Oct. 31, 1889. J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



283 



tuml 



OUT-OF-DOOR PAPERS. 



II— FROM MY WINDOWS. 



FOR three years my front windows overlooked the 

 main street of a' small Massachusetts city and the 

 Bide window faced toward the Catholic church which 

 stood near by. The prospers was not an extensive one, 

 although from certain angles there was a glimpse of 

 mountains, and the street widened just below into what 

 used to be called a "heater piece," where beautiful elms 

 overarched the greenest grass. Had it not been for the 

 vacant lot between me and the church, with its old apple 

 and pear trees, its grape vines and quince bushes, and the 

 tall Norway spruce which grew just beside the corner of 

 the piazza,*roy windows would have afforded few oppor- 

 tunities for seeing the birds, except now and then the 

 meteor streak of au oriole flashing through the elms 

 below or the gold of a thistle bird in the shrubbery across 

 the street. But they came to the apple trees, sang there, 

 nested there and were social. From behind my closed 

 blinds I could spy on all then- movements, and by the aid 

 of my strong field glass bring even the most distant under 

 strict surveillance. 



During the summer there was rarely a time when some 

 bird was not to be seen in the apple trees; either the 

 sparrows and robins which nested there, or some visitor 

 from a home more or less remote. The oriole, whose 

 hammock was slung in the neighboring elms, used to 

 flaunt his colors amid the apple blossoms, and the sober- 

 habited catbird, stealing from his home among the alders 

 and hiding himself unseen, would establish a Dodonan 

 oracle in the quince bushes. From the bare twigs dis- 

 senting flycatchers proclaimed each his peculiar doctrine, 

 eking out a living by catching flies between whiles. In 

 their season warblers of all kinds haunted the branches, 

 singing all the variations of ticeedledum and tweedledee 

 that are put down by the ornithologists. With a few 

 exceptions, such as my cheery friend the summer yellow 

 warbler, whose strong, clear voice was as unmistakable 

 as his habit of singing his best when he was about his 

 work, I seldom undertook to identify them by their 

 voices alone. My note book never made their songs read 

 twice alike; and a description of the music too often re- 

 solved itself into mere words. 



By putting different materials on the piazza roof, I was 

 able at once to help the birds in their nest building and 

 to see what they preferred when they had a choice of- 

 fered them. The kingbird wanted cotton. As soon as 

 he saw a bit of it on the roof he would cease his chatter- 

 ing and fly boldly up to the window, yet with such a 

 wild look and such a belligerent attitude as indicated 

 either apprehension on his own part or a desire to frighten 

 others. He invariably elevated his crest when he put on 

 this ferocious appearance, but never in such a way as to 

 show the beautiful crown-patch in the center of it. Hair 

 combings were in great demand. The cherry birds 

 especially sought for these, and, with their usual greed, 

 got the lion's share. The cherry birds also carried off 

 large quantities of string, showing a decided preference 

 for white, although I furnished them with several colors 

 in order to see whether, like the oriole, they had a taste 

 for gay colors. As far as I could tell they did not take a 

 single piece of the pink string, and little or none of other 

 colors. These cherry birds always showed a plentiful 

 lack of wit in getting their string, and seemed not to 

 understand the difference between a firm knot and a 

 slight catch; but would tug at a piece of twine tied to the 

 blind, until they appeared to be out of breath and out of 

 temper. 



The purple finches came frequently for hair, once under 

 such suspicious circumstances that I give the note as I 

 wrote it down: ''May 16, 1887. — This morning I saw 

 three beautiful male purple finches courting one female. 

 They were making a harsh throat ncise, not loud enough 

 to be called either a squeak or a squeal, but a disagree- 

 able hissing which seemed to be made by sucking in the 

 breath, and somewhat resembled the sound of compressed 

 air escaping through a small hole. One uttered a note 

 or two, none sang. The males raised their crests, 

 stretched their necks, dropped their wings and paraded 

 about, showing all their best points. Strange to say, the 

 female at this time was collecting materials for a nest, 

 and the males looked on to see her tug and pull at stray 

 hairs without offering to help. They did not appear to 

 be at all unfriendly to each other. Later. — I have seen 

 these finches again. The gentlemen are evidently a-woo- 

 ing, but it is hard to make out the object of their atten- 

 tions, for the lady appears to be mated already. They are 

 gay gallants, but their morality does not appear to be of 

 the strictest, as sometimes there are two males and one 

 female, and sometimes one male and two females together. 

