March 24, 1893. j 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



271 



CATCHING WILD ANIMALS.-V. 



YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK. 



[Continued from Paqr, %hti.~\ 



"VfEXT day I rode into the Springs, where I made ar- 

 -Ll rangements with Captain Anderson, the superintend- 

 ent, to turn the animals over to him, and for an attend- 

 ant, who went back with me; the transportation to fol- 

 low next day. When I returned Dolph reported one of 

 the elk unable to stand. I went to the corral and spoke 

 to it, Ic got on its feet and staggered to the fence. Poor 

 thing, I gave it eggs, but could not save it; the change of 

 milk killed it, and besides it was almost too old. I find 

 that the very young animals stand the change best. I 

 instructed the man sent out how to feed the animals. 



The next day the team came. All camped in the cabin 

 with me that night, which proved rainy and dark. 

 Bruiser was at his post about 60ft. from the door, which 

 was open all night. The cub had been rather quiet for 

 him, up to about 10 o'clock, then he began to squall and 

 fight his chain, or sit upon top of his post and yell, mak- 

 ing all the disturbance he could. There was very little 

 sleep for me, Toward two o'clock in the morning he was 

 more noisy than usual. I thought the rain made him feel 

 uncomfortable and that he was taking it out of us by 

 keeping us awake. All at once he stopped his noise. I 

 supposed that he had gone into his box to sleep, but keep 

 still for half an hour he could not, and hearing no noise, 

 I got up and went to the door to listen. Then I walked 

 out toward the post, trying to make out his shape, but it 

 was too dark. I then ventured within ten feet, expecting 

 him to make a dive at me. It was so dark that I could 

 not tell then whether he was there or not. I had been 

 thinking he was choked, so I walked up to the post, 

 reached out, felt the chain and pulled it, ready to spring 

 back. It came: I could feel a light weight on it. This I 

 raised between my eyes and the sky and could see that 

 there was something black at the end*. I dropped it and 

 went to the house. I now knew what had happened. I 

 lit the candle and made the soldier attendant come out 

 with me without telling him what I wanted except to 

 "show him something." When we got to the box we 

 sa w that there was very little left of Bruiser. Hanging 

 in the collar was a little hide, a part of his skull with part 

 of the lower jaw and nose. One eye was gone, the other 

 lying outside. Down by the post was part of his brain, 

 and 6ft. away lay his hindquarters still warm. I knew 

 now why it was Bruiser did not make any more noise, 

 and that he died as he had lived, fighting. We all felt 

 very sorry over his untimely taking off. I went back to 

 bed thinking of our loss. It was sure a large bear had 

 been there and killed him, yet thought it strange. I had 

 heard no other sound than the cub made, not even a 

 growl or snarl from the old one, but a bear does not make 

 any noise moving about. It can be as silent as the com- 

 ing on of night, and one. blow from the paw of a grown 

 bear would end a cub's days. 



Later in the night I heard a gold pan fall. There had 

 been a mess of fresh trout in it belonging to the driver. 

 I grasped my revolver and ran to the door, hoping to have 

 revenge on something for Bruiser's death, but nothing 

 could be seen, neither could the dogs find anything. I 

 looked for the fish, there was one left out of nineteen. In 

 the morning we found a fox track about where the fish 

 were, and a bear's track lO Jin. long in the road, and 

 about the post where Bruiser died. The bear's track was 

 seen along the road for ten miles each side of Yancey's. 

 He was traveling, and stopped at the hotel long enough 

 for a lunch off the cub. I gave what was left of Bruiser 

 a burial, thinking while doing so that he had possessed in 

 a remarkable degree that quality we all respect — courage. 

 That day all the other animals went to the Mammoth Hot 

 Springs. I saved one fox for company. 



About a week later I rode over a high butte south of 

 Yancey's, looking for anything in the way of animal. 

 Toward evening I became interested in some petrified 

 trees and geodes, and was walking along an old game 

 trail leading my saddle horse and looking for geodes. I 

 noticed a red-looking rock ahead with white specks on it. 

 It was lying in among some sage brush. Just then I 

 noticed something bright about one end, that looked like 

 an eye, and that the rock, though lying very still, had 

 hair on it, that was moved by the evening breeze. That 

 red-spotted rock that lay so still was a black-tail fawn ; 

 just Uke one of those in the picture in the Forest and 

 STREAM of Jan. 7, only not quite so old. I dropped my 

 bridle Tein, got a string from my saddle pockets, and went 

 to pick up the fawn. Leo was close by, he had gone 

 within 3ft. of it, bat had not noticed it. When I was 

 about 10 ft. distant it jumped to its feet and started off like 

 a streak, and I after it, but I soon saw that it would 

 escape me, so I told Leo to catch it. He ran up beside it 

 as it went into a quaking- asp grove and turned it back. I 

 tried to catch it as it passed but it dodged me, and up hill 

 it went with the dog beside it. The poor thing was terribly 

 frightened and was making a loud cry, that soon brought 

 its mother, who came running up through the quaking- 

 asp grove. Leo turned the fawn, which made a circle 

 above me, then started down a gulch past me, I encouraged 

 the dog as he passed. A few yards further on he put his 

 nose under its side and threw it over as it ran. It fell in 

 a sage bush, and I ran up and picked it up. Holding it in 

 my arms, I sat down on a rock to tie the string around its 

 neck. 



