248 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



PVtAECH 3B, 1893, 



"NESSMUK." 



Proyn "Grreen Fields and Running Brooks.'' 

 I hail thee, "Nessmuk," for the lofty tone, 



Yet simple grace, that marks thy poetry; 



True forester thou art, and still to be. 

 Even in happier fields than thou hast known, 

 ^hus, in glad visions, glimpses am I shown 



Of groves delectable— "preserves" for thee— 



Ranged but by friends of thine— I name thee three- 

 First, Chaucer, with his bald old pate new-grown 



With changeless laurel; next, in Lincoln-greeu, 

 Gold-belted, bowed and bugled, Robin Hood; 

 And next, Ike Walton, patient and serene; 



These three, O "Nessmuk," gathered hunter-wise, 



And camped on hither slopes of Paradise 

 To hail thee first and greet thee, as they should. 



JAJIES WHITCOMB RILET, 



CAMPING ON THE TENDERFOOT.— 1. 



About this time a twelvemonth ago, the Forest and 

 Stream: contained an article from the pen of Mr. S. M. 

 Emery, concerning the sport to be had on the Tenderfoot 

 in Montana. Many a time had I dreamed about the Rocky 

 Mountain country before I read Mr. E.'s story of his out- 

 ing on the Tenderfoot, and once at least had I gone so 

 far as to plan a summer trip to that far off region, but a 

 dream of a canoe voyage up and down the "Boundary," 

 between Pigeon River on the north shore and the Lake of 

 the Woods, came athwart my planning and I went on the 

 canoe trip. That w^as in the summer of 1891. In the fol- 

 lowing early spring when Mr. Emery's story was read the 

 planning began anew again. First, I wrote to the editor 

 and secvired the address of his correspondent and then I 

 wrote to him, and, of course, he answered. Was any true 

 brother of the angle ever known to refuse an answer in 

 such a case? What a batch of letters I have received from 

 fishermen written for the sole purpose of giving informa- 

 tion to a stranger. As true is it in this day as it was in 

 the day when Father Walton wrote that "all w^e anglers 

 do love one another." 



Yes, Mr. Emery answered, and what is more, he told 

 me all I wanted to know. Nay, he did more than that; 

 he hired a man with his team for me and did me many 

 otlier kindnesses for which I take this occasion to thank 

 him, because I can do it no otherwise, having never seen 

 him and having lost the run of him by post. 



How very difficult it is now and then to reach the point 

 of ticket-buying for the outing! I found it doubly so on 

 this occasion. The Greek Professor was going back to 

 his old haunts around the Pictured Rocks; the Judge 

 wanted to go with his wife to old Point Comfort; McCas- 

 lin had found a place not far from Bayfield, and Jo said 

 he couldn't go to any place. What was I to do? At the 

 last moment I thought of the Preacher, and notwithstand- 

 ing he had strayed away off down to Lebanon, Ky. , I 

 wrote him; and to my surprise and joy a dispatch came 

 saying, "Pll go," but adding, preacher-like, "D.V." 



Well, God was willing (and I can say that after twenty 

 summers spent by the streams and lakes I have never 

 known Him otherwise than willing for a man to go a- 

 fishing), and after the necessaiy days and nights w^e were 

 landed "bag and baggage" at the j'oung city of Great 

 Falls, in the new State of Montana, where Sheldon 

 Hodges, our teamster and "rustler," met us and announced 

 his readiness to start the next morning. 



Oar purpose was to repair to the Tenderfoot and spend 

 about three weeks in a permanent camp, after wdiich w^e 

 would go on to Li^dngston on the Northern Pacific, and 

 thence up to the Yellowstone Valley to the portals of the 

 National Park at Cinnabar, and tbence make the rounds 

 of the Park; and I may here once for all say that we 

 made our journey as we had proposed it, and a most de- 

 lightful and profitable journey we found it. 



The Tenderfoot is a tributary of the Smith River, which 

 latter has its source well up toward the center of the State 

 and flows northwesterly between two mountain ranges, 

 the Big Belt range on the east side and the Little Belt on 

 the west, and which finally discharges into the Missouri 

 not far from Great Falls, our starting point. 



It was said to be about sixty miles from Great Falls to 

 the Tenderfoot, but distances in Montana, as weU as in 

 all other jjlaces in which I have traveled by otlier than 

 steam power, depend so very much on the roads that it 

 would perhaps convey a better idea for me to state that it 

 took Sheldon two days and a half honest driving to reach 

 our camp ground. 