 Are they polygamists or polyandrists?" It may be well to 

 add that as the blinds were closed, all the birds were 

 within 3ft. of me, so that I was able to hear the noise they 

 made. At 10ft. I think it would have been almost in- 

 audible, as it seemed hardly louder than the noise made 

 by pressing the ah* out of a rubber ball, though higher in 

 pitch. 



Only two days before these finches exhibited them- 

 selves the Norway spruce furnished me the finest sight of 

 the season. It was veiy early in the morning, and I had 

 risen with the intention of • 'going birding" before break- 

 fast, when a noise in the tree told rue that the birds were 

 there de tonne heure. Looking through the blinds, I saw 

 a flock of ten or twelve small dull-colored bird?, streaked 

 with white and dusky, with light bands on the wings, 

 and a short, forked tail. I knew them, but I could not 

 believe my eyes until I had written out a description 

 from life and carefully compared it with a printed 

 description. Then there could be no doubt that they were, 

 pine finders. In all my winter drives in Maine I had 

 never seen one fairly enough to be sure it was not a red- 

 poll; yet here in the warm Massachusetts springtime this 

 northern bird, not abundant even in Maine, was giving 

 an exhibition before my window 7 . I watched them for a 

 long time as they pecked at the spruce buds, hanging 

 head downward on the pendant sprays, or flitting from 

 one bough to another with a flip of gauzy wings. "They 

 made no song, but a little rasping throat noise, and an occa- 

 sional utterance like h-k-k-lczee, rather shrill and harsh, but 

 in quality not unlike a canary's voice." 1 saw no more 

 of them that year, but the next (1888) they came again 

 &s early as April 22 and stayed some time. May 9 I saw 



them singing "a cheerful, sweet little song, very con- 

 tented," my notes say. And again I find mention of 

 them as making "a sharp, shrill clieep! very much like 

 the ear-splitting notes of a canary." None of these birds 

 Showed any trace of yellow on the wings, nor, as far as 

 I could see at the distance of 20ft. and with a six and a 

 half power field glass, the slightest olive tinge on the 

 back. Yet I have seen mounted specimens taken in 

 Maine in the winter with a wide band of yellow across 

 the inner webs of each wing. On April 23 I saw a flock 

 of the pine linnets feeding in a little green runlet where 

 the skunk cabbage was growing. They were eating 

 something, what, I could not discover, now and then 

 uttering a low note. A brown creeper, which was moun- 

 ting an apple tree near by, seemed curious to know what 

 they Were getting, and flew down to them, where he 

 began to eat also. I was much puzzled to think what 

 there could have been in that place, which seed-eating 

 and worm-eating birds would both agree to call good. 

 Perhaps, however, the creeper only wanted company. 



It is customary to think that the deep woods are the 

 places to find birds and that a city observer has no op- 

 portunities. For my own part, I seldom find many birds 

 far away from men, and some of the best notes I ever 

 took have been inside of city limits. Here, if you wish 

 an example, were birds which were unknown to me in 

 their northern home, almost inviting me to observe 

 them from my chamber window, 



Fannie Pearson Hardv. 



Food f>l? California Birds.— The California Ornitho- 

 logical Club was founded in San Francisco, February 9, 

 1889, for the study and advancement of the ornithology 

 of the Pacific coast. The investigation of the food habits 

 of Californian birds has been undertaken by the club, 

 and in order to make this work successful, the co-opera- 

 tion of all members, both active and corresponding, and 

 the assistance of others interested in this undertaking, is 

 earnestly desired. Assistance may be rendered in two 

 ways: first, by saving material for examination; second, 

 by making careful observations and notes. The contents 

 of birds' gizzards and crops may be preserved in two 

 ways, viz. ; in a dry condition or in alcohol. The con- 

 tents of the gizzards of all graminivorous birds and 

 most of the insectivorous species may be dried and placed 

 in an envelope provided for this purpose by the club. In 

 the case of rapacious birds (hawks and owls), all the water 

 birds, and such land birds as feed on worms or soft, 

 perishable insects, the gizzard must be preserved entire 

 in alcohol. A tag bearing a number written with pencil 

 should be attached before putting gizzard in alcohol, and 

 a few slits cut in it to allow the alcohol to enter but not 

 large enough to permit the escape of contents. Further 

 information and a supply of envelopes may be obtained 

 from the chairman of the committee, Walter E. Bryant, 

 Box 2247, San Francisco, to whom the envelopes should 

 he returned when filled. Full credit will be given in all 

 cases for material and notes supplied. The committee 

 desires to state that the aims of the club are in nowise 

 antagonistic to those of the Division of Economic Orni- 

 thology and Mammalogy of the U. S. Department of 

 Agriculture. They are simply trying to do in detail for 

 California ornithology what the Division is doing in a 

 more general way for the. whole United States. It is 

 well known that there are many collectors making skins 

 of California birds, who never examine the contents of 

 the gizzards and crops, or give attention to the food 

 habits of birds. With but little additional care they, as 

 well as sportsmen, might greatly increase their useful- 

 ness and the debt which is already due them for their 

 interest in advancing the study of ornithology. — Walter 

 E. Bryant, Charles A. Keeler, Harry 'E. Taylor, 

 Committee on Food Habits. 



