Sept. 11, 1891,J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



163 



you the lantern, and I won't slioot unless he is goine: to 

 jump." I was sure it was a panther or mountain lion. 

 Just as Harry came out again with the lantern, tlie thing 

 said meair. meatc, clnLkuroo, cJmlcaroo, chukaroo. It was 

 a little screech owl about as large as a pigeon, that had 

 been attracted by the smell of the meat. We went into 

 the tent relie^edi hut a little ashamed to have been so 

 fooled. 



Tliat same night the big wolves killed a steer about a 

 mile from camp, on the other side of the creek. They 

 howled and snapped and yelled while they were doing 

 it, and every once in a while we could hear the deep, 

 hoarse, despah'ing beilow of the steer ending in a smoth- 

 ered groan. The lobo or buffalo wolf has a voice the 

 most savage and despairing of anything I ever heard. 

 At last all was still and we slept. 



In the morning Price wanted to go home, and though 

 I wanted to stay longer we started. 



We reached the D. B. L. i-anch that night and camped. 

 The foreman said he was going to send a man to Zulu for 

 his mail, and I wrote a letter to send home, so that if we 

 stopped on the road my wife would feel easy. Hanny 

 went down to the ranch and Price and Noah went to bed. 

 I went down at about S o'clock to see the boys and leave 

 my letter. When I got near the house I heard a sound of 

 reveling by night, and when I opened the door of the big 

 log- cabin I saw the foreman, the three cowboys, two 

 strangers and Hanny seated around a big table drinking 

 "whisky stews," as the Texans call them, and singing. 

 One long-haired Texan was iinishiug the "Cowboy's 

 Lament" as I came in. It is a mournful song when howled 

 by a Texan. I can remember one stanza: 



"Bury me not on the lone prar-e-e 

 Where the coyotes will howl o'er my dead hodd-e-e." 



A.fter the song had been duly complimented, Hanny 

 arose. He has seen a somewhat checkered cai'eer since 

 he left the paternal roof and came to Kansas. At one 

 time he ran what is called a drug store, more properly a 

 "joint." He braced himself, and I knew something new 

 was coming, for Hanny is at times afflicted with poetical 

 mania. He threw back his head, and in a loud, clear 

 voice sung "The Kansas Refugee," the first two verses 

 running: 



"I came from sunny Kansas, 



Where the howling blizzai-ds blow, 

 And where the temperance sisters 

 They persecute one so. 



"Three times I have been cycloned, 

 And been arrested some. 

 So now I've come down here 

 Where 'tis legal to sell rum." 



"That's pretty good," said the long-haired Texan. "I 

 was up in Blank City, Kan., once, and Bat Smitherson, 

 who is the president of the Temperance Union, got me 

 drunk, and then Bob Gill Smitherson, his father, arrested 

 me and had me fined f 20." 



We sat and talked on various matters till late, and then 

 went to camp. At daybreak next morning commenced 

 the homeward march. In seven days we landed at 

 Cimarron, with a little venison and as hearty as bears. 



W. J. Dixon. 



THE BEAVER'S WOODPILE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



A doubt superimposed upon a doubt sometimes leads to 

 a certainty, and in the hope that the certainty will be 

 • attained — by some one else — I wish to contribute my bit 

 of knowledge regarding one of the most curious tricks of 

 the beaver, to wit, his ability to coax a stick into parting 

 with its specific gravity. 



Long years ago, nearly half a lifetime, I was taken to 

 Lake Superior to cheat the undertaker, and succeeded so 

 well that he has never dared to even serve a summons on 

 me since. My father was the lordly magnate of over a 

 hmidred thousand acres of forest, and after I had changed 

 a stiff arm into a limber and mighty useful one, he turned 

 me over to the care of an old trapper and explorer to live 

 an out-of-door life. It was the softest snap that old trap- 

 per ever had, as, beyond a strong desire to cheat my old 

 enemy by drowning, I was easily controlled, and his 

 salary must have tripled his income from trapping. 

