Nov. 27, 1890,] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



871 



"open up," that is, commence their strutting and gob- 

 bling. In going to roost in the evening the gobblers 

 usually select a long limb, which will permit them to 

 strut along upon and air their pomposity. Their gobbling 

 can be heard on a clear morning a fourth of a mile, and 

 if they begin before daylight it gives the hunter an oppor- 

 tunity to approach them in the darkness and under the 

 cover of other trees near enough to shoot. It is easy 

 for a practical hunter to get to them then. Still he must 

 be wary, for the wild turkey is proverbial for being the 

 keenest sighted of all birds. And the hens— which as a 

 rule are very quiet on the roost— act as sentinels to give 

 notice of approaching danger, and when you are about 

 satisfied that you have your gobbler, sure, they interfere 

 with a put put put, and are away before you can realize 

 the situation. If you are unfortunate in not locating 

 them on the roost, if they do not gobble before daylight— 

 as they did not that morning — the hunter's next plan is to 

 sit around or walk cautiously about until he hears them 

 and then yelp them up. 



My friend and I went on about 400yds. from where we 

 left our other hunter stationed and sat down to listen. 

 Daylight was now full upon us; we waited for five or ten 

 minutes, but heard nothing. The wind would some- 

 times lull for a while, which enabled us to hear if one 

 should gobble. "We moved on a little further and sat 

 down again to listen. This time we were rewarded for 

 our perseverance, for there came down the glade a sound 

 that electrified us. To me it was like wine; it was the 

 "gobble, gobble, gobble*' that I remembered so well in 

 early days. In a moment all my early instincts return, 

 and the exclamation escapes me, "You are my bird." 



The gobble sounded much further away than it was, 

 owing to the wind blowing in the contrary direction. 

 We moved a little nearer and selected a place of conceal- 

 ment, I taking my position behind a prickly-pear bush, 

 whose large fan-like leaves were so arranged as to make 

 first-rate windows to see through. My friend acted as 

 caller, and I had only to wait and watch. Immediately 

 in front of our position was a lovely open glade, which 

 ran in the direction of the gobbler, and which we felt 

 confident his lordship would take in coming to his lady 

 love. Being comfortably fixed with gun in position and 

 ready to fire at a moment's notice, I gave the word to my 

 friend to proceed with his part of the programme. He 

 commenced an imitation of the call of the turkey hen, 

 a sort of yelp or Ice-otik-Tceouk ke-oiik. Quick as a 

 flash came the deep sonorous gobble in answer; and after 

 a few puffs and struts behind his screen he came out into 

 the opening in full view about 150yds. distant, A chal- 

 lenge yelp from my friend heads him our way. Slowly 

 and majestically strutting — so proudly that he seems 

 almost to disdain to tread the earth — lie bears down on 

 us totally unconscious of the fate in store for him. An- 

 other yelp starts him in a trot, which brings him within 

 35 or 40yds. of where I sit, and as this is quite near 

 enough I raise my gun to my shoulder. The motion, 

 although very slight, catches his vigilant eye and he 

 halts, raising himself to his full height, all alertness. 

 Alas! too late for him. . A sharp report, a puff of smoke 

 from the cactus bush, and what a minute before was a 

 vain, boastful, arrogant gobbler, now lies before us a 

 bunch of feathers and the basis of a good dinner. We 

 shouldered him and started for the rendezvous quite sat- 

 isfied. 



On the way we amused ourselves pitying our Richmond 

 friend and lamenting that he, too, could not have secured 

 a gobbler. We had not heard any gobbling in his direc- 

 tion nor any shooting; but judge of our surprise when 

 we got back to where we left him, for there he was with 

 not one but three turkeys, though all of them hens, 

 hanging on a tree. Our pity was premature. He said 

 when we left him he heard a gobble, but could not get to 

 them on the roost as day was fast breaking, but waited 

 for them to fly down. When they came down a whole 

 bunch answered to his call, and came to him with three 

 hens well in the lead. He took things quietly and waited 

 for them to cross each other, and when two of the hens 

 had their necks crossed he fired, killing both. The third 

 rose to fly but he cut her down also, and thus in the 

 short space of five minutes he had bagged three fine 

 turkeys. 



We walked home in triumph with our game, reaching 

 there just as the family were sitting down to a delicious 

 breakfast of plain country fare, including buttermilk 

 and fresh butter, home-cured ham, honey from the hives 

 in the yard, and cold wild turkey. 



We sent the turkeys back to Beeville by the hack 

 which had brought us out the night before, t® be ex- 

 pressed home and distributed among friends. 



Then we planned a hunt on the Nueces River, ten 

 miles away, for the evening, as our host declared it 

 would not be a real hunt unless we camped out a night 

 or two, so we sat about making preparations for a reg- 

 ular camp and jolly time generally down the river. 



