Forest and stream. 



48 



lings on the top of bi« pile in nrdnt to make the ftftpdrflii' 

 limn', 



Nevertheless, though the detail* differ, there ate p*e 

 va.iling fashions in camp-fn es-. x \ woodsman "1 the old 

 spfeool stauds agape, seeing for the first time one of Hip 

 double fires which have become the mode of late. In- 

 tended to stand between two tents, pitched to face each 

 other, these fires are long, narrow and made without 

 back-logs. The hand-junks, which in the woods ta ke the 

 place of andirons, stand at a freezing distance apart, and 

 wood of more than cord-wood length is piled upon them: 

 two forked sticks, one at each end of the fire, support a 

 long green pole, which takes the place of the old-fash- 

 ioned crane and gives attachment to pot-hooks of various 

 lengths and rude "contrivance. These are generally made 

 of a small green tree, cut below a fork and hung inverted 

 over the fire, one prong being trimmed short, the other 

 cut at a convenient length and furnish d with a reverse 

 hook for hanging the kettle, by driving in a nail near the. 

 end; for lack of a name they might be called sgwik-hun- 

 gam, after the now obsolete "lug-stick"' or "spunk-hun- 

 gans" of the lumbermen, which served the same purpose 

 in the days when every camp was heated by an open tire. 

 When deserted, camp-fires of this sort have a gallows-air 

 which is not reassuring; and encountered on a carry with 

 their blackened stakes and half-burned brands, they are 

 hideously suggestive of Indian tortures and pictures of 

 martyrdoms. 



The regular hunter's fire is of quite another order. Its 

 hand junks approach each other socially, and a couple of 

 back-logs of some wet or slow-wasting wood, staked 

 up behind to reflect the heat, increase the air of coziuess. 

 The cooking arrangements which accompany are abori- 

 ginally simple. Of course a "hook-stick" for lifting ket- 

 Fjee on and off — w hich is only a miniature spunk-hungan 

 without the nail— is always a necessity, but in addition, 

 one or more straight green poles are all that is wanted. 

 These, stuck into the ground or under a stone or tree 

 root at such an angle as to bring the other end above the 

 fire, support the kettle and may be adjusted at pleasure 

 by placing a stone beneath the further end to raise, upon 

 it to depress the pole. It is the sign of a careful hunter 

 always to remove his stew-pole from the fire when his 

 eaoking is finished. "Stew-pole" is the common name, 

 but sometimes it is called a "spygelia" — yet never that I 

 knew by any one who had not first heard the w T ord on 

 the Passadumkeag. How such terms arise and whither 

 they vanish is a problem for the wise; but some are In- 

 dian, some few Scotch, some come from the Provinces, 

 and some, with all the savor of their original saltness, 

 are sea terms, completely naturalized in the forest. The 

 woods have not so much an idiom as a vocabulary of 

 their own, whose peculiarities are shibboleth to the ig- 

 norant, whether they talk or write. And yet for us 

 who speak by nature of "drives," "jams," "peavies" and 

 "wangans," because we know them by no other names 

 and could not express the idea in other terms, there are 

 not wanting those who accuse us of using too technical 

 language, 



This wood is the nonpareil for eauip-fires. Although 

 so light and so soft that it may be broken with fingers, it 

 spends well and gives out a heat which makes it, for sum- 

 mer use at least, not inferior to maple. Its cracks and 

 crevices expose a large surface to the fire, making the 

 blaze strong and steady; and if a decorative style of fire- 

 building i3 Avished, the woodpeckers' holes can be used 

 with effect. For cooking poplar has this advantage, that 

 it can be broken into as small pieces as desired and fed 

 to the fire slowly. And there is just at present a friz- 

 zling and a sizzling about the fire, which if not contra- 

 dicting the assertion that it is not the whole duty of the 

 fire to perform the cooking, demonstrates that this is its 

 chief end. The coffee is boiling in its pail on one stew- 

 pole and the potatoes on the other, while trout broiled 

 and trout fried are making hot work for the cook. 



We may call ourselves philosophers and affect to des- 

 pise anything lower than mind, but it usually happens 

 that when the call to supper comes the phenomenon of 

 fried trout will outweigh all the noumena in existence: 

 in other words, we ate, asking no metaphysical questions. 

 It is not until we have eaten that we are really m condi- 

 tion to speculate on illimitable themes. The Ornpha- 

 lopsyohites, if they did not hit the truth they were after, 

 may have travestied human nature more acutely than 

 they knew, when they undertook to see God through the 

 medium of their own stomachs; but this, at least, of the 

 the >ry is true, that when the eyes are fixed the mind is 

 freest to swim in space. The fire is always a worthy 

 object for such contemplation: its unity 1 in diversity, its 

 con stant change without transmutation hold the attention 

 wi bout distracting it. When supper is over and the 

 damp work finished, one can lie back in perfect content- 

 ment, oblivious of the rest of creation. A bed of boughs 

 from which the strong heat draws the aroma of the fir, a 

 head-rest of interlocking hands or a blanket for a pillow, 

 the tent above to keep off the dews and a fire in front, 

 which for the night is the mathematical center of the 

 uni verge— these are luxuries for which the soul may well 

 be thankful. 



