868 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Not. 36, 1891. 



power and opportunity were theirs. These creatures all 

 decent people despise, though few will aid in their 

 detection and punishment. Horrible stories of their 

 destructive and wasteful work are current every winter 

 and can be verified if any one will take the trouble. 



But to return to the class of men of whom 1 first spoke. 

 Many and many a time I have labored with them and 

 tried my utmost to get them to be willing to take the 

 initiative in the matter of better protection of the great 

 game of the State, to be willing to make some personal 

 sacrifice toward it, but I have about given it up as hope- 

 less. They know little of the disappearance of game from 

 other parts of the country, and your stories of the swift 

 extermination of the bison, the* elk, the antelope, the 

 wild turkey and the prairie chicken are necessarily not 

 very vivid to them or very cogent reasons why they'indi- 

 vidually should stay tbeir hand from taking what is 

 before them and in their grasp, and what they personally 

 want. To them it is the regular and unbroken order of 

 nature that the woods should abound in deer, a,nd they 

 cannot easily be made to see that it will not always be so. 

 They are obliged to admit the scarcity of the moose, but 

 the scarcer they are the more coveted the prize and 

 harder to forego an opportunity to kill. 



I am writing these last lines in October and in camp in 

 the heart of the wilderness I loved so well. I have been 

 reading, as I hoped to do, the pile of back number Forest 

 AND Streams, and in the delicious quiet and rest of the 

 woods and within sound of the waves of one of the love- 

 liest and wildest of the lakes of Maine, What I have 

 seen and leai-ned on this trip thus far only increases my 

 pain and my wish to stop the slaughter of game, and, I 

 am forced to add, my despair of every seeing it accom- 

 plished. Year before last there was the crudest crust for 

 years. It came late— the last of March or the first of 

 April — and at that late time twenty moose were killed 

 within ten miles of where I write. It is true that the 

 greater part of the meat was used, but think what that 

 slaughter meant whenever men could take advantage of 

 the conditions. The animals were absolutely helpless. 



The same spring a man was fishing on a stream not two 

 miles from here and saw a cow moose and a yearling. Of 

 course he shot them. In three weeks more the cow moose 

 would have given birth to two young. In October of that 

 year I came to the borders of a certain lake and discov- 

 ered a guide well known to me. He was in the act of 

 taking a big buck from his canoe. Another was hung 

 up close by. Beside him was the hound through whose 

 agency he had secured both. Caught in the act, and not 

 sure but my companion might be a warden, he tried to 

 engage us in another hunt. I steadily refused, but he 

 sent his nephew into the woods with the hound. While 

 we were preparing our lunch we heard the hound give 

 tongue, and in a few moments a fine spike buck took 

 water not far from us. It was a sight which I had in all 

 my hunting never seen before. I took my canoe and 

 paddled round and round the deer for a few minutes, 

 watching its play of muscle as it swam, but of course 

 with no idea of shooting it. On the shore stood my guide 

 and the other party, two men and a boy. Fearing' that I 

 was waiting too long and that the deer would escape, 

 they shouted to me to shoot. I told them they could 

 shoot if they wanted to, but that I certainly should not. 

 They begged and implored me to shoot, shouting that I 

 would not have another chance; that I might still-hunt 

 the whole season and not get a shot. They began to 

 swear, and the boy. who had been permitted to shoot the 

 two bucks they had secured and whose spirit was hot for 

 slaughter, vowed that a man who wouldn't shoot a deer 

 when it was there before his eyes, didn't deserve to have 

 a deer and had no business to come into the Avoods. 



Steadily I drove the deer to shore and "beached" him 

 within six rods of the frantic party on shore, and had the 

 satisfaction of seeing him bound away unhurt into the 

 forest. _ The only anxiety had been to make me partieejjs 

 criminis, and so to shield their own misdoing. I am 

 happy to say that in two days I still-hunted a fine cari- 

 bou and shot him dead in his tracks. 



One other story of my own experience I must tell. 

 Some years ago, with another gentleman, I was en- 

 camped on one of the finest trout waters in Piscataquis 

 county. It was four days before the close of the trout 

 season and the opening of the free season for big game. 