 Equipped %vith canoes, tents, traps and all the impedi- 

 menta of a hunter's life, not a lake or stream for miles 

 escaped our ravages. Not a trout from the Montreal to 

 Tobacco River was safe in his eddy. Not a mink slipped 

 out of the water into a cedar swamp but what his mother 

 told him we had a No. 1 Newhouse there. Not a fisher 

 stole along the banks of lake or stream without being 

 warned against us. Not a muskrat family in six lakes 

 but had lost a member in our traps, and at least half of 

 the survivors were toeless and legless. Decimated beaver 

 tribes moved out of our county by night. Solitary otters 

 fled westward, leaving the handsome pelts of their mates 

 drying on our stretch-boards. An assorted lot of Canada 

 lynxes came to see us, and we took them in and skinned 

 them. No marten was safe if he came do^vn out of a 

 tree. A couple of bears spent a whole summer studying 

 our deadfalls, and then reluctantly admitted that we 

 were too many for them— and we were. 



However, this devastation couldn't continue forever; 

 and so one day my old friend and gniide was put in a more 

 domestic role, that of assistant helper and outside man to 

 my mother's kitchen, while his son and myself were 

 turned loose to rove in turn. It had been a royal progress 

 in venery, and had left me no novice in the arts of the 

 gentle savage. Ah, me! what a treat my grandchildren 

 will have in the twentieth century, if I should live so 

 long. 



My youthful comj)anion and myself fished much, hunted 

 a great deal, studied in nature's own university some, 

 and trapped in a desultory way. Young Jack was a 

 rather rough savage, but of an inquiring turn of mind. 

 His chief fault, in my eyes then, was his infernal hunger 

 for company. He wanted to hunt with a brass band and 

 trap with a picnic party. As a fisherman, his laziness 

 made him nearly perfect. In talkativeness he was in 

 marked contrast to his father, who had seldom spoken, 

 except when he swore. 



But to return to our muttons, About a mile from my 

 father's hpuise on Lao la Belle, the Gratiot Biver, one of 



the most beautiful of streams, flowed out into the lake, 

 as we fondly called it, bringing down the dark waters of 

 Gratiot and Deer lakes, and incidentally containing more 

 31b. brook trout than I have read of since. Its outlet 

 was a curiosity, in that it was a projecting delta, dis- 

 charging through three mouths, two navigable by canoes, 

 one by large sailboats. For a quarter mile up stream 

 there were no rapids or logs, and at the end of navigation 

 was a red bluff about 20ft. high. Just opposite this, and 

 nestling down in a clump of swamp ash, was an old beaver 

 house, the largest I ever saw, reported to have been there 

 in '55, Some seasons it would be deserted. The next 

 year some wandering beavers would hunt it up, probably 

 having heard of it through tribal tradition. They would 

 out a few fresh sticks, pile them on the outside, just as 

 people hurry to hang shades in rented houses, to let the 

 neigh bors know that the premises are occupied, and would 

 then go into the wood-cutting business. All up and down 

 the stream we soon saw the marks of their axes, and at 

 once proceeded to get our traps. Once or twice I caught 

 a half -grown fellow, perhaps their most promising scion, 

 and the rest of the family would promptly leave. This 

 went on for years, until unnnumbered ghosts with gleam- 

 ing eyes and huge red teeth gave the place a bad reputa- 

 tion, and the non-resident landlord, whoever he was, 

 could not rent it. Popular belipf had hoodooed it as a 

 "haunted house." Still, I fancy, at this distant date, be- 

 lated travelers joyfully welcome it, and congratulate 

 themselves upon its shelter and protection, only to hm-ry 

 away the folio wing morning haunted by visions of spooks 

 and bogies, their ears still ringing with the noise of clank- 

 ing chains. 



Usually the fresh sticks placed on the house were de- 

 nuded of their bark, but not always so. My companion 

 and I used to throw them into the water occasionally, 

 and I remember that some of them would sink and others 

 float. At the time I do not think we atfached any signi- 

 ficance to this, and I am totally unable to explain it 

 now. But sometimes, while prodding the bed of the 

 stream, either in wanton idleness or to select a place 

 for our traps, we would disturb Mr. Beaver's woodpile, 

 and some of it would come floating to the sm-face, bid 

 not all. I forget what theory my old guide had taught 

 me in explanation of this phenomenon, but that he had 

 one I am sure, though while in the woods with him I 

 did not take the time to test it that I did afterward 

 around the particular house of which I am writing. 