The fire draws upward with a steady flame, brightening 

 as the night grows darker and the stars come out one by 

 one. It shines on the tree leaves overhead and moves 

 them to a gentle fluttering by the current of hot air 

 which it sends up; it lifts the shadows of the surround- 

 ing woods and sometimes lights the wings of a bat cir- 

 cling near. At times an Acadian owl may pass softly 

 through the lighted space, or sit in the gloom just out- 

 side, making known its presence by one of its' several 

 noises. The best known note is the'saw- whetting, from 

 which it gets its name of saw-whet owl: this closely 

 resembles the sound of filing an "up-and-down" mill saw, 

 set in a frame. It also makes a whining noise, and the 

 soft conversational co-eo-eo, co-co-eo already mentioned. 

 Besides these, I am told of a note resembling the tinkling 

 of small bells and of a harsh, nasal ah-ah. Indeed, I have 

 myself heard at night in the woods a sharp, harsh noise 

 —which I was told was made by the saw-whet — that re- 

 sembled this as much as anything, but the heaviness of 

 sleep interfered with scientific accuracy, and in my jour- 

 nal I find merely the comment: "Not knowing the other 

 noises I did not remember this." This bird undoubtedly 

 breeds in the woods north of Katahdin, but in the lati- 

 tude of Bangor I have never seen one earlier than Oct. 

 19 nor later than March 31. Between these dates they are 

 not rare, being most frequently found in barns and out- 

 houses, where they go for warmth and mice. What they 

 sat when in the woods I do not know, never having seen 



one which did not appear half Nfcarvptl, nor having found 

 the feathers of any small bird or any sign of their catch- 

 ing bird, mouse or shrew; but 1 bare known four of them 

 to he picked up dead, apparently from starvation. 



The fire burns low. file on the wood and let, us see if 

 burn ! Tis joy to watch such a fire. There is no uncer- 

 tainty nor feeble flickering in its work, no bluster of roar- 

 ing and lashing out of forked blue flames, which impart 

 neither light nor heat. It rises clear, broad and yellow, 

 steady as a candle and strong as if it fed on wax. This 

 poplar gives itself without grudging — wood and fire are 

 one— not as if it meant destruction to the wood, but a. 

 realization of good which otherwise would be truly lost. 

 Tk it better to rot or to burn ? Oh, the caloric which lies 

 locked hp in wood and men, it might warm a world ! 

 There is little smoke to this lire: that comes of ha If -com- 

 bustion — a wood which will not yield and a, (ire which is 

 not strong enough to do its work. This is the true w aste 

 of a fire — not what is consumed, nor yet what remains, 

 but what through inefficiency is lost. Smoke is discord, 

 lack of adjustment; it is failure— to speak transcendent- 

 ally. But the most plainly practical, to-thc-milliineter- 

 exact man who ever scoffed at esoteric mean bigs,w T ould not 

 deny that smoke can produce discord even in well regulated 

 families. It is not least among the merits of the poplar, 

 then, that it does not smoke. Sparks and smoke are of 

 one nature: but the first have an ardency which excuses 

 the waste because it is the sign of strength; just as to the 

 man of invention, driven by his yet untried ideas, to leave 

 the piece of work on which he labors and begin another 

 and another, the failure to finish the work in hand is for- 

 given because there is ability to accomplish greater. Yet 

 sparks are the airiest nothings, more unsubstantial than 

 the smoke; restless and unsteady, they aspire only to die. 

 It is their nature— as fixed as fate. The poet saw it long 

 ago when be said that man was born unto trouble as the 

 sparks fly.upward — or better in marginal reading, " as the 

 sons of the burning coal lift up to fly." The sparks fly 

 up, but the coals fall down. " My words fly up," said 

 the Danish King, "my thoughts remain below." Why 

 is it that words can be so divorced from what they rep- 

 resent ? Why is it that the coals fall, but the eons of the 

 burning coal rise up to fly ? Are words, the children of 

 thoughts, so light ? And do thoughts gather ashes with 

 age ? And why — ? 



Pile on more wood ! These are but vain questions of 

 the fire's breeding. Pile on more wood ! If answers 

 must be given, let them come in sleep. Draw in the 

 tent, spread down the blankets on the boughs, and while 

 the fire still glows outside lie down to sleep- 

 To sleep, perchance to dream. 



Fannie Pearson Hardy. 



THE NORTH WOODS. 