 We had one guide. Not one of the party had a rifle. 

 We had deliberately "gone in for trout," taking only 

 fishing rig and shotguns, leaving our rifles at the settle- 

 ment and intending to come back for them and go in for 

 a hunt when the fishing season closed. We had secured 

 all the trout we could use, and were lying on the bank 

 under some big trees, reading. Our guide was out on 

 the lake a rod or two, when he suddenly called to us to 

 know what kind of a creature was moving along the op- 

 posite shore and far up the lake. My telescope was hung 

 by a swivel to the tree, and in an instant was turned on 

 the new comer, when, behold! a lordly moose with big 

 antlers! There was no mistaking him. The guide was 

 incredulous, but one look through the telescope con- 

 vinced him. Excitedly we watched him, taking our 

 turns at the telescope. The guide asked: "Shall we try 

 to shoot him?" What could be a greater temptation? To 

 both my friend and myself it was our first opportunity of 

 the kind. There was the moose, a huge and splendid 

 prize, and browsing , slowly along, drawing nearer and 

 nearer to us, though on the opposite side of the lake, and 

 all unconscious of our presence. The wind was right. 

 The moose would probably pass within easy shot of one 

 who should hide in the grass and bushes of the outlet 

 just below us. It lacked just four days of "open time," 

 It was a chance of a lifetime. O, what a sight he was as 

 he waded along knee deep in the water, taking now and 

 then a nip at a lily pad or a swimming an arm of the lake 

 and coming out and shaking his giant shoulders till the 

 water flew in a shower around him! We coxild see him 

 with the utmost distinctness and even watch the gleam 

 of his eye. 



To the guide's repeated question we simplv replied 

 that we should not lift a finger in the matter. 'He said 

 if we would not he should, and hastily replacing shot by 

 bullet in three of his cartridges he took his shotgun and 

 crept away. The moose stopped directly opposite us on 

 the other side of the lake, where we could without the 

 glass see every motion. Some faint noise made him cau- 

 tious. He was slowly turning back, when a shot rang 

 out and the ball splashed the water under him; a second 

 and a third shot followed, and we saw the great beast 

 was hit. He started to trot, but reeled, and the blood 



flowed from his muzzle. That meant "shot through the 

 lungs." He reeled, he fell. The guide took the whole 

 responsibility, and therefore to him, so far as we were 

 concerned, belonged the moose. I am glad to say the 

 meat was all saved, though the head was spoiled. I after- 

 ward bought the horns of the guide. 



For two seasons I have been led by certain considera- 

 tions to take my short autumn outing in western Maine, 

 where were trout and some deer, but not in plenty, and 

 no moose or caribou. I did it with regret, longing for 

 my old haunts in Penobscot waters. Last winter I re- 

 ceived a letter from an old and favorite guide saying that 

 he was in the woods again and urging me to come for a 

 winter hunt. He said he had built an "old ripper" of 

 a camp on one of our favorite lakes, and that if I would 

 come he thought he could promise me a moose, adding 

 that "others did it" and he didn't see why we should not. 



Of my present trip I will write another time, i e., if 

 the length of this letter does not scare the editor. I shall 

 have much more to say of the ways of outsiders and 

 natives_ in regard to game in Piscataquis county, and 

 somethuig, perhaps, by way of suggestion. 



C. H. Ames. 



"THE FATE OF THE FUR SEAL." 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I am not to be drawn into a controversy with Mr, H. 

 W. Elliott. Before his feverish activity and brilliant 

 imagination I am content to rest in awestruck silence. 

 Those who are curious as to the area seals occui^y may 

 inspect the group in the National Museum, mounted 

 under Mr. Elliott's supervision, and form their own con- 

 clusions. 



There will be plenty of evidence from independe:nt ob- 

 servers recorded before long, and the truth of the matter 

 cannot fail to come out; and for this I am perfectly will- 

 ing to wait. It has, however, been suggested that as a 

 fact of historical value I might add a few words of ex- 

 planation about the price of fur seal skins in Alaska in 

 1866 (not 1866-7 as Mr. Elliott puts it). 



