JaS. 15, 1891.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



811 



drudder hear bobolink sing in de strawberree lot. as see it 

 skin wid long nem in glass box or see it steek on gals' head 

 dat ant gat no braia of it. Some posy was more pooty 

 as dead bird for gal's bunnet. an' mek de feller lak it bet- 

 ter. Ah tol' yon, 



Wal, Ah s'pose it ant mek nodift'erance probly all Ah '11 

 said, dey goin' keel off all de bird for sometings. 



Wal, botnbye Ah'll goin' to be dead mahsef , den Ahll 

 gat no difference probly, honly Ah'llb'lieve Ah '11 lak it 

 for have some leetly feller sing over de daisy wen dey 

 grow top of Antotnf, Bissette. 



fkP&ggtos.— We bavin' hoi' fashion Verrnon' winter, all 

 de tam col' an' snow very high. Ah '11 ant mean he ant 

 cheap, for yon can get more as you want every tam you 

 ant ask for it. But Ah lak dose kan o' winter. 



Dey was rnos' sent lak Ah '11 was raise on, in Canada. 

 Dey inek it a feller tough as ten bear if dey ant keel it. 



Dis was de kan o' wedder Ah '11 lak for go on de 

 hwood an' chaw p. Dar it was comfortably, no win' blow, 

 honly in taup of de tree. You can't feel it, honly see an' 

 hear he em sing. 



Mos' every day. Ah Ml can' hear noting, honly ma 

 hownnowse", "chick, chock" of de haxe, an' bombye de 

 hoi' tree go "whoof !" daown on de snow, lak on fedder 

 bed, after he Ml stan' up for bonded year, prob'ly feefty, 

 saxty, Ah do' know. 



Dis leetly Frenchmans put great many of dat hoi' tall 

 praoud tree to hees las' bed. Dat mek me feel kan o' 

 plump, every tam. 



Bombye, dere was come beeg t'aw, Janawary t'aw was 

 be de nem of it, but he come w'en he'll got ready, mebby 

 in March. 



Den de coon start off hees sleep tree or holes for see 

 hees gal or visit long to hees neighbor an' Ah Ml have it 

 some funs. Ah Ml tol' you baout w'en Ah Ml had it. 



Ah b'lieve all de feller ant tol' you dat kan o' way for 

 coon huntin'. Dat was de mos' fun all winter 'cep' New 

 Year, an' Ah Ml ast you save leetly corner of your papier 

 for publick mah story.— A. B. 



THE WOODCOCK'S WHISTLE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Now that the interest in the habits and life history of 

 the woodcock is coming to a white heat in your columns, 

 may I be permitted to point out a few of the problems, 

 that seem to me to require especial attention in the solu- 

 tion of the question at issue. In the first place, allow me 

 to present the usual credentials. I have hunted this bird 

 at different times during the last twenty-five years; I 

 have studied its habits under many circumstances; held 

 slightly wounded ones in my hand, suspending them in 

 the air by the bill or feet, and noted the sounds that came 

 from the bird during such times; I have examined its 

 anatomy. At the present writing I hardly feel prepared 

 to fully commit myself on the question of the production 

 of its various notes, though I am free to say that my 

 observations lead me to believe that the wings play little 

 or no part in the creation of the majority of them. 



Now, in the first place, may we ask in reference to the 

 (1) curving upward of the superior mandible — is the act a 

 voluntary or an involuntary one? 



(2) All such functions or powers, as the power to curve 

 the bill in such a manner, are subservient to the contrac- 

 tion of some organized tissue. Is this act due to the con- 

 traction of some muscle, or to some other contractile 

 tissue? 



(3) Were we to pull out the three attenuate primaries 

 from both the wings of a sound and healthy woodcock, 

 and then submit the bird to being held suspended in the 

 air by the bill or feet, would it give vent to any notes 

 whatever, and what would their character be? (What 

 does Mr. Trumbull think in regard to such an experiment 

 as this?) 



(4) Were we momentarily but to thoroughly plug the 

 external nostrils and mouth cavity of a sound and healthy 

 woodcock (one in perfect plumage), and then submit the 

 bird to being held suspended in the air by the bill or feet, 

 would it have the power of emitting "any of its usual 

 ••squeals," ''twitterings" or "piping alarm notes," and 

 under such circumstances would they be the same as those 

 emitted by the flushed bird? 



(Experiments 3 and 4 should be made upon birds of 

 both sexes, and at times of the year when woodcocks are 

 in full plumage and give vent to all their "notes" in 

 nature, especially in March and April and October and 

 November.) 



