422 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 19, 1894. 



hang a doubt upon, and it can no longer be questioned that 

 the shaggy King of the Plains sbillroanis at will over a por- 

 tion of our great State. ' 



But alas! There is ever something to dampen the ardor of 

 our keenest joys! I have a most lively recollection of numer- 

 ous libations that were poured upon the devoted head of the 

 buffalo— at my expense. These be hard times! 



Alcohol enjoys the reputation of being a great preserva- 

 tive. If this be so, I am quite certain that the head of the 

 buffalo in question is in a fine state of preservation. Faith- 

 fully yours, G. W. FULTON. 



Dr. J. B. Taylor, San Antonio, Tex. 



The fact stands that reputable witnesses have estab- 

 lished the existence of a herd of about forty buffalo in the 

 mountainous regions between Devil's R ver and the Rio 

 Grande. The country is very rough an I the mountains 

 and hills of that region are alternated by canons and val- 

 leys rich in luxuriant grasses and limpid springs. 



, O. C. G. 



Zoological Society of Philadelphia. 



The twenty-second annual report of the board of 

 Directors of the Zoological Society of Philadelphia was 

 read at the annual meeting of the members and loan 

 holders of the society, April 26. From a financial stand- 

 point the report is not so encouraging as in previous years, 

 since the hard times have affected its attendance and so 

 its receipts. The total attendance for the year ending 

 Feb, 28 was 215,549, as against 234,311 for the previous 

 year, a decrease of 18,762. The decrease in receipts for 

 admissions for year is $873. As usual, the greatest num- 

 ber of visitors were present at the garden on Sundays, 

 and the next greatest on Saturday, Friday being the 

 lightest day of the week. 



It would have been impossible for the society to have 

 met the financial strain of the past year if it had not been 

 for the liberal action of the commission of the Fairmount 

 Park, who requested the City Council to appropriate the 

 sum of $10,000 for the purpose of maintenance of the 

 collection. This is in addition to the sum of $5,000 which 

 for several years has been appropriated to the improving 

 of that portion of the Park. 



The report of Mr. Arthur Erwin Brown, the superin 

 tendent, is interesting. From it we learn that the acces- 

 sions to the collections during the year were 83 mammals, 

 135 birds, 410 reptiles and 12 amphibions, a total of 639. 

 Among the interesting species now exhibited for the first 

 time are a pair of black partridges from India, a pair of 

 Chapman's zebras, a giant tree frog from South America, 

 an example of the rare Guayaquil parakeet and some other 

 birds and reptiles. A pair of ring-tailed bassaris, an in- 

 teresting Japanese dog, some South American mam- 

 mals and a fine male orang are among the other additions. 

 During the year there were born in the garden a bactrian 

 camel, Virginia deer, fallow and axis deer, elk, bison, 

 lamas, two red-headed ducks and a number of pheasants 

 of various species. 



A Flock of Wild Pigeons. 



Whitb,watee, Wis., May 7. — A flock of about 150 wild 

 pigeons flew over this city last Friday, the largest we have 

 seen in ten years, and. this used to be their best country. 

 If the shooting of them, and the molestation of them in 

 their meeting places tiould be absolutely forbidden for ten 

 years all through the country, is it not possible that the 

 scattered remnants of this most attractive of the bird 

 races in our old American forests might be reproduce 

 something like their old numbers? Is it not a worthy sub- 

 ject for the National Legislature to consider? G. D. C. 



" That reminds me." 



Witch Ducks. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I would be glad to learn whether any shooter can be 

 found who ever saw such an object as a witch duck. 

 Objects have frequently been seen in the headwaters of 

 the Chesapeake Bay by gentlemen whose truthfulness 

 can not be doubted. 



I made it my business to call on Mr. William H. Dob 

 son, who lives in Havre de Grace, and by the way is con- 

 sidered the best duck shot in Maryland, who was kind 

 enough to give me his experience with three of those 

 remarkably strange fowl. Mr. Dobson relates that one 

 beautiful morning in the gunning season he and a een- 

 tleman of the name of John Brown double-stooled to- 

 gether. This means that two sinkboxes and two sets of 

 decoys were joined, rraking about 500 decoys, which 

 make a big show and draw the ducks from a long way 

 off. After they had killed about fifty canvasbacks and 

 as they were talking about the prospects of a good day's 

 shoot, Mr. Brown called Mr. Dobson's attention to three 

 female canvasbacks sitting among their decoys only a 

 short distance from them. Dobson says, "Hold on 

 Brown, and see me kill all three of those ducks with one 

 barrel." Dobson says that he took deliberate aim and 

 bred, and when the smoke blew off to his great surprise 

 the ducks still sat there undisturbed. He and Brown 

 shot eight barrels at them, and while they were getting- 

 ready to shoot again they disappeared. Very thortly 

 there came a flock of canvasbacks and they killed seven 

 of them. After they had loaded up their guns and were 

 making fun at each about not killing those three ducks 

 Dobson looked among the decoys and to his great sur- 

 prise he saw those same three female canvasbacks 



Brown, there is something wrong. Look, there are 

 those same three ducks." "Don't- shoot at them any 

 more," said Brown, "let's see if we can't scare them 

 away. So they both stood up in their boxes and hollered 

 shu shu; but the birds still sat there just the same. 

