088 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 28, 189S. 



section of bacon, got out some pilot bread, and when 

 Barney got back with the water made a pot of coffee, 

 strong and hot — which beats all the camp beverages ever 

 thought of for "stimuiatin' and sustainin' qualities" — 

 fried the bacon, and with the remains of a lunch brought 

 from home in a basket, we had a supper that put us in 

 such good humor that we did not care whether it quit 

 raining or not. That coffee, with two or three lumps of 

 cut sugar dropped in the old army-pattem tin cup went 

 to the spot with more directness than if it had been 

 served in the finest china in the swellest hotel in the 

 land. Supper over, we gave a final and combined yell 

 that brought only a weird wail for answer from a sleep- 

 less loon a couple of miles down the lake. We listened 

 till we strained our ears for old Sam's peculiar imitation 

 of a locomotive whistle; but hearing nothing but the pat- 

 ter of the rain on the tents and the fitful sighing of the 

 wind through the pines and hemlocks around us as it 

 came in gently off the lake, we gave them up for the 

 night and went to bed tired, sleepy and happy. It turned 

 out that they had hired a team at the hotel and started 

 for the camp about dark, leaving Baker and Mason to 

 drive out to Baker's house a couple of miles back in the 

 woods from the station and come back early in the morn- 

 ing with the rest of the baggage. Their boozy driver 

 had somehow failed to understand the directions given 

 and took the road to Duck Lake before Baker got back 

 to the hotel, landing them at a picnic ground for the 

 villagers on the bank of the lake where there was a 

 roofed-over dancing platform called "The Bowery." By 

 this time it was pitch dark and Btill raining, and they 

 took refuge under "The Bowery," where they shouted 

 themselves hoarse trying to get an answer from us be- 

 fore the chump of a driver found out that they wanted 

 to go to Green instead of Duck Lake. For awhile the 

 air was full of strange profane-like sounds, so it was told 

 us next morning in the recital of their nocturnal adven- 

 tures — and the driver in serious danger of a duck- 

 ing into the lake "to cl'ar up his obfusticated mental 

 faculties," as old Sam said, but at last they took 

 the back track for town through the rain and 

 darkness, so disgusted and and red hot mad that as 

 old Sam declared without twitch of a muscle in his 

 solemn face, "every drap o' rain that fell on 'em was het 

 up so 'at you'd a thought a locomotive was a runnin' wild 

 thro' the bresh, from the streak o 1 steam they left be- 

 hind." Back at the hotel they wanted the driver to make 

 a fresh start and drive them to Green Lake, but he had 

 experience enough for one night, and put his horses in 

 the stable even after the offer of a, double fee for the 

 service. Then the "Colonel" (The Kentuckians from 

 force of habit had given Culbertson the title of "Colonel" 

 the year before and it had stuck to him), offered him or 

 any one else around the hotel $5 to show him the way to 

 camp on foot, but it seemed they all "stood in" with the 

 house, or didn't care to risk finding the road in the rain 

 and dark, and the boys gave up the attempt to reach 

 camp that night and went to bed soured, and "clean 

 buncoed," as old Sam made it out. To fill the measure 

 of the disappointments and miseries of the night, the 

 Colonel's bed broke down before he was fairly in it, and 

 he passed the remaining weary hours till morning with 

 head and heels a good deal higher than some other parts 

 of his anatomy, in a vain endeavor to make the snores, 

 and snorts, and growls come out even with the anathe- 

 mas heaped at irregular intervals on the driver; the hotel 

 in general, and "that $1.49 bedstead" in particular. The 

 keeper of the fryin' pans was right: something had 

 turned up. It may be noted that the Colonel stands 

 "risin' o' six foot" in bis socks and weighs considerably 

 more than 2001bs. — hencs the catastrophe that overtook 

 that $1.49 bedstead. Morning came at last to give him 

 rest, and with it Mason and the son-in-law with the team 

 and baggage from the station, and after a breakfast, the 

 strongest feature of which was the axle grease sailing 

 under the name of fresh country butter, they paid the 

 score, which was so astonishingly small that old Sam 

 figured it out that the landlord had in his mind the axle 

 grease, the*,22-calibre biscuits, and the $1.49 beds when he 

 named the bill; a tacit apology as it were for the miseries 

 he had inflicted on them— and in half an hour more they 

 were in camp, hustling the keeper of the fryin' pans 

 around to get them another breakfast. Kingfisher. 



Snake-Charmed Birds. 