(5) Other birds have attenuate primaries in their wings 

 besides woodcock; what is their behavior when submit- 

 ted to either of the foregoing experiments? (Humming- 

 birds have many well-known notes on the wing and when 

 alarmed. The broad-tailed hummingbird has attenuate 

 primaries in its wings. I have a shot great many broad- 

 tailed hummingbirds (T. platyeercus), and they have a 

 varied note. Several times I have held suspended in the 

 air by the bill one of this species, when it was slightly 

 wounded, and no sound came from it when the wings 

 were in violent action other than the "fanning sound" 

 given off by the latter.) 



(6) Does the peculiar wing of the white-fronted dove 

 (Eugyptila) give rise to any peculiar sounds during the 

 flight of that species? 



(7) What purpose do the emarginations in the primaries 

 of the wings in many of the Tyrannidm and Accipitres 

 subserve? 



(8) Is the "whistling" of certain ducks during rapid 

 flight due to the character of that flight or to some 

 peculiar modification of the primaries of their wings? 



(9) In the case of the woodcock in August, when 

 flushed, is his completely noiseless flight at that time 

 due to the fact that the bird is "out of song," "out of 

 plumage," or both? It may be only "out of song." (What 

 does Mr. Aldrich think?) 



In the opinion of the writer, Mr. Gurdon Trumbull's 

 experiments with the woodcock were conducted in a 

 perfectly scientific manner, and it is only to be regretted 

 that he did not push them far enough, I can well appre- 

 ciate, however, how the goodness of his heart got the best 

 of him, in the case of such a winning little pet. Never- 

 theless, after he had educated his bird up to giving its 

 natural notes, he certainly should have gently pulled out 

 all of its attenuated primaries, and see then could the 

 same notes be given after this had been done. On the 



other hand, it seems to me that the methods proposed by 

 Mr. Aldrich to solve this mooted question (Forest and 

 Stream, Jan. 1, p. 472) are eminently unscientific, and 

 remind me very much of a certain military surgeon that 

 I once knew, who became so skilled in bis diagnoses of 

 heart disease that be could detect any form of it in a 

 person walking at a distance simply "by the character of 

 his gait." E. W. Shufeldt, 



Takoma, D. C. Jan. 5. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



It was with the greatest of pleasure I read in your last 

 week's issue Mr. Wm. Brewster's very able and practical 

 article on the woodcock's whistle. The only way I can 

 account for the great difference of opinion, as to whether, 

 when he is flushed, the woodcock whistles with his wings 

 or voice, is that the men setting forth their opinions that 

 the noise is vocal do so more by theory than by practice, 

 and are men that either have not the good fortune to 

 reside in a locality where woodcock are plentiful, or else 

 having this good fortune, are indifferent wing shots, and 

 kill but few woodcock each season. I have interviewed, 

 at different periods, upon this topic, several men whom I 

 know to be woodcock shooters, men that are in the habit 

 annually of killing their 100 and 200 birds each, as to how 

 the woodcock makes the whistling noise when flushed, 

 and each one replied, without the slightest hesitation, he 

 does it with his wings. I am acquainted with men 

 living in this neighborhood that talk most learnedly upon 

 the woodcock and his habits, men that 1 meet again and 

 again in the woods, but do not remember to have eve- 

 seen a brace of woodcock in their possession. 



An ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory any 

 day. Surely no one would contend that the golden-eye, 

 or whistle-wing duck, makes the whistle with tts voice 

 and not with his wings. The whistle that this duck 

 makes when in flight is very similar to the whistle made 

 by the woodcock, the only difference being that the 

 duck's whistle is the loudest, that is natural, he being 

 much the largest bird of the two. 



Woodcock make but two noises, the whistle when 

 flushed, and the twitter that he makes when drumming 

 in the spring. The latter is an amorous manifestation, 

 the birds rising perpendicularly into the air with a 

 twittering noise, and when up quite a distance let them- 

 selves drop down through the air on to the ground, wilh 

 the quills of their wings set edgewise, making a loud 

 rushing noise. Woodcock drum immediately before 

 dusk or about dusk. The twitter he makes when drum- 

 ming is very different from the whistle he makes when 

 flushed. I think every sportsman is agreed that the snipe 

 when flushed scaipes with his voice and not with his 

 wings. A snipe when winged and you go to pick him 

 up generally springs into the air with seaipe, scaipe, 

 making exactly the same noise as when he is flushed. 



If the woodcock whistles with his voice, why does he 

 not whistle when winged and you go to pick him up? 

 as his brother the snipe scaipes under similar circum- 

 stances. The woodcock when winged springs into the. 

 air exactly as the snipe does when winged, but does so 

 perfectly mute. Why do not woodcock whistle during 

 the moulting season? Because they have lost the attenu- 

 ated primary feathers of their wings, and therefore can- 

 not. Why does an October woodcock whistle so much 

 louder and stronger than a July bird? Because his plumage 

 is more perfect in October than in July. Does it not strike 

 those gentlemen of the voice theory as rather strange that 

 when a wounded woodcock is picked up he has to get his 

 wings going like a windmill before he can find voice, and 

 is obliged to put the brakes to his wings before he can 

 shut off his voice again? 



