. 



Often when in the woods had I heard this sound and 

 been unable to account for it. One day, however, when 

 out on a mountain side specimen shooting, fern hunting, 

 etc., I heard, when well on toward the evening, the same 

 cry proceeding apparently from a thick forest of Douglas 

 firs at the foot of the slope which I was on ; and the place 

 seeming suit-able, I made up my mind to trace the puzzle 

 to its source. 



What a beautiful evening that was! Through the 

 scented woodland, on the drowsy, languid air, the dreamy 

 hooting of the grouse floated to my ears. The wild bees, 

 butterflies and a thousand other insects were droning and 

 fluttering among the grass and sweet wild flowers at my 

 feet. How lovely was that mountain side! Ah, me! when 

 one looks back and catches glimpses in memory of bits 

 of forest and grassy hillsides, does it not seem like a 

 glance at paradise ? 



Quietly I walked toward the spot whence seemed to 

 issue the mysterious sound. Hark! There it is again, one 

 short note," loud, yet mellow, and yet withal seemingly 

 subdued "coo," repeated at intervals of two minutes. 

 After going a short distance I heard a rustling in the 

 leaves just in front of me and paused to ascertain the 

 cause. The next moment from behind some short brush 

 a large cock grouse stepped out in full view and strutted 

 about with swelling neck and tail proudly spread, his 

 wings slightly expanded and his red eye ceres glowing 

 like vermilion. Unconscious of my presence, he went 

 through his maneuvers, but whether these, were hostile 

 or amatory I could not then tell. I kept my eyes fixed 

 on him, watching every movement and holding my 

 breath for fear of alarming him. Soon I became aware 

 of the fact that the cooing noise was drawing nearer, and 

 nearer it got by degrees until it seemed to come from a 

 small clump of bushes just beyond his lordship's circus 

 ring, while that gallant seemed every moment to be 

 nearer the bursting point. Presently the grass began to 

 quiver, the cry, meanwhile having ' stopped, and then 

 across the track of the cock, lythe and crouching, with 

 coy upturned eye, softly stole the hen bird. 



Here, then, was the solution of the mystery. I own I 

 was astonished, for I had always, from the tone and char- 

 acter of the sound, imagined it to be made by some 

 species of owl, certainly not by a. grouse. Now, however, 

 I recalled to mind several instances of my having heard 

 the sound and the cackle of the hen grouse in the same 

 part of the woods. I watched the pair for a while, and 

 then crept gently away as I came. It woidd be a pity to 

 disturb such a pair of God's most lovely creatures. 



What a shame that so many call it sport and pleasure 

 to shoot the cock in the spring when he is engaged in 

 hooting to his innocent mate. Look at him now and see 

 if he is not beautiful. Mark the poise of his noble head, 

 the harmony of the slate and ashy tints in his plumage, 

 with here and there a touch of Vandyke brown. What 

 a pretty gorget of grey white feathers' on his throat! See 

 what an eye he has! Soft as a dove's, bright as a hawk's 

 and overarched by its glowing cere. Note the breadth of 

 his bonnie breast, the strength of his shapely feet, with 

 the soft gray plumes coming to the toes. Alack, poor 

 fellow! The pot-hunter will soon have thee when thou 

 dost hoot, and mayhap he will boil thee with a small 

 piece of fat bacon and a few brown beans, and will call 

 thee "pot pie," and smack his poaching lips over thee. 

 Poor hooter! 



There is no doubt in my mind that the wholesale 

 slaughter of the male birds in the spring seriously lessens 

 the number of fertile eggs produced by the hens. I have 

 myself seen in parts where many males had been shot in 

 the hooting, a band of fifteen or twenty hen birds in July 

 with eight or ten chicks for the whole lot. Other people 

 who have had better opportunities than I for observing 

 these birds during the breeding season have told me the 

 same story, and this they have seen on ground where, 

 when the cocks had been unmolested, from eight to ten 

 chicks was a common number for each hen. I am not 

 prepared to state whether the dusky grouse is monogam- 

 ous or not, but from what I have said, and which I know 

 to be correct, I should imagine they were. I am glad to 

 say that the provincial game law has this year been 

 amended, and hope with many others that soon the "way 

 of the poacher will be hard." 