 When they bi th commenced to shoot at them again thev 

 disappeared and that was the last they saw of them 



K B. Gallup. 



A NEW-SUBSCRIBER OFFER. 



A bona fide new subscriber sending us 85 will receive for that sum 

 the Forest and Stream one year (price ?4) and a set of Zimmerman's 

 famous "Ducking Scenes" (price $5)— a $9 value for $5 



This offer ia to new subscribers only, it does not apply to renewal, 



For *3 a bona fide new subscriber for six months will receive the 

 Forest and Stream during ithat time and a copy of Dr Van Fleet's 

 handsome work. "Bird Portraits f Dr the You**" (the price of wblob 



IN GAMP ON WILSON'S POND. 



We were camping on Wilson's Pond. 



Our guide had been engaged by letter, but disappoineed 

 us, and we of necessity engaged an eighteen-year-old 

 boy, who knew nothing of the woods, but could be made 

 available as a "hewer of wood" and "toter of bread." 



On the second morning the Parson and I took a canoe 

 and paddling to the north shore proceeded to hunt the 

 hard wood ridges. 



It had been very dry for several days, and the leaves 

 were so noisy that although signs were plentiful, it was 

 about 2 P.. M. before we caught sight of a deer. Then a 

 good-sized buck jumped from behind a huge rock, about 

 150yds. to the left. He seemed in a tremendous hurry, 

 and so was I, for I shot four times as he dodged among 

 the trees. Suffice it to say we never recovered any of 

 these bullets. 



We now worked back to an old lumber road leading 

 down to the lake, and as the day was warm the Parson 

 hung his coat and vest here, and we separated, agreeing 

 to meet in the same spot about sundown to watch at a 

 deer path. Arriving at the appointed time, I heard a shot 

 and shout away off to the north. I tried to answer, but 

 owing to a strong north wind did not succeed in mak- 

 ing myself heard. I tried to go to him, but he traveled 

 so fast that try as I might I could not get near him. At 

 last, hearing nothing more, I returned to the lake and 

 back to camp, which I reached about 10 o'clock. 



The poor Parson held a novel "watch meeting" that 

 night. About dusk he brought up on the shore of a lake 

 which proved to be Prong Pond, but as this was our first 

 trip to Maine, he failed to recognize anything more than 

 that it was not Wilson's. 



Preparing to camp we stripped a piece of birch bark 

 and gathered an armful of dry branches, when feeling 

 for matches he realized for the first that he had to find 

 his vest or go without a fire. The mist arising from the 

 lake chilled him to the marrow. A loon laughed mock- 

 ingly out in the darkness, the weird sound echoing from 

 hilltop to hilltop, till each point seemed occupied by a 

 special "hobgobblin" sent to taunt him. Half clothed, 

 without food or fire, he stamped and tramped, beat his 

 arms and danced unclerical jigs to keep warm, 



"Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares 

 Lest bogles catch him unawares," 



and constantly murmuring "You old fool, why didn't 

 you stay in Jersey?" 



Next morning I started at daybreak, and at sunrise the 

 Dominie got his bearings, and traveling south we met 

 near the lake and hurried to camp for breakfast, where 

 the boys full of congratulations and curiosity "killed the 

 fatted calf." We found them entertaining Louis Annance, 

 an old Passamaquoddy Indian. Opening the way to 

 good fellowship by swapping knives, where I got consid- 

 erably the worst of the bargin, I inquired the best place 

 to find deer. Pointing to the east he said, "Right over 

 there; kind o' bog hole. Best place I know." He also 

 made the remarkable statement that he was seventy years 

 old, and would have been eighty, but "tree fall on urn 

 an' ketch um." Evidently some one had told him the ac- 

 cident would shorten his life ten years. He also said 

 "Moose fraid man. Caribou fraid like the devil railroad 

 train. Deer, him ain't fraid anything." 



The Dominie not feeling in trim for a long tramp, we 

 paddled down to the portage and crossed over to Upper 

 Wilson's Pond, skirting the shore till we found an old 

 lumber landing in the south cove, where we pulled out 

 the canoe. What was once a log road leads up the 

 mountainside from here; now overgrown with brush and 

 briers and obstructed by windfalls, it is not over inviting. 