Now that I had my hands on it it was perfectly quiet. 

 Leo was very much pleased with it, licking its face, neck 

 and ears. He had not hurt it or offered to. It was a 

 beautiful little doe. There was nothing awkward or 

 ungainly about it, and it wa3 not at all like either the 

 elk or antelope when very young. The old doe came up 

 pretty close, very much excited, and calling for the little 

 one. As they generally have two fawns I watched her 

 some time in the hope that she would discover to me the 

 hiding place of the other. But no, she went off after a 

 while, and I saw no more of her. I carried the fawn 

 home in my arms, letting the horse guide himself. I 

 named it Laura, in honor of one of the girls who helped 

 catch Bruiser. It was beautifully spotted with white, its 

 coat very silky, and inclined to curl a bit about its neck 

 and along its spine. It showed none of the white mark 

 on its hump so conspicuous in the grown deer. She was 

 about three weeks old and very wild, but soon became 

 used to me and would run beside me when out, daintily 



picking a blade of grass here, a willow leaf or flower 

 there, and taking just a drop of water from the spring. 

 Her step was as noiseless as a dream. I could not hear 

 her move, only see her step. She was very watchful, and 

 her great ears were always on the move, trying to catch 

 every sound. Her nose would be in the air, at times the 

 edges of her nostrils working as though feeling the air 

 for danger. When she saw anything that she thought 

 was dangerous she would drop like a shot to the ground, 

 flattening herself out as much as possible, but not in such 

 awkward positions as the elk or antelope. She would 

 drop at the sight of a dog a distance off and when he was 

 close by would try to fight him. She would walk up to 

 him, holding her head high, put her neck over his and 



Mctle Deer. 



Photographed from life \>y T. R. Ingersoll. 



try to stamp on him. I had no trouble in inducing her to 

 take food. She took milk from the bottle the first time I 

 offered it. I sent her to join the others at the Springs as 

 soon as I could get transportation for her. 



A few days after sending Laura away, Mr. Yancey, the 

 road agent, and I went fishing in the Yellowstone, a mile 

 or so below the mouth of Elk Creek. Mr. Y. had his 

 two hound pups, Pinkey and Green, and I had Leo as 

 usual. We were all mounted on ponies, which we left 

 tied to bushes while fishing. After getting about 301bs. 

 of trout we started back. The pups running about were 

 soon out of sight. When we reached the plateau above 

 the river we saw the pups jumping about a black object. 

 I said "Bear! Let's see what the pups are doing." The 



I 



Mule Deer Fawn. 



Photographed from life by E. Horer. 



bear was close to a very large granite boulder. We 

 started forward on a lope, which soon became a run, 

 when we caught sight of two black cubs. We made a 

 great charge, and I sent Leo to help the pups. The old 

 bear had started the cubs up a fir tree near by just as my 

 dog got there to help drive the old one away. While one 

 went back after hats and a fiah-pole lost in the charge, I 

 got ready to get the cub3 out of the tree. Fortunately 

 the tree was not over 30ft. high, but the two cub3 were 

 at the extreme top. I got them out by slipping a run- 

 ning noose- over a hind foot with a stick just as I did 

 with Bruiser. The first cub we got was quite a large 

 one and a fighter. After tying him up, I got the other, a 

 she one, quite small compared with her brother. She 

 did not offer to fight at all. I suppose she was completely 

 cowed by the old one and her big brother, and like some 

 big brothers, he had taken more than his share of the 

 milk, leaving her only what he could not use himself. 

 We rolled the cubs up in saddle blankets and took them 

 on our horses in front of us while one man took all the 

 fish on his horse, 



The male cub had made two dives at me while I was 

 leading him out of the brush; he came at me with tooth 

 and nail, but a few blows across the nose with a rope or 

 switch made him change his mind. He soon learned he 

 had not his little sister to contend with, I sent them to 

 the Mammoth Hot Springs after having them at Yancey's 

 a week, I had learned to like the little one, Sue, who 

 was very gentle. I would hold her in my lap while she 

 was eating, coidd do anything with her without her 

 offering to fight. Not so her ugly overgrown brother; he 

 was sulky and treacherous all the time he was with me. 

 Not long after he reached the Hot Springs he escaped. I 

 saw Sue after she had been at the Springs a few weeks; 

 she was very much changed and had grown fat, large, 

 and as full of tricks as Johnny. 



The capture of the last two cubs ended work of that 

 kind for me until October of that same year. 