Willi amsport, Pa.— It is the popular belief that 

 serpents have power to charm their prey before devouring 

 it. This belief seems to be applied only to the smaller 

 snakes and not to the larger ones. The small Bnakes, I 

 observe, are endowed with more patience, and when they 

 wish to procure a meal they do not rush upon their victim 

 and by force crush out its life, but calmly and patiently 

 await their opportunity. I believe that no serpent has 

 the power to charm. The snake is a natural enemy to 

 bird-life. For this Teason, when a bird observes a snake 

 it immediately sets about to drive away its enemy. The 

 snake may raise its head and retain a motionless attitude, 

 save now and then the thrusting out of the tongue. The 

 bird will fly or flutter about, manifesting the greatest ex- 

 citement, chafing and chattering, scolding and screaming 

 by turns, all the while flitting in a hurried manner back 

 and forth, until by this violent exercise in the fruitless 

 effort to accomplish its purpose, it so reduces its physical 

 force that it is unable to continue the warfare further 

 than to retain with difficulty its hold upon some friendly 

 branch. In this exhaust ed condition it can only flutter 

 its winge, make fluffy its feathers and emit a slight vocal 

 sound. Tired out, the bird is unable to escape and thus 

 falls an easy prey to the snake, that simply bides its time 

 and at the right moment reaches up and captures it.— 

 Charles H. Eldon. 



Antelope and Deer of America. By J. D. Caton. 

 Price $2.50. Wing and Glass Ball Shooting with the 

 Rifle. By W. C. Bliss. Price 50 cents. Rifle, Rod and 

 Gun in California. By T. S. Van Dyke. Price $1.50. 

 Shore Birds. Price 15 cents. Woodcraft. By "Ness- 

 muk.' Price $1. Trajectories of Hunting Rifles. Price 

 50 cents Wild Fotvl Shooting; see advertisement. 



Any person who cannot find the " Forest and 

 Stream" for sale at any news stand in the coun- 

 try, is requested to report the fact, with location 

 of stand and name of dealer, to the Forest and 

 Stream Pub. Co., 318 Broadway, New York. 



RATTLESNAKES AND THEIR WAYS. 



Tarpon Springs, Fla., June 15.— Editor Forest and 

 Stream: I am inclined to side with Dr. Ellzey in the 

 statement that rattlesnakes do not spit or eject their 

 venom. I have h^d some experience with rattlers, hate 

 been bitten by a five-footer, have killed a few, have seen 

 more that others have killed, have pinioned them under 

 a heavy billet of wood and then teased them with a long 

 stick; and I have never seen one spit, have never seen one 

 dripping poisonous saliva from its fangs; in fact I have 

 never even seen one with his mouth open when in coil. 

 The opening of the mouth is done at the time, and is a 

 part of, the act of striking, and is done too quick for the 

 ordinary eye to see. 



And then again I have dissec ed some half-dozen or 

 more, and have invariably found the fangs and poison 

 sac inclosed in a slight membrane. In cases where the 

 snake had been teased until it would strike at sticks or 

 any other object, this membrane was broken; but in two 

 instances where the snake was shot and the back broken 

 the membrane was found intact. All of which goes to 

 show that the snake must strike something to rupture 

 this membrane before the poison can be ejected. 



I have seen one rattler with a half grown rabbit in its 

 mouth. The rabbit was alive, and when the snake was 

 shot and in its writhings the rabbit slipped from its mouth 

 it ran away unhurt. 



Once again, I saw a rattler catch a mother quail. The 

 bird had a brood of newly hatched chicks and in her ef- 

 forts to lead the snake away from her young, she ven- 

 tured too near and was caught. The snake was killed in 

 the act of swallowing the bird. The quail when released 

 was apparently stupefied, but after some time came to 

 its senses enough to stagger off, and the next day was 

 discharging the duties of a mother in good shape. Both 

 of those snakes I dissected very carefully; and in both I 

 found the membrane inclosing the fangs and poison 

 sacs unbroken, which proves I think, that the rattler 

 does not use his poison fangs to procure food , but simply 

 for defense, and that he cannot spit, or throw his venom, 

 until he has been in a scrimmage long enough to get his 

 artillery in condition. 



One writer in the Century not long ago told of a rattler 

 spitting a full teaspoonful of venom, which struck the 

 writer on the forehead. Now I would not dispute that 

 statement for the world, but I don't believe that there is 

 a full teaspoonful of venom at one time in any six of the 

 largest rattlers to be found in Florida. 



Now let us hear some one else tell their experience, it 

 is all interesting and we may get down to bottom facts 

 after awhile. S. D. Kendall. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



In your issue of last week it was suggested that some 

 further facts as to the peculiarities of the rattlesnake 

 might be useful, and I add my mite on the subject with- 

 out pretending to the accuracy of the scientific observer. 