The furs purchased by the "Russian-American Com- 

 pany" before the sale of the territory to the United States 

 were classed under two categories. One comprised such 

 furs as the sable, sea otter, beaver and young black bear. 

 These were not permitted to be sold on any consideration 

 by the chief traders at the different posts. Severe pun- 



jnEST OF HUBY-CROWTs'ED KINGLET. 



ishment was prescribed for a violation of this rule, though 

 doubtless it was occasionally violated. 



The second category comprised furs regarded as of 

 comparatively little value, which the chief traders were 

 allowed to sell at a fixed price, either to employes of the 

 company for fur clothing or to others who desired them. 

 This list in 1866 comprised among others, muskrat skins 

 and those of the white fox, fur seal, Parry's marmo , the 

 silfleur or hoary marmot and American ermine or weasel 

 skins. The two lists were revised from time to time as 

 the prices of furs fluctuated. Mink, for instance, was at 

 difl'erent times put in one category or transferred to the 

 other. In 1866, and for some years previous, fm- seal 

 skins paid the company barely if at all for the trouble of 

 taking them. The price fixed on them in 1866 was 12^ 

 cents apiece, and at that price I bought 100 or more skins 

 from the chief trader at St, Michaels, in the month of 

 September, The following year the price rose consider- 

 ably I believe, but not until after the purchase of the 

 territory had already become practically certain, 



W. H. Ball. 



SMTTHSONiAsr IjssTiTDTioir, "Washington, Nov. 31. 



SHARK NOTES. 



IN the summer and winter of 1888 I was connected 

 with a wholesale fish firm doing business at Pensa- 

 cola, Fla. In the many hunting and. fishing trips made 

 in Pensacola Bay and Santa Rosa Sound the shark often 

 came under my notice. 



One morning in May, while standing waist deep in the 

 warm waters of Santa Rosa Sound casting for sea trout, 

 I was somewhat startled to see a shark's dark form about 

 15ft. away and between myself and the shore. Some 

 lively thrashing of the water with the rod succeeded in 

 driving the intruder off, and the remainder of the morn- 

 ing's fishing was done from the boat. 



Sharks are vei-y abundant in the harbor during the 

 summer months; and on clear moonlight evenings shark 

 fishing parties were quite the rage. A dozen or more 

 young people of both sexes would gather on one of the 

 piers, equipped with the usual shark outfit, viz., 200ft. 

 of fin, manilla and a dozen feet of chain connecting the 



manOla with a hook, the size of which would astonish a 

 landsman. The bait commonly used was a red snapper's 

 head; and the sharks were so plenty and ravenous that 

 this bait was generally successful in bringing them to 

 the surface. 



I remember one occasion when the young man who 

 was acting as fisherman failed to keep the line taut while 

 listening to an especially vivid yarn, and the shark took 

 bait, hook and then came forward and severed the fin. 

 rope 5ft. above where it was fastened to the chain. It 

 cost the party $3 to procure a new outfit. 



One October morning as I was about to enter my office, 

 which was located on a pier, I noticed three sharks swim- 

 mmg about 20ft. from the pier. The shark outfit had 

 been loaned to a friend and was a half mile away. It 

 was, however, but the work of an instant to rush to the 

 telephone and order the outfit to be sent down post haste. 

 Then procuring a number of skipjacks from a refrigerator, 

 I began feeding the sharks to Uold their attention until 

 the arrival of hook and line. For the next twenty 

 minutes it was great sport watching the lightning-like 

 dashes of "these wolves of the sea." As the skipjacks 

 struck the water the brine would be lashed into a yeasty 

 smother as all three would rush for the same fish. Several 

 times they came within 6ft., and as the water was clear. 

 I could see every motion they made. In not a single 

 instance did they turn on the side or back to take the 

 food. 



The skipjacks were about 18in. in length and averaged 

 21bs, in weight. The largest shark was fully 8 ft. in 

 length. Two of them were attended by remoras— a fish 

 about 18in. long that has a disk-like sucker on its head 

 with which it attaches itself to the shark. It is an odd 

 sight to see these small fishes carried about on the backs 

 of sharks, I am inclined to think that sharks in feeding 

 on large fishes would turn slightly on the side to tear 

 away portions, but experience leads me to believe that in 

 takmg objects not too large to gulp entire, they never 

 turn. 