Elwood Hofer, 



THE INSTINCT OF THE COWBIRD, 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The books on ornithology tell us that the cowbird 

 (Molothrus ater) is a common summer resident of New 

 England, without regard to locality. Howpver true this 

 may be as to other parts, it is a fact that the bird was 

 unknown to me in Penobscot county, Me. 



Cowbirds are summer residents of Cape Ann, and I 

 have studied their habits for six years I commenced 

 by requiring answers to the following questions: 



Why do birds, when victimized, rear the young cow- 

 bird? 



Why does the young cowbird desert its fosier parents 

 to associate with its own kind '? 



Why do young cowbirds lay eggs in other birds' nests 

 instead of building nests for themselves ? 



How did the cowbird acquire this unnatural habit ? 



Writers on the subject usually answer the first ques- 

 tion by the term "stupidity," and the other three by the 

 word "instinct." 



In all my life I have never found the birds stupid. 

 They are as intelligent as to the requirements of bird 

 life as man is as to the requirements of human life. 



The theory of instinct is only a dream of the uniniti- 

 ated. Nature's children are never troubled by such night- 

 mares. 



My first study of the cowbird happened in an unex- 

 pected manner. I was watching the nest of a pair of 

 yellow warblers (Dendroica cestiva) that contained two 

 eggs. While the owners were absent I saw a cowbird 

 flutter on to the nest and add her parasite egg to its con- 

 tents. When the yellowbirds returned they at once dis- 

 covered what had taken place and acted as if wild with 

 alarm and distress. For a half hour the birds flew wildly 

 about, uttering plaintive cries, after which they settled 

 down on a twig, where they could overlook the nest. 

 They now seemed less excited, and were evidently holding 

 a consultation. After a while they seemed to agree on a 

 course of action, for the female went on to the nest and 

 the male bird tried to sing away the trouble, but I 

 thought his song less earnest than usual. 



No more eggs were laid, which was somewhat remark- 

 able, as the yellowbird's number is usually four. 



I found the young cowbird hatched out just twelve 

 days after the egg was laid. The next morning I found 

 the two yellowbirds out of the shell. When the cowbird 

 was two days old he crowded both the little birds out of 

 the nest. When I found them one was dead and the 

 other gasping as if fatally hurt. While I was watching 

 the latter, the mother bird appeared with an insect. She 

 offered the food to the dying bird, and appeared greatly 

 troubled when it was not received. After a' while she 

 seemed to comprehend that the little one could not eat 

 and she fed the insect to the cowbird. Before flying 

 away she returned to the gasping bird and looked at it 

 by turning her head from side to side, while she uttered 

 a succession of low plaintive notes. 



After this both yellowbirds had all they could do to 

 supply the black giant with food. When he was old 

 enough to fly, or at least was completely feathered, his 

 foster parents coaxed him out of the nest after the man- 

 ner of all bird kind. Birds know when their young are 

 old enough to leave the nest, and withhold food until the 

 little ones are downright hungry and then tempt them 

 out with a dainty morsel. While tempting the young 

 cowbird from the nest, the yellowbirds made as much 

 effort and appeared as joyous when successful as if the 

 labor had been performed for their own bright-eyed pretty 

 bird lings. 



The young cowbird when once out did not return to 

 the nest for shelter. His growing appetite taxed the 

 strength of both birds to the utmost. Every moment of 

 daylight was occupied in catering to his wants. One day 

 I missed the female yellowbird, and after a long search 

 found hev engaged in building a new nest. She had for- 

 saken her former charge. 



Heretofore I have neglected to state that I often saw 

 the mother cowbird. I think she visited the nest several 

 times a day after the egg was laid. Her frequent visits 

 had accustomed the young bird to her presence, thus 

 making possible what followed. 



After discovering the new nest I looked up the young 

 cowbird and found the male yellowbird feeding him as 

 usual, but not alone. The old cowbird was acting as as- 

 sistant, as if just aroused to the responsibility of maternal 

 duties. For several days both birds fed the young cow- 

 bird, after which the yellowbird spent much of his time 

 with his mate, gradually deserting his charge, to return 

 no more when the second brood was out. 



Thu3 my observations had answered two questions; 

 my first and second. My first question, "Why the vic- 

 timized birds rear the parasite?" was answered to my be- 

 lief in this way: I believe that the yellowbirds had had 

 experience with cowbirds before, and intelligently un- 

 derstood that they must sacrifice their first brood in order 

 to raise a second brood unmolested. The actions of the 

 birds when they discovered the parasite egg, their great 

 distress, their 'consultation and prompt action, their 

 neglect to lay the usual number of eggs, can be con- 

 strued in no other light. It is far beyond the province 

 of instinct. 



My second question, "Why the young cowbird deserts 

 its foster parents?" is already intelligently answered. It 

 is no desertion. The foster parents turn over the para- 

 site to its own mother, in a matter of fact way, and then 

 go about their own affairs in peace. 



My third question, "Why do young cowbirds lay eggs 



