Jan. 27, 1894.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



69 



IN THE INDIAN RIVER COUNTRY. 



Atlantic, Brevard County, Fla., Jan. 9.— Once more at 

 home on Indian River (for what is known as the Banana 

 is only a part of the same water running around 

 Merritts Island), amid summer sights and summer sounds 

 in this beginning of the new year, only the shortness of 

 the day reminds one of the time of the year. 



Looking seaward I see a vessel sailing not far from 

 shore to keep out of the Gulf Stream; looking river ward I 

 see the white sails of a yacht and hear the reports of the 

 guns as the occupants shoot at the ducks on the Banana. 

 I say shoot at, for the majority of those who sail up aud 

 down the river duck shooting, seem -o consider 200yds. 

 about the proper distance, and as it affords amusement to 

 the hunter and seldom haxms the ducks, both parties 

 ought to be satisfied. But when once in a while some 

 one comes who really wants to get some ducks, he finds 

 that they have learned what they consider the safe and 

 proper limit for the sportsman's approach, and do not 

 propose to allow him to get within a distance that might 

 prove harmful. These were the views expressed to me in 

 somewhat different terms by an Englishman, who was a 

 veteran sportsman, but who found it impossible to approach 

 the ducks within any decent range before they would 

 take flight. Little difference does it make to those who, 

 sailing along these placid waters, have only to experience 

 the bliss of being, of mere existence in such an air. I 

 would like to ask some one wiser than myself in bird lore 

 of the habits of some of my feathered neighbors. 



There are a lot of jays who are very intimate about the 

 house, coming so far as to perch on the corner of the 

 verandah and make remarks about the conduct of domes- 

 tic affairs. They seem to fully appreciate the privilege of 

 a large pan of water kept filled for their especial benefit 

 and that of the mockingbirds close to the verandah. 



"What I want to ask the wise man is this: Why do these 

 jays bring acorns from the dwarf oaks that grow so 

 plentiful here, and deposit them in the center of the pine- 

 apple plants? Now the leaf of the pine is armed with a 

 thorny barb, and it is very difficult for ua to remove the 

 acorns; it must be for the bird as well. This same saucy 

 jay is the bird which, you may remember, according to 

 the tradition of the colored people, goes to sheol every 

 Friday and returns on Sunday. Indeed the one who first 

 gave me this information told me that if I would consider, 

 I would remember that I never saw any jays between 

 Friday and Sunday. However it may be with jays in 

 general, our blue-coated neighbors have evidently post- 

 poned their visit to the under-world, or perhaps have lost 

 their weekly reckoning; for although it is Friday to-day, 

 they are rather more numerous and loquacious than 

 usual. 



Snipe are now quite plentiful in the savannahs — that is, 

 some days they are plentiful and some days there are 

 none. But that is the habit of snipe in this .part of the 

 country. 



My neighbor, the Artist, does not allow any shooting on 

 his premises, and is rewarded by an occasional view of a 

 deer quietly feeding. It looks as if prohibition in this 

 direction would become the order of the clay in the neigh- 

 borhood ; and in that case we shall keep up our acquaint- 

 ance with wildcats, coons, bear, deer, etc. 



Our old friend Jim Ponce, the famous hunter of St. 

 Augustine, has gone to Lake Worth for the season, and is 

 expected to supply the tourists who will make their pil- 

 grimage there with game. He will be an acquisition to 

 the society of the lake, with his inimitable stammer and 

 droll ways, to say nothing of his skill as a hunter. Those 

 who accompany him on his hunting expeditions must 

 learn to view without alarm Ponce riding through the 

 scrub at break-neck speed, with his doublebarreled gun 

 loaded with buckshot lying at full cock across the saddle 

 in front of him, untouched and apparently liable at any 

 moment to fall and explode, scattering its contents in a 

 most promiscuous manner. In fact, however, it never 

 does fall nor go off accidentally; but as a deer bounds up 

 from before the dogs not far away, Jim will halt his horse 

 and raise his gun to his shoulder as if with one motion, 

 and it is very rarely the deer does not fall. Jim will make 

 many new friends this winter and tell some new stories 

 in a way no other man can tell them. W. 



THE SINGING MOUSE STORIES. 



Lake Belle-Marie. 



Lake Belle-Marie lies far away. Beyond the forest 

 the mountains are white. Beyond the mountains the sky 

 rises blue, high up into the infinite Unknown. 