Kditor Forest and Stream: 



I trust it may not seem a meddlesome interference by 

 an outsider if I express my interest in the affairs of the 

 woods and waters of the State of New York and the out- 

 of doors side of life for your people. As you are aware, 

 I have long been a lover of the beautiful Adirondack 

 region, with its forests, lakes and streams, the exquisite 

 home of game animals, birds and fishes, and I have from 

 time to time written of the importance of so using and 

 caring for this region that its attractions may be per- 

 manent. Your State Forest Commission kindly sends me 

 copies of several bills, which it wishes the Legislature to 

 pass at this session. There is one to provide for a change 

 of venue in cases of trespass on State lands, and one to 

 increase the efficiency of fire wardens. These seem to 

 be good and necessary measures. Another bill is intended 

 to prevent the extension of railroads across State lands. 

 But the one which has the most interest for me provides 

 for the purchase of land by the State in the Adirondack 

 region, at a price not to exceed a dollar and a half per 

 acre, and always within the limit of previous appropria- 

 tions for that specific object. There are many small 

 private holdings lying between the blocks of State land, 

 and to acquire these would make it easier to protect the 

 property of the State from injuries of all kinds, espe- 

 cially from forest fires. I hope the amount asked for in 

 this bill will be small, that it may be less likely to excite 

 opposition. (The sum is not named in the copy sent to 

 me.) I think the State should gradually acquire title to 

 the land of least value in the Adirondack region, espe- 

 cially to that which has been rendered nearly worthless 

 by repeated burnings. Nobody takes care of such tracts, 

 and the land will never be restored to any degree of fer- 

 tility or value unless the State owns and guards it. The 

 entire arha of this mountain forest region has a vital re- 

 lation to the water supply of the State and to the value 

 of this great sanitarium and summer resort for huntin: 

 and fishing. 



There is great need of cooperation among all the people 

 who, in different ways and for different reasons, value 

 and love the North Woods. This conviction is the result 

 of many years of observation of popular feeling and 

 action — or inaction — and of effort to develop sound and 

 practical ideas regarding the true functions and worth of 

 this region. Only think what classes and multitudes of 

 people have a practical interest in this mountain country! 

 The lumberman should care a great deal about it, for it 

 will be a mine of wealth to him and to Ms children's 

 children to the latest generation if it is properly handled. 

 Timber should be cut when it is ripe. That is what it is 

 for. But it should not be butchered and exterminated, 

 and the soil burned out and swept away, so as to leave 

 great areas as barren as the central desolation of Sahara, 

 as is the case in some parts of the region now. The lum- 

 bermen should be among the foremost in the effort to 

 provide for the proper maintenance of forest conditions 

 all over this region. The State has more than 50,000 

 acres of land which has been rendered entirely worthless 

 by mismanagement; and yet all the wealth that has been 

 drawn from these woods, and more, might have been ob- 

 tained by methods that would have left every acre clothed 

 with prosperous forests, with a harvest ready for the axe 

 every year. 



Then there are all the people who come up to the Wil- 

 derness from the cities, whose life indoors has brought on 

 "nervous prostration" and all the mysterious and infer- 

 nal maladies which are waiting along the road ahead of 

 men and women who breathe the same exhausted and 

 poisonous air over again, till they feel like the seasick 

 woman who said that for a while she was afraid she would 

 die, and afterward she was afraid she wouldn't. The 



pure are of (hie forest region lias prolonged thousand® of 

 lives. Where will such people go" for summer rest and 

 recreation if we change all the region into shadeless tracts, 

 where the summer wind will come in hot puffs, as from 

 the mouth of a furnace, over miles of ram-sodden and 

 sun-baked ashes* 



And the hunters. No forests, no game! The fishermen 

 —gentle, solitude-loving disciples of good old Izaak 

 Walton. Do you like to see these beautiful streams dam- 

 med and blasted out of all likeness and memory of their 

 original loveliness, the natural fringe of shrubbery des- 

 troyed, and in its stead a ghastly and horrible forest of 

 decaying tree trunks, which drop at last into the foul 

 and poisonous water below? And the hotel people — but 

 what I wish to come to is the inquiry, why cannot all 

 these persons, of so many different classes cooperate — 

 work together for the preservation of these woods and 

 waters, and the proper care of the game and fish which 

 inhabit them? It is easy to show that the real interest 

 of all these classes of visitors is precisely the same. Why 

 should we not. all of us, support the principal measures 

 brought forward by the Forest Commission, and by the 

 officers for the protection of fieh and game? It seems to 

 me we should be ready- to unite in sustaining any* prac- 

 tical measures which lead us on toward the ultimate ob 

 ject of securing this whole mountain region to the peo- 

 ple of the State as a permanent possession, as a vast sum- 

 mer resort for out-of-door life and enjoyment. None of 

 it is fit for cultivation. It is wicked to try to farm this 

 land. 