After the food supply had given out the shark outfit 

 came, but the sharks had returned to deep water. How- 

 ever, the hook was baited and dropped about 20ft. from 

 the dock. After thirty minutes fishing a shark bit, but 

 the hook failed to hold. Ivanhoe. 



Chicago, 111. 



NEST OF RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I send you a nest of the ruby-crowned kinglet, one of 

 several discovered and taken by me near Dartmouth, 

 Nova Scotia. The nest was found June 14, 189L 

 It contained young. It was up 30ft, from ground 

 in the top of a black spruce tree. The nest was 

 bmlt underneath the main limb, and clinging on, 

 fastened by tHe sides, to the smaller branches or 

 twigs that shot out from the main limb and was 

 suspended. 



On July 2 the young had flown, when the tree 

 was cut down, and this limb I now send to Forest 

 and Stream with the nest attached. 



The nest is made with moss, lined with feathers, 

 and with feathers woven into the sides and bot- 

 tom. Nestmeasurementsareasfollows: Sin, across 

 the top on outside, Ipn. across on inside. If in, 

 deep on inside and 4in. deep outside. 



The female when building will go from 100 to 

 800yds. after material, being invariably followed 

 by ihe male, who, however, does not assist in any 

 other way than by singing. H. AusTEN. ' 



Daktmooth, N. S. 



Ornithologists' Association of Washington. 

 —Last spring there was organized in Washington, 

 D. C, an Ornithologists' Association, which has 

 greatly prospered, and now has a considerable 

 membership, both active and corresponding, the 

 latter covering a large part of this continent. 

 The present officers are: President, Rev. J. H. 

 Langille; Vice-President, W. H. Aspinwall; Secre- 

 tary and Treasurer, A. B. Famham. The object 

 of this organization is to make general and popu- 

 lar the study of bird life, hoping thereby to pro- 

 mote the knowledge of this attractive branch of 

 natural history and to secure a considerate protection of 

 our native birds. The growing interest in ornithology 

 all over the country is indeed wonderful, and it is hoped 

 to bring to pass a universal co-operation in the good work 

 referred to. Persons desiring membership will please 

 address A. B. Farnham, Benning, I). C. 



THE MOJAVE DESERT IN WINTER. 



AT the meeting of the Biological Society of Washing- 

 ton, Nov. 14, Mr. T. S. Palmer delivered a very in- 

 teresting address on the "Winter Aspects of the Mojave 

 Desert Region,'" based upon his personal experiences dur- 

 ing the recent memorable explorations made for the 

 Department of Agriculture under the direction of Dr. 

 Merriam, and forming the first public announcement of 

 the discoveries of the expedition. Time and space forbid 

 detailed mention of the physical features of the region, 

 which could not at any rate well be explained without 

 reference to the map and profile used by the speaker to 

 illustrate his remarks. The wonderful extremes of tem- 

 perature, involving intense heat (136° in July), excessive 

 dryness and a minimiim temperature of 8 to 13°, with an 

 occasional fall of an inch or two of snow in winter, pro- 

 duce hard conditions for the animals and plants of the 

 desert, and are endured with the help of such habits as 

 involve the least risk to life and thrift. The range of 

 temperature is about 125 Some of the plants are leaf- 

 less, others drop their leaves in June before the summer 

 heat is established. Tree yucca is characteristic and 

 grows to a height of 25 to 30ft., sometimes forming 

 groves or forests. Cottonwoods, mezquit ash, and willows 

 in small numbers are included among the trees. A few 

 shrubs and, in some localities, marsh grass belong to the 

 flora. In winter only a few reptiles and batrachians are 

 to be seen; one or two species of lizards and now and 

 then a snake are present. Birds are chiefly absent on 

 their migrations; a sparrow, a raven, a shore lark and a 

 thrasher constitute about the sura of the winter residents. 

 Although about 20 genera of the mammals are in the 

 region, the pj)ecies ai-e mostly nocturnal in their habits 

 and are rarely observed while passing over the country. 

 These include rats and mice (so called), the mou..tain 



