464 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



IDec. 1, 1892. 



NEW HAMPSHIRE'S MOUNTAIN FORESTS. 



Ye mountains of New Hampshire, her glory and her crown, 

 Whose rocky summits proudly rise above the tempests'.frowD, 

 Around your shoulderp, broad and strong, the ancient forests 

 grow. 



While from each cliff, with joyful song, the sparkling waters flow. 



They grow and gather on their path to seek the ocean main, 

 They freshen many a fertile vale and many a sandy plain; 

 At every leaping cataract upsprings a city fair. 

 And sounds of busy industry awake the morning air. 



The sun, obeying nature's laws, draws up each drop again 

 In clouds, which fall as gentle dew, or burst In drenching rain. 

 Each leaf and flowei-, each mossy cup, collect the welcome store. 

 And down the mountain side again the foaming torrents pour. 



The God who made them gave the woods a mission upon earth. 

 To garner up and store the rain and give the rivers birth; 

 And every blow thewoodman strikes to bring them to their doom, 

 But stills some hammer's noisy din, or stops some busy loom. 



Amid the sheltering foliage builds many a bird her nest; 

 Beneath the shade the wild deer roves, the squirrel finds a rest; 

 The spotted trout leaps gaily amid the sparkling foam, 

 And many a lovely floweret blooms in its own woodland home. 



Then, when the summer sun boats down on many a city street, 

 And all within its stony walls are sweltering with heat. 

 How many strive to banish toil, with all its cares and ills. 

 And seek new health and strength amid the "everlasting hills." 



Up many a winding pathway, through many a shady grove. 

 By many a mossy boulder, their wandering footsteps rove; 

 Or climb some rocky summit, clear in the mountain air. 

 To gaze upon the world below in Summer verdure fair. 



Oh statesmen! spare the forests which grace our native land ; 

 (Save some of nature's handicraft from lucre's grasping liand. 

 That when your earthly labor's o'er, beneath their shade you rest, 

 The "generations yet unborn" may rise and call you blessed. 

 Chablestown, N. H., Nov. 30, 1893, Sam'i, Wkbiieb. 



THE CANADA GOOSE. 



The gentler songsters of our groves approach us quietly 

 and unobserved indeed by many, until on some soft, 

 balmy morning the ripple of a sweet little voice is heard 

 among the blossoms, and inspection reveals our tiny 

 friends, who are chanting their delight as they fly from 

 twig to twig amid the scenes of their last,year's home. 



These little warblers are the interpreters of nature's 

 pastorals, their songs are full of balmy airs and sun- 

 shine. 



For a wilder strain we must turn toother scenes, and in 

 stormy days of March or November listen to the trumpets 

 of the wild geese as they mingle with the gale. 



See the dark forms clearly outlined againsts the sombre 

 clouds as in perfect discipline they obey the bugle calls of 

 their leader, whose broad wings beat the air with steady 

 and majestic strokes, in the van. 



Now in single iile, now in the form of a gigantic V, and 

 again in open order, they fly in response to his clarion 

 note as it rings down the feathered ranks, but ever on and 

 on, until the haven reached the flight is ended and the 

 travelers rest. 



"On high, above us in the heavens. 



The passage birds fly forth in bands. 

 Their luoneer his legion leading. 

 Darts forward o'er tbe well-known lands. 

 A strong, sturdy fellow is the Canada goose. Indifl'er- 

 ent alike to storm and sunshine, he pursues the even tenor 

 of his way, and under all circumstances you find him the 

 same elegant and graceful creature. 



Ever on the alerts quick to take alarm and to warn his 

 trusting followers at the approach of danger, he ranks 

 among the foremost of the waterfowl that pass and re- 

 pass our Atlantic seaboard in legions during the spring 

 and autumn migration. 

 There are times when a sportsman will put aside the 



the beach. A brisk walk, and crossing the rickety old 

 bridge, we are among the sand dunes. 



Oace through between them, the steady boom of the 

 surf, which has been sounding in our ears during the 

 walk, bursts upon us with a roar as it pounds upon the 

 sands. 



Far as the eye can reach up and down the coast we see 

 the spurting mist of the breakers as thev thunder alon? 

 the shore. ' 



The breeze is heavy from the sea, and the drifting sand 

 cuts our faces now and again as we sit on the summit of 

 a dune that tops its neighbors, giving us an unobstructed 

 view of the uneasy ocean, as it heaves and tumbles in 

 foaming billows almost at our feet. 