The preservation of fish and game is very important. I 

 hope that civilized and decent hunters and fishermen will 

 confer with each other, and devise the best practicable 

 laws and reglations, and that these will be adopted and 

 tli en enforced. The tendency of civihzation is undoubf - 

 edly in the direction of giving all game animals more 

 chance for their lives, and as they become scarcer every- 

 where this becomes more imperatively necessary. The 

 best game of all kinds ought henceforth to increase in 

 the Adirondack region. The uncivilized butchers who 

 slaughter game out of season, who murder does when 

 the fawns must perish, should be repressed, and then- 

 trespasses punished. The time for hounding deer shotdd 

 be shortened, and before many years the practice should 

 be abolished. Laws will not enforce themselves. Indi- 

 viduals cannot do much alone, but associations have 

 means and power. 



I see in your columns constantly discussions of the 

 differences between civilized and savage men, and I have 

 just read George Bird Grinnell's delightful collection of 

 "Pawnee Hero Stories." Tshould like to write of some of 

 these differences, for I have seen many savage men and 

 some who are partly civilized, but I have not time now. 

 I think we are hardly civilized enough yet to work to- 

 gether to take care of our best things. A few years ago 

 I visited nearly every town in the State of New York, 

 calling on the" principal citizens everywhere. I saw so 

 many fine-looking, pubhe-spirited men, who evidently 

 ate good food and behaved well, that I thought the State 

 might safely take the job of redeeming the world from 

 all crookedness and disorder, and so I still believe. But 

 we should have to work together. If a man will help 

 what I am trying to do, I am glad to have his assistance, 

 whether he is a saint or a sinner. 



Of course there are little discouragements whenever we 

 realty try to do miy thing that is worth doing. One man 

 says, "Have you seen Smith ? Unless he helps I will have 

 nothing to do with it." And the next man says, "If 

 Smith is in it I will not touch it." All this is natural, 

 and must be expected and allowed for. A few men, work- 

 ing together, can do a great deal in the way of propagat- 

 ing ideas, always provided that they have any ideas to 

 propagate, and the diffusion of information regarding 

 existing conditions, and the propagation of ideas, are the 

 first steps toward any improvement in this country. 

 When I get rich I am going to endow a chair in a college 

 to teach this one thing, namely, that when people form 

 an association for the advancement of civilization by 

 playing baseball, or bicycling, or fly-fishing, or trout- 

 hatching, or game protection, or forest preservation or 

 destruction, and they have their annual meeting and 

 dinner at some city hotel, the young man who reports 

 the proceedings for publication should give the post office 

 address of one of the officers. I may wish to write to 

 him: I may desire to cooperate with these sons of morn- 

 ing: but how can I, unless some one of them has a local 

 habitation, as well as a name ': Meantime I must content 

 myself with writing to Forest and Siream, and my post 

 office address is Franklin Falls, New Hampshire, 



J. B. Harrison. 



Mr. Edward Wakefield, the traveler and author, 

 who is now in New York, is the son of Colonel Felix 

 Wakefield, of Crimean fame, who made the railway from 

 Balaklava to Sebastopol under fire of the Russian guns. 

 This family are noted for what is called the "Wakefield 

 System of Colonization," by which the most prosperous 

 of Great Britain's dependencies have been founded, the 

 great mass of the population owning the freehold of the 

 land on which they live. Mr. Edward Wakefield went 

 with his father among the pioneer settlers to New Zea- 

 land, served in the Maori wars, was three times elected 

 to the parliament and for some time held the offices of 

 colonial secretary and minister for native affairs. He is 

 the author of the notable review in the Nineteenth Cen- 

 tury on James Anthony Froude's "Oceana," which led to 

 a hot controversy on the historian's veracity. Since he 

 has been in America he has published "New Zealand 

 After Fifty Years" (Cassell & Co.), which is now consid- 

 ered the standard book on that colony. The Forest and 

 Stream is now publishing a series of twelve articles from 

 his pen on natural history and sport in various parts of 

 the world. He has also been a prolific translator of the 

 best French fiction., his latest work in this field being 

 Francois Goppee's "Henrietta," published in this country 

 by Worthington & Co. It is understood that Mr. Wake- 

 field is collecting material for a book, to be published in 

 London, on the artistic and social side of life in New 

 York. — Home Journal. 



Forest and Stream, Box 2,833, N. Y. city, has deseriptive illus- 

 trated circulars of W. B. Lefflngwell's book, "Wild Fowl Shoot- 

 ing," which will bo mailed free on request. The book is pro- 

 nouDced by "Nanit." "Gloan," "Dick Swlveller." "Sybill&ne" and 

 other competent authorities to be the best treatise on the subject, 

 extant. 