We arrived at Great Falls in the forenoon and diu'ing 

 the afternoon purchased our needed supplies in the hope 

 and expectation of getting a timely start the next morn- 

 ing. But the morning pai:)er had, for the want of other 

 news, advertised our arrival, and so, about the time we 

 were ready, George K. Gilchi-ist came hurrying in to see 

 if "D. D. B." was the same old "D. D. B.," or was he 

 some other. He found him the same and there followed 

 much hand-shaking and a great deal of oh-ing and ah-ing, 

 for the two kinsmen had not met for a half score or more 

 of years, neither had they kept the mn of each other dur- 

 ing that time. The upshot of their meeting was that 

 George went along and we did not set out on our joui-ney 

 till after dinner. 



Of com-se the journey was interesting. The deeply- 

 worn, but long unused buffalo trails, the prairie dogs and 

 their towns, the cowboys and their herds, the sheep and 

 their shepherds, not to mention the women that are now 

 and then encountered, who sat their horses astride and as 

 firmly, for that matter, as their brothers, the cowboys, 

 themselves. Why, of course we were interested, and 

 wben we had well nigh reached the place where we were 

 to enter the Two Creek Canon and thence go down, down 

 to the level of the Smitli, and there saw a miss in her teens 

 breaking a broncho, astride of the wild and vicious brute, 

 which was flying up the monntain side with the speed of 

 the wind, and afterward saw her come riding back, the 

 animal comparatively subdued, the unsentimental and 

 sober-sided George actually took off his hat and cheered, 

 while Mc, the Preacher, said: "Well! If that don't beat 

 alll" and I — ^well. I said; "Yes, it does beat all." 



Notwitlistanding the faet that Mr. Emery had furnished 



our teamster with an itineraxy of the route, we thought it 

 safer to take a guide, which w^e found in the person of a 

 Jfr. Mihigan, who lives on a ranch hard by the turning 

 off place. The Smith River had to be forded three or four 

 times ere we reached the Tenderfoot Canon, and it had 

 been very high, and the fords, it was feared, w^ere danger- 

 ous, and so they were. At one pla'^e, with pick and 

 shovel, we did an amount of work that in older parts of 

 the country, if done upon a lawful highway, would en- 

 title the road mender to a fuU day's credit on his "priv- 

 ilege." 



But let us not stop to recount the difficulties that beset 

 our way on that day. We left the Milligan homestead at 

 about nine of the clock that morning, and the canon of 

 the Tenderfoot was shrouded in the gloom of night ere 

 we made our camp-fire, and yet we had traveled not to ex- 

 ceed nine miles, om- guide said. The last bad piece of road 

 the outer travels he is apt to characterize as the ' 'worst 

 road he ever saw," and that Tenderfoot road will be my 

 worst road till another year anyhow. 



Mr. Emery had advised me to go up as high as the falls 

 — nine miles above the mouth of the stream — ^but we 

 stopped five miles short of that place. Both Milligan and 

 Hodges advised against going up so far. The latter's 

 advice was received cum grano, for did he not own the 

 wagon and horses? but when the former supplemented 

 his with the statement that the falls were being regularly 

 visited by fishermen from Neihart, a town on the eastern 

 side of the Big Belt range, we concluded to take his advice 

 and so stopped where we were. 



Our camp was delightfully situated beneath the shadow 

 of a cluster of evergreens close by the stream. Within a 

 stone's throw to the south the mountam rose a perpendic- 

 ular w^all of rock for 100ft. or so, after which the ascent 

 was less steep, but steeper than I could climb, and it con- 

 tinued for 800 or 1,000ft. higher, a man of the country 

 said, but I didn't think it so liigh. It was high enough, 

 however, for the moon to apparently slide along its even 

 crest as if that were its track. I observed this on two or 

 three nights, and I must say that in the dry, clear Mon- 

 tana midnight atmosphere, it was easy indeed to imagine 

 the moon as actually sliding along in its mountain groove- 

 To the north of us the ascent was gradual. It took a 

 mile or more of climbing to reach the crest in that dkec- 

 tion, but tlie climb was most delightful, for one went 

 most of the way through a region of pine trees, usually 

 thinly scattered, but occasionally gathered into httle 

 clumps, the whole alternating now and then with sapling 

 thickets. We found much pleasure in this mountain. On 

 its ridge the view w^as very charming. There the hori- 

 zon was bounded only by the curtained sky, but peaks 

 and ridges were everywhere to be seen, some bald, some 

 crowned with evergreens, and one or two showmg patches 

 of snow. All the more distant were wrapped in veils of 

 purple haze. 



' It was after the middle of July when we made our camp 

 on the Tenderfoot, and if there ever had been any mos- 

 quitoes in its thickets, they had disappeared by the time 

 our camp was made. There are mosquitoes, however, in 

 Montana, for at our very first camp, which was on the 

 Smith River, about twenty-five miles from Great Falls, 

 they tormented us greatly till after nightfall. 