I do not know where the Singing Mouse lives. No man 

 can tell what journeys it may make such times as it is 

 absent from the room that holds the rjine table, and the 

 book, and the candle, and the open fire. But last night, 

 when the faint, shrill sweetness of its little voice grew 

 apart from the lonely silence of the room, and I turned 

 and saw the Singing Mouse sitting on the corner of the 

 book, the light of the candle shining in pink through its 

 tiny paws, almost the first word it said was of the far-off 

 Lake of Belle-Marie. 



"Do you see it?" asked the Singing Mouse. 



"You mean " 



"The moon there through the window? Do you see the 

 moon, and the stars? Do you know where they are shin- 

 ing to-night? Do you see them, there, deep in the water? 

 Do you know where that is? Do you know the water? I 

 know. It is Lake Belle-Marie." 



And all I could do was to sit speechless. For the fire 

 was gone, and the wall was open, and the room was not 

 a room. The voice of the Singing Mouse, shrill and sweet, 

 droned on a thousand miles away in smallness, but every 

 word a crystal of regret and joy. 



"A thousand feet deep, or more, or bottomless, lies Lake 

 Belle-Marie, for no man has ever fathomed it. But no 

 matter how deep, the moon lies to-night at the bottom, 

 and you can see it shining there, deep down in the blue. 

 The stars are smaller, so they stay up and sparkle on the 

 surface. The forest is very black to-night, is it not, and 

 the shadows of the pines on the point looks like a mass of 

 actual substance. Wait. Did you see that silvern creature 

 leap from the quiet water? You may know the shadow 

 is but shadow, for you can see the chasing ripples pass 

 through it and break it up into a crinkled fabric of the 

 night. 



"Do you see the pines waving, away up there in their 

 tops, and do you hear them talking? They are always 

 talking. To-night they are saying, 'Hush, Belle-Marie; 

 slumber, Belle-Marie; we will watch, we will watch, 



hush, hush, hush!' Didn't you ever know what the 

 pines said? They wish no one ever to come near Lake 

 Belle-Marie. Well for you that you only sat and looked 

 at the face of Belle-Marie, and ca*t no line nor fired an 

 untimely shot around her shores! The pines would have 

 been angry and would have crushed you. You do not 

 know how they live, seeking only to' keep Belle-Marie 

 from the world, standing close and sturdy together and 

 threatening any who approach. It would break their 

 hearts to have her hiding place found out. You do not 

 know how they love her. The pines are old, old, old, many 

 of them, but they told me that no footprint of man was 

 ever seen upon those shores, that no boat ever rested on 

 that little sea, neither did ever a treacherous line wrinkle 

 even the smallest portion of its smoothest coves. Believe 

 me, to have Belle-Marie known would break the hearts 

 of the pines. They told me they lived all the time, only 

 that they might every night sing Belle-Marie to sleep, 

 and every morning look upon her face, innocent, pure, 

 unknown and unknowing, therefore good, sincere and 

 utterly trustworthy. That is why the pines live. That 

 is what they are talking about. In many places I know 

 the hearts of the pines are broken and they grieve con- 

 tinually. That is because there are too many people. In 

 this valley the pines do not grieve. They only talk 

 among themselves. In the mornine: they will wave their 

 hands quite gaily and will say. 'Waken, waken, Belle- 

 Marie! Sweet is the day, sweet is the day; God hath 

 given, given, given!' That is what the pines say in the 

 morning. 



"The white mountains yonder are very old. How 

 strong and quiet they are, and how sure of themselves! 

 To be quiet and strong, one needs to be old, for small 

 things do not matter then. Do you know what the moun- 

 tains think, as they stand there shoulder to shoulder — for 

 they live only to shield and protect the forest, here in the 

 valley. They told me they were thinking of the small- 

 ness and the quickness of the days. 'Age unto age!' is 

 what the mountains whisper. 'JEon unto £eon! Strong, 

 strong, strong is Time!' 



"And yet I knew these mightv pillars lived only to 

 shield the forest which shielded Belle-Marie. So I stood 

 upon the last mountain and looked upon the great 

 blue of the sky, and there again-I saw the face of Lakp 

 Belle-Marie; and the circle was complete, and I sought 

 no more, for I knew that from the ahode of perfect, 

 unhurt nature it is but a step up to the perfect peace and 

 rest of the land where lives that Time whose name the 

 mountains voice in awe. 



