164 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 20, 1888. 



THE SPORTSMAN-NATURALIST. 



AUTUMN is here. Not with brush and palette to touch 

 forest and field ; nor yet in the snow flurries and 

 bitter, whistling winds with which lie announces himself 

 in the mountains of the far West. There is naught here 

 but the mellow year. The sky assumes a neutral gray: 

 stubble fields change from bright yellow to dull brown, 

 corn sections from vivid green to lifeless saffron, and the 

 giant sunflower by the wayside or the blazing star of the 

 prairie alone dare disregard the soothing spell, and flaunt 

 themselves with the bravado of life in death. 



Out of the osiers and bracken, off from the carex- 

 covered islands of the tawny Platte, away from the now 

 bare bottom lands come the prairie chickens to seek a 

 home and food amid the oat, wheat and corn lands of the 

 upper country. Back from the icy regions of the north, 

 from the great bend of the Missouri, from the frosty fens 

 of the Dominion comes the anserine chorus, and already 

 woodduck, butter ball and green- winged teal are taking 

 possession of the river country now vacated by the grouse. 

 Gray snipe, too, are to be found in the lowlands, and the 

 plover's name adorns the menu of every well-regulated 

 hotel. Chickens are unusually abundant this year. I 

 wonder how they survive I For the past month they have 

 been served daily on the hotel table, and daily large 

 parties have left town in every way properly equipped 

 for a war of extermination. Just as regularly do they 

 return with well-laden hampers, proudly exhibiting their 

 murdered victims to an approving community. 



No one regards the game laws, which apparently are 

 made but to be broken. Pot-hunters! We look in vain 

 for the sportsman-naturalist of the East, for the cour- 

 teous, though roughly clad hunter of the mountains. 

 Here every man is a little Ishmael, and the proverbial 

 jolly fellowship is unknown. These things ought not so 

 to be. On these plains the ardent sportsman should also 

 be a refined gentleman and a studious naturalist. Flora 

 and fauna are constantly changing. Genera, species, 

 types indigenous, pass away with the buffalo grass to be 

 succeeded by the accompaniments of advancing civiliza- 

 tion. 



To-day we travel fifty miles to the north to find a 

 deer, two hundred miles to the west to find an antelope. 

 Who is to keep pace with these changes? Who is the 

 natural protector of the game that is left; who the most 

 reliable authority upon the vast herds that are traveling 

 toward the happy bunting grounds? Not the professor of 

 zoology in Ins study, nor yet the butcher who brings 

 prairie chickens to market in July, but the man who finds 

 a greater pleasure in the study of animal life than in its 

 destruction; the man who stops when he has satisfied his 

 first sportsmanlike ecstacy, whose word is to be relied 

 upon under all circumstances, who looks for a cause for 

 each effect, the man we need west of the Missouri River — 

 the sportsman naturalist. Shoshone. 



Kearney, Neb., Sept. 8. 



SNAKES SWALLOWING YOUNG. 



Editor Forest and Stream.: 



In the name of the Prophet, snakes! In Forest and 

 Stream of Sept. 6 an article, appears, in which the writer 

 contends strenuously against "'that foolish old notion of 

 snakes swallowing their young for protection * * * 

 which they never do.'' He says: '"Some species of snakes 

 lay eggs, and many people suppose they all do, whereas 

 with some the young are matured in the mother's body ; 

 and when persons not informed in this regard have cap- 

 tured a snake, and found its body to contain young ones, 

 the presumption with them was that the mother had 

 sw r allowed them for protection." The writer says he lias 

 been a surveyor for nearly half a century, has surveyed 

 in every county in the State, and thinks he has had rare 

 opportunities for making snakes a study. He gives Miss 

 Wolcott's "time story," and believes it, so far as the young 

 snakes were seen to leave the mother's body in a A'ery 

 lively condition. As to the boys seeing the young snakes 

 running down the mother's throat, "that is onlyheresay, 

 but their presence evidently led them to believe that they 

 had done so." 



Yes, it was hearsay to Miss Wolcott, and her story is 

 only "hearsay" to Mr. Starkweather. What could there 

 be about the simple fact of finding young snakes inside 

 the mother to make the boys believe they had seen the 

 young enter her mouth? Had they opened a mother 

 rabbit and found young inside of her, would they run 

 away with the hallucination that they had seen young 

 rabbits enter her mouth? If Mr. S. is ever fortunate 

 enough to find another female serpent with its young in- 

 side of it, let him carefully dissect it from mouth to 

 stomach, and he will see the young escape — if they es- 

 cape at all — by way of the mouth, and those who do not 

 attempt it will be found in the stomach, just where a 

 recently swallowed mouse or frog would be found. Are 

 the organs of gestation then situated in the stomach? 

