FoneST AND STREAM 



12 S 



admitted of its relative the wild apple, are not inherent, 

 but depend on the forgiving disposition of the eater. 



We called at the little farmhouse on the way back, and, 

 finding that the eldest of the men had known Eod Parh?, 

 with whom in his youth Father had hunted and frater- 

 nized, we spent some time there. To have known Eod 

 Parhs is a passport to favor. A famous rifle shot and 

 deer hunter, as well as a widely-known lumberman, popu- 

 lar even from the stories which such a reputation 

 mtdtiplies, Parhs had also that magnetic power which 

 attracts and repels; he had enemies, but his friends he 

 drew clope to him, and those who knew him, such was 

 his selective power, are no strangers to each other. 



Un the way back we noticed wliei'e a bear had been 

 trapped in the summer— late in June or early in July we 

 judged from, the leaves on the dead alders — and from the 

 lur around it was evident that he had spoiled while in 

 the trap. He had been caught in the alders by the clog 

 of the trap becoming entangled, and in his efforts to get 

 free he had chewed and torn the bushes until they were 

 beaten into broom?. There is, or was, at Pistol Green a 

 hemlock tree which had the top, where it was fuUy six 

 inches in diameter, gnawed entirely off by a bear' that 

 had climbed it with his trap and become caught up 

 among the branches. 



After dinner there was some delay on account of the 

 \veather and a discussion as to whetlier we should lie 

 about the camp for the afternoon or, taldng our chances 

 of rain or shine, go on down sti-eam. Our temper is of 

 the kind which grows more valiant when the odds are 

 against us: and we started out. It must be twelve miles 

 to Fork and we were three hours making, for though the 

 current was with us, the turns of the stream were so 

 frequent that every few moments we would lose oui- 

 headway. As we got to the Fork and the early twilight 

 began to draw on we discussed the chances that some 

 one else would have taken our camping place at the 

 Green, as well as the good pile of dry poplar which we 

 had left against our return; and our uneasiness increased 

 the nearer we got, until — as we poled up the swift Nica- 

 towis Branch, now on one side of the stream, now on the 

 other, wherever the bottom was best and the water shoal- 

 est, scaring our old heron from his perch among the 

 maples — we became quite apprehensive. It was a 

 relief to find our fears gi'oundless. Wood and camping 

 place were both undisturbed. Of coiu-se our tent poles 

 and pins were there and our vfood ready; but though we 

 camped from 40 to oOyds. from the stream, in seven min- 

 utes by the watch we had our tent pitched and our fire 

 burning. Fannie Pearsox Hardy, 



MEXICO TWO YEARS AFTERWARD. 



\/|"OEE than two years ago I tried to impai-t to the 

 ItJL "goodlie companie" around the camp-fire yclept 

 Forest and Stream, some of the novelty of a "First 

 Hunt in Mexico.'l Justice to truth requires that I should 

 refer to one or two things set forth in that narrative. 

 Perhaps no reader of this remembers them ; I hope no 

 one does. It isn't nice to take things back, I recall, 

 however, two, if not more, references by j'our corres- 

 pondents to the mysterious "animals" that were supposed 

 to inhabit Bocas Lake. One ridiculed the story, as it de- 

 served, and the other expressed some curiosity about it. 



Since that first trip I have been to Bocas m'any times. 

 I can go in the morning and come back the same day. 

 A week or two ago I was there with a pleasant little 

 party. The old rock quarry is now abandoned, no Amer- 

 icans are to be fouyd there, and the straw- thatched 

 adobe, in which I was so well lodged and made so 

 welcome on my first trip is going to ruins. In my Acme 

 I have rowed again and again over the little blue lake, 

 seen it full and wide and again almost dry. The last 

 time I was there the choppy waves were high enough to 

 dash over the sides of the boat, wetting our guns and 

 rather dismaying the ladies of the party. I have killed 

 many ducks, and passed many pleasant hours about the 

 little lake, but never seen the "animals" since that first 

 visit. I long ago settled down to the belief that they 

 were only schools of small fish. There is a little insipid 

 fellow about 6iu, long that is fairly abundant there, I 

 don't know his name— not even his surname. • I don't 

 study fishes any more. I can scarcely bear to r«ad the 

 yarns in the '-Sea and Eiver'' department. One can't try 

 to go a-Qthing in this county. 



