374 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
,May 9 1896. 
WOODLAND BIRD NOTES.— II. 
New Rochelle, N. Y., April 19. — Nature, who is a 
fickle creature at any time, has certainly shown herself 
in queer moods this spring. The warm wave which 
swept over the country has wrought sudden changes in 
bird and plant life. In spite of the heat on April 18, I 
took gun in hand and went on a collecting expedition. 
The winter birds that were so abundant on my last trip 
have quite disappeared, and their places have been filled 
by the increasing of our summer residents and regular 
migrants. The cousins of the chippy, the field sparrows, 
were very numerous, flyiug in large flocks on the border 
of the woods and fields. Among these flocks were many 
song, chipping and vesper sparrows, and here and there 
a straggling junco, who, being separated from his fellows, 
was making his way to his northern home, leisurely. 
Immense flocks of bronzed and purple graokles, red- 
winged and rusty blackbirds, cowbirds and meadowlarks 
occupied the fields and swamps. Numerous varieties of 
warblers swarmed in the bushes and trees, but they are 
so lively and shy that they are very difficult to collect or 
identify. One of them, however, which was more abun- 
dant than the others, and perhaps less shy, was a well- 
known one, the black and white creeping warbler, whose 
name describes him very well. He spends most of his 
time in trees looting for food, but nests upon the ground 
about the last of May or the first of June, and is a rather 
rare summer resident on the Sound — only one nest being 
found (containing young birds) by myself last year. 
Ascending a small brook I came upon a pair of Louisiana 
water-thrushes, a bird very interesting to me and very 
abundant in this neighborhood. This is the most north- 
ern part of his range and does not occur further north 
than Connecticut, as he belongs to the Carolinian fauna. 
This thrush-like warbler is one of the strange combina- 
tions we sometimes find in nature, being in customs and 
habits the representative of three distinct families, the 
warbler, the thrush and the snipe. He is a lover of for- 
est streams and is very seldom found anywhere else, 
except in their neighborhood. He runs over the minia- 
ture beaches and shoals like a true snipe, uttering a peep, 
peep, bobbing his tail and head with the peculiar teeter- 
ing motion of the snipe. At times he will fly up into the 
trees and sing in rich, flute-like notes as a thrush does. 
His throat is white, breast saffron spotted with brown, 
back of head, back and wings olive-brown. He builds 
his nest under the banks of streams or in hollow logs 
lodged in them, about May 15-30. He arrives in the 
neighborhood of New Rochelle about the middle of April 
and returns South the end of September. The Louisiana 
water-thruph is very rare on Loner Island (Chapman), but 
on August 29, 1895, I saw five birds among a flock of snipe 
on Bayghore Creek, Bayshore, L I,; I secured two out of 
the five. Closely related to this warbler is the water- 
thrush, like him in every respect, except that his breast 
and throat are lemon color, and he is only a migrant here, 
nesting from Massachusetts northward. They pass 
through here about May 15-20, and return again in the 
foil- Edwin Irvine Haines. 
Hairy Woodpecker as Flycatcher. 
During- the past week while standing in front of my 
house I saw a bird fly from the trunk of a tree a few feet 
and return. At first I thought it was one of the flycatchers, 
but on walking up within 20ft. of the tree I saw that 
the bird was a hairy woodpecker (Dryobates villosus), 
and to my surprise it went through the same motion as 
at; first attracted my attention, again returning to the 
same tree. I saw that it had caught an insect of some 
kind and after eating it again repeated the performance, 
only that it flew much further than a rod to secure its 
prey and alight on the next tree beside the walk. In try- 
ing to get hear enough to see what it had caught, I 
frightened him (it was a male bird) and he took his captive 
to other fields to devour. I have often seen the English 
sparrow imitate tbe flycatchers by taking the small moths 
on the wing, I had never before seen one of the Pieidce 
family in the flycatcher idle. 
In the case of the English sparrow I have often wonderpd 
if they caught the moths to eat or for persecution, as 
they do not seem to know what to do with them after 
they get them. I once watched a male sparrow for half 
an hour after he had caught one and the moth was very 
lively when I took my last look at them. 
„ J. L. Davison. 
Lookport, N. Y., April 20. 
New York Bird Notes. 
New Rochelle, N. Y., April 24 — Editor Forest and 
Stream: It seems strange to read in Forest and Stream 
accounts from Maine telling how the snow is 3ft. deep on 
the ground when in this vicinity spring has at last got 
her "grip." Dog-wood and apple blossoms, violets, 
marsh-marigolds, adder-tongues and many other flowers 
fill the fields, woods and swamps. Birds are very numer- 
ous, as can be seen from the following list, seen during 
the last two weeks: Purple grackle, robin, song, field, 
swamp, chipping and vesper sparrows, red-winged black- 
bird, rusty blackbird, bronzed grackle, flicker, Louisiana 
water-thrush, black and white warbler, cowbird, bain- 
swallow (just arrived), bobolink (just arrived); roeadow- 
]**k, kingfisher, hermit thrush, yellow-palm warbler, 
mvprtle warbler, towhee (just arrived). 