Again, we would fish up pieces of wood, and some of 

 them would slowly sink back when released from the 

 hand. Thus my testimony throws doubt on all the 

 theories advanced in youi' columns. Hence the first 

 sentence in this article. Hence, also, my uselessness as 

 an observer. Looking back upon what was a familiar 

 sight to me, I find my mind absolutely without conclu- 

 sion as to the cause, and if my evidence has accom- 

 plished anything, it is to leave a mysterious matter still 

 more enshrouded in mystery. I fear I neglected my 

 studies more than I did my fishing. Hinc illce lachrimce. 



Having written this screed without a sequence I might 

 as well add that one night last February, the thermometer 

 20' below zero, two Indians and myself alternately froze 

 and slept before an open fire in the semi-polar region 

 north of the Great Lakes. Before" daylight in the morn- 

 ing we had our tea and frozen bread, made up our packs 

 and smoked the pipe of impatience for the day that was 

 to bring us to the Canadian Pacific Railroad. At last the 

 first few gray streaks in the east made it light enough to 

 start, and ptitting on our snowshoes we began the last 

 march for the "home camp." In dark ravines we 

 stumbled and fell, over brightening hilltops we 

 scrambled in awkward haste; our breaths formed clouds 

 of vapor in the frosty air, and we hurried on, buoyed up 

 with the happy thoughts of the "homeward bound." 



Just as the sun showed its red rim over the horizon we 

 were crossing a half open valley, and one of my men 

 stopped and pointed, uttering the customary Indian 

 "ugh!" Following the direction of his hand I saw a 

 dome-like structure six or seven feet high standing near 

 us in the mist, partially surrounded by a low wall of 

 three or fom- feet. Going nearer I found it was a large 

 beaver house, with the dam cut by some marauding 

 hand. Was it the spirit of the old house on the Gratiot 

 come back to haunt me ? It looked unearthly enough, 

 not to say ghastly, in the early light. Had the Matche 

 Monito of the Odjibways done this in revenge ? I looked 

 at my red men. Their gaze was stolid and wandering. 

 Evidently they hungered after the flesh pots of Egypt, 

 Silently I gave the signal for moving, and rapidly we left 

 the ghostly reminder of my boyhood days behind us. 

 There also must I leave the habits of my race, once given, 

 now only understood, bv Wassemigoyan, our Universal 

 Father. 



Sadly and degenerately I sign myself Ahmeek. 

 Buffalo, N. 



WAYS OF THE RUFFED GROUSE. 



IN the fall during the shooting season young grouse 

 occasionally leave their home and wander away, and 

 are found in strange and out of the way places, such as 

 vacant buildings, covered bridges, villages, and even in 

 cities. There seems to be a wayward and yet natural 

 tendency in this bird at times to roam, to leave the woods, 

 the hills, the gullies, and to seek the plains, the islands 

 and the shores of small streams and rivers. This tendency 

 is encouraged somewhat by a desire on the part of the 

 bird to find such food as it loves, as well as being chased 

 and fired at to too great an extent on its native ground. 



I remember once while walking along the street of 

 seeing a grouse dusting in the roadway. I supposed at 

 first it was a hen, but as I approached it it rose and flew 

 straight down the street and in at the opening of the 

 large covered bridge that spanned the Mohawk. The 

 bird fit on a beam near the roof. Getting up to the beam 

 I took the bird oft". He remained perfectly motionless, 

 as is their habit when approached by man. This grouse 

 when he rose in the roadway made comparatively little 

 noise, their habit being to make the greatest noise when 

 unseen in the densest cover. This bird knew it would be 

 useless to attempt to frighten me when I saw him. On 

 two occasions grouse have been found in vacant buddings 

 on the farm, both having flown in at the door, Once, 

 also a grouse flew into my residence in the city, the cir- 

 cumstances of which I have related. 