A huge wave rears suddenly upward and rolls in a 

 solid mass of dull green! A moment, and we see' a 

 slight curling of its crest, then with a deafening roar it 

 dashes into snowy fragments and sends its quivering 

 foam flakes high in air above our heads. We watch it as 

 It races its life away dawn the beach until lost in clouds 

 of mist, it plunges wildly on. 



For the past few days the geese have been flying, and 

 as we look out over the surging waters several bunches 

 are in sight, all bound east, and silently, steadily pursu- 

 mg then- course. j y^xou 



Here comes a flock, just outside the breakers; rapidlv 

 they approach, and we count twenty-three of the noble 

 birds as they pass m review before us, the big wines 

 movmg with mechanical regularity, their white collafs 

 and glossy plumage ghstening through the driving mists. 



A pmgle trumpet note, and the whole flock rises as one 

 and n an undulating line heads in over the beach for the 

 quiet waters of the beach, Let us follow 



It is interesting to watch the maneuvers of a flock of 

 ^eese as they approach to alight after traveling for hun- 



inT£p^n^.*fl \1 f*"^'" delight at the prospect of a pau-e 

 lA J^v,^ ^ tremendous hubbub, as each gab- 



bles and honks in as many different keys. Now one will 

 drop as though he had found the properlocationf then 

 another, and so on, while the main body of the flock 



probably older birds, sweep steadily along, leaving them 

 far in the rear, requiring energetic efforts on their part 

 before they close the gap. 



Now the old gander in the lead suddenly jacks his 

 wings, and followed by the entire flock, scales down in a 

 long descent until, with a heavy surge, they enter the 

 water, and the feat is accomplished. 



The gabble is immediately renewed with fresh vigor, 

 and continues with gradually diminishing energy, until 

 the excitement having passed, they float quietly upon 

 the calm surface conversing in ordinary tones. 



Shinnecock Bay, Long Island, used to be a favorite 

 rendezvous for the geese, and unless driven off by con- 

 stant gunning, they would often spend days in feeding, 

 recruiting, and generally enjoying themselves in its 

 waters. At such times many a fierce battle is fought 

 between the old veterans in command of the various 

 flocks. 



Approaching each other slowly, cautiously, now retir- 

 ing a little, now returning, they finally work themselves 

 up to the fighting point and pitch into each other with 

 bill, feet and wings. Now you see them separate with 

 ru filed plumage, and swim proudly back to their admir- 

 ing friends, who honk clamorously as they welcome their 

 respective champions, while with outstretched necks, 

 they hiss spitefully at his gray-coated antagonist. 



There are two gunners in that blind below iis, with the 

 glass you can see their live decoys preening themselves 

 as they stand in the shallow water. 



A solitary goose is flying past, high in air. Poor 

 fellow! That subdued broo-oom! hroo ooni! we heard a 

 moment ago was evidently the death knell of your com- 

 panions, and now your plaintive calls ring over the bay, 

 as you vainly seek a response from your lost ones. 



See! a flock is swinging in toward the blind. Hear 

 them honk in answer to the decoys, as with extended 

 wings they sail up, all unconscious of the receiition await- 

 ing them in the brown sedge grass. 



Three puffs of soft white smoke curl up from the blind 

 as we watch, and we see four geese drop from the flock, 

 dashing the spray in showers as they strike the water. 



The remaining birds wing their way overhead, the one 

 in the rear indicating by rapid wing beats the severity of 

 his wounds. Slowly he falls behind as his comrades 

 leave him, until, with a last despairing struggle, he gives 

 up, and falls from that dizzy height, striking the water 

 with a sounding splash. 



There he floats, still and dead, the yellow rays of the 

 sun touching him gently as though in sorrow at his fate. 



To-morrow will see him stranded on the shallows near 

 the meadow, where the keen-eyed gulls will soon dis- 

 cover him, and with wild screams of delight they will 

 pounce upon and rend the form so lately filled with 

 strong, warm life. Wilmot ToWnsend, 

 Bay RrPGT:, N. Y. 



A PUZZLE. 



Editor Forent and Stream: 



It was many years ago that I had a singular experience 

 that I have never been able to explain on any reasonable 

 grounds. At that time a mingling of business and pleas- 

 ure led me to pass some years in the woods in souttiern 

 Vermont, where, as is perhaps not generally known, one 

 may travel for days meeting with few signs of man and 

 his axe. Lynx and bears were quite plentiful, and some- 

 times a panther was to be seen or heard. 