"And now, do you see what is happening on Lake Belle- 

 Marie? Through the cleft in the forest the pink of the 

 early day is showing, and light shines through the spaces 

 of the pines. And down the pebbles of the beach, knee 

 deep into the shining flood, steps a noble creature, 

 antlered, beautiful, admirable. Do you see him drink, 

 and do you see him raise his head and look about with 

 gentle and fearless eye? This creature is of the place, and 

 no hand must harm him. 



"Let the thin blue smoke die down. Attempt no foot 

 further on. Disturb not this spot. Return. But before 

 you go, take one more look upon the Lake of Belle- 

 Marie!" 



So again I gazed upon the face of the lake, which 

 seemed innocent, and sincere, and trustworthy, and de- 

 serving of the protection of the league of pines, and the 

 army of the mountains, and the canopv of the unshamed 

 sky. And then the voice of the Singing Mouse, employed 

 in some song whose language I do not yet fully under- 

 stand, faded and sank away, and even as it passed the 

 walls came back and the ashes lay gray upon the hearth. 



E. H. 



FISHING DOGS. 



Readers of Forest and Stream who visited the Esqui- 

 maux village at the World's Fair will remember the 

 "husky" dogs there on exhibition. These animals are 

 perhaps the most interesting of all the various classes of 

 our canine friends and during this summer I had ample 

 opportunity to study some of their characteristics. 



Of course they are used only in winter, when four or 

 more of them hitched one before the other to a tobbogan 

 like sleigh, can accomplish hundreds of miles in a 

 remarkably short time, all the while being sustained by 

 one three or four pound fish a day apiece. During the 

 summer they run wild and rely solely on themselves for 

 their food. While at Lake Winnipeg this summer, I was 

 shooting ducks near a fishing station where fortv or fifty 

 huskies which had come down from the North during the 

 winter, were running around. 



Their mode of securing food is indeed peculiar. In the 

 morning, they swim across the deep channels at the 

 mouth of the Red river to the shallows where the water is 

 seldom deeper than three feet. They paddle themselves 

 up and down quietly, while keeping a careful watch 

 below them. Suddenly one disappears into the water and 

 when he comes up he has in his mouth a fish. He swims 

 ashore and enjoys his meal at his leisure. 



Many times as I have been paddling through sloughs in 

 search of game have I been warned by a low growl, that 

 I was approaching one of the wolf -like dogs, and pushing 

 aside the reeds with my paddle revealed a husky, evident- 

 ly tired of his swimming tactics, standing in a few inches 

 of water ready to pounce upon the first fish that passed in 

 front of his ambuscade of rushes. 



My first experience with these dogs rather startled me. 

 We were returning to camp one bright moonlight night 

 about ten o'clock, after a long day's shooting up the river. 

 We were paddling slowly along about 100yds. from the 

 shore, when a quick splash occupied our attention. It 

 was soon followed by another, then another, then several 

 together, till in all twenty-two objects of some sort had 

 thrown themselves out of the water. Along the path that 

 the moon made on the surface we could see the heads of 

 these animals coming straight for our canoe. We rested 

 on our paddling to see what was to happen. They came 

 near rapidly but still we were unable to determine what 

 they were. At last when within about 15yds., they 

 seemed to notice who we were, and making a sudden turn 

 to the right, erave us a wide berth and passed across our 

 bow. We could then see that they were a band of huskies 

 which were off to do their night's fishing in the neighbor- 

 ing shallows. Rod. Random, 



"SNOOKS." 



I have have often noticed in Forest and Stream some 

 very interesting accounts of dogs and birds that had done 

 wonderful things. I am a great lover of birds, and until 

 very recently was the owner of a pet canary by the name 

 of Snooks. He was without exception the cutest bird that 

 I ever heard of. Every morning when my husband 

 shaved, his favorite place was on the collar of his dressing 

 robe, and his delight was to pick at the hand that held 

 the razor. He had a habit of hopping all over the floor 

 after me, and many a time I have found him between my 

 feet. We had put a bell in his cage and taught him to 

 ring it whenever he wanted us. My husband would say 

 to him, "If you want me, ring your bell." At once he 

 would hop on his perch and ring until we had given him 

 a hemp seed. I always covered him up at night and 

 placed him in one of our closets. Sometimes he would 

 wake and hear my husband's voice. Immediately his 

 bell would ring, although he was in the dark. 



