May 16, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
891 
with pails and buckets of water and kept the fire at bay; 
but for some time it was surrounded on two sides by a 
solid sheet of flame. 
^ The next day we walked over into the Clark street sec- 
tion. At the first house on the road the owner and his 
son stood grim and silent between two barrels of water, 
their eyes bent on the still smoking forests. 
A short distance more and we were in the burned dis- 
trict itself. 
A more striking picture of ruin and desolation I had 
never seen, not even amid the cinder heap and lava of the 
upper cone of Vesuvius. Thfi trunks of the trees, black 
and bare, alone remained. Every vestige of foliage and 
twig had been burned away. A few blackened timbers 
marked the site of the Clark street schoolhouse. A few 
yards beyond wp> came upon a man sitting disconsolate 
amid the ashes of his barn. 
"Yes," said he, in answer to our question, "I am where 
I began. Every rod of fence is gone. My farm is out to 
commons. I haven't an acre of anything green left on 
my whole 200 acres. My barn and house are burnpd with 
everything in 'em. Last spring I planted sixteen bushels 
of oats and the same amount of potatoes. The top3 were 
A CHEAP OOTBRY. 
burned clean to the ground. So with the grass. I cut 
enough last year to keep a horse, six cows and twelve 
shepp. This year a cow would starve on what's left." 
His nearest neighbor, Sandy Johnson, was drawing 
rails to replace the burned f enco around his oat field. He 
fully believed that his house was saved, by the interposi- 
tion of the saints. He himself was fishing at Scateria that 
day, but the neighbors rallied and covered his house with 
water. Scarcely had they done this when a solid sheet 
of flame came up on three sides and enveloped it, burning 
a large woodpile scarce a yard from the door. His wife 
fled with two babies in her arms and two more clinging 
to her skirts. The neighbors fled too, but when they re- 
turned after the fire expecting to find everything in ashes 
the house was unscorched even; but the furniture, which 
had been piled in the clearing out of reach of the flames, 
as was supposed, was wholly consumed. C. B. T. 
A NIGHT ON THE OCKLAWAHA. 
It was one hazy summer afternoon in Florida that a 
friend announced himself as desirous of doing but one 
thing in this world, and that was to go a-fishing. In my- 
self he found a kindred spirit, so we hastily put into our 
wagon such necessaries as we might need — such as paos, 
meal, cooked food, blankets, tackle, etc. — and bade our 
friends adieu for a day or two on the Ocklawaha, ten 
miles away. The road led past Indian Lake, where the 
country changes from light sand to that dark, sticky soil 
known as flatwoods. 
On the way we noticed several white herons, whose 
ranks have been so thinned by the plumage hunter. Then 
came the thick woods, cabbage and saw palmettoes, and 
other luxurious swamp growths, and finally we arrived at 
a little creek which flows through the swamp at a dis- 
tance of about half a mile from the river, into which it 
finally flows. Here stands an old packing house, and we 
found that since our last coming the little wharf had 
fallen down, and things looked generally dilapidated. 
r There was an old hull of a dugout which had once seen 
I service on this same creek. 
I Here we found, to our dismay, that the boat which 
usually lay at this place was unfit for use; and while I 
> remained to unload and straighten things Fred went 
' through the woods a quarter of a mile to tbe house of a 
man named Jones to inquire for a boat. Mr. Jones is a 
I pioneer on this creek, having settled almost in the swamp, 
clearing a little piece of land, and by trapping, fishing 
1 and hard work has managed to make a good living for 
I himself and a growing family. 
As I finished makiDg up the camp, Fred returned with 
the news that the nearest boat to be had was at a farm 
| two miles down the creek. 
We were not Ions: in making a decision, and it being 
toward night we rach ate a potato, to prevent our beiDg 
hungry before we should return, it being our intention to 
bring the bateau by water to our camp to get an early 
I start in the mr rning to the river. 
