494 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[JXTLY 9, 1891. 



A MID-SUMMER P^AN. 



T? ROM the meadows comes-iaintly the sound of tlie mowing, 

 ^ Borne up to the ear on the soft southern hreeze, 

 The hillsides in scarlet with lilies are glowing, 

 And the cattle lie resting beneath the broad trees. 



It is mid-summer noon, and the sun in his glory- 

 Pours down his warm rays on the bosom of earth. 



Forever repeating the wonderful story 

 He has told through the ages since time had its birth. 



'Tis small wonder, that bursting from clouds in the morning, 



Or I'obing in crimson from victories won. 

 All nature with light, heat and beauty adorning. 



The life-loving Greeks made a God of the sun. 



When he rose from his slumbers beneath the ^>gea.n, 

 How the daffodils opened their buds in the spring, 



While the bees and the birds, in a mid-summer ptean. 

 All hastened the praise of Apollo to sing. 



Who else but a Deity, blessed and blessing, 



Could thus condescend upon mortals to shine 

 With his smiles, now the tenderest flower caressing. 



Now ripening the olive, the corn, and the vine. 



Although Greece has long faded, with all of her glory. 

 The same sun sheds its beams over earth's widest range. 



While no record of mortal, though ever so hoary, 

 Detects in his brightness a shadow of change. 



Through the beauty of springtime, the splendor of summer, 

 The glories of antumin, and winter's long rest, 



He repeats the same legend to earth's latest comer 

 That he told the first day when he sank in the west. 



No longer we worship the fabled immortals, 



Nor bow to their images, graven in stone. 

 But we dimly discern, as through the haU'-opened portals, 



A power above as unseen and unknown. 



^Vhile we throw to the winds mythological fables. 

 Cast the shackles and fetters of creeds down the line, 



As we gaze on the seasons, so changing, yet stable, 

 Who can doubt that the author of all is divine! 

 Chablesxown, N. H., June 31. Von W. 



AN OUTING IN CENTRAL AMERICA. 



IT was on an April day and a party of Yankees were 

 riding down the (almost) dry bed of the Rio Grande 

 Eiver, between the town of Rivas, on the shores of Lake 

 Nicaragua and the Pacific Ocean. There were a dozen 

 in the party, but half of them were some distance in 

 advance. Rounding a bend in the stream they came sud- 

 denly upon a fat buck lying asleep like a pig in the water 

 and mud of a little pond under a steep bank 10ft. high. 

 The horses and mules were reined in promptly, while the 

 party, who were tend erf eet to a man, told one another 

 that the buck was dead, and wondered how it happened 

 so, until the buck winked at them, when they concluded 

 it must surely be very badly wounded. Thereat they 

 I)roposed to rope the beast and take him into camp. The 

 buck continued to wink while they got a rope and turned 

 a noose into one end and one of them approached to 

 within 6ft. of it. Thereat the buck, with a snort, that 

 was probably its way of laughing, skipped nimbly over 

 the 10ft. bank and ambled into the brush. 



The writer was one of the tenderfeet. We had traveled 

 from San Juan del Norte (sometimes wrongly called 

 Grey town on the maps), Nicaragua, and were examining 

 the work so far done in digging a canal from sea to sea. 

 But though we were tenderfeet, we could not help seeing 

 the game that appeared about us, nor could I, being a 

 constant reader of Forest and Stream, refrain from 

 making inquiries by the wayside about the sport to be 

 found in that country. The result was that I concluded 

 that the sportsman who would like to fish in a stream 

 that never was fished in, to sit on a runway where no 

 one else ever sat, to camp on a lake where no one else 

 camped, in short, to see and bring to bag game that never 

 was before disturbed by any human being, should go to 

 Central America. I fancy that not many readers of the 

 FOBEST AND STREAM will at first thought take kindly to 

 this suggestion, for if I may judge by what I read of 

 outings for sport, the average American finds a journey 

 to Canada, or the Northwest at most, as great an under- 

 taking as he is equal to. However, if there is one who 

 has the pluck to go to Africa for game, there may be one 

 willing to try the nearer, equally interesting and less 

 known fields of our own continent. 



About the first thing I saw when my steamer reached 

 the dock at the canal company's settlement at San Juan 

 del Norte was a email bear skin stretched on the side of 

 the shed near- the pier. It was a very good beginning. 

 A few minutes later the headquarters of the engineers 

 was reached, and there hung at least a dozen panther and 

 jaguar skins— chiefly the jaguar, and very fine trophies 

 they were. Thereapon we sat down upon the verada after 

 dinner and smoked and talked about the game of the 

 country. 