Writers on the woodcock, his ways and habits, I think 

 have taken it too much for granted that this bird's con- 

 duct is the same in confinement as when at large. It is 

 quite possible that his ways and habits when at large may 

 be quite at variance with his ways and habits when in 

 confinement. During the past fall I found a covert with 

 a number of flight woodcock in it, the ground in said 

 covert was as hard and dry as a bone, so much so that I 

 had trouble in pushing the blade of a strong jack-knife 

 into the ground, I found the feeding ground of these 

 birds in two or three fall wheatfields one mile from their 

 day home. These birds must have of necessity fasted at 

 least fourteen hours out of the twenty-four. 



Mr. Trumbull writes that he noticed, much to his sur- 

 prise, in a live woodcock given him by a gentleman that 

 it had the power of raising or curving the upper mandi- 

 ble. I beg to refer Mr. Trumbull to a letter of mine which 

 appeared in the issue of Forest and Stream for Nov. 6, 

 1890, in which letter I write that the woodcock has this 

 power, and does curve his upper mandible, why he does 

 this and how he does it. 



One of the gentlemen writing in Forest and Stream 

 Dec. 25, says: "I have had but little opportunity for 

 studying the woodcock, never having lived in a section 

 where the bird is more than a casual visitor, etc.," ending 

 his letter with, "As to the sound made by the woodcock 

 when in flight, I do not believe in the wing theory any 

 more than I believe that the skeep of th e snipe is made by 

 the wings." Theory, theory; no good. Let us hear from 

 some practical sportsmen. Men killing at least 80 or 90 

 woodcock annually. (No theorists). Henry B. Nicol. 



Cookstowk, Can., Dec. 31. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Some of the natural history notes of Forest and 

 Stream I find very interesting^ but some are simply in- 

 credible. Mr. W. L. Bishop's story in your issue of Dec. 

 4, about the grouse hiding in the water to escape a hawk 

 is too much for me. I should want at least two iron-clad 

 affidavits to back it up before I could accept it. How did 

 the bird keep itself submerged? Did it have a brickbat 

 attached to its tail or lead soles to its feet? 



About the whistle of the woodcock, there is no more 

 doubt but that it makes a whistling sound with its wings, 

 than that it has wings. What other sound it make with 

 its beak I am not prepared to say. John Burroughs. 



West Park, N. Y., Jan. 12. 



[We have several communications on the woodcock's 

 whistle, which will follow in our next issue]. 



Mockingbirds Breeding in Massachusetts.— Spring- 

 field, Mass., Jan. 9. — Editor Forest and Stream: About 

 a year ago I wrote you about the mockingbirds breeding 

 in West Springfield. They came again last year to the 

 same locality, m a k ing the third or fourth successive year 



they have returned. A gentleman in Quincy, holding 

 one of our permits to take birds, killed what he supposed 

 to be a shrike, Dec. 1 last, in a strip of woods near the 

 shore, but it proved to be a fine mockingbird. These * 

 birds have been known to breed in the eastern part Of 

 Massachusetts before, but so rarely that this is the only 

 one that has come to my personal knowledge. The bird 

 was in full plumage and healthy, and why he should re- 

 main on our cold eastern coast until Dec. 1 , after the 

 severe weather of the fortnight preceding that date, is a 

 mystery. — B. H. Lathrop. 



Ivory-Bills. — Orlando, Florida.— In the Dec. 18 num- 

 ber of Forest and Stream I noticed the article by R. 

 W. Shufeldt on "A Skeleton of the Ivory-Bill," and the 

 rarity of that bird. If any of your readers would like to 

 get a few specimens of the ivory-bill, either male or 

 female, I think I can put them in the way of doing so. I 

 don't know as to the skeletons, but if there is any way 

 of preserving the bird whole I could have them sent in 

 that way. The skins I could send flat in good condition 

 for mounting. Small game, quail, snipe and ducks are 

 quite plenty, but deer and turkeys have to be looked for 

 fifteen or twenty miles back in the country. — W, E, Hud- 

 son. 



Perth Amboy, N, J. — During the recent cold snap an 

 Arctic owl (Nyctea nivea), of the kind observed this 

 winter on Long Island, was seen in this neighborhood, 

 and several specimens of Brunnich'a mnvve (Uria lomvia) 

 have been shot near the town. The latter are seldom 

 seen inside of Sandy Hook, and only when the weather 

 is very severe at the north do they s'eek this latitude, our 

 oldest gunners having never observed them before.— J. 