May I now be permitted to relate a little incident wdiich 

 happened when I was out grouse shooting some years 

 ago? It was on a pleasant day in September that I took 

 a ramble over a woody mountainside in search of dusky 

 grouse. A young ha^f-breed accompanied me, and off we 

 went to where the trailing arbutus was thick With berries, 

 and other small autumn fruits, at the like of which the 

 grouse's heart rejoices, were abundant. Having no dog, 

 we were unable to get many birds, although they were 

 plentiful enough. So, after enjoving the view and a 

 good rest at the top of the mountain, we began to work 

 toward home, keeping along the face of the hill and near 

 the feet of some crags, where we expected we would 

 flush some birds. We were walking over a piece of 

 sloping ground covered with broken rock, with here and 

 there a clump of withered fern, when my companion, 

 who was a little in advance of me, stopped short, quickly 

 raised his gun and fired. 0, heavens ! What was that? 

 A scream like that of a human being in mortal agony 

 piercing om- horror-stricken ears, while the unfortunate 

 shooter, with ashen face and trembling hands, sprang 

 clear around in Irs tracks and confronted me with quiver- 

 ing lips and starting eyes. Not a sound could he get 



out of his parched mouth. I was horribly startled, but 

 kept my eyes fixed in the direction he had fired in. In 

 another instant out of the shaking fern tumbled a half- 

 grown pig and rolled down the steep slope in his death 

 agony, while his comrades, wakened into new fife by the 

 shout of laughter I gave, broke cover at a dozen different 

 points and scattered grunting over the mountain side. 

 Friend, hast seen the dawn break and flush a cold, gray 

 sky with rosy tint? So it was with that poor hunter's 

 face when at last, between my fits of laughing, I got him 

 to understand what it was he "had shot, for look he would 

 not. He then explained that he had shot at what he 

 thought was a blue grouse in a bunch of fern. What he 

 had seen was the curly end of poor piggy well crusted 

 with a fine coat of blue mud from his bath. We made 

 uncommonly good time for home after that, thinking that 

 the owner of the pigs might be handy with a double- 

 barreled shotgun loaded for wolves; and there is no 

 accounting for the keen desire some people have for test- 

 ing a shotgun. 



The circumstance taught me a lesson which I have 

 never forgotten, and it is one which all young sportsmen 

 would do well to learn by heart before venturing out with 

 a gun: "Never shoot at anything in the woods until you 

 are certain what it is." W. B. A. 



Fort Simpson, British Columbia. 



Breeding of the Wild Goose.— Pittsburgh, Pa,, June 

 3. — I see by your correspondent M. M. Benschoter, of 

 Berlin Heights, 0., that a pair of wild geese hatched but 

 three young ones, and that the opinion prevails that the 

 brood never exceeds five. On a recent Western hunting 

 trip it was my good fortune to find a pair of domesticated 

 geese (Bernicla canadensis) which had hatched out seven 

 healthy young ones. In the Allegheny City park there 

 were hatched, about three weeks since, a brood of six of 

 the same variety. One, however, has since died. Which 

 proves the limit cannot safely be placed at five.— C. A. R. 

 The eggs range in number from five to nine. They are 

 usually five or six. "D. D. M." whites from Rockaway, 

 N. Y., of a pah- of wild geese in confinement: "Seven eggs 

 were laid, beginning April 30, 1886, and seven young 

 were hatched. This year the first egg was laid March 30, 

 and in due time seven young were brought off the nest. 