% } mnt mid 



MY FIRST BEAR. 



WE were camped on the mountain crest, a party of 

 nearly a dozen members, including several ladies, 

 for nearly a week during the month of August last past, 

 busily engaged in picking huckleberries. 



Soon after getting the camp in order several members 

 of the party became clamorous for fresh venison. The 

 true still-hunter needs but little urging; and the next 

 evening found me watching a pass across the mountain, 

 half a mile distant from camp; and about sunset as a 

 large mule deer buck attempted to cross he caught scent 

 of me and bounded off down the mountain, untouched by 

 the bullet I sent in chase of him. The rifle shot was 

 heard back in camp, for sound travels far through the 

 ghostly silence of these hills; and no explanations of mine 

 met their approval when I returned to camp without 

 meat. They seemed to feel justified in hoping for better 

 things from the old uncle. 



It was partly in the hope of redeeming a somewhat 

 tarnished reputation for marksmanship, that the follow- 

 ing evening found me watching the same pass, and in 

 consequence brought me into contact with bruin, I was 

 early on the ground, and as the light breeze swayed back 

 and forth across the mountain it became a very' difficult 

 matter to decide upon a proper hiding place to the lee- 

 ward of the small open space through which the game 

 trail ran. A cliff of rock was at length selected, the top 

 of which, rising 20ft. above that pass, was curtained by 

 the drooping limbs of a fir tree, affording excellent cover 

 and a fine view of the trail 30yds. beyond. Climbing to 

 the top of the rock, I seated myself in a comfortable posi- 

 tion, and when a careful survey of all the open ground 

 far down the mountain side to the westward had failed 

 to indicate the whereabouts of a single deer, I leaned 

 back against a projecting ledge and resigned myself to 

 that silent communion with nature known only to those 

 deeply in love with the wilderness. 



Who shall decribe the charm of these day dreams, so 

 fascinating to the watchful and silently waiting stiil- 

 hunter? Noting without effort every manifestation of 

 life around him, detecting instantly, with the searching 

 glance grown habitual and easy with him, every indica- 

 tion of the presence of game, the chatter of the inquisitive 

 squirrel, the noisy protest of the scolding jay, and the 

 tattoo of the pileated woodpecker, whose flaming crest 

 flashed a moment Bince across the green curtain of the 



drooping fir above him— all blend easily and naturally 

 with the reverie that takes possession of him ; while the 

 vigilance, grown sleepless and undemonstrative with the 

 experience of years, would indicate to a chance observer 

 a subdued alertness on the part of the motionless figure, 

 ready to take instant advantage of the unexpected, which 

 is said always to happen, 



Far below me and miles to the westward the mighty 

 Columbia crept, a thread of silver, in and out among the 

 distant hills. Away beyond, tier above tier, rose the 

 spurs of the distant Cascade range, hazy and dim with 

 distance; while far to the northwest, misty and ethereal 

 in the far off blue of heaven, climbed Mount Chopaca, 

 the reputed home of the bighorn and of the mysterious 

 goat, he of the ebon hoof and horn and with the fleece of 

 snow. 



The hunter sighed as he thought of the adverse cir- 

 cumstances that conspired to delay Ids long-promised 

 pilgrimage to those haunts of the strange animals he had 

 never seen, and both deer and bear were for the moment 

 forgotten. The sun had sunk low in the west. The 

 shadows far down the mountain side crept slowly and 

 steadily up toward me. Night was approaching, and my 

 time for successfully guarding the lonely trail was grow- 

 ing brief. 



Scanning intently all the open ground below me in 

 search of the wary deer, which as yet wisely remained 

 hidden in the cover of the thickets, and with my face 

 for an instant turned away from the trail that I was 

 guarding, suddenly the bump! bump! bump! of a jump- 

 ing animal behind caused me to turn instantly and there 

 right across the trail sprang a bear of medium size and as 

 black as jet. The eddying breeze had given him just a 

 sniff of his hidden enemy, but had not enabled him to 

 locate the danger. 