One other romance must go. Sic transit gloria. Maxi- 

 milian never owned the Bocas hacienda nor had anything 

 to do with the little church whose white towers shine in 

 double splendor, reflected in tbe clear waters below and 

 outlined agoinst the rusty gray of the barren hills. Its 

 present owners have had possession since about the time 

 of the French invasion, and Don Juan told me that if 

 Maximilian had ever had anything to do with it he cer- 

 tainly would have heard of it. Besides, I was told by 

 Don Luis Espinosa, my host of Angostura, that his an- 

 cestors, who were of the Spanish nobility, long included 

 Bocas among their possessions, which comprised a strip 

 of land of some twenty miles in width, reaching from 

 west of Bocas straight through eastward to the Gulf of 

 Mexico, a distance of some four hundi-ed miles. Think 

 of the scion of some old Dutch family pointing out as the 

 domain of his fathers a belt of land, wide as an ordinary 

 county, from New York city westward to the middle of 

 Ohio. But revolutions, a favorite diversion a few years 

 ago in Mexico, brigandage, and the uncertainty of mar- 

 kets and the labor supply made such large holdings 

 unprofitable. Much of this territory is still in the family, 

 which is a large one, bui it is now divided up. Some of 

 the places still seem very large, but they are in the hands 

 of large-hearted gentl emen, who love their country and 

 their countrymen, and who meet even the stray "gi-'ingo" 

 with a hospitality so generous that he unconsciously 

 relaxes the severity of his views on the subject of large 

 land-holdings. 



The Maximilian story is still current among Americans 

 here. Only; last night- in the post office I heard one 

 recounting it to some new arrivals. He is a hunter and 

 ought to know better. But for "miscellaneous misinfor- 

 mation," to use a felicitous phrase of Mr, Roosevelt, com- 

 mend me to the American in Mexico. After he has been 

 here a few months he knows just enough Spanish to mis- 

 undt-rstana every thing he hears. His desire to tell won- 

 derful stories ia rn exact pvoporcion to his lack of infor- 

 mation. What he tells should usually be taken with a 

 grain of salt— a whole sackful, in faet. Aztbo. 

 Saw Pososj, Mesioo. 



THE WOODCOCK'S NOISE. 



HALIFAX, N. S., Jan. 2S.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 ^ Kindly correct my letter in yours of Jan. 22 to read 

 "hon" not woodcock hen, and "Robt. Morrow" not Narrow. 



I note that a writer in Forest and Stream states that 

 some cock do not whistle in August, in fact, are com- 

 pletely noigeless, while another writer states he has seen 

 the bird flying about, opening his bill, and making sounds 

 like c-r-e e-h e, c r-e e-Jc-e. Both these gentlemen confirm 

 my views, as all sounds are vocal and are made at the 

 will of the bird. 



A woodcock flushed, when he frrst comes here, in 

 March, before the snow is off the ground, and in April, 

 May, June, July and August will make the same whistle 

 just as loud and just as strong and long as when flsushed 

 in October and November, if he wants to, and I have 

 heard and seen them at the different times stated. Bat 

 he does not always make the whistle, for sometimes, 

 whciu put up, he will go off without a sound. You catch 

 a glimpse, mark him down, put him up again, when he 

 will whistle loud and strong as possible. Now if this is 

 caused by tbe wings why don't we hear it every time the 

 bird is flushed, and how could the wings cause that long, 

 tremulous, unbroken sound. The very thrill in the wliist'le 

 shows that it must come from the throat and could not 

 be cont^-olled or caused by the wings. 



Previous to '88 our cock shooting began on Aug. 1. In 

 one cover, on first day of each year, I shot nine birds, 

 each time in company with Dr, John F. Black, of this 

 city, and in almost every case the cock when flushed 

 would whistl-e. I have put the birds up in May, June 

 and July, when fishing and when hunting for their nests, 

 and the birds would whistle then just the same as in any 

 other month. 



I have seen a cock put out of the cover in August, by 

 rny spaniels, come right close by me, and alight in full 

 view, in the open, without uttering one sound, and the 

 bird instead of running a short distance, as is usual with 

 them after alighting, has simply squatted down close to 

 the earth, and kept both his wings extended to their full 

 spread, not out straight, nor up in the air, but curved 

 and nestling on the ground. In this position I watched 

 him until dogs came up, and not until, as it seemed to 

 me. they pretty nearly had him in their mouth did the 

 bird jump, using his wings as a kind of lever, to shove 

 him up as it were, with a bound, from the ground— as a 

 dusky duck jumps from the water at flash of one's gun— 

 and off he would go, whistling like fun. 



Another writer in your columns says, "The cock let 

 themselves down thuough the air, with their wings set 

 edgewise, making a loud rushing noise." 