S. D. Calder. 



The New York Flower Show.— The flower show 

 which opened on Monday at the Madison Square Garden 

 in this city offers to lovers of flowers a wonderfully 

 varied exhibition of plants of all descriptions. Perhaps 

 the most striking and beautiful classes shown there are 

 the chrysanthemums, which of late years have become 

 so popular, and the orchids. The United States Nurs- 

 eries, of Short Hills, New Jersey, who are holding this 

 flower show, have devoted especial attention to these 

 groups of plants, and have been remarkably successful 

 with both. While the first chrysanthemums which we 

 knew were rather small and bore very modest yellow 

 flowers, they are now grown of all colors except blue and 

 vary in size from -Jin. to 13in. in diameter. Among the 

 orchids the IT. S. Nurseries have devoted special attention 

 to the cypripediums,of which the common wild moccasin 

 flower {C. acaule) is an example familiar to all dwellers 

 in the country. A noticeable feature of these orchids is 

 their lasting quality, a flower on tfie plant remaining 

 perfectly fresh for ten or twelve weeks, while even if 

 cut it will continue fresh and beautiful for three or four 

 weeks if kept in fresh water. But besides these showy 

 and handsome flowers there may be seen at this show 

 many others not less interesting. Such are the curious 

 pitcher plants, which contain on their leaves hollows in 

 which water collects, which serves to attract insects, 

 which are often drowned in it. Palms, ferns, fancy foli- 

 age plants and many commoner flowers abound, and the 

 whole is so attractive aB to be well worth more than one 

 visit. 



MOOSE RIVER AND THE WEST BRANCH. 



XI. 



ON our walk up the old tote road we saw no moose 

 and had only a single glance at a caribou, which 

 was a long distance off across the pond, but we saw many 

 tracks, and if we had been there in the season and had 

 huuted them, I have no dotibt that we should have had 

 some fresh meat. 



When we recrossed the carry to Spencer Bay we saw 

 where a moose had traveled since we had been ovtr the 

 road. Spencer Bay was calm and there was no wind on 

 the morning when we returned to it, and we pi'oceeded 

 as far as Lucky Brook, where we intended to stop for 

 dinner, We went ashore, but signs of storm, which we 

 had been watching, became more prominent and the 

 wind was breezing up, so we heeded the warning and 

 kept on to the narrows. 



The flight of an eagle across the bay was the only 

 diverting incident, and we arrived at the narrows none 

 too soon, for the wind continued to freshen; when we 

 landed the white caps were running and the surf beat 

 heavily on the shore. There is a camp on the point south 

 of the narrows where Bill and I had camped before, and 

 here we dined. We spent a lazy afternoon under the 

 trees and bathed in the lake. Toward night we fished 

 about the narrows— this locality being one of the best 

 fishing grounds on Moosehead Lake— but with no suc- 

 cess, which was a disappointment, as we now wanted a 

 few trout to carry home. 



It was getting late, however, for fly-fishing in the lake; 

 the fish had gone to the cool retreats in the deep water, 

 where they could only be reached by fishing deep with 

 bait. That night was our last one in camp', and as we 

 watched the sunset and saw the evanescent tints of- the 

 clouds come and go and fade away, our thoughts went 

 back over the days of vigorous outdoor life which we 

 had lived, and the nights of calm, healthful sleep under 

 stars. 



In the morning we breakfasted on ham, bread and 

 coffee, the last of the provisions. We exposed the last of 

 our dry plates, and packed our dunnage for the last time. 

 We tried the trout again, but our ill success of the even- 

 ing was repeated., and our friends were obliged to take 

 our "fish stories" on faith, we carried home no trophies 

 except our negatives. The game one hunts with the 

 camera io not so fickle as that for which we use the rod 

 and gun. 



Early in the forenoon the steamer came for us, and as 

 soon as the canoes were hoisted aboard we headed for 

 West Cove and the railroad. We had a fine breezy sail 

 of twenty miles down the lake, and saw Kineo, to the 

 north, grow smaller, and Old Squaw, to the south, lcom 

 up nearer and nearer as we sped on. The steamer stopped 

 once before reaching West Cove; Cy and Bill lowered 

 their canoes gently to the water, and waving us a fare- 

 well, paddled toward Greenville at the East Cove. 



It is only four years since Moosehead was connected 

 with the outside world by rail, and for twenty miles the 

 country, as seen from the cars, is, with the exception of 

 the track, a wilderness. We rolled homeward high up 

 on the sides of the mountains, and from our station on the 

 rear platform looked at a shifting panorama of mountains 

 and valleys, all covered with the waving forest. We saw 

 Moxie and other mountains to the west, which had been 

 landmarks in the east on our journey to Moose River. 