Although about a thousand men have been at work 

 about the eastern terminus of the canal for more that a 

 year there is a plenty of wild game within ten miles of 

 the settlement. Indeed, some of the skins hanging about 

 headquarters had been taken on the beach within five 

 miles. 



Ten miles back from the sea one enters the hills and 

 mountains, and here game of all kinds indigenous to the 

 country can be found. The best way to reach the hills is 

 by boat up some of the rivers. One may go to Bluefields 

 and hire a boat to carry him up, but the Rawa River 

 oilers better opportunities for wUd sport because but one 

 party has ever gone up this stream and across to Lake 

 Nicaragua, and that was a party of British engineers 

 under Mr. J. B. Gillespie. I saw "Mr. Gillespie in Mana- 

 g-ua. He was not greatly interested in such matters, but 

 he said game of all sorts came about his camp as fear- 

 lessly as ground squirrels about a New York corn X->atch. 

 The jaguars, the panthers, and "the rare black tiger," as 

 Mr. Gillespie called it, were seen, when in the heart of the 

 woods, every day. This black tiger I took to be the rare 

 black leopard of which two specimens are (or were) in 

 the Central Park menagerie in New York. These animals 

 oame about the camp apparently attracted by the smell of 



cooking meat. They were in no way ferocious, neither 

 were they timid. 



The tiger-cat and the ocelot were often seen, as well as 

 their larger cousins, but he did not see a lynx. Of course 

 there were plenty of deer and wild hogs. The deer are of 

 two varieties, one of which was very small. Bears of two 

 kinds, both very small, were seen. Here, then, was a 

 chance for a man to get a variety of trophies, not to men- 

 tion the interest one would find in tramping through an 

 unexplored wilderness. 



However, the list of game is by no means complete. 

 There are two animals peculiar to the country, one of 

 which they call the tepezcuintle and the other the guatusa. 

 I saw the guatusa. It is a sort of kangaroo pig, or per- 

 haps a rabbit pig. The head is shaped like a pig's, while 

 its hindlegs are long, and it travels about the woods 

 like a veritable Lepus americanus. It is delicious eating. 



The most dangerous brute there, not excepting the 

 felines, is a kind of tapir called the danta. I saw numer- 

 ous tracks of this animal. It sleeps in the mud by day, 

 and when awakened by the approach of man is pretty 

 certain to charge on him, the natives said, svhen by rea- 

 son of its strength and size it can quickly chew a man to 

 death. 



I was told of two kinds of squirrels, though I saw but 

 one individual. It was gray on the sides and belly and a 

 rufous brown on the back — a handsome little fellow nearly 

 as large as our gray squirrels. 



Coyotes and foxes abound in the open lands about the 

 big lakes, while the possum is seen as often and is as 

 toothsome as in old Virginia. 



Of the birds, no game more beautiful than the wild 

 turkey need be asked for. As I saw it the cock looked 

 more like a peacock than a North American turkey; but 

 served hot from a Central American outdoor brick oven 

 I am bound to say that by any name it tastes as well as 

 any bird that ever scratched gravel. There are really 

 two kinds, the cock of one breed being entirely black, 

 while the other has a white breast. Both have topknots 

 on their heads. 



I saw three sizes of doves, one being very small — smaller 

 than a robin. But one partridge rose withing sight. It 

 was said to be like the English pheasant. 



Of ducks I saw but few, and I do not believe that there 

 are any great numbers of them. They said that two 

 kinds of wild geese could be found in big flocks on the 

 waters at the end of the rainy season. The dandy snipe 

 of the world, however, lives in Nicaragua. It is called 

 patillos, also jacanas. The male's beak is a lemon yellow 

 at the tip and white at the base. A bright yellow leaf- 

 shaped growth springs from the base of the beak and 

 covers the forehead, which is a purplish black. The 

 back is maroon colored, the breast the same only darker, 

 while the long feathers of the wings are a nile green, and 

 so, too, are its legs. A peculiarity of the bird is the 

 growth of sharp yellow spurs a half-inch long on the first 

 joint from the ends of the wings. The natives say the 

 birds kill one another with these sometimes in the love- 

 making season. In their flight they at once arrest the 

 attention of the spectator, but when they alight and hold 

 up their wings for a moment and turn their heads from 

 side to side while the colors flash in the sunshine, they 

 are an animated bouquet such as I never saw equalled 

 elsewhere. They are good eating and can be killed by 

 the himdreds, 



I did not mention the monkeys, although the red mon- 

 key is said to be most excellent eating. If one wanted 

 specimens to mount, he would find scores of red monkeys, 

 gray monkeys, white-faced black monkeys and the howl- 

 ing black congos about his camp every night. The little 

 dog-faced monkeys are scarcer. In the trees the mon- 

 keys are delightfully graceful. 