 And do the unborn young of viviparous reptiles always 

 — or ever — emerge by way of the mouth? 



This by way of argument, as though I were pleading a 

 doubtful case, which I am not, for with me there is no 

 doubt about it. 



I have, on at least four occasions, stood by and wit- 

 nessed a family of young snakes disappear down the 

 throat of the mother. She did not swallow them; she 

 just lay straight with open mouth and allowed the 

 youngsters to go down her gullet with wonderful rapidity. 



On such occasions the mother snake evinces the fear- 

 lessness and tenacity of most wild tilings when trying tc 

 save their young. She will remain quiet at the risk of 

 her life until the last little wriggler has been taken in, 

 and then do her best to escape. And it always seems to 

 be the case that at such times she happens to be mighty 

 handy to a good hiding place, such as a ledge of rocks, a 

 hole among old roots, or if a watersnake, where she can 

 flop into the water in an instant. Premising that I was 

 taught from my earliest recollection to regard serpents as 

 not only harmless and useful, but beautiful as well (all 

 save the rattler), I will briefly narrate the incidents above 

 alluded to. 



In the first case I was called by a sensible mother, who 

 admired rather than feared serpents, "to come and see 

 the little snakes hide." I hurried to the spot, and this is 

 what I saw. A large gartersnake stretched to its full 

 length, and a lot of tiny snakes rapidly disappearing 

 down her throat. My mother meantime had untied her 

 apron, and, as the last little snake disappeared, she 

 quickly grabbed the old snake and enveloped it in the 

 apron. It was taken to the house and placed in an old 



lumber chest, where it was found the next day with 

 twenty odd little ones around it, and again they took ref- 

 uge in the mother's stomach. As our curiosity was satis- 

 fied, the old snake was turned out in the garden to catch 

 bugs. Take note, that the gartersuake is oviparous. 



Although snakes were very numerous in the region 

 where my boyhood was spent, and though most of my 

 leisure time was passed in outing by flood and field, it 

 was long before I saw a second incident of the kind, and 

 this time the actors were watersnakes, supposed to be 

 viviparous. (I say, supposed, for I am by no means cer- 

 tain of it.) The mother snake was about the largest I 

 ever saw, and I came upon her suddenly as I was fishing 

 down a trout stream, A'ery cautiously, of course. It was 

 evidently a surprise, but she straightened herself, gave a 

 short, low bias, and lay still with open mouth. In much 

 less time than it takes to tell it, a lot of little snakelings 

 were rushing into her mouth and disappearing with 

 marvelous quickness. At that time I was accustomed 

 to handling serpents — even rattlers, without fear, and, 

 with some vague idea that she would be a prize, I made 

 a dash to capture her alive. It was rather a failure. In- 

 stead of attempting to dart overboard as I expected, she 

 faced me savagely, and, as I grabbed her with one hand 

 around the body, she whisked her tail about my arm, 

 turned, and. gave me a vicious bite on the back of the 

 hand. Although I knew the bite was perfectly harm- 

 less, it somehow looked so wicked and dangerous that I 

 lost my grip and allowed her to escape. It may be worthy 

 of mention that the slight wound did not swell or become 

 inflamed, and healed quickly. 



The years passed, and I had grown to manhood with a 

 decided penchant for reptology, before meeting with the 

 third incident of this nature. It happened in a tamarack 

 swamp, some fourteen miles south of Brockport, N. Y., 

 and the snake was a massasauga, the only one, by the 

 way, I ever saw in that State. It was discovered by a 

 hunting chum, who called me to the spot in time to see 

 four or five of the young disappear in the snake's mouth, 

 as with the others. We tied a string about the neck of 

 the old snake, slung her at the end of a ramrod, and 

 carried her to the little hamlet known at that time as 

 "Muttonville," where I dissected her in the presence of a 

 dozen loungers, avIio all evinced dense ignorance in mat- 

 ters pertaining ( to natural history. To them such trifles 

 were beneath the notice of an able-bodied man. We 

 found seventeen young serpents in the stomach of the 

 mother , and they were dead, owing probably to the string- 

 tied tightly around her neck. 



Although my summers were mainly spent in the open 

 air, it was more than a decade before I met with another 

 incident of the kind, and this time it was in Michigan, 

 at the foot of a little lake in Lenawee county. Again 

 the snake was a massasauga, and, as before, I saw the 

 young entering her mouth. Thinking to settle a vexed 

 question, I tried to catch her alive, and got snake bitten 

 for my pains; an account of which, with the remedies 

 that proved effectual, was published in Forest and 

 Stream some years ago, and those who choose may read. 



This happened more than thirty years ago, and since 

 then I have only seen one serpent with young inside of it. 