 We rumbled over trestles at dizzy heights, and saw far 

 below us the sparkling waters of mountain streams; and 

 rounded spurs of the mountains where we looked down 

 into the tops of giant trees. The road follows the valley 

 of the Piscataquis River, a branch of the Penobscot. At 

 Oldtown we shook hands with Francis. 



"Good-bye boys, I had good time. We go again some- 

 time," and he went to superintend the unloading of his 

 canoe. Dennis accompanied us to Bangor. 



Hi. 



The State of Maine is a State of noble water courses, of 

 which the Penobscot and Kennebec are the largest and 

 most important. It is a State on whose southern boundary 

 beat the mighty waves of the Atlantic, while its northern 

 frontier is in the primeval forest. Naturally, among its 

 inhabitants are those who earn their bread upon the great 

 deep, and others who make that other sea, of foliage, the 

 scene of their labors. These two rivers connect the forest 

 with the ocean. 



As their mighty currents sweep grandly on toward the 

 places of their marriage with the sea, bearing tribute 

 from innumerable lakes and streams, the scenes upon 

 their banks and upon their waters change. On their 

 headwaters are the canoe and the batteau, the log cabin 

 and the virgin forest; their lower waters are plowed by 

 great steamers and ocean vessels, and turn the wheels of 

 great miles in the busy cities upon their banks. Up river, 

 the pine and spruce; down stream, the sawmill and the 

 lumber yard. The moose and the deer feed upon the 

 banks and swim the waters of Moosehead and the West 

 Branch; at the mouth of the Kennebec is Bath, the great- 

 est wooden ship building city in the Union, and at the 

 head of navigation on the Penobscot is Bangor, the great 

 center of the lumber trade. 



On Sept. 15, 1773, one Hugh Finlay set out from the 

 last settlement on the Chaudiere River in Canada, with 

 three birch canoes and ten Indians, with the intention of 

 selecting a post route to the settlements on the Atlantic 

 coast, of which Falmouth, now the city of Portland, was 

 the last of any importance. In his journal he tells of his 

 journey through the strange, unknown country through 

 which his Indian guides conducted him, and says that 

 they promised to take him by the shortest and most 

 direct route from Canada to the seaboard. He describes 

 numerous lakes, streams and portages, naming only one, 

 the Riviere du Loup, till they put their canoes into the 

 Penobscot (South Branch). They journeyed down the 

 Penobscot till they came to some large falls (Canada Falls), 

 around which they carried. A few miles further, he says, 

 another large stream (North Branch) joins the Penobscot. 



Then he goes on, "This riverisfull of salmon and trout 

 and its banks are marked all over with the marks of the 

 hoofs of moose, deer and the feet of other animals. We 

 proceeded down the river to an island (Seeboomook Island), 

 which parts the river in two, one part running N.E., the 

 other E.S.E. We followed the last branch, keeping the 

 island on our left hand, and a little way down we put on 



shore on the right hand and walked through the woods 

 about 100yds. to a dead creek (Seeboomook Brook). We 

 followed its winding courses in our canoes about half a 

 mile; it led us into a round dead pond (Carry Pond) 

 covered with broad leaves of a water plant. We camped 

 in the woods near it. We marched through the woods a 

 mile to another dead creek (Carry Brook) leading us also 

 S., winding to a large lake called by our Indians Moose- 

 parun (Moosehead Lake). This lake takes its name from 

 a remarkable mountain (Kineo) on the S. side. The 

 Indians say it resembles a moose deer stooping." 



I have quoted Hugh Finlay's own words and abbrevia- 

 tions, supplying in parentheses the names which he does 

 not give. The Penobscot Indians call Moosehead Lake 

 Xsebeni, while the Aberakis name it Sebamook, both 

 words meaning a large, open body of water. There has 

 been much speculation as to the origin of the name 

 Moosehead, and Hugh Finlay's journal seems to throw 

 some light on the subject. Kineo Mountain does bear a 

 resemblance, as his Indians said, to a huge moose in a 

 stooping posture. Sullivan, a historian of the Province of 

 Maine, in the last century refers to "Moose Lake or 

 Moose Pond." Until within a few years deer were scarce 

 in the Moosehead forests, but the moose roamed in large 

 numbers and many traditions and legends refer to them, 

 and the name has been given to many places and things. 

 There are Moosehead Lake, Moose River, Moose Pond, 

 Moose Island, Moosehorn Stream and so on, while the 

 lordly moose himself feeds on moosewood, is bitten by 

 moose flies and is attended by moose birds. 