 If in anything there is difference between me and the 

 learned professor you quote I shall not know it, for the 

 language used in his description is quite beyond my com- 

 prehension. 



I have met with what I should call five or six different 

 species of the rattlesnake. One was known as the yellow 

 snake, found in New England and as far west at least as 

 Ohio. In Michigan I found a spotted, short, thick-set 

 beast, mostly on marshes and wet prairies, and. one black 

 variety, long, slim, and the most active and vicious 

 fighter of any of the family. A dark brown species is 

 very abundant in most of the canons on both sides of the 

 Rocky Mountains and as far south as the Mexican line in 

 Arizona. They are found larger and more venomous as 

 we go south. I have killed some very respectable-sized 

 specimens in the foothills west of Denver, and also in 

 southern California. 



They are not often found more than 7,000 to 8,000ft. 

 above the sea level, and in camping in the hills I have 

 always made it a point to pitch my tent above the snake 

 line when practicable. They generally have their homes 

 and dens high up on the mountain side in some ledge of 

 rocks where they gather in large numbers. I met with 

 such a place nearly or quite 8,000ft. above the sea level, 

 and came to notice it from there being a quartzite cliff 

 with perpendicular face sitting apparently on the smooth 

 surface of the blue limestone forming the body of the 

 mountain. There was left between these strata a hori- 

 zontal crevice some ten feet long and an inch or two 

 thick. A buzzing from two or three rattlers about my 

 feet drew my attention to the fact that ten feet above me 

 at the foot of the cliff was the mouth of the den. The 

 next morning at sunrise I returned to the place with my 

 son (a lad of fifteen, carrying his shotgun). The brutes, 

 or some of them, were at the mouth of the crevice, and 

 the lad killed twelve at the first shot, and in three or 

 four shots killed between thirty and forty. The next 

 morning we returned to the cliff and I walked a few rods 

 in advance carrying the gun. There were no snakes in 

 sight but a cry of alarm from the lad caused me to turn 

 back and I saw a very large snake on the side of the hill 

 above the lad and coming toward him with head high in 

 the air and with every appearance of anger and an inten- 

 tion to strike him in the face. The snake had got within 

 a couple of yards of the lad when my shot struck it. A 

 few days later I had a miner shove a stick of giant pow- 

 der well into the crevice under the cliff and fire it. I 

 had expected that the concussion would destroy what 

 animal or reptile life had taken refuge there, but in addi- 

 tion the cliff itself went down the mountain side in frag- 

 ments. 



If disturbed at their dens, rattlesnakes sometimes go a 

 mile or so and make a combined attack on their enemies. 

 Mr. Hooker, a merchant of San Francisco, who had. a large 

 cattle ranch in Arizona, told me the rattlesnakes made a 

 raid on his ranch house one night and drove his half-dozen 

 herders out of the house, where they staid till morning. 



In fishing or hunting in the hills, scarcely a day passes 

 that I do not see one or more of these reptiles. For many 

 years I have carried in my pocket a series of strong 

 magnifying glasses, and have often examined the 

 structure of the rattlesnake's mouth and fangs — the fangs 

 appear opposite each other on the upper jaw, each lying 

 along the side of the jaw when not in use, and are thrown 

 down at the moment of striking. The fang is bent or 



curved and has a hollow or cavity running through the 

 center from the jaw to near the extreme lower point, 

 where it becomes solid and sharp. A piece is cut from 

 the outside curve of the fang to near the point, and so 

 deep as to open to the cavity. It is much on the principle 

 of the hypodermic needle, if only the needle were curved 

 and the opening to the cavity above the point, with good, 

 solid, sharp steel for a point. 



In experimenting with many specimens I find they 

 rattle as often when running as when coiled, and generally 

 seek a tuft of grass, bush or some other cover where they 

 keep up their buzzing for a minute or so, if undisturbed. 

 They strike when coiled or with no coil — simply bringing 

 the head back a few inches. If one is stopped on the run, 

 if you put a stick near him he strikes, and keeps on strik- 

 ing without coiling. Cut him in two, leaving 3 or tin. of 

 body with the head, and the same striking is continued 

 for a while. 



I have never seen in this snake the slightest disposition 

 to spit or blow its venom. And with such perfection of 

 apparatus for placing its poison where it is most deadly, 

 I could not believe in the spitting method of defense. 



In one case I saw a girl six or eight years old who had 

 been wounded on the top of her foot by a rattlesnake. 

 The marks of the fangs were seen in two dark-red spots. 

