Oct. lo, 1891.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



247 



BIRDS OF THE CHEHALIS FORESTS. 



THE following notes of bird life in Washington are 

 contributed by Mr. Robt. H. Lawrence, whose inter- 

 esting description of the locality is printed on page 246: 



The birds about me this summer I haye somewhat care- 

 fully noted. Having a small clearing in front of my 

 house, where the sun's ray falls for half the day, it seemed 

 that I had a few more varieties than my neighbors. A 

 family of Oregon jays came nearly every morning to 

 forage about the door. I noticed them first July 28, when 

 the young bird was'still of a very dark color, and decidedly 

 inexperienced, though able to fly pretty well. One day I 

 built a brush fire and next day saw two Steller jays flutter- 

 ing about it. They evidently knew a camp-fire meant 

 stray morsels of food for them. They are rather more 

 shy than the Oregon jay, A large hemlock tree (near the 

 cabin) in falliug must have knocked ofl: some cones from 

 a fir it leaned against. A few days after, on Aug. 14, a 

 flock of American crossbills lit on the gi'ound near my 

 door step; and for many days they were constantly about; 

 now whirring from tree to ground, only in a moment or two 

 to whir back again. Some were most beautifully colored, 

 a dark crimson lake and brown, others bright vermillion 

 and yellow. About Sept. 5 these birds took to the higli 

 treetops, and I saw them no more, but could hear them 

 chattering as they flew in straggling flocks up and down 

 the river. 



The American dipper is seen about the river here, and 

 the belted kingfisher is often met with. This last bird is 

 very abundant in the lower stream, or about the Harbor 

 tide-lands. Ravens I often see, but always at a distance. 

 The varied thrush, rock wren, western winter vsTren, 

 chestnut-backed chickadee, Harris' woodpecker, sooty 

 grouse, and Oregon ruffed grouse, are all pretty often 

 seen or heard. 



In salmon-berry time I heard a plaintive note at dusk or 

 early dawn; but never saw the bird. I judge it to have 

 been made by the russet- backed or dwarf hermit thrush. 

 Two pileolated warblers spent some ten days about my 

 brush heap. I first noticed the pair Aug. 15. A rusty 

 song sparrow with a bit of moss in its mouth and a half- 

 grown young one by its side, I saw Sept. 5 on a fallen 

 hemlock. What it was doing with the moss I could not 

 tell; though I observed it several times after in that place 

 with the young one. Looking out of my cabin door the 

 morning of Sept. 2 I spied a small bunch of feathers on a 

 bough of the fallen hemlock. It was a tiny owl, I shot 

 it, and on comparing it with descriptions in "Cones's Key" 

 (ed, 1884) found it exactly fitted none. It may be a Cali- 

 fornia pigmy owl {Glaucidium gnoma californicmyiy. 

 though I am not perfectly sure. At dusk Sept, 15 I heard 

 the deliberate, clear, sad notes of a bird, which a settler, 

 who was staying with me, said was a rain crow. "At 

 least," said he, "that is the way they sound back in 

 Virginia." The next day it rained. Again at dusk Sept. 

 27 I heard the sad, distinctly reiterative notes, and near 

 the same place. The bird was overhead, high up in a 

 dead fir, and I could see its form dimly outlined against 

 the sky. It must be the yellow-billed cuckoo {C'occyzus 

 americanus). A small flycatcher, very light in color, 

 with no distinctive marks excepting two whitish wing 

 bars (was it the little flycatcher?) three white-rumped 

 shrikes seen together July 10; one western lobin Sept. 3, 

 others heard occasionally; and a small hawk or two, com- 

 pletes my list. When winter sets in I hope to add to it, 



WAYS OF THE RUFFED GROUSE. 



IN your issue of Oct. 1 "Dorp" mentions shooting at and 

 missing a sitting grouse, and the bird remained 

 motionless until frightened away by the approa,ch of 

 another hunter. 



This same thing has occurred with me quite a number 

 of times. When a boy, during my first experiences with 

 this game, through a combination of bad guns, poor am- 

 munition and buck fever, I several times missed sitting 

 grouse at short range, and they almost always remained 

 for a second shot. This generally brought them down, 

 but once, one of the first I ever shot, seeing that I was 

 badly rattled, very accommodatingly waited for the third 

 shot, which I managed to hold a little straighter. My 

 notion is that the birds do not connect the mere report of 

 a gun with any sense of danger to themselves, and the 

 same is true of other game. I have shot partridges in 

 the northern Maine woods, and then moving on jumped 

 deer within a hundred yards of the spot, which might 

 easily have made off unobserved had they been so minded. 

 Other hunters have observed the same thing and their 

 views agree with mine. 