Hugh Finlay went to the East Outlet and proceeded 

 down the Kennebec. He refers to the forks and the great 

 carrying place, which he says was well known to his In- 

 dians, and continues his description till they came to a 

 fall, which he says was "romantically situated." They 

 camped at this fall, which is Carratunk, though he does 

 not name it. He Eays: "The river is confined between 

 two rocks and rushes over in a surprising manner, foam- 

 ing with incredible fury. It falls into a fine rock-bound 

 basin perfectly circular and full of fish." 



At Norridgewock he saw a "smoak," and on rounding 

 a bend saw two white men on the bank, who, he says, 

 had planted some grain and intended to build a log house 

 the next year. He kept on down the river to the mouth 

 and then went to Falmouth and on to Boston. On his 

 map he gives the location of Fort Halifax, before referred 

 to as still standing at the mouth of the Sebasticook. 

 Hugh Finlay made this journey through the wilderness 

 110 years ago. Since then thriving towns and populous 

 cities have been founded where he saw the Indian's wig- 

 wam or "smoak" of the pioneers' camp. But a great part 

 of the journey must be made to-day as he made it, with 

 a guide in a canoe, and through a country still a wilder- 

 ness. The tracks of the "moose deer" may still be seen 

 where he saw them and the trout still swims in the same 

 pools where he cast his line. 



XIII. 



Bangor is the metropolis of the wilderness. There are 

 no large towns beyond it, and twelve miles of the Penob- 

 scot is the Indian Island. It is a thriving city, which 

 boasts of an electric street railway and all modern im- 

 provements. Railroads center there, and vessels from 

 different parts of the world come up the river to its 

 wharves. Great sawmills and icehouses stand on the 

 banks of the Penobscot, and ships are built there. The 

 lumber drives from the West Branch and the East Branch, 

 from the headwaters of the St. John River, from Chesun- 

 cook and Pamedomcook, come floating down it, borne by 

 the irresistible spring freshets. Yet, during the past 

 winter a bear and two deer were killed within the city 

 limits, and also within the city limits is the finest salmon 

 pool in the States, while less than 100 miles away the vir- 

 gin forest waves its green foliage in suunxmer, and bends 

 its branches under weight of snow during the long north- 

 ern winters. At Bangor we embarked again on Penob- 

 scot waters, but this time we stood on the deck of the 

 Boston steamer. We had "gone in" by the way of the 

 Kennebec; we would "come out" by the Penobscot. 



Looking up the river we could see the white foam of 

 the I'apids below the water- works dam, where the famous 

 salmon pool is located. A short distance away was the 

 mouth of Kenduskeag Stream, which flows through the 

 city, and across the city was the ancient town of Brewer. 

 The river and both its banks presented asceneof bustling 

 activity. Above the bridge which marks the head of 

 navigation were lumber rafts and piles of floating boards 

 and planks. We could hear the shrill buzz of saws as 

 they ate their way through the logs, and in the stream 

 scows of manufactured timber lay alongside of loading- 

 vessels. 



On every side was being enacted the tragedy of the 

 forest, that drama which is opened with the axeman's 

 stroke, and carried on through stirring scenes by many 

 actors, till it ends in the sawmill. 



The steamer's wheels began to revolve and we were on 

 our journey home. Bangor was left behind and we 

 sailed on between high banks and ledges, crowned with 

 patches of young timber — pine and spruce, birch and 

 maple — as if even at this late day the forest was still 

 struggling to gain its lost supremacy. Here and there a 

 tall pine, a relic of the old race, held its head proudly 

 above the young trees. And so we sailed on for seven 

 hours, stopping at various landings, and as the sun went 

 down we steamed out into the ocean. When we awoke 

 in the morning the steamer was going by the islands in 

 Boston harbor, and our trip, like Hugh " Finlay's, was a 

 journey of the past. William Austin Brooks. 



Large Game Season in Minnesota.— Hallock, Minn.. 

 Nov. 13. — Deer, moose and elk can be lawfully killed in 

 Minnesota only during the month of November. In the 

 northern part of the State these animals are found in 

 large numbers. Last November M. Van Pelt, of Holyoke, 

 on the Eastern Minnesota Line between St. Paul and 

 Duluth, with a small party killed 43 deer and one bear. 

 An instance of the abundance of deer in the Lake Superior 

 region and westward is noted by the fact that on Sept 30, 

 near Mansfield, a train on the Eastern Minnesota Division 

 of the Great Northern dashed into a herd of not less than 

 50 dper, running along in a cut, and several were knocked 

 off the track and one, disabled, lodged on the engine pilot, 

 and was taken into the baggage car at the next station. 

 A party from Hallock killed 23 moose and elk, besides 

 other game, last November in the Rosseau Lake country, 

 in the northern part of the State,— J, C, G, 