On April 23, I found a bluebird's nest with five eggs 
and a crow's with six. On walking through Pelbam Bay 
Park to-day (April24) I was surprised to hear the bob- 
white of the quail, and upon investigation I found a nice 
little covey of from eight to ten quail; perhaps they will 
nest there. Edwin I. Haines. 
The Linn seais Society of New York. 
Regular meetings of the society will be held at the 
American Museum of Natural History, Seventy-seventh 
street and Eighth avenue, on Tuesday evenings, May 12 
and 26, at 8 o'clock. 
May 12— Edwin I. Haines, "The Starlings at Home and 
Abroad." 
May 26— Frank M. Chapman, "Notes on Birds Observed 
in Yucatan." Walter W. Granger, Sec'y. 
Ambb. Museum ob> Nat. History. 
The Fobkst and Sthkam is put to press each week on Tuesday 
Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at th 
atfft by Men %ay andas tnveh earlier at practicable. 
§mt(e §%g mtd §m% 
IN THE ROCKIES. 
Clark's Fork Canon, Montana, Sept. 18, 1895.— My 
Dear Sammy: This is the first opportunity I have had to 
send you a few notes since leaving Philadelphia on the 
llth inst. As you are familiar with the route taken I 
won't pause too long in describing the many beautiful 
places along the line. Still when I consider the many 
courtesies shown our party I can't refrain from telling 
you, because I know it will touch a tender spot in your 
heart, as it will in the hearts of others. First allow me 
to introduce to you my companions, H. W. H., alias Pop, 
and N. M. W., alias Judge, both of York, Pa., and 
genial and companionable Dr. D. P. M., alias Doc, of 
Chester, Pa. (Doc, you remember, was with me last 
year in the wilds of Minnesota); and lastly, yours truly, 
alias Capt. These aliases I will explain to you later on. 
Our route lay over the picturesque Baltimore & Ohio 
Railroad to Chicago, and what a charming ride it is. 
Almost every spot along it is familiar to me, especially in 
the bass and trout fishing districts. These things alone 
are enough to make me use this road, as I have taken 
many a large and gamy bass from nearby waters in days 
gone by. The same thing may also be said of the Wis- 
consin Central road. For the sportsman it is the most 
accommodating line out of Chicago to St. Paul. They, 
like the B. & O., will carry, and did carry for us, free of 
charge, all our camp outfit, dogs and baggage, etc. The 
trainmen are kind and considerate to dogs and take the 
best care of them, often dividing their lunch with them. 
You would be in your element in this State, Sammy, as 
the bass fishing all along the line of the Wisconsin Cen- 
tral is great. 
When we reached Waukesha Doc got mixed up with a 
bridal party and received a handful of rice down his back 
and had his off ear nearly taken away with an old shoe; 
"they mistook him for the groom." I can't understand 
why this should have occurred, as the groom was a fairly 
good-looking man. 
We left Chicago at 6:05 P. M. and arrived in St. Paul 
on time, had an excellent breakfast on the train. At 10 
o'clock we marched in a body to call on Mr. Charles S. 
Fee, of the Northern Pacific Road, who was to send us 
over his road to Red Lodge, Montana. As that worthy 
gentleman was out of town, we were introduced to Mr. B. 
N. Austin, the Assistant General Passenger Agent, and a 
man whom every sportsman traveling in that country 
should know. He knows more duck and geese resorts 
than any man in Minnesota. And I desire to extend to 
him my deepest gratitude and thanks for the many kind- 
nesses shown us. And also to thank him and the gentle- 
manly trainmen for kindnesses and courtesies extended 
to us all along the line. They did everything possible for 
us in the way of putting us on to good shooting grounds 
for ducks and chickens. Offered decoys, ammunition, 
etc., etc., and I really believe would have enjoyed killing 
them for us too. It does make a fellow feel good to have 
a man open his heart to you as Mr. Austin did to us, 
strangers and far from home. 