 _ What is the reason the whistle is not heard about that 

 time? As this occurs at dusk and in the evening I have 

 not been able to note the exact position of their wings, 

 nor how they were set, but I state most positively that 

 they go round and round in cucles. making a 'vocal 

 sound, like two, two, two, as described in my last letter, 

 and exactly like the twitter made by a lot of chimney 

 swallows, when they are chasing one "another about in 

 circles overhead, the sound goes faster and faster, until 

 at last it is merged or lost in their long tremulous 

 whistle, and when they alight they go speak, sjpeak. 

 This they invariably do, and it proves conclusively that 

 the sounds are vocal. 



The night hawks, when flying around in the evenings, 

 go speak, sp e-a k, but go near their young or nesting 

 places, and how soon they snap.their bills and elnck, chick, 

 cluck, in your face, or light on the ground, drop their tail 

 and wings, spread them out, and drag themselves along, 

 uttering a twittering whistle, all of which is vocal. Now 

 see them again, way up in the blue skv, almost out of 

 sight, hear them come swooping down, 100, 500 and 1,000 

 yards distant, making a tremendous whirl with their 

 wings, but you don't catch the least sign or sound of a 

 whistle. 



The snipe when flushed discloses his whereabouts by 

 his vocal skeep. His wings go with as much rapidity as 

 the woodcock's, but you hear no whistle, and the whistle 

 made by him of an evening in spring when flying around 

 overhead is vocal, like his skeep, and the' woodcock's 

 whistle. 



Not the slightest doubt but that the cock whistle is 

 vocal. If Mr. Brewster ever gets this way in spring time, 

 let him come to me and I will take him to grounds of the 

 cock, my dogs will put them up, and I will guarantee the 

 whistle is there, just the same, just as strong as in Octo- 

 ber, It is a curious bird, king of sport, makes funny 

 sounds, but all are vocal. H. Austen. 



Halifax, N. S. 



Editor Foi^est and Sti^eam: 



In a recent issue of your paper I find the following 

 statement, made by a correspondent: "No one believes 

 the skeep of the snipe is made by the wings, nor axe the 

 booming notes they utter when circling around overhead 

 of a spring evening." 



Now, I am inclined to agree"with Mr. Austen as to the 

 sfceep being vocal, but of the "booming" or "bleating" I 

 had other ideas, and as evidence would submit the fol- 

 lowing extract from Darwin's "Descent of Man." Speak- 

 ing of the bleating of the European snipe he savs: "No 

 one was able to explain the cause until M. Meves ob- 

 served that on each side of the tail the outer feathers are 

 peculiarly formed, having a stiff", sabre-shaped shaft 

 with the oblique barbs of unusual length, the outer webs 

 being strongly bound together. He found that by blow- 

 ing on these feathers, or by fastenuag them to a long, 

 thin stick and waving them rapidly through the air he 

 coidd exactly reproduce the drumming noise made by 

 the living bird." 



All interested in the use of attenuated feathers should 

 read the chapter of which the above is an extract; but 

 for the present purpose, and remembering that the bleat- 

 ing of the snipe is only heard when the bird is rushing 

 downward with quivering wings and spread tail, I think 

 the evidence pretty good that this sound is not vocal. 



The nearest relative our woodcock has is the woodcock 

 of Europe, and the principal difference between the 

 birds is in the structure of the point of the wing, the 

 European woodcock not having the first three primaries 

 attenuate, but only the first slightly narrowed. Now, as 

 it is probable the' habits of such closely allied species 

 wsuld be somewhat siniilar it would be interesting to 



know if this bird, that never has those peculiar, all im 

 portant feathers, moulting or not moulting, ever twitters 

 as he jumps from cover. I have had some acquaintance 

 with the European cock, but have no notes on this par- 

 ticular point, and will not trust my memory. But some 

 of your readers who have had more experience with the 

 bird might give us the needed information. 



Wm. E. Prabger. 



BlEOKUK, lojya. 



WAYS OF THE RUFFED GROUSE. 



/ HEN a brood of grouse separate, which they do 

 about Sept. 1, the birds select some place apart, 

 usually some pleasant and sunny nook near the edge of a 

 woods and in the close vicinity of springs or running 

 water, as they drink freq,uently, being natm-ally very 

 thirsty birds. 



They rarely leave this place, except for the purpose of 

 betaking themselves to some feeding ground-, usually not 

 very far distant, morning and evenings, or when driven 

 away by an intruder. In this latter case they take several 

 flights to lead their pursuer away, even crossing fields 

 and entering another woods, and then after an interval 

 return by one long flight, Sometimes, instead of flying,' 

 they will walk or run the whole distance back. 



One day while going aloug^a road that ran through a «^ 

 grove I started a grouse and he flew toward the end of it 

 and lit on the ground. There was quite a deep ditch that 

 ran parallel with the road at the distance of about 20ft. 