One day in December I started on snowshoes for a little 

 settlement about eight miles distant. My way was partly 

 through the unbroken forest and partly along an aban- 

 doned road that had connected the two places. It had 

 snowed heavily the night before, and the day was dark 

 and gloomy. 1 1 was nearly night, when I came to where 

 something had crossed the path before me. The strides 

 were long, and at first I thought were made by a man, 

 but a close examination showed me that it was a round 

 track and of a size that I had never seen before. It could 

 only be made by a panther and a big one at that ; and, 

 what was more to the point, the trail was very fresh, 

 having been made since a snow squall of half an hour be- 

 fore. Now, contrary to my usual custom, 1 was un- 

 armed, and two long Vermont miles, most of the way 

 through dense spruces, were before me, and at my best 

 pace it would be dark before I was out of the woods. Pos- 

 sibly I may be a bit of a coward, but I will say that I had 

 no desire to meet the gentleman who made those tracks. 

 Yet I was not frightened, 1 examined the footprints 

 carefully, following them to where they passed under a 

 thick spruce, where the imprints were more distinct, I 

 remember wishing I had even my Colt's revolver with me, 

 and I think that for the remainder of my way I scanned 

 the thickets on either side rather closely. When I re- 

 turned from my trip I told my woods-mates of what I had 

 seen, but some of them were a little incredulous as to the 

 size of the tracks, and I did not blame them. 



The next March I one day climbed a high peak of the 

 Grreen Mountains in that vicinity, reaching the top about 

 noon There was a space of about two acres that was 

 nearly bare of trees, only a few scattered bushes showing 

 through the snow. It was dinner time, and I selected a 

 fallen tree for my table and seat. It was an ideal day. 

 The sun was shining brightly and warmly, and the first 

 breath of spring was in the air, I ha,d been in high spir- 

 its all the morning. The air and the sunshine was exhil- 

 arating after the dark days of winter. But no sooner 

 had 1 seated myself than a strange feeling of uneasiness 

 came over me. I felt as if I was not alone— as if I was 

 being watched. I looked around me : all was peaceful and 

 quiet. Ihe ground was bare on every side of me except 

 two little thickets, and they were probably 150 feet awav 

 I took my revolver from its case and laid it beside me, at 

 the same time laughing at the precaution. The creepy 

 teelmg grew upon me; I was oppressed by a sense of a 

 disagreeable presence that I could not account for. The 

 thicket to my left mady me uneasy, so I turned and faced 

 It, but could see almost through it, and was convinced 

 tbat nothing of any siza could be lurking there. Then I 

 turned quickly to the other thicket, half expecting that 

 something would be visible there. Not a sign of Ufe It 

 was too ridiculous; a bright day; in an opening where I 

 cou d see clearly on all sides of me, and then to feel- 

 7nl;o^' exactly frightened, but creepy~l who had 

 camped out alone night after night in all kinds of places, 

 and often with very little fire, from an innate dislike to 

 gathering wood after a day's tramp. But— iLttled ml 



Ifood w^ll^''"^^ "^''^^ tWc'kets'^td'beSs k"S 

 a good watch over my shoulder. 



As suddenly as it came that pecuUar feeling passed 



away. I remember sneering at myself a little, and then 

 as I lighted my j)ipe I forgot all about it. My smoke fin- 

 ished, I started down the mountain side, passing by the 

 lower end of one of the thickets. After going a few rods, 

 I stopped suddenly. There were big round tracks before 

 me, and they came from the valley and went toward the 

 thicket. The place was open, with only leafless maple, 

 beech and birch, and after a quick glance to see that all 

 was clear, I examined the tracks, I had no feeling of 

 nervousness now, but a great deal of curiosity. There 

 was a hard crust on the snow, but the warm sun had 

 honeycombed its surface, and the round particles, like 

 grains of coarse sand, displaced by the animal's foot, re- 

 tained their original shape, showing that they had only 

 recently been disturbed. The stride up the incline was 

 about three feet, and the track measured six inches long 

 by five and one half broad. The marks of the toes were 

 distinct, and in some places the claws cut the icy surface 

 an inch or more from the toes. I followed the trail to one 

 of the thickets I have spoken of, and found that the ani- 

 mal had moved a little from his course and turned toward 

 where I had been sitting. His steps were shorter here, 

 and on leaving, he resumed his former course and passed 

 down the other side of the mountain. 



Now what puzzles me is this : On a gloomy, dark day, 

 with night coming on, in a dense forest, I, unarmed, find 

 recent traces of an animal I do not want to meet, yet I 

 am not frightened, only think it wise to get out of the 

 woods before dark. Again, at midday, with a bright sun, 

 an open space around me, fairly armed, and in good spir- 

 its, with no thought of anything larger than a rabbit or a 

 partridge, I suddenly become, if not afraid, at least ner- 

 vous and on the alert for— what V Nothing, as far as rea- 

 son tells me. Yet I find that at that time I was being 

 watched by an animal that had an unpleasantly large, 

 well furnished foot, with probably teeth to match — which 

 I think I should have gone considerably out of my way 

 to avoid meeting. Yet when I saw his tracks — the first 

 tangible evidence I had of his presence— I was not dis- 

 turbed. Can any one explain it? I cannot, 



Fred, L. Ballard. 