The road being rough, we stabled the horse in the 
i empty packing; hou^e and started afoot. I led the way 
: with a lantern and Fred followed, bringing a few articles 
of tackle — as we intended to troll on our way back — and 
, a ,56cal. Spencer carbine. What we ever carried an arm 
like that for I have often wondered, but I suppose we felt 
safer. After dark had fully set in, and we had flushed a 
I covey or two of partridges, which we were unable to 
shoot with our large-bore rifls, a light led us to the farm- 
j er's house. 
He cheerfully agreed to let us have the boat, and took 
i us to where it was, expressing his regrets that he could 
not go with us himself. Had we known as much of the 
' creek as did he, perhaps we would have turned back to a 
J night's repose, but ignorance was bliss, and we pushed 
I off. Fred carried the lantern at the bow, and there being 
I no locks, I paddled at the rear. 
A half mile brought us to a broader creek, and as we 
slipped along under the tall palmettoes and great cy- 
presses, hanging with moss, with occasionally an owl's 
hoot or the splash of an alligator, we were impressed 
with the somberne8S of the swamp and its wildness before 
man had penetrated it. 
''There it is!" shouted Fred, as he remembered the 
opening the farmer had told us about, and we entered a 
narrow creek leading in the right direction for camp. A 
fallen palmetto lay across the stream, and we finally slid 
and lifted the boat over. 
In this way, see-sawing and sliding, we crossed some 
five or six logs, and were at last brought to a standstill 
by several large logs which it was impossible to cross. 
After a conference we decided to go back to the main 
creek and try another opening. Oh! how hard it was to 
get back over those logs, and how we longed for the soft 
bed at home. 
We had long since removed all the clothing we could 
spare as we bent to the work. Once in. the main creek 
again, we entered three or four of these openings, with 
the same result. However, we were soon rewarded by 
coming to a tanglework of logs, which ended the creek 
itself. We had come far enough, and by this time we 
had no doubt that we were within shouting distance -of 
camp; still we could see no earthly way to get through 
that network of logs. We determined to return to the 
farmer's, leave the boat, walk to camp as we came, and 
fish from stumps and logs early the next morning. But 
alas for human hope! We had already worked till our 
hands were almost blistered, and our bodies were sore 
and we were worn out. However, we had no intention 
of staying there all night, so we began the return. An 
hour or more, and we were brought up by the end of the 
creek that way also, and we had not found the way out. 
This brought us to the fact that we neither knew where 
was camp nor where the farmer. Fred stumbled about 
this time and dipped the lantern in the water, thus leav- 
ing us where Moses was when the light went out. 
We didn't know north nor south, nor where we were, 
but we did know that we were very tired and hungry, 
and in the midst of a deep swamp. The dew had fallen, 
and we made up our minds to rest at any cost. First we 
stretched a set line across the narrow channel to catch 
any channel cat coming that way, and then crawled out 
on a little island about 20ft. square. We found a tree 
whose top had blown off, while the heart had rotted 
away, this furnishing us a fireplace, chimney and all, 
and this lighted up the woods for yards around. Once a 
noise in a palmetto caused Fred to fire at it, which was 
only the wind ; but the noise of the big bore woke all the 
night birds which happened to be napping, and we heard 
the departing flaps of a wild turkey. 
The warm Are caused us to be drowsy, and we sat on 
the soft leaves and leaned against palmettoes to rest. I 
was awakened some time after by the sun shining in my 
face, and my first sensation was of pains in my back. 
My companion awoke a few minutes after, and his first 
exclamation was, "My back's about broke." 
The bright morning put new life into us, and after tak- 
ing up the set line with a fine mess of channel cat on it, 
we paddled down the creek, and after several vain efforts 
found the farmer's, tied the boat, and wended our way to 
camp. Never did food taste better than it did to two 
tired fishermen that day. 
The rest of the day we passed resting and fishing from 
the bank, returning home before night, none the worse 
for our trials ; but for months we never breathed a word 
to anyone about our night on the Oeklawaha. W. W. S. 
Michigan Bird Notes. 
Central Lake, Mich., May 8. — The small birds seem to 
be more numerous here than for two or three years past. 
The robins appeared March 28, and, although their arrival 
was succeeded by a very cold storm, they very soon 
became common among us. 
The house wren was first heard April 8, and the crow 
blackbirds April 11. The peep of the frogs was noticed 
April 13. On April 18 about fifty wild geese passed over, 
going north. 