We left St. Paul at 4:50 P. M. The ride through Min- 
nesota and the Dakotas was an interesting one ; we saw 
quite a number of chickens along the line, yet I scarcely 
think so many as last year. The crops through this sec- 
tion were phenomenally large this season and prices next 
to nothing. One farmer told me he had 1,000 bushels of 
potatoes and he couldn't get 5 cents a bushel for them, in 
fact he guessed he wouldn't dig them at all. We stopped 
over at Dawson for a day's shooting, and Doc and I had 
one of the most delightful days with chickens and ducks 
I ever remember having. Pop and Ben were handicapped 
by having two dogs that were worthless, one being blind 
and the other lame and deaf. However, they brought to 
bag about all they saw, fifteen chickens. Doc and I had 
a very good dog, though a little lame in one foot. How- 
ever, we had the good luck to come across a slough with 
two small lakes and it was literally alive with ducks, 
which probably had never been shot at. No, they were 
not tame ducks. Well, we had sport fast and furious, 
having eight and ten ducks down at one time. They 
would fly from one lake to another, giving us all sorts of 
shooting. Result of day's work, forty-five ducks and 
thirteen chickens. Recollections of this day's shooting 
will ever linger in my memory, not even the landlord's 
bill can erase it. We left Dawson next morning blight 
and early, and were glad when we crossed the line into 
what is destined to become one of tbe greatest States in 
the Union — Montana, meaning "of or belonging to the 
mountains," or in Indian, ToYabe-Shock Up, which trans- 
lated means about the same thing. "The country of the 
mountains" is well named. There are many interesting 
places along the line, among them the different military 
posts. At Billings we left the main line of the Northern 
Pacific. Billings is the county seat of Yellowstone county, 
with a population of 2,600 people, and is situated at the 
first crossing of the beautiful Yellowstone River. It is a 
growing town and is the largest wool shipping point in 
the State. Situated at the mouth of tbe famous Yellow- 
stone Valley, with an irrigating ditch thirty -nine miles in 
length, besides Canon Creek and other streams, and only a 
fewhours' drive from the once famous Crow Indian Reser- 
vation, now thrown open to settlement, it offers many in- 
ducements to settlers. There are many ardent sportsmen 
living there too, and foremost among them stands Mr. 
John D. Losekamp, of whom I shall tell you later. Next 
morning we left Billings about 8 o'clock over tbe 
Rocky Fork and Cooke City branch. It was an uphill 
pull all the way and a tedious ride, so different from the 
ride through the Yellowstone Vallev. which is one of the 
most beautiful I have ever had. The Northern Pacific- 
enters this valley near Glendive and runs to Livingstone, 
a distance of 341 miles. You can't imagine a more fasci- 
nating ride, and there is game all along the line. 
After leaving Laurel on the branch road Doc was tak- 
ing in the country from the rear of the car, and in his 
vain endeavor to attract the attention of a young squaw 
on a pony he lost his hat. Ben, who was an eve-witness 
to the proceeding, says he threw it at her. Result, had 
to buy another at Red Lodge, which town we reached 
after many delays. Our first break was for the hotel, 
where we met for the first time our guide, Ed. E. Van 
Dyke. After dinner we proceeded to view the town, 
Red Lodge has a population of 1,800, and is built all over 
the country, without any regularly laid out streets, but 
houses just dumped down promiscuously. It is princi- 
pally a coal mining camp, employing about 300 miners, 
and is an outlet to a rich surrounding country. There has 
been much irrigating done here, in which Buffalo Bill is 
largely interested. We pulled out of Red Lodge Tuesday, 
Sept. 17, at noon, headed by Van Dyke, with the Kid as 
cook and Lee as helper, saddle and pack horses number- 
ing eighteen. It was a jolly crowd, and an experience 
new to both Pop and Ben. In single file we took the trail 
southwest out of the town and began the ascent of the 
mountains; the sun was warm, the air clear and pure. 
Oh*, what a treat after having traveled nearly 2 000 miles 
in Btuffy cars. Being in the saddle reminded Pop of the 
time he spent in the saddle with Kilpatrick in the South 
fighting, though I assure you the animal he rides now is 
not a cross-eyed mule such as he rode then, Some day I 
will tell you about that mule as he told it to me, also to 
what purpose he rode him. 
First camp was made on Cold Creek, in the Bear Tooth 
Mountains, a most charming spot. After unpacking the 
horses we had our first meal out from civilization, and 
were ready to turn in by 8 o'clock. Right here is 
where our lamb-skin sleeping bags came in. Crawling 
down into them, we lay on the ground and slept with no 
discomfort whatever. 
And shall I ever forget the glorious sunrise next morn- 
ing. We were at an elevation of about 7,000ft., and look- 
ing across the Bad Lands, we had an unobstructed view 
of mountain ranges 200 miles distant. The whole heavens 
toward the east seemed on fire. 
After breakfast breaking camp and packing horses 
began, while I proceeded to photograph our first camp. 