In her papers on the Nicatowis Lake region last winter 

 Miss Hardy spoke of the creeping up to and shooting of 

 a drumming grouse. Well this is a feat, and then again 

 it isn't. It all depends on circumstances. In the Aroo- 

 stock woods, where the birds aire tame as hens, I have 

 often walked up to and shot drumming birds, when I 

 made nearly as much noise as a railroad train walking 

 over dry dead leaves and sticks, and have seen them 

 straighten themselves up and di-um when they knew I 

 was watching them a short gunshot away in plain sight. 



On the other hand, when the birds are wild, haunt 

 dense thickets, and the walking is noisy, it is impossible 

 to get up to and shoot a drummer. He will hear or see 

 you and sneak off. 



Another thing, which I think is not generally known, 

 is that in the fall the birds drum as the notion takes 

 them, when feeding or roaming through the woods, not 

 confining themselves to any particular place. They pre- 

 fer a log, stone or other elevation, but in the absence of 

 these wUl di-um on the level ground. I have noticed this 

 in many widely separated haunts. E. W. L. 



Maine. 



Among the many pleasant sounds heard at times in the 

 woods by the hunter on a clear and calm day, not the 

 least interesting is the deep booming of the grouse far in 

 the woods on his ancient log. The location of this sound 

 is extremely deceiving. I remember once, while stand- 

 ing quietly in the woods, hearing a grouse drumming far 

 away, as I supposed. Moving in the direction, I had not 

 gone more than 2oyd8. when I came to an old log; and I 

 was just going to sit down when a grouse rose close 

 iwhind it, He was not more than 4ft. away, This 



bird, taking me thus by surprise, startled me consider- 

 ably. 



On another occasion I was walking 40 or 50ft. from the 

 edge of a woods in the field, when I heard a grouse 

 drumming. I had not gone more than 40yd8. and ap- 

 proached a stone wall, when, looking over it, I saw a 

 grouse just leaving a large boulder in the field, about 

 60 ft. distant. This bird had been driven out by a rival, 

 and dared not perform the joyous act in the woods. 



The grouse makes a whirring noise when he flies from 

 the ground or a tree. This noise he can gauge at will, 

 making it a roar or a mere buzzing whirr. I have heai'd 

 a grouse many times rise from the ground with a sound 

 no greater than the robin makes at times in its flight. 

 Tlie grouse in walking generally goes silently and softly, 

 but at times just the reverse. 1 recollect once while 

 seated on the brink or edge of a gorge eating my lunch, 

 about noon on a warm, clear day in October, I heard a 

 loud rattling among the dry leaves on the opposite side, 

 about 60yd8. away. I supposed at first it was some per- 

 son walking. After listening and looking sharply for 

 some time 1 saw it was a grouse walking on the side hill 

 aboxit 15ft. from the top. After the bird had gone about 

 50 or 60ft. I heard the well-known roar, the leaves flew 

 and the noise ceased. 



The mother grouse talks, in her own way, to her little 

 brood in those woods where the industrious ants have 

 built up their- mounds in great numbers, many of them 

 larger than a half-bushel basket. Here, while feeding, 

 she clucks to them to come, or utters a piercing cry of 

 alarm and warning at the approach of danger, and other 

 faint notes of endearment and love. 



The male grouse also, when alone, clucks at times. The 

 bird is always walking when he does so, and appears to 

 be in a quandary as to some noise that he has heard, just 

 as men sometimes whistle when surprised and not know- 

 ing what is to come next or Ijow to act. 



The ruffed grouse makes stiU another noise, which on a 

 clear, frosty morning may be heard 100yds. or more; it 

 is a short, shrill peeping, frequently repeated as he moves 

 slowly back and forth over the ground, always in thickest 

 cover, because it is a note of extreme trepidation. The 

 grouse will not remain long on the ground after this 

 sound is heard, usually a quarter to a half minute. 



I have heard the grouse make this noise when a hawk 

 was perched in a tree 25yds. away, and I have heard it 

 also when a dog was slowly moving toward the bird, and 

 not 50ft, away. The grouse when he utters this sound is 

 always near the edge of the woods. Dorp. 



Schenectady, N. Y. 



A Virginia. Rail in New York City.-— New York, 

 Oct. 12. — The foundations are now being laid for a new 

 building on the corner of Broad and Beaver streets, piles 

 having been driven, the place being partly covered by 

 water. Last Saturday morning the workmen there 

 caught a Virginia rail, which had evidently stopped during 

 its flight South.— Spencer Aldkich. 



I^m0 ^dg md 0nif. 