 L. K. 



H?## md 0mp 



The FULL texts of the game laws of all the States, Terri- 

 tories and British Provinces are given in the Book nt the 

 Game Lair*. 



MEMORIES OF NORTH CAROLINA. 



THITHER nature sports a jewel-tinted splendor on 

 bright summer mornings. There are emeralds on 

 the throbbing wings of libellules, and flashing garnets on 

 those of redwings; Pactohan sparks follow the flight of 

 orioles, and a huge fainter than lapis-lazuli reveals the 

 billing and chirping couples of bluebirds that have chosen 

 an old snake fence for a lover's trysting. Still greater 

 than these are the kingly purple of distant forests, and 

 the decided hues of nearer balmy woods, and the brighter 

 greens of broad- leafed trees and the marvellous blending 

 of a thousand contrasting shades. The myriad flowering 

 magnolias throw a regal mantle over the roadsides, 

 where hard by are green fields of cotton, whose many 

 flowers are white in the morning, and change to a deli- 

 cate mauve ere the sun goes down. And there is an 

 ecstasy of music in the air: the song of mockingbirds and 

 thrushes, and the buzzing of hummingbirds innumerable; 

 the shrill cry of the ruby -crested woodpecker and the call 

 of the yellowhammer. Quail are perched on fence tops 

 everywhere, and joyously call Bob White. But in the 

 shooting season there are left but the sombre tints of ever- 

 greens, and the cotton fields are brown in color and 

 flecked with the white of open cotton pods, and the birds 

 sing not as lustily. The rattlesnakes have sought their 

 winter lairs and the moccasins no longer stretch their 

 black-brown coils by the side of ditches and juniper 

 swamps. The standing cornstalks show long rows of 

 fading gold, and the long grasses are matted and sunken 

 and seem to be dying with the old year. And yet it is 

 the cheeriest time of all with he that loves the'gun and 

 the old dog, who are companions of his hunting joys. 



And so on the first day of my airival in the eastern 

 sporting grounds of North Carolina, my friend W. and I 

 started afield amid joyous barks from setter Jack and 

 pointer Jim, who longed for the chase after the lengthy 

 confinement of baggage car and steamboat. We are told 

 that quail are plenty in a field adjoining the house, and on 

 our way thither a woodcock rises from a bit of grassy 

 swamp land with his well-known cry, and being distant 

 falls winged at the crack of a left choked barrel, and is 

 proudly brought me by Jack, he of Gordon parentage. 

 We enter a cornfield and disturb a family of razor-back 

 hogs, the mother of which immediately pursues the dogs, 

 who in fear and astonishment at such proceedings fly to 

 us with tails between their legs, not having been trained 

 to hunt living bacon. This alarm over, the dogs start in 

 to range, and soon the setter stiffens out to a strong scent 

 and the pointer backs him nobly. With guns ready to the 

 elbow we advance a few steps, and there is the welcome 

 whirr of many hurried wings, and we pick out our birds 

 and shoot and mark the fleeing bevy. We pick up three 

 birds, but conclude not to follow the covey, as they have 

 taken to an inaccessible swamp near at hand; and so we 

 start again ; and soon another bevy rises again and pays 

 tribute, and is then marked down in an old rice field , 

 and being there scattered gives plenty of sport to us and 

 much pointing and retrieving to Jack and Jim. And so 

 with varying chances goes on a successful day's quail 

 shooting, with game pockets growing heavy and cart- 

 ridges less ponderous. Setter Jack is full of burrs and 

 pointer Jim growing a bit sore, and so we turn toward 

 home. But as the dusk is coming we hear the peculiar 

 night song of the woodcock, a queer chirruping as the 

 bird rises from the swamp and rises in the air, his voice 

 diminishing in the gathering darkness until all is silent. 

 Then we hear him again, and the chirruping grows nearer 

 and nearer untill the bird comes down again. The birds 

 are hard to see at such times, but now and then a dark, 

 flitting spot is seen against the luminous haze that is in 

 the west, and a quick snap shot sometimes brings a bird 

 to swell the game bag. Aud when the darkness grows 

 too deep for this we return to our host's house, and there 

 are made much of and treated in so kindly a manner 

 that we vow another winter shall see us there again. 



And so on for eight or ten days we tramp the fields and 

 travel through the swamps, where lurk pools of water 

 stained to a sherry hue by the roots of the juniper trees. 

 We see the track of bears along the woods, and in soft, 

 oozy places mark the slot of a many-pronged deer. 



An invitation to a deer hunt finds us ready one morn- 

 •ng early. Outside the house are a troop of men with 