I was told that the large ones were very tenacious of 

 life, that a cango, for instance, held on to the branches 

 of a tree until after three bullets from a Winchester 

 express .38cal. rifle had been sent through his shoulders, 

 heart and lungs, but when a fourth tore his head all to 

 pieces he fell. 



The cry of the wounded monkey is heart-breaking, for 

 it is exactly that of a child in distress. But when, one 

 day, an expert shot in our party barked the tail of a 

 cango, the sight of the beast as it started up in wild sur- 

 prise, stopped and picked up its tail to see what the 

 matter was, jumped again, only to stop once more and 

 look with increasing wonder at the tail, was so ludicrous 

 that we simply rolled over on the ground and laughed till 

 we cried, in spite of the possible cruelty in clipping a 

 harmless beast. 



There are so many things in Nicaragua to interest one 

 who loves animate nature that I cannot mention a thous- 

 andth part of them. The late Thomas Belt wrote a book 

 called "The Naturalist in Nicaragua," that is a very in- 

 teresting book, but it does not cover a hundredth part of 

 what I would like to read about. For instance, he deals 

 chiefly with insects, but a little beggar of a tick that digs 

 a tiny crater in the fine loam by working his head cata- 

 pult fashion and then hides at the bottom till something 

 good to eat tumbles into the crater is not mentioned. I 

 saw one that was three-sixteenths of an inch long grab 

 the hmdlegs of an ant three-quarters of an inch long, and 

 for over ten minutes hold on while the ant pawed up the 

 earth in its endeavor to escape. Smaller ants though of 

 no mean pluck and strength, fell victims. Nor is any- 

 thing worth mentioning said in the book about fishes; 

 and birds receive but scant notice. The same may be 

 said of the general run of mammals. 



The fish that I saw were new to me. The only man of 

 the party who carried a rod and reel was W. E. Simmons 

 of New York. With a variety of lures he had a deal of 

 sport taking a fish called the sabaleta. It was more like 

 a bass than anything else, and had an average weight of 

 about Sllbs. It was of a dark greenish color on the back 

 and white below. There were three rows of teeth, one 

 row being very strong and in the front verj like human 

 teeth. It was a most vigorous fighter, often leaping far 

 out of the water and shaking the hook from its mouth. 



A much larger fish, and one that fairly swarmed about 

 the rapids of the San Juan, was like a tarpon, of say 20 

 to SOlbs, weight. I never saw so many fish in any stream 

 as there were of these there. They were said to be grand 

 fish for the rod and reel — equal to the tarpon of Florida; 

 but we had no tackle that would hold them. They bit 

 the hook off every time they were struck. 



There is dotibtless magnificent salt-water fishing on 

 both shores, but particularly in the bays of the Pacific 

 coast. The bay at San Juan del Sur would satiate the 

 most eager Walton that ever cast a fly. Of all that I 



saw there, a barracouta was the most pleasing. Imagine 

 a pike 6ft. long at the end of your line and the fight with 

 the barracouta will be pictured beautifully. 



This reminds me of a fish story told me by ex-Governor 

 Pacheco, of California, now American Minister to Central 

 America. Every afternoon at 4:30 o'clock a great shark 

 comes in alongshore at Amapala, on the Bay of Fonseca. 

 His appearance so terrifies the smaller fish there that 

 they fly into the surf and are cast up on the beach by the 

 bushel. In consequence the people of the town repair to 

 the beach regularly at the hour named and gather in the 

 spoils, making a great lark of the occasion. The shark 

 is called the padre, and is well nigh worshipiDed by the 

 people. 



If one would go to Central America for an outing he 

 should leave New York in February. One may go from 

 New York to San Juan del Norte, Nicara^gua, or toLimon, 

 Costa Rica, or from New Orleans to Blewfields, Nicara- 

 gua, or Livingston, Guatemala, or Porto Cortez, Hondu- 

 ras. From what I was told, the best place to land is 

 Blewfields, for from that place he can go in a dugout to 

 other streams along the coast, and then strike up through 

 the country on a journey that may last two weeks or six, 

 to end on Lake Nicaragua. This journey would be 

 through an absolutely unexplored country, but one that 

 is certainly passable, and as full of game as all streams 

 are of fish. 



An easier journey would be by steamer up the San 

 Juan River to Lake Nicaragua and across to Rivas or 

 Granada. The whole territory between the lake and the 

 Pacific is inhabited and cut up by wagon roads, but is 

 alive with small game, deer and pigs. The feline tribe 

 is wanting west of the lake. 