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

 Price $2.50. Wing and Glass Ball Shooting ivith the 

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

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

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

 m?tfc." P/Yce $1. Trajectories of Hunting Rifles. Price 

 50 cents. WiM Fowl Shooting: see advertisement. 



The full texts of the game laws of all the States, Terri- 

 tories and British Provinces are given in the Book of the 

 Game Laws. 



STALKING THE DRUMMING GROUSE. 



I SUPPOSE if I were to sit down and in cold blood tell 

 the readers of Forest and Stream that I would de- 

 liberately steal upon old Mr. Grouse while drumming and 

 shoot him off his favorite log I should hear a chorus of 

 voices exclaim, "He's a pot-himter!" Well, that may be, 

 but I'll "deny the allegation and defy the alligator," and 

 try to prove that I am not a pot-hunter, I believe in 

 taking fish or game on the square. I have supreme con- 

 tempt for the fisherman or tlie hunter who would catch 

 fish or capture game in any other way than by placing 

 his skill and knowledge of their habits, acquired only by 

 experience and close observation, over and against their 

 instinct, native shrewdness, and the means that nature 

 has given them to avoid their natural enemies. I have 

 no use for any one who would captm-e fish with dyna- 

 mite, snare a grouse or drive a deer into the water and 

 kill him with a club, I have profound respect for the 

 fly-fisher or the skillful wing shot, and yet while I have 

 caught hundreds of trout on the fly and have killed some 

 birds on the wing it has been my fortune to learn these 

 things without a teacher, for I have never seen a trout 

 hooked on a fly nor a bird shot on the wing by any one 

 except myself. This may seem strange to many: but re- 

 member, that until very recently I have lived either in 

 the back woods or very near to them, and modern 

 methods were not in vogue. 



Much has been written on the ways of the ruffed grouse, 

 and there is still much that may be written, for after all 

 he is the royal game bird of this continent. To success- 

 fully stalk a drumming grouse and shoot him on his drum- 

 ming log, requires no mean skill. This is true because 

 you have to meet him on his own ground. Now, I don't 

 know why a grouse drums, no more than do those other 

 fellows know why or how the woodcock whistles; but I 

 do know just the kind of a place old Mr. Grouse selects to 

 beat his drum, and I think I know how he does it. I'll 

 not tell you just now how he does it, but I'm not divulg- 

 ing any secret when I say tnat the cock grouse selects the 

 deepest and closest thickets (such as grow around old 

 fields, in old choppings and on hill sides) in which to do 

 his drumming. Here on some favorite log or rock on a 

 frosty morning and before the coming of a storm or a 

 change in the weather, either in the fall or spring, he 

 makes his music, that sets the heart of the hunter drum- 

 ming too. There like a statue he stands, surrounded it 

 may be by leaves and foliage just his own color. About 

 once in every five minutes he drums, betraying to the 

 hunter his presence, if not his exact location. An old 

 drummer, if hunted by a dog while drumming, will seldom 



tree, but will seek safety by flying to some other thicket, 

 where he will remain quiet until his pursuer has left, 

 when he will return to his favorite haunts, and probably 

 to his log, where he may be heard again. If stalked by 

 the still-hunter the old drummer will seldom fly, but he' 

 will drop from his drumming place and run further into 

 the thicket where he cannot be seen. 



My first drummer was killed many years ago. The 

 civil war had not yet been fought, and I was armed with 

 a Harper's Fei-ry musket. It was about a lO-bore, and so 

 long that I had to get up on to a log to load it, while the 

 nipple was so big that I had to split the old-fashioned elk 

 head caps to make them fit. In short, it wasn't much of 

 a gun, compared with my new Remington, but it cost me 

 but a trifle, while it afforded me a deal of boyish pleasure, 

 with many a dinner of pheasants or wild pigeons, to say 

 nothing of many a sore shoulder. Since I shot that old 

 drummer, near the Saw Mill Run on the headwateisj of 

 Mot Branch, T have heard many an old cock beat his last 

 tattoo; but none of them ever gave me the genuine pleat- 

 m-e I felt when the smoke of that old musket had cleared 

 away and my first grouse lay dead at my feet. 



I cannot tell you how to stalk a drummer successfully, 

 no more than I can teach you on paper how to cast a fly 

 on one of our mountain streams and catch the wary 

 trout, but I can tell you how my last grouse was killed, 

 and then my story is ended. Our grouse season opened 

 Thursday, Oct. 1. Long before the frost had melted 

 from the house-roofs or the fog had lifted from the low- 

 lands I had climbed the western hills in search of grouse. 

 For two hours I hunted carefully and had seen but one 

 bird, but he had business elsewhere before I could inter- 

 view him, I had left the high ground, where game 

 seemed to be scarce, and had gone into the bottom. 