 This was a large rattler killed by "Uncle Bill" Dimick on 

 the waters of Pine Creek, and though I did not see the 

 young running down the throat of the mother Uncle Bill 

 did, and he was not likely to be excited or mistaken about 

 it, having lived in a rattlesnake region all his life, and 

 being accustomed to killing a dozen or more every "hay- 

 in' time." 



The snake was turned over to me before she had done 

 squirming, and I opened her on the spot, finding over 

 twenty young in her, but just how many I can't say, as 

 they were very lively and some got away in the stubble. 

 It was wonderful to see how naturally and viciously the 

 little imps took to coiling and darting at anything that 

 moved near them, and it is worth noting that they were 

 found in the stomach with a newly swallowed trout, on 

 which the red spots were still bright. 



It ought not to be difficult to procure a gartersnake, or 

 watersnake with young inside of it. and with such a 

 specimen in his hands any competent anatomist can 

 quickly decide how and by what means they got there. 



Nessmtjk. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Mr. Starkweather contributes a very interesting article 

 on serpents. While I agree with him that the general 

 public is disposed to treat "snakes" in a needlessly cruel 

 manner. I take issue with him on some other matters. 



In the first place Mr. Starkweather is one of that far 

 too common a class who are ever ready to say this or that 

 cannot be the other because I never saw it. No matter 

 how many witnesses might be produced to testify to the 

 facts, such a one boldly says, "I do not necessarily believe 

 they lie, but simply say they are mistaken." And after 

 all can only give as his reason, his own experience, or 

 lack of experience, or refer to its "impossibility," reason- 

 ing from his views of the natural laws of the universe. 

 Unfortunately for others the so oft quoted "natural laws" 

 are so little understood that a mere reference to them 

 acts quite as effectually as a sandbag or bludgeon. 



Mr. Starkweather objects to the needless cruelty, or 

 cruelty of any kind to serpents, yet he takes up an article 

 from the pen of a young woman who has attempted to 

 aid science, in her innocence, not imagining that some 

 wiseacre would fly in her face with flouts and jeers as to 

 the possibility of what she thinks she has seen — he takes 

 this little article up, jibes at it as a "true story," tells the 

 young lady she was mistaken as to its having been a 

 copperhead that she saw, as he never saw any in that 

 county; and when she speaks of having seen the little 

 snakes running out of the big snake's mouth, assures her 

 that such a thing was im possible, for there were no rooms 

 to rent for lodging in that quarter, and says she probably 

 mistook the first floor rear for the second story front; 

 and finally when the young lady speaks of ha ving counted 

 twenty -five of the Tittle ones running "hissing" around, 

 he claims that only big snakes hiss, and that very seldom, 

 and would apparently infer that the little ones keep still. 

 Everybody knows that an infant of genius homo makes 

 more noise than an adult, why not the same way with 

 "snakes!" The young lady writes it clearly and distinctly, 

 that she saw little snakes running out of the big snake's 

 mouth; but does uot, as Mr. S. would lead us to infer, 

 state that she saw them run in; Mr. Starkweather's fight 

 is not with the fellow who saw them run out, but with 

 the fact of their getting in. As to the "hissing" I see 

 nothing to indicate its being so loud as to have been heard 



in the next county, but should judge from the context 

 that this referred to the actions of the little "sarpints" as 

 it was seen, not heard. Taken all in all it's quite curious 

 that so tender-hearted a person as this Mr. Starkweather 

 pretends to be, should have handled a young lady so un- 

 cannily, and all because she saw something which he 

 with his experience of "a thousand snakes" has failed to 

 see. 



If every one meets with a like reception when they have 

 a little story to tell about some fact bearing upon the 

 habits of nature's cliildren, I am afraid few would ven- 

 ture to make public their experience. Let Mr. Stark- 

 weather tell his true stories, drawn from his own experi- 

 ence, we will all believe him, even giving him the benefit 

 of the doubt when lie talks about thousands of snakes; 

 but let him handle the little tales of others as gently as 

 he desires us to handle the tails of his ophidian friends, 

 and let him take good advice and refrain in the future 

 from trying to make his " 'tain't so, for I didn't see it;" 

 as weighty as the eye witnesses "it is so, for I saw it." If 

 he will promise to do this, it's quite possible some one can 

 give him some facts, which although not conclusively 

 proving that "big snakes let the little snakes run down 

 their throats," may throw a little light upon the matter, 

 and finally after one after the other has had his say, 

 science and observation may make up their minds as to 

 the truth. A Subscriber. 



Philadelphia, Pa. 



mu §ng nnd 0mp 



THE WOODCHUCK CREEK COUNTRY. 