Jumping into the edge of the first thicket, he stopped 

 and stood, listening intently. His head was hidden from 

 view, but his body showed plainly enough to offer a fair 

 shot. 



The .45cal. Sharps was loaded with 120 grains of Haz- 

 ard's electric powder of fine grain, and with an express 

 bullet of 270 grains weight (experience having led me to 

 adopt the bullet of the weight and shape recommended 

 by the veteran "P."); and as the intervening distance was 

 but 40yds. it was really getting the drop on him. 



As the rifle cracked he vanished, but the sound of his 

 running followed for an instant and then all was still. 

 Hurrying hopefully downward I took his trail, and before 

 I had gone 20ft. blood appeared, sprinkled upon every- 

 thing he had passed. Twenty-five yards from where he 

 had stood in life, an ebon statue, I found him stretched 

 dead at the foot of a young fir tree, with his heart un- 

 folded like a mushroom. 



Some idea of the destructive effect of the express bullet 

 (when driven by a sufficient powder charge) may be ob- 

 tained when I state that the ball struck him back of the 

 shoulder, leaving all of his limbs untouched, and although 

 driven by so large, a charge of the quickest powder ob- 

 tainable, not an atom of lead had gone through him, but, 

 flying into fragments, had expended all its force upon 

 his vitals, and although he ran down hill over ground 

 the last part of which was very steep, he was able to run 

 only 25yds. Imagine the effect when an animal at that 

 distance is obliged to stop such a projectile with its body. 



The deed was done. The unexpected had indeed hap- 

 pened. As I stood over the sleek black body of my first 

 bear it was difficult to realize that the haunting desire of 

 years was at last gratified. He had appeared so sud- 

 denly and it had all happened so quickly. For years I 

 had sighed to meet a long lost bear, and he had on 

 several occasions almost literally slipped through my 



I had one time gone on a wild goose chase after him 

 only to shoot a climbing fisher in the top of a tall pine; 

 and once I had galloped furiously along a mountain trail 

 in chase of him, impelled by a tale of wild-eyed wonder, 

 but this had resulted in the slaughter of a timid porcu- 

 pine in hiding among the rocks; and now, when no one 

 was expecting his appearance, and when his very exist- 

 was for the time forgotten, he had nearly run into my 

 arms. Hurrying back to cam p, I told my tale, and the 

 ladies instantly decided that they must see the dead bear. 

 As the twilight lingers long in this high latitude we had 

 abundant time to view him before darkness came on, and 

 one of the party, a Texan of experience in California 

 where he had assisted in the killing of several grizzlies, 

 pronounced him a probable three-year-old, and a really 

 fine specimen. He was very thin in flesh, although in 

 good coat for this time of the year. 



As past experience had demonstrated that my ponies 

 would not submit to the smell of bear's blood nor of his 

 hide without growing frantic with terror, we quickly 

 jdanned to engage an Indian camped near by to skin the 

 bear and to carry the hide down the mountain to a trading- 

 post in the valley. The Indian understood half a dozen 

 words of English, and my Texan neighbor and Jf as many 

 of the Siwash dialect. A lively pantomime ensued, re- 

 sulting in my writing on a bit of wrapping paper found 

 in camp, an order on the trader for $2 worth of merchan- 

 dise to be delivered upon presentation of the bear's skin, 

 and pocketing the important document, and with his face 

 wreathed in smiles born of his faith in the methods of 

 civilization, our Indian acquaintance departed silently 

 and swiftly upon his errand. He did his work with con- 

 summate skill and delivered the skin at the store in good 

 faith. 



As I p>en these lines the chubby face of Forest 

 and Stream's grizzly looks placidly from the wall down 

 upon me, and the difference between his shape and that 

 of my first ursine trophy is plainly apparent. Judging 

 by the appearance of the formidable looking claws which 

 ornament his fore paws, were I to meet a three-year-old 

 brother of his alone in the forest I might not attack him 

 quite so confidently. 



By the way, my little white-headed five-year-old begins 

 to wonder if the artist of Foeest and Stream is not 

 after all something of a wizard, or if there is not at the 

 very least something uncanny about the picture of this 

 strange acting grizzly; for, go where he may, in any 

 part of the room, still this mildly inquisitive bear will 

 persist in looking straight at him. Although our dear 

 old Forest and Stream is abundantly able to charm 

 every adult lover of nature in all our broad land, is it not 

 after all just a trifle unfair for it to bewitch the un- 

 suspecting children also? Is the editor or the artist most 

 to blame? Orin Belknap. 



Thetis, Washington. 