 It was too late to open the wounds with a pen-knife and 

 suck out the poison, I sat on the floor by her a hour or two 

 and kept the foot and leg in cloths wet with whisky, and 

 gave her some to drink once in fifteen minuces. The foot 

 and leg swelled badly, but swelling went down after 

 twenty-four hours. The bite of a rattlesnake is quite as 

 dangerous as is claimed for it. They kill, in the West, 

 a great many cattle and horses. If a domestic animal is 

 struck in some muscular part of the jaw or neck, you can 

 see it for weeks carrying a swelling nearly as large as the 

 head, it becomes emaciated and unable to eat, and in a 

 few weeks it dies . Struck in a more vital part, the whole 

 poison gets into the blood at once and death is immediate. 

 Deaths from snake bites among the poor half-clad people 

 of Mexico, if actually counted, would show how dangerous 

 it is to be bitten without the protection of stout boots, 

 stockings, drawers and such other covering as an Ameri- 

 can wears in the mountains. 



As pets, I prefer something higher in the order of 

 creation than either a snake or a monkey. The Egyptians 

 from the earliest time3 seem to have dealt much iu 

 serpentB, and I find no fault with the tastes of that people. 

 But I should regret to know that my countryman were 

 getting up a cobra and rattlesnake market for pets. 



Idaho. Geo. H. Wyman. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The rattlesnake, so far as my observation goes, acts only 

 on the defensive. I have observed them on several occa- 

 sions, and have never seen the least approach toward tak- 

 ing the offensive. 



I have watched them from a short distance, and after 

 attracting their attention, observed how deliberately 

 they will move away. The rattlesnake gives the impres- 

 sion that he does not intend to be hurried. He is very 

 sluggish in his movements, as if crawling was a laborious 

 business; in this respect he is the very opposite of his 

 deadly foe — the big blacksnake, which goes through the 

 woods at a pace that is most startling. 



The rattler, if you are not far away, will often Btop and 

 look at you as if to warn you against too near an ap- 

 proach. If now you throw something toward him and it 

 strikes the ground pretty close to him, he will at once coil 

 and spring his rattle and give you warning not to ap- 

 proach too near. He will sometimes retain this position 

 a long time, but after awhile, convinced that what you 

 have thrown is not a living enemy ,-^he will slowly uncoil 

 and crawl away in the most deliberate manner. 



Walking along a wood road I once put my foot down 

 within a very few inches of a very large rattler coiled 

 and asleep. My sudden departure from his immediate 

 vicinity aroused him, and, as I stood watching him from 

 a short distance, he started to crawl slowly away without 

 even springing his rattle or raising his head in warning. 



The catching of the rattlesnake alive is not at all diffi- 

 cult, and taxidermists and keepers of museums in Florida 

 have no trouble in purchasing from the country boys all 

 they may need to keep up their collections. The boy, if 

 he has found a snake and happens to have a stout string 

 in his pocket, as what boy has not — simply makes a noose 

 in the end of it, and cutting a stick with two prongs at 

 the end, pins the serpent's head to the ground, while he 

 slips the noose over it, and then drawing it tight, marches 

 off, dragging hiB victim behind him until he reaches 

 home and can put him in a box until he can bring him 

 into town for sale. 



The rarity of accidents from snake bites in Florida 

 shows how little danger is to be apprehended, anyway, 

 and this danger could be very much lessened if proper 

 precautions were taken, as the accidents that have oc- 

 curred usually show this. A hunter in the scrub should 

 always have on either heavy boots or leggings: and the 

 snake rarely strikes as high as the knee, I do not believe 

 a lady in any danger at all, as, if the snake should strike, 

 the fangs would be caught in the folds of her dress. A 

 story is told in St. Augustine of a woman and her little 

 daughter picking whortleberries out in the woods, when 

 the child, at some little distance, suddenly ran screaming 

 toward her mother, who with horror saw a rattler dragged 

 behind the child, his fangs having been caught in her 

 skirt. The mother hastily tore the skirt from the child 

 and left it with the snake, helpless and unable to remove 

 its fangs from the dress. The child was entirely unin- 

 jured. W. 



St. Augustine, Fla. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



While quail shooting in the vicinity of Santa Fe Lake, 

 Fla., last March, I came across a rattlesnake, which, on 

 seeing me, sounded its rattles and kept it up for some 

 time, while I watched it. It did not try to escape. After 

 shooting it I found it had a rabbit half swallowed. I 

 mention this as an instance when a rattlesnake would 

 like to have spit very much, but he had evidently broken 

 off more than he could chew! The snake was 6ft. 6in. 

 in length, and had eleven rattles. The rabbit was a full- 

 sized one. A. W. Hamlyn. 



New Jersey. 



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