IV. — SKINNER AND THE BEAR, 



"TTAVING told you how I got the big buck, to-day, 



XI and apropos to the talk about deer stalking gener- 

 ally, I must tell you that, as another has often said, and 

 a mighty hunter, too, he was, 'I consider my life in con- 

 stant danger every time I go hunting with a companion, 

 be he never so careful and circumspect; if he does not 

 meet some narrow escapes himself, or put others' lives or 

 limbs in jeopardy he will be very fortunate.' 



"Some eight or nine years ago four of us were camp- 

 ing for a fortnight, and on the day when the incident I 

 relate occurred, we had all gone out early, and had hunted 

 until past noon without success. On our trip homeward, 

 we agreed to separate, two and two as we have done to- 

 day, spread out widely, and surround an immense marsh, 

 whose brushy borders were wont to be a favorite resort 

 for the game we were in search of, and we accordingly 

 departed on our respective routes. I had nearly reached 

 the lower end of the marsh, which by the way was en- 

 tirely open, when my companion, who was slightly hi 

 advance, beckoned to me, and on my coming up, told me 

 that he had seen a large deer slowly feeding along a strip 

 of alders which reached to a tongue of high ground run- 

 ning out into the marsh, and that if I would wait for a 

 few minutes, he would go around to the further end, 

 and thus one of us would be sure to get a shot. A moment 

 after my companion had left me, our separated friends, one 

 of whom was accompanied by his dog, crossed a narrow 

 lagoon in the marsh about a mile distant, giving no indi- 

 cation of having seen me; soon after I approached the 

 place where the deer had been seen by my friend, and as 

 nothing had occurred to disturb it, I counted confidently 

 on getting a good shot. A low, brushy point covered me 

 mitil I was within 150yds. of the mound, which was cov- 

 ered with scrub oaks of a very dense growth, with here 

 and there open spots, where an animal in . motion 

 would have to show itself in ascending the ridge. I had 

 appi'oached very slowly and cautiously and waited for 

 some minutes for sound or motion, but in vain, and had 

 about concluded that the deer had either escaped or laid 

 down, when a slight rustling on top of the hill attracted 

 my attention, and the next moment I saw faintly through 

 the foliage the unmistakable whisk af a deer's tail; again, 

 a little further on, it was repeated, the same quivering 

 shake of the flag, so familiar to every deer stalker, and 

 catching a quick sight where I supposed the body was, I 

 fired. My shot was answered by a yell of agony that told 

 too truly its own story, and upon htirrying to the spot 

 I found the dog of my friend lying dead at the feet of 

 his master. His hand at the moment the fatal shot was 

 fired had rested upon the animal's head, whose joyful 

 response to the caress of his master had been the cause 

 of his death. It was the wag of the dog's tail, and not 

 the deer's, that I saw. I was thunderstruck, not at the 

 death of the dog, but at the thought of the consequences 

 had my aim been ten inches further to the left! 



"At another time I was out on the first snow of the 

 season, and as the brush was quite thick I had taken my 

 shotgun. I was standing in a straight path in a poplar 

 thicket, along which I could see some sixty yards, when 

 a large doe crossed the further end, but so quickly that I 

 had not time to fire; a moment after a fawn crossed, and 

 of course I let it go. As it was early in the season, I con- 

 cluded that another fawn would be along presently, and 

 if so, thought I would try to wound it and capture it 

 alive, if possible. To be quite ready and to strike it; 

 where I wished, I brought my gun to shoulder, ready to> 

 fire at the proper moment. Sure enough, a slight rustling 

 of the brush, the path darkened, my finger pressed the 

 trigger to the verge of its resisting power — and a man 

 stepped into the path, hurrying along on the track of the 

 flying deer, unconscious of the danger which we had 

 both escaped, and but for a caution which with me has 

 become instinctive, it horrifies me to think of what the 

 result would have been. The deer stalker, in my opinion, 

 should never, under any circumstances, fire until he is 

 able to clearly distinguish his game. But for this invari- 

 able rule of mine, I am certain that more than one pain- 

 ful, if not fatal, accident would have happened, and if 

 Sisyphus there knew how narrowly he escaped to-day he 

 would have a nervous chill this minute." 



"A miss is as good as a mile, General, and if you'll 

 only keep on missing, I don't care how often you draw a 

 bead on me." 



Aaron had been an interested and awe-stricken listener, 

 but he recovered sufficiently during a slight pause in the 

 conversation to inform us of the following piece of news: 

 "Dat dere ornery Pete of Hanson's was ober here dis 

 fo'noon, an' he 'lowed as w'at dey hed ben a b'ar seen 

 ober bey and de westest wheatfiel' — a big black b'ar he sed 

 — an' dat old Hanson lowed it was dat b'ar w'at lugged 