He was a good bather, and when he had drained eveiy 

 drop of water out of his bathtub I would bring a pitcher 

 and refill the tub while he stayed in it, then would go on 

 with his bath. Once, when we were away, a friend of 

 ours took care of him for two weeks. She told u that 

 he never sang a note. The night we returned we brought 

 him in our room, opened his cage, and although it was 

 almost dark, he sang to us as if his dear little throat 

 would break. The next morning he did the same, and 

 after that only sang in his usual way. It showed us that 

 the dear little fellow had missed us. 



One Christmas morning I went from our front room to 

 the hall room back where we had a sick friend who was 

 very fond of him. He walked after me all the way, then 

 entered her room and perched on a table and looked all 

 around as if to say, "Merry Christmas to you," and then 

 walked back again through the hall to our room. Of 

 course I talked to him all the time to show him I was 

 with him. 



The dear little pet was getting old and blind, so we 

 thought it our duty to have a friend chloroform him. 

 For several years we had made a companion of him, so 

 you can imagine how we felt at parting with him. 



Claire Adams. 



BLACKSN AKE DESCENDING A TREE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



For two or three months I have been almost the sole 

 possessor of a snake story which bothers me, and I have 

 concluded to risk my reputation by telling it, in the hope 

 that some of your naturalists can explain the phenomenon. 



One day this fall I was out at Creve-Cceur Lake, and 

 after rambling through the woods until late in the after- 

 noon I came down to the station to await my train. 

 Passing a large hickory near which three ladies and a 

 gentleman were picnicking, I saw a blacksnake on the 

 trunk of the tree about 12ft. from the ground. To the 

 best of my recollection the tree was about 7ft. in girth and 

 20ft. to the nearest limb. Its bark was very tight and 

 smooth for a hickory of that size, and there were no 

 knots or excrescences below the limbs. The taper of the 

 trunk from a couple of feet above ground to the first limb 

 was so slight as to be imperceptible. The snake was 

 motionless as if asleep. Its position on the tree was, in 

 the main, diagonally upward from left to right, head 

 toward the top, but the body arranged in graceful curves. 

 I wondered how it could support itself on so straight and 

 smooth a trunk. 



The ladies were alarmed when I called their attention 

 to the reptile, as they had been under the tree several 

 times, and near it all afternoon I opened fire on the 

 snake with a pocket revolver, and scored two bad misses, 

 but the third shot broke its back about 6in. from its head. 



Then began a singular performance. The snake did not 

 drop. It slowly released its folds, its head gradually 

 slipped lower and lower down the trunk, its body 

 straightened out accordingly, until finally the snake lay 

 perpendicularly on the trunk, head downward, in a 

 perfectly straight line. We could not detect the slightest 

 curve from tail to head. Then it began slipping down 

 the tree so slowlv that we could scarcely see it move, but 

 its body still remained rigid and straight, as though 

 paralyzed. I think that in ten minutes it did not slip 

 down more than 2ft. after once straightening out. I 

 then shot it through the head; there was some muscular 

 contraction and soon the reptile relaxed and fell to the 

 ground. It measured 4ft. lOin. in length. 



Now how does a snake descend a nearly vertical surface 

 so very slowly without perceptible muscular movement 

 in a perfectly straight line, when its belly scales slope the 

 wrong way for the trip? Horace Kephart. 



St. Louis, Dec. 31. 



White Beer. 



I was very much interested with reading the announce- 

 ment recently of a white deer being killed in western 

 Pennsylvania, as I have hunted in that locality for a 

 number of seasons (mostly for grouse). I was telling my 

 father about it, when he said: "That is nothing unusual, 

 for your grandfather killed three white deer in one day in 

 Venango county, about nine miles above Oil City, on Oil 

 Creek. I remember it very distinctly, for I was sent to 

 bring them in and skin them. They were snow-white, 

 with the exception of a few grayish spots on either side 

 of the shoulders of one of them." This was probably a 

 few years prior to 1838, when Mr. Joseph Gayetty shot 

 the one on Horse Creek. I speak of this to show that the 

 albino deer was not such an uncommon animal in that 

 locality in early times. J. S. Ricketts. 



Fredericton, N. B., Jan. 12.— Last fall a large albino 

 buck deer was shot a few miles from here. To-day a 

 farmer living in the same section brought into town a 

 last spring's fawn very curiously marked. The head and 

 back are colored like an ordinary deer, but the belly and 

 the inside of the legs and tail are pure white. Its eyes 

 are colored like the common deer and show no traces of 

 albinism. H. C. 



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