But if the mosquitoes did not annoy, the buft'alo flies did. 

 From 11 o'clock A. M. till about 5 P. M. the sun shone in 

 upon our encampment wnth great power, and with it 

 came flies in swams — cowflies as big as those foimd in the 

 valley States, and so insistent and insidious in getting in 

 their work were they, and so "all-fired" hot was their 

 bite, that quite often we were fain to flee to the moimtain 

 side or to the creek side when the dinner hour came, 

 where we could eat in peace. On the brink of the stream 

 they never troubled, nor did they 50yds. up the mountain 

 from the plane of the valley. 



We camped and traveled in the country thence on till 

 in Sei)tember, but met with no fly pests after these on the 

 Tenderfoot. D. D. Banta. 



BIRD CHAT. 



The little brown wren {T. aedon) is very solicitous in 

 guarding her nestlmgs. 



She is discriminating and readity distinguishes friend 

 from foe. 



Season after season the little house I put up under the 

 piazza roof is taken by a pair of the "wee things;" and 

 though the chaii-s below are usually occupied by members 

 of my family, the birds are in no w^ay disconcerted, and 

 attend to the rearing of their young oblivious of our pres- 

 ence, scolding, chattering and fussing, as is their wont, to 

 the great delight of ourselves and fi'iends, who never the 

 of their cunning ways. 



When almost ready to fly the young become impatient 

 and restless, chirping loudly for food, while with out- 

 stretched necks they peer curiously down at us. Very 

 odd they look, with their fuzzy baby heads and beadlike 

 eyes. 



Let the old birds, w^ho are poking about the hedgerows 

 in search of insects, discover a prowling cat and utter 

 their warning elmrr-rr, and instantly the youngsters slink 

 back m the nest out of sight, keeping perfectly still till a 

 reassuring call brtng-s them clamoring to the front again. 

 I have seen this repeated time after time. No matter how 

 far the old birds may have gone in their foraging, if any- 

 thing excites their mistrust you will always hear this 

 warning cry, and as regularly wdtness the sudden disap- 

 pearing of the nestlings. 



The chippie {S. socialis) is also a careful httle mother, 

 and will flutter along before one as he nears the vicinity 

 of her nest, apparently making the most strenuous efforts 

 to escape, as though wounded. Watching closely, you 

 wiU notice that there is method in her feigned distress, 

 for though seemingly scarce able to struggle on, it is evi- 

 dent that she has a proper regard for her safety, and wiU. 

 not allow you to get within reach. 



For a dozen yards or so the httle midget flutters along, 

 recovering strength as the distance from her treasures in- 

 creases, till suddenly she is herself again, and mounts to 

 the fence rail or tree with a quick flirt of httle wings, 

 there to sit calmly tfll you pass. Presently she wiU flip 

 away in zig-zag flight to her nest. 



The simulated distress of the ruffed grouse {B. umbeHiis) 

 as she endeavors to divert the attention of an intruder 

 from her callow brood is well knowm. The ruse is at 

 times successful with the uninitiated in woodcraft, who 

 race after the struggling bird till presto! there is a whirr 

 of wings and a ' 'brown streak" vanishes among the tree 

 trunks. 



The prairie hen (T. americanus) exhibits great cleverness 

 in leading the disturber of her peace away. As in the 

 case of the ruffed grouse, when a. biped is to be misled 

 the bird wiU feign injury, tumbling and fluttering as 

 though sorely wormded. 



If it be a dog that ventures near, she changes her tactics. 

 Rising with a loud cackle from under his very nose she 

 skims just over the grass in heavy lumbering flight. The 

 dog bounces at her instantly, barely missing her tail 

 feathers with a vicious snap of jaws. Bound after bound 

 he follows, whfle with wonderful gauge of distance and 

 speed she keeps just out of reach tiU well away, then 

 with sturdy wing strokes she rises and swings swiftly 

 back in a wide circle to her young, leaving the discom- 

 fited canine in the lurch. 



There are other birds tliat display great sagacity in 

 leading their foes astray, while again we find those which 

 by over-anxiety and noisy expostulation, seem determined 

 to betray the fact that one is in close proximity to their 

 little ones. This is only the case when the young are 

 hatched, as ah birds, I beheve, are silent whfle sitting on 

 their eggs. 



The male Baltimore oriole (J. galbula) will mount the 

 treetop that shelters his pendant nest, and proclaim to 

 the world at large that he is a happy father. Woe betide 

 the inquisitive wearer of feathers who ventures within his 

 bailiwick at this interesting season, Baltimore will pounce 

 upon him "like a hawk upon a June bug." 



The robin (ilf. migratoriuH) wiU. rouse the neighborhood 

 with a fit of hysterics should anything happen to excite 

 his alarm. 