 When I reached the end I was unable to find the bird and 

 was puzzled to know what had become of him. Happen- 

 ing to look along the ditch or drain, which was perfectly 

 dry at that season, I discovered in it the grouse walking 

 deliberately back. We had passed each other at that 

 short distance. The grouse knew I could not see him 

 while there and had taken that means of return. 



Young grouse when driven from their home have a 

 habit of lying or sitting on the ground behind a small 

 tree with nothing visible but their heads and thus await- 

 ing the approach of their pursuer, sometimes not flying 

 until he is as close as within loft, of them. I have never 

 known an old grouse to do this. ' 



The grouse when pursued rarely, if ever, alights on 

 spots of the same character twice 'in succession. If on 

 his first flight he alight again on the ground the chances 

 are he will on his second do so in a tree, and so as to the 

 elevation on the ground, if on the high. ground on his 

 first, he will betake himself to the low on his second. 



A covey of grouse fly from the ground in one of two 

 ways. Either they will ail rise at once in the foi-m of a 

 crescent and fly eft" in diverging lines. Or the old bird 

 taking the lead the young-will follow at intervals of two 

 or three seconds. This latter is the more usual way. 



The ruffed grouse is a bird of the forest. I have once 

 or twice seen one walking on an open meadow, but he is 

 generally too wary and fearful to be caught at any great 

 distance from cover. The grouse is sometimes tempted 

 to go out a little way from the timber or cover to visit 

 old dead logs that may lie near. I have several times 

 seen them in such situations. Perhaps they feed upon 

 the grubs, perhaps they go there to sun themselves. 



When the autumn is past and winter and snow are^ 

 come the grouse resort to the dense dwarf evergreens, 

 from thence on frosty mornings they go to the sunny 

 hillsides to lie among the brown leaves and enjoy the 

 warmth, and particularly near a spring where the grass 

 is green through the whole season, • 

 I have seen but one grouse sitting on her nest. It was 

 in a large and rather open woods, where a herd of cattle 

 were wont to roam and go to a spring within it for water. 

 Her nest consisted of a mere depression in the ground, 

 rather shallow, at the base of a hemlock tree. I discov- 

 ered this grouse by accident, while I was walking 

 through the woods in the latter part of May. I had 

 passed rather close without disturbing her. when happen- 

 ing to turn round and look back I saw her. After that 

 I went every day to the forest to see the sitting grouse, 

 and standing oft' about 25yds. behind a tree enjoyed the 

 sight. I was never fortunate enough to find he'r away 

 from the nest and so could not tell the exact number of 

 her eggs. She undoubtedly left her nest for food and 

 drink; but at what times I could not say. 



After two weeks' watching, on my last visit the grouse 

 was gone, and the nest was found deserted, A few 

 broken egg shells were in the nest andsome were scatttred 

 around. I examined the nest or depression rather critic- 

 ally; it appeared to be a natural depression in the earth 

 lined with moss, and was between two roots of the tree, 

 which projected slightly above the ground; the center 

 was about 24in. below the surrounding surface. There 

 w^as no cover whatever around the nest, nor was it in 

 any manner concealed. On the side leading to a dense 

 and favorite cover for grouse adjacent to the large woods 

 there were shells extending along for about 10ft., and t 

 judged this was the direction the mother and her brood 

 had taken. Dorp. 



Almost a Tragedy.— We were driving along following 

 a winding road through the alders on the way to the 

 Pickerel Pond, Phon, Hi and I. when Phon, leaning over 

 the side of the sleigh,, said: "See that partridge track?" 

 It followed along the road for a rod or so when it was 

 joined by another. No mistaking that one: that's Mr. 

 Fox's. How slyly he crept along trailing the bird, as a 

 hound would him. See there, that is where he jumped 

 at the unsuspecting bird buried in the snow. But he 

 didn't get him. All" those httle pieces of snow were scat- 

 tered by the bird when he got up. But if it hadn't been 

 for that little pile of alder trimmings left there by some 

 chopper (and being partly buried in the snow Mr. Fox did 

 not see them from his side of the house) this tale would 

 have been different. His paws struck on them and away 

 went the bird from beneath them. Clucking to the mare 

 we jogged on to the pond commenting on the uncertain- 

 ties of life.— Dexter (Albany). 



Winter Robins in New England.— Under the head 

 of "Wititer Robins in New England" a Massachusetts 

 wi-iter notes with surprise a flock of these pretty songsters 

 that wintered with him. It may be unusual in some sec- 

 tions of that State, but directly back of where I live, in 

 what is known as Deep Hollow, a good-sized flock of 

 robins have made their home, and for the past three 

 winters have never migrated, to my certain knowledge, 

 as I have seen them nearly every day during that time. — 

 J. W. 