SPBINGFIET.D, Mass., Nov. 31. 



ANTICIPATIONS OF A WINTER'S CAMP. 



Boston, Nov. 21.— I am glad that J. B, Battelle is so 

 pluckily renewing his efforts to rear ruffed grouse in con- 

 finement. I have always believed it could be done, and 

 there is no one to whom I would be so glad to see the 

 honor and credit of such a success come as to our old 

 friend "Jay Bee Bee." I hope to start in a week or so for 

 a certain camp in the Maine woods, and I shall be on the 

 alert for captive grouse, and if I get news of any Mr. 

 Battelle shall hear of it. 



In your issue of Nov. 17 L. D. von I Aland speaks of his 

 surprise at the discovery that tbe muskrat is carnivor- 

 ous. He need have no doubt that it was the muskrat 

 that ate his snipe. If he will take a look about the haunts 

 of any muskrat on Northern or Western lakes or rivers 

 he wiil learn that the muskrat makes the fresh-water 

 mussel one of the main articles of his diet, as the heaps 

 of their shells will attest. 



The "Angling Notes" and the fine picture of "Shelving 

 Rock Falls" come pretty near to starting me on the dis- 

 cussion of the leaping and "climbing" powers of fish. 

 There is nothing in A. N. Cheney's article that throws 

 any strain whatever on my credulity, for I have seen 

 such work by trout in the little New Hampshire brook 

 where I fished as a boy as would match almost anything 

 Mr. Cheney told. 



Moreover, I saw such a fish leap once in West Indian 

 waters as I never yet dared to put in print, As Mr. 

 Hough said before, he got his courage up to print hia 

 "Kekoskee Fish Story," I may sometimes tell it— if I can 

 be persuaded that it will be received in a proj^er spirit, 

 and not treated as a pure fabrication and laughed to 

 scorn. It is a very short story, but a perfectly true one, 

 but such a whopper that I am not yet ready to "turn it 

 loose." 



I have about made up my mind to go to a new camp 

 and a new region for my outing this year. I want a 

 winter trip this time. I want to do some tracking and 

 perhaps snowshoeing. 



I want the fun of seeing in the snow the sure proof of 

 what is going on in the woods. My morning newspaper 

 shall be the white sheet on which the tiny wood mouse 

 and chickadee and the partridge and fox, as well as the 

 deer and caribou, have written the clear story of their 

 marchings and prowlings. I am so eager for camp that 

 I can hardly wait. I may not be able to get away, but 

 what what fun I have had already in anticipation of it! 



I have never seen the lake and camp to which I am 

 going or the guide whom I have engaged, but all are well 

 vouched for, and the guide writes me that there are plenty 

 of signs of "big gaim." 



Miss Fannie Hardy writes me that she does not person- 

 ally know this guide, but that her father says "he spells 

 like a good hunter, and that this is an almost unmistak- 

 able ear mark." 1 long to see Katahdin again all white 

 from base to summit. I long to hear an owl hoot and a 

 loon call. The owl I shall hear, but 1 suppose the lake 

 will be closed and I shall miss my loon and my canoeing. 

 But one can't have everything, 



O you poor fellows who have had your vacation, do you 

 not envy me? You must solace yourselves as best you 

 can by planning for the next year's trip and retelling"the 

 story of how you captured that particularly big trout, 

 judiciously adding an ounce or two to its weight when- 

 ever you think the strength of your leader will bear the 

 strain. 



I've already asked my most intimate friends which put 

 of the moose they prefer. It is always safer to arrange 

 all these little things beforehand. 



If the weight and measurements are what they ought 

 to be, I will duly make report. 0, H. Ames. 



Mr. Cleveland Appears to Believe In It. 



We all have noticed that many men, when they seek 

 to appear especially wise and impressive, speak of "our 

 business interests" as something awful and mysterious, 

 and quite often when a proposition is under discussion its 

 merits are no longer apparent to those wliose hair is on 

 end at the solemn suggestion that "our business inter- 

 ests" are lying in wait with numerous vials of wrath in 

 complete readiness for those who arrive at an unaccepted 

 conclusion— Graver Cleveland's Chamber of Commerce 

 Speech, 