The west or Pacific side is in all respects the most 

 pleasant to hunt through. The east side is so dense that 

 one must often cut his way with a machete through the 

 tangled vines and underbrush. Then, too, much more 

 rain falls on the east side, the proportion being 306in. per 

 year at San Juan del Norte and 70 at San Jtian del Sur. 

 It rains in the dry season east of the divide. A most de- 

 lightful outing could be had by going to San Juan del Sur 

 via Panama and the Pacific mail steamers, and there 

 hiring a coasting canoe with a native or two and so sail- 

 ing back down that picturesque coast to Punta Arenas, 

 Costa Rica, or even to Panama. The shooting would 

 have but one drawback — the game would be too easily 

 found and killed. The scenery is everywhere magnificent, 

 and the weather indescribably beautifiil. 



Doubtless the fear of fevers has kept sportsmen and 

 tourists from braving this untrod wilderness, but after 

 my own experience there, and from what I was told by 

 Americans now living there, the climate of the hills and 

 the Pacific coast is remarkably healthy. There is as 

 much difl!erance between the Atlantic coast swamps and 

 the hills of Central America as there is between the 

 swamps of the Pamlico and the black mountains about 

 Asheville. I have no doubt whatever that the mountains 

 of Nicaragua will become famous as a health resort as 

 soon as the inter-oceanic canal is opened — an event not 

 so remote, by the way, as it may seem to be. The only 

 danger to health which any man need fear there will be 

 found in a lack of backbone to resist gentle temx^tations 

 in the inhabited districts. 



There is one other feature that might tempt a Yankee 

 to go there — perhaps two more. The forest is dotted over, 

 if one may judge by the explored parts, with ancient 

 ruins of cities. Engineer Gillespie found some remark- 

 able ruins in his survey from the Rama andUbalde, while 

 the gold he found was something more remarkable still. 

 Gold mines are not usually as valuable as they seem to 

 be, though there are placer diggings now known that 

 yield incredible sums to native miners. But the possi- 

 bility of making a collection of works of art from the- 

 ruins of an old oity would certainly prove a temptation 

 to a host of the readers of Forest and Stre-oi, 



The matter of expense is not great, say $300 for steamer 

 fare and $3 a day while in the country. This would pay 

 the expense even of a coasting trip where two natives 

 and a big dugout were hired. John R. Spears. 



NOTES FROM A SHEEP CAMP. 



"To me are mountain masses grandly dumb; 

 I ask not, Whence? and ask not. Why'/ they come. 

 When Nature in herself her being founded. 

 Complete and perfect, then the globe she rounded, 

 Glad of the summits and the gorges deep. 

 Bet rock to rock, and mountain steep to steep. 

 The hills with easy outlines downward moulded 

 Till gently from their feet the vales unfolded." 



—GOthe. 



JUNE has come to change the face of nature, and 

 here among the mountains her influence is already 

 felt. After the trial, of which I spoke in my last article, 

 I hastened back to the realm of trout and deer, and again 

 Ike was my host and guide. We drove out of Panguitch 

 on the first of J une in the midst of a snowstorm that lasted 

 all day, and night found us at Henrie's camp on the Mam- 

 moth, But the Mammoth was not our destination. It is 

 time for shearing and Ike has gathered his herds on Asay 

 Creek, another fork of the Sevier. Tuesday was clear 

 and warm, and Ike helped Henrie with his lambs, while 

 I took my first lesson in holding the innocent little crea- 

 tm-es that were having their ears slit, tails docked and 

 being otherwise tortured to enhance their value. 



At 4 o'clock we set out for Ike's camp and reached it 

 just as the sun was going down. We left the wagon at 

 Asay Creek and climbed up half a mile through balsams 

 and long-leaved pines to his sheep wagon, where the main 

 camp was pitched. Here, in company with four herders, 

 we passed the night. We were within five nailes of the 

 summit of the great divide and the night was cold. 



Forest and Stream does not devote its columns to a 

 discussion of politics, but in camp we talked about the 

 political situation until 2 o'clock in the morning. It was 

 a marvelous change, for generally the dweller in cow 

 camps and sheep camps is compelled to listen to vulgar 

 yarns that are repeated night after night until he would 

 fain take out his blankets and sleep alone beneath the 

 stars. But the recent disorganization of the People's and 

 Liberal parties has made RepubUcans or Democrats of 

 every one, and the boys take positive delight in talking 

 over" the situation and in making all manner of inquiries 

 about the events of the day and the noted characters now 

 in the political arena. I had thought the revolution con- 

 fined to Salt Lake, Ogden and Provo, but it has spread 

 into every town, hamlet and camp in the Territory, and 