 Working my way around the foot of the hiU I tried to 

 get a shot at a couple of large hawks that were scream- 

 ing and keeping up a running fi^ht with a flock of crows. 

 I knew there ought to be birds m that locality, so I sat 

 down to rest and to meditate on the uncertainty of a 

 grouse dinner. In a very short time I heard an old drum- 

 mer, but the wind and the racket kept up by the crows 

 and hawks prevented my locating him. I sat still unCrl 

 he had drummed three times, when I concluded he was 

 in a pine thicket on the hill above me. Taking off my 

 hat, which was rather conspicuous, and stuffing ie into 

 my game pocket, I proceeded cautiously in the direction 

 of the music. I concluded from the sound that he was 

 within lOOyds, of me, and when I had gone about one- 

 fourth of that distance I sat down. I had but a moment 

 to wait until I heard the bird again, and before he had 

 struck a dozen beats I was stealing upon him. I soon 

 located him in a heavy thicket above me and just over 

 the ibrow of the hiU, so that I might get within, a few 

 yards of him withotit his seeing me. I crept close to the 

 top of the hill and secreted myself behind a big log, 

 where in a very short time I heard the thunder within 

 30ft. of me. I could almost feel the wind from his wings 

 and my heart tried to get up into my throat. Placing 

 the root of a fallen tree between the bird and myself, I 

 made a few short steps and stopped. Just in front of 

 me and behind the root came the signal that I awaited, 

 and before he had beaten a dozen notes I laid the drum- 

 mer dead, F. G. H. 

 Clearfibt-d, Pa., Oct. 5. 



NOOSING DEER AND CARIBOU. 



BEATTIE, Moose River, Me., Oct. 1.— Editor Forest 

 and Stream: From this reputed home of the largest 

 game of America, I will call an old friend to aid in awak- 

 ening unknown officials of this State, as I find much re- 

 mains here to be protected. To-day I visited Clear Pond, 

 three miles north^of the C. P. R. R., and found as I had 

 expected well worn paths, where deer approach the feed- 

 ing ground through a border of low-boughed cedars. But 

 as I stepped from the old craft, in which I managed to 

 keep afloat long enough to save a dry collar, I nearly 

 grasped a small rope, of good quality, that was adroitly 

 suspended in the cedars, with a running noose across the 

 deep worn trail. The absence of tracks larger than of 

 deer in the shallow water caused me to look further for 

 similar devices, and two more were near at hand. Other 

 trails had an odor and evidence of a struggle for life, but 

 the ropes had been removed. At one point the spot was 

 covered with faded boughs cut in early summer, and 

 under them were the remains of a large female caribou, 

 the hair showing that last winter's coat had not beeii 

 shed. 



The noisome character of the once pure air of this gem 

 of the forest caused me to return by a logging road that 

 runs nearly up there; and in the afternoon I visited Big 

 Indian Pond and made the circuit in the most difficult 

 traveling I had ever found in the forest. The low over- 

 hanging cedars that surround it have a backing of dense 

 undecayed fallen trees of the same family, through 

 which a young stock is growing. In one place, where 

 several well-defined paths entered the feeding ground of 

 lilies by a deep worn rut in the bank, I bent forward 

 and endeavored to get ont toward the water; and found 

 my arms were bound by a wire, when I had been look- 

 ing for more rope. On the shore of the pond I found 

 evidence of last winter's crust hunting, the authors of 

 which are gentlemen compared with these brutal demons 

 who destroy the mothers, leaving the fawns to starve in 

 sight of its choked protector. 



I have looked carefully after a way to solve the ques- 

 tion of extermination in this locality. There is but one 

 — a fearless, honest man who will devote all his time in 

 the v^icinity of the extensive lumbering concerns on this 

 river, Ned Norton. 



Massachusetts Fish and Game Protective Associ- 

 ation.— The regular October meeting was held at the 

 United States Hotel, Boston, on Thursday evening, th,e 

 8th inst. After dinner, at which 125 of the members 

 were present, the regular routine business was transacted. 

 Messrs, Nat. A. Francis, Wm. A. Cameron, C. A. Priest 

 and Ed. S. Beach were elected members, and fourteen 

 proposals for membership were received.— Richard O. 

 Harding, Secretary. 



Vermont League.— The first annual dinner of the 

 Vermont Fish and Game League will be held at the Van 

 Ness House, Burlington, Vt., at 8 o'clock P. M. Gov. 

 Carrol S. Page, Hon. Redfield Proctor, Secretary of War, 

 members of the United States Fish Commission, and 

 other distinguished guests ai-e expected to be present. 