I know also of several cases where grouse have flown j 

 through windows, and against doors and sides of houses; 

 sometimes with fatal effect, but not always, I recollect 

 an incident that occurred in our city not long ago where ' 



a grouse flew into a small barn and perched on a beam. 

 The owner of the premises having invited a gentleman 

 into the barn on some business, the guest said to the 

 owner, "I see you keep poultry." "No," said the owner, 

 "I keep no poultry, but my neighbors do, and I wish they 

 would come and take that pullet away, she has been here 

 now three or four days, and I am tii-ed of feeding her. I 

 guess I'll have to notify him." The gentleman looking a 

 little more sharply said, "Why, that's not pullet, that's a 

 pai-tridge." And so it was, to the great surprise of the 

 other, who had a fine dinner the next day, and invited 

 his friend to it. DORP. 

 Schenectady, N. Y. 



Recent Arrivals at the Philadelphia Zoological Gar- 

 den.— Purchased— 4 mandrills {CunoceplialuK monnnii), 3 rhesus 

 monkeys (Macactis CT-j/t/irccu.s-), 3 ruit'ecl Ipuxuvs (Lnmur iiarius), i 

 Fniiiri el-like phalangers (BeUdeus sciwrns). 1 red lory (Eua ruhra), 

 3 West African love birds {Amw) iy>f pnJIahaX 1 Wne-tbvoaXed 

 warbler (EritJiacus cmnecvhiy^. Ill tuberculalod iguanas ilyuana 

 tiiherculaLa), 1 carpet Piiake (Mvrriia vai-ieqatn), 1 diamond rattle- 

 snako iCrutalm horridus). ground raLllesnakes (r?-o;((7op7)(irt(,-; 

 mniarius), 3 common blnok enakes ( Bas-rniiUin cnnfitrictor), '> crm- 

 moii hog-nosed snakes (iTt:tr?v)J'i7) plaliirliivm),! black liog-nosed 

 snake {Heterodon plaiijrh innt< iiUir.r'), 1 k\T^<r anake (Ophihoivs (/etu- 

 lus), one chicken sntiUe {Vohihcr (luadrimttatm), 2 pine snakes 

 (PityopTiis melannlmcvj<), i coaeb-wliip snakes (Bascavhoii flaoelli- 

 forme). 2 glass snakes (Op/iiosawrw.s vcntmlis). 1 green snake {Cyclo- 

 pMs vcrnaiU), 1 indigo snake (Spilotcs cretieMnm), 1 corn snake 

 iUoluher guttnlm), 1 scarlet snake (Cemophora eoccinea}.! svotted 

 monitor {Vamnus uaritts), and 1 White's cyclodus (Tiiigua scin- 

 aiiden). Presented— 1 Eskimo dog from Alaska, 1 gray pqnirrel 

 {Sciurus caroline'nsvi), 2 twilight bats (Atalaplm ,-rr,ntsrvhir\x), ?. 

 raccoons (Procj/onZotor). 8 opossums (D(:deY)j7?ws )•/- i p\ysLV- 



row hawk (FaZcospan'erf-usXSnight hawks (G/KJi ' 



1 great-horned owl {Buho t)t>'i:|iniamts),3 canaries (N. i iui-i aj.iurius), 

 3 8f . Thomas conures {ComLriis xaniholmmns), 2 alligators (Mliga- 

 tor mississippicTims), 2 garter snakes (Eutcenia macrostenima), 9 gar- 

 ter snakes (E/j/tcCTJia si?'ta7is), 3 banded rattlesnakes (Crotahis hor- 

 ridus). 1 DeKay's snake (Storeria dekayi), 3 common water snakes 

 ITropidmvitm sipedon) and 1 pine snake (Pttvoplmmelunolciicm). 

 Born— 4 pumas {LMis conmlor). 15 earter snakes {Eutcenia kirUdLsi, 



2 Marcy's garter snakes (Eutcenia nmrciana) and 4 banded water 

 snakes {Trcjpid/motus fasciatm). 