The brown thrush and the Baltimore oriole were heard 
April 27. The oriole is an infrequent visitant; — we had 
just a glimpse of one last year, though we heard it 
several times. Kelpie, 
BEAVER CATCHING FOR THE ZOO. 
Yellowstone National Park, February, 1896.— Edi- 
tor Forest and Stream: In October of 1892 I was called 
upon to furnish some animals for the National Zoological 
Park. Among others wanted were beaver. I had had 
some experience trapping them for their pelts, and when 
doing this I had always tried to set my traps so as to 
drown them. Now that I wanted them alive I had to set 
my traps and stake them so that the beaver would not 
drown or injure itself. 
I used Nos. 2 and 3 Newhouse traps, winding the jaws 
with rags. I watched the traps and relieved the beaver 
as soon as possible after it had sprung the trap. I found 
it impossible to catch them without hurting them more or 
less. Usually a foot was lost. In 1893 an old trapper was 
engaged for the work, but he had no better success than I, 
and got only crippled animals. 
In October, 1894, Prof. Langley wrote that he would 
like, if possible, to obtain six uninjured beaver. I wished 
to fill the order, but did not know exactly how to go to 
work. The conditions were new. A new way to obtain 
them would have to be devised. After thinking about it 
for a few days I came to the conclusion that if I could 
once get wire netting around their houses and draw the 
water from the dams I could capture the beaver before 
they could escape the nets, and that to handle them at 
first I would require some sort of dip net. 
That I was successful many readers of the Forest and 
Stream know, and as I have received several letters from 
live animal dealers requesting information, for which they 
were willing to pay, and requests from friends that I 
would tell them how the work was done, I have con- 
cluded to give my experience in capturing beaver to all 
through the Forest and Stream. 
I had a frame made of £in. round iron, 3ft. long and 
2ft. wide, with a handle 28in. long. To the iron frame 
I attached wire netting, so that I had a dip net about 4ft. 
deep. With this and 200ft. of netting, shovels, picks, 
axes, other tools, lumber, wire cages, hip boots of rubber, 
and other articles not necessary to mention, I went out to 
Mr. John Yancey's. There I secured the help of two 
good men — Hague and Jump, the latter an old hunter and 
trapper. 
After holding a council of war we determined to attack 
a house, newly built, on a little creek close to Yancey's. 
The dam put in by the beaver had backed the water so 
that part of Uncle John's hay meadow was very wet and 
swampy. Two beaver had often been seen while at work 
on their houses and dam. The creek having very little 
fall for quite a way, they had put in but one short dam. 
The house was built in a clump of willows. Willows 
were very thick all along the creek for about 200yds. 
Above there were none, the creek coming down through 
the hay meadow. 
As the water was from 4 to 6ft. deep near the house, we 
concluded not to attempt to get our nets out until we had 
lowered the water by cutting the dam, which was about 
50yds. below the house, and raised the water, making a 
pond quite large and shallow, except within the bed of the 
creek. 
Uncle John Yancey, who had cut the dam several 
times to save his hay meadow, thought that if we made a 
long bag of netting and placed it in the creek after mak- 
ing the dam, we could get the beaver when they came to 
repair it — he had noticed them several times in daylight 
swimming along the channel. We made the wire bag 
and cut the dam, clearing it out to the old channel. 
While placing the bag in position we heard a noise in a 
hole under the bank, and thinking some animals, if not a 
beaver, were in there, we probed it with willow sticks and 
then dug it out, but without finding anything except 
mice. How they got there I don't know. The hole had 
been under water. 
We now turned our attention to the house. One man 
went above it with a piece of netting, sinking the ends in 
the bank and one edge in the bottom of the creek, and 
holding it upright with sticks. This we imagined would 
prevent any beaver from going up the stream. As we 
were going to the house along the creek, where the water 
was about 2ft. deep, we saw a beaver Bwimming about. 
BEAVER] STOPPING .THE WATER WFTHI ITS TAIL] AS*. IT* DIVES. 
Washington. Zoo. Photo by E. Hofer. 