 However, after shooting the heads off a couple of part- 

 ridges, we followed the road about two miles, and sud- 

 denly came to a beautiful little lake nestled in a depres- 

 sion at the mountain top. To grace the scene two fawns 

 stood on a flat rock about 50yds. away, one looking over 

 the neck of the other; a well directed bullet would have 

 killed both. Startled by our appearance they gazed for 

 fully a minute, then wheeled and whisked into the 

 bushes. A black duck swimming lazily along the oppo- 

 site shore turned his head and eyed us curiously. The 

 margin of the lake was so trampled by the feet of deer 

 that had come to drink that we concluded we must have 

 stumbled on Sam's "big hole," though a less romantic 

 appellation for so beautiful a spot would be difficult to 

 find. 



The sun shone red through the treetops, and having 

 come provided with an axe and coffee pot, we retired half 

 a mile and felling a hemlock soon had a comfortable 

 brush house erected and firewood collected. Before sun- 

 down we posted ourselves, the Parson at the outlet and I 

 at the broad end of the lake. Soon I heard a stick snap, 

 then saw the head and neck of a small buck directly across 

 the pond. He acted suspicious and disappeared for a few 

 moments, then walked boldly out and began to drink. 

 While I hesitated about risking a shot — I judged the dis- 

 tance to be 300yds.— bang! bang! came from the outlet. 

 My buck imagined he was the target, and jumped into 

 cover, where he stopped to snort. Down the lake three 

 white plumes waved adieu! adieu! adieu! as their bearers 

 jumped high over the bushes and disappeared in the 

 woods. I hurried down to the Parson and found him 

 "beside himself" with vexation. He said, "I knelt behind 

 this little cedar. A doe and two fawns came out. The 

 doe walked into the water a few steps and lowered her 

 head to drink. I pushed my ride through the tree, and 

 resting it on a limb pulled for the shoulder. She threw 

 up her head, but stood perfectly still, and I knew I had 

 not touched her. Taking plenty of time, I worked the 

 lever and shot again. Then she jumped away un harmed. " 

 And turning, he shouted, "How did I miss?" I assured 

 him that I was ignorant of the reason. We paced the 

 distance— 35yds. ; and this from a man who has killed lots 

 of running antelope at 200yds. and over. 



We built a rousing fire at the bough house and running 

 green sticks through the partridge roasted them over the 

 coals. This is the only ca'up I ever occupied where the 

 deer were numerous enough to come up and snort at the 



doe. I do not know whether they were following their 

 usual runway, or were attracted by the light of the fire. 



We spent two weeks in Maine, thirteen nights I shivered 

 in a tent, while the night spent in the bough house we 

 were comfortable without bedding or blankets; at least I 

 was, but I think the Parson was troubled in spirit, for 

 periodically would come the refrain, "You bid fool, why 

 didn't you stay in Jersey?" 



Next morning we killed a yearling as he came to drink 

 at the wide end of the lake about 200yds. away. We had 

 venison enough and returned to the tent to feast our friends 

 abd tell our story. Last night the Parson called at my 

 office and pointing to a head over the mantle said: "Doc- 

 tor, if I had missed a fellow like that I would feel bad! 

 but I am thankful every day that I did not kill that doB 

 and deprive those poor little things of a mother." 



Hamilton VkkeLanb. 



THE GRAY SQUIRREL. 



OF our small game, the gray squirrel ranks with the 

 foremost of our sport-giving denizen's of the woods. 

 Early in the fall of the year, when the nuts are freed from 

 their husks by the sharp morning frost, and the leaves of 

 the Chestnut and hickory blend with the color of the 

 earth, the inquisitive "gray -back" may be seen running 

 along the branches of the trees, prying into every nook 

 and corner, and feeding on the sweet kernels of the 

 hickory and other nuts, which fill out his sleek sides, and 

 gives his delicate flesh a fine flavor. 



As an angler has said, "It is not all of fishing to fish," 

 it may be equally true to say "It is not all of shooting to 

 shoot," for an early morning spent in the Woods, sitting 

 on a log and waiting for the furry little 1'odent to appear, 

 as he is sure to do when the sun first shows his face over 

 the surrounding hills, is full of enjoyable thought, and if 

 a person is lucky enough to bag only one squirrel) he will 

 not be disappointed in his morning's work, if he be a 

 reasonable man and finds enjoyment in observing nature. 