'dtn^ §dg md §tttj. 



THE HUNTER'S BADGE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



There is an old custom in Scotland, according to which 

 any one who has killed a stag, a salmon, a seal and an 

 eagle, has a right to wear (if he pays for it) the hunter's 

 badge, which consists of a small gold watch charm in the 

 form of a shield with the heads of the above embossed in 

 the four corners. 



This is all very well as far as the stag and salmon are 

 concerned and perhaps also the seal, although it seems 

 rather a shame the seals, which are growing rare in 

 Scotland. But inasmuch as the badge calls for the de- 

 struction of eagles it is a great mistake, as eagles are 

 almost extinct in Scotland, owing to the senseless prac- 

 tice of killing them down on all possible occasions; and 

 why it should be an honor to shoot with a shotgun a big 

 slow-flying bird does not seem very clear, the usual way 

 being to watch the eagle's nest and shoot it as it comes 

 to feed its young. 



The eagle ought to be omitted, and a Hst of all the 

 game birds in Scotland substituted, so as to make the 

 holder of the badge an all-round hunter. 



There is a more recent badge called the "stalker's 

 badge," which is for any one who has "stalked" (still- 

 hunted) a stag over a certain size of horns, entirely by 

 himself. This requires some doing. The usual Scotch 

 and English deer shooters have a man to guide them, 

 which, of course, is not allowed when qualifying for the 

 badge. 



If there was a "hunter's badge" started for America, 

 given to any one who has killed certain of the big game 

 of America in a sportsmanlike way it might educate men 

 up to taking care of the game, spare females, etc., as any 

 one who shoots big game in a sportsmanlike manner 

 would be able to wear the badge (which need not be ex- 

 pensive, as it could be of bronze), and if he met any mem- 

 ber of a shooting club who had not got a badge on he 

 would know what class of shooter he was and might 

 shame the unsportsmanlike shooter into mending his 

 ways W. 



NOVA SCOTIA LICENSES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



As the time is approaching when your people come here 

 to hunt, I send a list of the names and residences of the 

 persons authorized to sell licenses. If published in your 

 paper it may help to save a recurrence of the unpleasant- 

 ness of last year. If the government should appoint any 

 others I shall send their names also. There are no im- 

 portant amendments to our laws. At last session, with a 

 view of protecting red deer, which we comtemplate im- 

 porting from the West, a close season was made for them 

 of ten years, during which none shall be shot. 



Below is a list of ofiicers authorized to sell licenses in 

 the several counties of Nova Scotia : 



Annapolis— J. M. Owen, Annapolis Royal. O. T. 

 Daniels, Bridgetown. 

 Antigonishe — D. McDonald, Antigonishe. 

 Cape Breton— John McDougall, Sydney. 

 Colchester — Hugh McKenzie, Truro. 

 Cumberland — D. J. McLeod, Amherst. Robt. Gibson, 

 Parrsboro. 



Digby — ^W. B. Stewart, Digby. A. M. Comeau, Oomeau- 

 ville, Clare. 



Guysborough— A. H. McGillivray, Guysborough. Thos. 

 Campbell, Sherbrooke. 



Halifax — W. H. Wiswell, Halifax. Provincial secre- 

 tary's ofiice, Halifax. 



Hants— Jas. O'Brien, Windsor. Nelson Wier, Nine Mile 

 River. 



Inverness— J. H. Jamieson, Port Hood. 

 Kings— L. De V. Chipman, Kentville. 

 Lunenburg — Ed. H. Solomon, Lunenburg. Chas. Lordly, 

 Chester. 



Pictou — Jas. McG. Stewart, Pictou. 

 Queens — Wm. Ford, Milton. 

 Richmond— Thos. J. Jean, Arichat. 

 Shelburne— William S. Taylor, Shelburne. Eufus H. 

 Crowell, Barrington, 

 Victoria— John McDonald, Baddeck. 

 Yarmouth— Hiram Goudey, Yarmouth. Enos Gardner, 

 Argyle. C, S. HARSiNaxoN, 



Hawfas. 