 Though in each case there was a good supply of grass 

 with a pond, they died within a week." 



mne 



htcf and 



Address all cornmunicatiuns to Hie Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



THE BIG BEAR OF TOBY GUZZLE. 



FOR a dozen or more years a monstrous bear had his 

 stamping ground in the vicinity of McAdain, York 

 county, New Brunswick. In the berry season his favorite 

 haunt was on a cold spring brook, known as Toby Guzzle, 

 which empties into the Digityquash, near the track of 

 the New Brunswick Railway. His selected feeding 

 ground was a large blueberry patch in the burnt land on 

 the opposite side of the brook and road, where in passing 

 to and fro he was often met with by section hands and 

 track walkers with whom he always successfully dis- 

 puted the right of way. Every spring on emerging from 

 his winter quarters he visited the farms of the settlers 

 and levied on sheep and other stock. So great were his 

 depredations that the flocks and herds had to be folded; 

 even that was no security as he would sometimes tear off 

 the boarding of barns to get at his fresh meat. There 

 were hunters in those days, for bears were plenty, but 

 this old bear knew all about "ways that are dark and 

 tricks that are vain." Once only had he got into a steel 

 trap, but this he had soon reduced to scrap iron. It seemed 

 his delight to follow the hunters' trails and tear down 

 deadfalls and cuff j, out from their places steel traps; thus 

 he prevented the capture of other bears. He was indeed 

 "a holy terror." My grounds were on the same line ad- 

 joining and north of it, where he seldom came, except 

 on the approach of winter when he was seeking his den. 

 Once in the spring of the year he was hunted out of his 

 bailiwick by the disgusted' local hunters, when he crossed 

 the track about 300yds. from my camp, and I had a. view 

 of him for a moment, and he loomed up as large as an ox. 

 Once I saw Iris track in black growth where snow was 

 thin and damp and took the measure with a pocket rule 

 Step, from heel to heel, 26in. ; width of pad, 7in. 



Three years ago I was on the way to my camp, and 

 came across a lumber scaler, who said that during the 

 past winter while on his way across country from one 

 camp to another, he one day routed out a monstrous bear 

 from his den; that the bear stood upright and fanned the 

 air with his arms and rattled his ivories in so terrifying a ' 

 manner that, as the lumber scaler was armed only with 

 an axe and .22-caliber pistol, he wisely concluded he 

 hadn't lost any bears. At a safe distance in cover, he saw 

 bruin return to his den. He described the location, which 

 was near a long beech ridge, a noted feeding ground for 

 bears when nuts were plenty and at which place I had 

 taken many in the past. I felt sure it was the big bear 

 before mentioned; that he had lived on the ridge in the 

 fall and would be there during the spring. I felt pleased 

 to have a chance at him; even if I failed, the "other fel- 

 lers" couldn't crow. I had to wait many days for the 

 waters in the swamps to subside before I could get to the 

 ridge. Finally one pleasant morning at break of day I 

 started with 'rifle, axe and trap, the latter a brand new 

 one. At about 8 o'clock I had gained the ridge where the 

 beech growth was heavy, and the works and sign of bears 

 were as plentiful as one could desire to see. 



After a good rest and admiration of the prospect, I 

 started with the intention of going the length of the ridge, 

 but had gone less than a quarter of a mile when I halted 

 as a big bear up-ended on my left a few rods ahead, giv- 

 ing a snort as he did so. With the first move I made to 

 unload, he came down on all fours and started down the 

 hill on a gallop. There was an open space ahead that he 

 would have to cross, and dropping on one knee I got good 

 and ready, and pulled on him as he came in sight where 

 I wanted; but the shot struck just over his shoulders and 

 plowed the ground on a rising knoll beyond. To say that 

 I was disappointed, mad at myself clear through, and 

 wanted to kick myself, doesn't begin to express my sen- 

 sations. Why, if I had talked to another half as mean as 

 I did to myself, I would have deserved a good thrashing. 