The trail over the plain toward the west was a fairly 
good one. On this ride we had extreme thirst and not 
very copious perspiration. Every stream we came to, 
and they were numerous, we had to drink. About 1 
o'clock we sighted a small bunch of antelope. Dock and 
Pop tried them at long range and threw dirt all around 
them; Ben, who was bringing up the rear, also emptied 
his magazine at a long distance of probably 300yds. , and 
after doing so they immediately turned and ran up an 
old creek bed to within 50ft. of him. Imagine his dis- 
gust. He had no more shells, thus escaping the first 
meat. Nothing of interest occurred until we reached 
the entrance to Clark's Fork Canon, about 5 P. M. The 
trail here is the worst we have yet encountered, and 
I assure you we all, that is all the dudes, dismounted and 
preferred to take our chances on foot, not having had the 
opportunity to know fully to what extent our horses 
could go without a tumble. 
I give this letter to a prospector who is going into Red 
Lodge for grub. I shall more than likely send or take the 
next one to Cooke City to post. Yours as ever, 
Wabash. 
High Camp, Rocky Mountain Divide, Sept. 25, 1895.— 
My Dear Sammy: When I last wrote you we were camped 
in Clark's Fork Canon. And I believe I promised to de- 
scribe it to you, if such a thing be possible. It is simply 
an elysium for the fisherman, and 1 don't known that I 
can better describe it than to repeat what Doc has said to 
me on several occasions. Positively he is Clark's Fork 
Canon crazy. Get him started and he talks as follows: 
"Clark's Fork Canon! How shall I attempt to describe itV 
Never did I so acutely realize the poverty of my vocabu- 
lary and of language itself as when I attempt to put in 
words some adequate conception of its majestic beauty. 
Nor am I entirely a novice in the mountains. I have 
three times crossed the Rockies. I have seen the Grand 
Canon of the Colorado, the Weber, the Yellowstone, the 
Black and the Eagle canons, as well as many other moun- 
tain gems of the Sierras and Rockies, but here is one com- 
paratively unknown that surpasses thsm all; and as it 
suddenly burst upon our astonished and enraptured gaze, 
such was the vision of grandeur and beauty, we were 
awed into silent reverence. I imagine — no, I hardly dare 
impose the task upon those who have not seen it; but if 
there be a keener and more exalted faculty than imagin- 
ation, try and exercise it to get some slight conception of 
this jewel of tbe mountains. I have seen longer canons. 
The Grand Cafion of the Colorado has higher wails, but 
none combine, all in one, its beauties of form, color and 
contour. 
"The entrance to this canon from the northeast is 
through a steep rocky gorge, through which flows the 
rapid, noisy, crystal river, Clark's Fork." [I can't resist the 
temptation to interrupt the lecturer and tell you about the 
glorious fishing we had here, every time we made a cast 
in any of the pools in this stream we were rewarded with 
a mad rush, a swirl, a strike, and th^n the fun began; re- 
sult, one of those beautiful salmon trout weighing from 
1 to 61bs. Ah, Sammy! you would have been in your 
element here. To hook one of those spotted darlings 
weighing 4 or 51bs. was to live.] 
"As we approached the gap in the mountains where the 
canon proper began, our attention was attracted by the 
almost perpendicular wall to our left; noon this became 
straighter and Pinoother, until it stood as erect as a house 
wall, a palisade of solid rock, at the base of which flowed 
the river. Further on the palisades grew higher, rang- 
ing (according to our guide) from 1,000 to 3,00'Jft. above 
the base of the canon. Here we noticed some of the same 
coloring effect that appears on the famous terraces of the 
Yellowstone Park, but instead of being localized it ran in 
broad bands across the face of this gigantic wall of rock; in 
some places a great variety of color and tints, pink, red , blue, 
orange, yellow, salmon, brown and white, each tint pre- 
serving its originality, but all so curiously and capriciously 
blended, and on such a beautiful and gigantic scale, as if 
the parting kiss of some glorious sunset had left the im- 
print of its rays. Capping this palisade were what on 
study proved to be conglomerate formations, but which 
appeared as castles, forts and palaces. If they had actu- 
ally existed as such, they could not have looked more real 
and certainly not so beautiful. Terrace gardens, with 
statuary; bow windows and protecting wings; ramparts, 
turrets, towers, even moats and drawbridges, all seemed 
so perfectly outlined through the transparent air that it 
required a mental effort to convince one that they were 
not veritable creations of man instead of the decorative 
work of the Great Spirit. 
"Above these weird formations which capped a large 
part of the palisade was a scattering growth of evergreen 
trees, forming a fitting frame to the sublime picture, and 
above these trees, in many places, shining against the 
azure sky, the eternal snow, a fitting crown for this picture 
let down from the gallery of heaven, At the foot of the 