So with the catbird (If. carolmensis), her nervous chee! 

 ehee! often betrays the whereabouts of her nest. 



The nesting swamp robin {T. mustelinus), when you 

 conie upon him unawares (which is seldom) will be a ti-ifle 

 flurried and voice his concern in a few short, emphatic 

 notes of protest, after which he relapses into philosophical 

 silence, though watchful of your every movement. I liave 

 found that these various demonstrations of sohcitude are 

 generally noticed when the birds are certain they are 

 seen, and very quick they are to discern this. In alnxo t 

 every case where they fancy you have not discovered 

 them they will endeavor to steal off' unobserved. 



The brown thinish {H. ri'f us), for instance, with all the 

 shyness of his race, will dodge away among the bushes 

 and vanish sflentiy, while only the nodding alder tips, as 

 he threads his way below, give evidence of his going. Re- 

 main quiet and the chances are the sly fellow will soon 

 return to investigate. To thoroughly enjoy these bhd 

 ways one must keep eyes and ears open. 



We have heard of people "who go through the world 

 with their eyes shut," andl,this is certaiiily ;ii)])licable to 

 many a would-be student of bird life. There aie manj 

 charming bird pictures which are missed by not attending 

 to business when afield. 



It is weU to read up on the habits of any particular 

 species you may wish to study, but do not close the book 

 and blunder away to then- haunts. Keep your eyes and 

 ears open 'from" the moment you start and you will be 

 amply rej)aid in many ways. 



For example, the y el lov\ -breasted chat (J. vifens), yovx 

 book tells you that he "inhabits shrubbery and in fact 

 any kind of undergrowth." On some lovely May moi'n- 

 ing 3'ou hear his deep voice and immediately start for the 

 coppice whence it appears to sound. Arriv ing, you hear 

 it further away, and carefuUy follow, now in one direc- 

 tion, now in another, anon back to your starting point. 



Of course, all this tramping is owing to the fact that 

 you are relying too much upon your sense of hearing. 

 Though you are presumably aware that tliis bird possesses 

 great ventriloqmal ability, it does seem impossible to 

 you that he should remain in one spot, the while he 

 throws his voice at will about the thicket. 



When you grow impatient of following the voice, and 

 return to your original position, if you are quiet and use 

 yom- eyes diligently, the odd chap will very probably be 

 discovered on some low perch, from which he has been 

 watching you all the time, no doubt enjoying your per- 

 plexity. 



Ears are useful! Eyes are a necessity! But a well- 

 trained combination of both is the vei'j'' thing. Y"ou need 

 only try to observe carefully a few times M'hen an im- 

 provement wiU be sm-e to manifest itself. There is no 

 rule that may be laid down, but to one who loves nature 

 will surely come with practice, the habit of qmckly 

 ' 'sizing up," as it were, his surroundings. He knows in- 

 tuitively how things ought to look and the least depar- 

 ture fi'om the general routine will at once attract his 

 attention. How? I cannot say, perchance he feels it as 

 Whitman says: 



I feel the sky, the praiiies vast— I feel the 



mighty northern lakes; 

 I feel the ocean and the forest— somehow 

 I feel the globe itself swift swimming in 



space. 



So in the field the ornithologist learns to love Ms vvork, 

 and hterally feels liLs w^ay into the lives and habits of his 

 favorites. 



How the plumage of our birds, wdth its endless vai-iety 

 of color, blends with their sm-roundings. Tlie woodcock, 

 for instance. Stop him in full flight and mark his fall 

 "never so carefiflly;" 'twfll take a quick and certain eye 

 to locate him at the fii-st attempt as he lies among the 

 bro-wm leaves. So with om- quad and grouse; their 

 plumage harmonizes so perfectly with the cover they fre- 

 quent that without the aid of your dog you might of ten 

 pass him. 



A striking example of the Creators forethought in thus 

 protecting his handiwork is seen in the nightliawk 

 {Chorxleiles virginianus). This defenseless bird always 

 alights lengthwise with the perch he occupies, and, when 

 settled upon a dead branch or along the fence rail, so 

 closely resembles a knot or gnarl that one is deceived 

 over and over again. The bird seems to realize the 

 security its colors afford and will often remain motion- 

 less, even though approached within a dozen feec, when 

 the passer-by will likely be startled by seeing the "gray 

 moss-covered knot" suddenly develop a pair of white- 

 barred wings that with irregular jerky flaps speedily 

 carry it out of harm's way. 



I have talked enough, though, Mke Tennyson's "Brook," 

 one miglit "go on forever" with this subject. WiU not 

 some of your other correspon'lejits contribute their ex- 

 perience for the benefit of obser^-ers in general? 



BATKinoKN.Y. WlUMOT TOWNSEND. 