Well, I remember the eariy morning outings spent in 

 the woods of the picturesque Gatskill Mountains! Arising 

 from sleep at 4 o'clock in the morning, I would fill my 

 pockets with some light food, attd donning my sweated 

 shoulder my little 16 gauge gun, and commence my 

 pleasant tramp over the hills to a favorite "stamping 

 ground" of the squirrels. The keen mountain air being 

 delightfully evident at that early hour, made brisk walk- 

 ing a necessity, and the contents of my pockets were 

 greatly relished as I trudged along. 



Arriving at the destination, it was my custom to find a 

 fallen tree in the midst of a clump of chestnuts, lay the 

 gun across my knees, and drink in the beauties of the 

 surrounding landscape, withal, ^keeping my weather-eye 

 open on the lookout for squirrel. 



Now the sun has showed his warm, genial face be- 

 tween the hills, and as his beams glint on the trees, there 

 begins a chattering chorus of the voices of the busy folk 

 of the wood, as they arise and commence their foraging 

 for breakfast. Sh! there on the limb of that chestnut 

 right in front, is a fat "gray-back;" how pretty he looks 

 as his sharp eyes glance restlessly around, to see if there 

 are any interlopers! Now is my time. As I rise to shoot, 

 he sees me, and with a "chir-rr-r!" of fear, he darts off 

 towards a thick bunch of hemlock tops, to find shelter in 

 their thickly covered branches, but I am too quick for 

 him; as the sharp voice of my gun speaks out, he tumbles 

 down from the lofty limbs, catching in vain at the 

 branches in his way, and lands at my feet — a prize which 

 amply repays me for my early rising. 



After admiring his glossy form, I changed my location 

 and secured two more squirrels, but with decidedly more 

 ammunition and some tall chasing to retrieve them. By 

 this time, my "inner man" proclaims the breakfast hour, 

 and so, shouldering my gun, I trudge home not over- 

 laden with game; but with a clear, contented mind and 

 a healthy appetite, which does full justice to the ample 

 country meal, which I find awaiting me at the old farm- 

 house. Wh. G. Chapman, Jr. 



A VIRGINIA BUCK. 



Amenta, N. D., April 21. — It was a beautiful day along 

 in the frost of November, and as I had unfortunately shot 

 away all of my shells for my .44 (used in preference to any 

 of the later sized calibers), I found myself up in the 

 Massanuten Mountains, in Shenandoah county, Va., about 

 twenty miles from Harrisburg, on a deer stand using an 

 old-fashioned squirrel rifle (about'130 bullets to the pound) 

 with one bullet in my gun and one in the bullet pouch. 

 It was cold and frosty and I had built a small fire of dry 

 drift wood to warm my aching toes. Then a long time 

 of waiting took place, first fixing my fire, then relighting 

 my pipe, as one always succeeded the other, until at last 

 I heard that music never forgotten by the true sportsman 

 or the man who can't even shoot a gun — the hounds in 

 chase of a deer. At once that queer sensation commenced 

 to run up and down my back bone (no one unless he has 

 been in the same place can realize how it feels), and I ex- 

 citedly cocked my old-fashioned rifle and every nerve 

 became as intense as a fiddle string. 



The glorious music drew nearer and nearer and my 

 respiration grew longer and longer and seemed almost to 

 stop, when at once there came a crash and something that' 

 looked bigger than Barnum's Jumbo sprang lightly down 

 the bank and waded into the shallow water of the river; 

 while I, I — with my mouth open, my gun cocked, stood 

 like a last year's hornet's nest, ppparently dead, but needed " 

 only a good shaking to arouse to life. When the deer 

 suddenly caught sight of me, he gave a snarl and com- 

 menced to stamp his feet and retreat for the other shore, 

 did my scattered senses return to me and I raised my rifle 

 and sent the tiny ball on its deadly mission. At the crack 

 of the gun I saw him spring or rather the spot where the 

 bullet struck him contract as if you had hit him with a 

 rock; but it did not stop him. He cleared a high clump 

 of laurel at one jump and disappeared. I slowly and 

 sadly reloaded my rifle and wondered what Uncle Bill 

 and Jim Payne would say when they came in and found 

 that I had lost my deer, and without even a drop of blood 

 to show that I had hit him, when suddenly the old spotted 

 hound broke through the brush, making a desperate effort 

 to keep ahead of her year-old son, came tearing towards 

 me. I hastily ran across the river and called them down 



ueer were numerous enough to come up and snort at the to where the deer had left the water and put them on the 

 nre. l ara sure 1 do not exaggerate when I say that during I trail. They ran about 20 rods and then stopped, and I ; 

 the evening a dozen deer came within a short distance; ] hurried down and cut the throat of the first deer-a spiked 

 on all sides we could hear them, from the hoarse bark-like horn buck— that I had killed in "Old Virginy ." 

 snort of an old buck to the shrill, short snort of a young I We found very good hunting in the valley and in 



