June 27, 1896.] 
i 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
811 
EREBUS AND THE HUMMINGBIRD. 
MRS. ANNIE A. PRESTON. 
Willington, Conn. — As I went out upon the front pi- 
azza early one August morning to note the sunrise splen- 
dors that were crowning the mountain tops, I noticed 
Erebus, the big, sleek, black cat, stretched out Under the 
clustering, many-hued morning g'ory bells. He was 
sleeping with one eye, while with the other he was cast- 
ing longing glances up at the beautiful, poising, circling 
hummingbirds that were diving in and out among the 
luxuriant vine leaves and thrusting their needle-like bills 
down the slender throats of the brilliant though transient 
blossoms. 
Two or three minutes later he came bounding through 
the hall into the sitting-room, and Emma shouted: 
"Oh, dear, dear! that cruel Erebus has caught a hum- 
mingbird!" 
"Impossible," cried mother, running from the pantry. 
"I never knew a cat to catch a hummingbird; 'Rebus 
might as well attempt to catch a shadow or a sunbeam." 
"Nevertheless this cat has a hummingbird in his 
mouth now. I can just se sits poor, pretty feathers, and 
this dreadful cat is going to swallow it whole. Oh, dear! 
what can be done?" And the young girl seized the cat 
more roughly than he was ever touched before, where- 
upon he growled resentfully, arched his back, whipped 
his long, fluffy tail to and fro, extended his white, sharp 
claws and made another great effort to swallow his tiny 
prey. But the young mistress held him so closely by the 
throat that he did not succeed in so disposing of his del- 
icate morsel. 
As we all gathered about 'Rebus, we could see the sil- 
very dots on the tips of the long, gossamer tail-feathers of 
the wee bird just protruding between the sharp, cruel 
teeth, and "peep, peep," came faintly from the cat's 
closed mouth. 
"The poor little thing is still alive! Erebus, you great 
cruel cat, you shall give it up," and Emma clasped her 
slender hands so closely about his throat that his shining 
yellow eyes protruded, his strong jaws relaxed and a 
very wet, tiny hummingbird was extracted from its place 
of peril. 
"Oh, dear, it is dead!" sighed Emma, holding up the 
limp little morsel of a bird. "Take it away; I can't bear 
to look at it! I can never pat 'Rebus again, naughty old 
black!" and 'Rebus shook himself assertively, fell to lick- 
ing his paws a moment, then casting a reproachful glance 
around at the assembled family he gave an expostulating 
mew, and walking deliberately out of the room stretched 
himself upon the sunny piazza again. 
Mother took the dainty little bird and held it safely in 
her warm hand, and we all congratulated ourselves 
upon having an opportunity to examine the wonderful 
little tidbit. 
How perfectly beautiful it was, from its long slender 
bill, the pert little scarlet tuft on the crown of his cun- 
ning head, the brilliant, ever-changing plumage of its 
plump breast, fairly-like wings and narrow tapering back 
to its mites of delicate legs and feet. 
All at once, while we stood exclaiming over the pretty 
creature it gave a gasp, then another, then another a little 
deeper and stronger. Mother now carried it along to the 
front of the porch and held it in the sun. 
Presently it opened its specks of black eyes, looked 
around at us in a bewildered sort of way and stretched 
out its green and gold neck, straightened first one leg and 
then the other, as if trying their strength. Then ruffling 
up his feathers as much as to say, "Now I'm all right," 
he hopped upon one of the fingers of the friendly hand 
which had so tenderly held him and began to fplume his 
elegant plumage, drawing each tail and wing feather 
through his long slender bill. 
Emma wiped her eyes now and came running out to 
look at the little wonder. "Your mouth is too large for 
a hummingbird trap," she said to Erebus, who was trying 
to wake up and be friends again by rubbing his black 
glossy sides against her blue gown. "The little beauty 
dived so far down your great throat, thinking it was the 
calyx of a big red flower, when you stretched your 
mouth to yawn, that he escaped your sharp teeth 
altogether." 
Then, picking from the terrace a white wax-like day 
lily she held it up before the little bird. The tiny creature 
turned his head gracefully, as if invigorated by the rich 
fragrance, then spread his shiny wings and darted away 
into the scarlet and yellow tangle of the honeysuckle 
vine. 
For the few remaining weeks of summer we could tell 
him from the other hummers by a disarranged tail 
feather, and we called him Zip when he came on his 
morning visits and passed over the lily cups and the late 
petunias and geraniums, and we pleased ourselves by 
fancying that he cast intelligent, grateful glances at us 
between the sips of honey dew upon which he made his 
breakfasts. 
As for our sly Erebus, he gave up lying in wait for 
hummingbirds, and removed his quarters to the shade of 
the butternut tree and took his morning naps there, in 
company with the shepherd dog Kris Kringle, and 
watches with him for more legitimate prey. 
Those Confiding Quail. 
Los Angeles, Cal. , June 10.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
The quail about which I wrote you a few weeks ago has 
successfully hatched out her chicks. All but two of the 
eggs hatched. The interesting little family was seen 
about the house during one morning, and then they made 
their way down to the arroya at the foot of the hill, where 
small seeds abound. 
About a week after the nesting of this pair they were 
reinforced by another pair, which built their nest just to 
the left of the front steps, also in a heliotrope bush. Not- 
withstanding the fact that the nest was within a couple 
of yards of where we are accustomed to sit on the broad 
veranda, she too successfully brought her setting to a 
happy termination and hatched out nine chicks, every 
egg proving fertile. We now have the two sets of empty 
shells, with the little caps still attached to some, as a me- 
mento of tk« confiding nature of the California Valley 
quail- Culpepper. 
The Copperhead. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have just read Forked Deer's inquiry about the "cop- 
perhead" snake and your description of that reptile. 
From the latter I learn for the first time that I have some 
familiarity with the copperhead myself, though I was 
before unaware of the snake's identity. 
The copperhead reminds one somewhat of the rattle- 
snake in general appearance, or perhaps because he in- 
spires one with somewhat of the same kind of fascination 
when encountered in the woods, a quality which does not 
attach to any other snake with which I am acquainted. 
I have seen specimens of this snake in the hill portions of 
Mississippi, but never in the Mississippi River bottoms. 
The negroes call - him the "rattlesnake's pilot," and aver 
that he is always followed by the rattler. 
The copperhead has an abundant store of venomous 
fluid, as I have seen perhaps half a teaspoonful ejected 
upon the stock of my gun when pressed down upon the 
body of the snake near his neck. 
The copperhead is also very pugnacious, which, in my 
experience, is unusual with venomous snakes. His con- 
gener, the cotton-mouth moccasin, cannot be provoked 
to strike except by hurting him. 
The copperhead's fangs are much shorter than are those 
of the rattlesnake, and this is common to all the moccasin 
tribe, so far as I have observed. 
About twenty years ago I came upon a copperhead 
while I was creeping through the woods after a squirrel 
that was barking a little distance away. When I discov- 
ered the snake I had placed one foot almost in contact 
with it— indeed, I supposed I had touched its body; but it 
remained motionless. I was unwilling to frighten my 
squirrel, and so I undertook to kill the snake by bringing 
the butt of my gun down on its head. The oniy effect of 
the blow was to electrify the snake into a great state "of 
activity, and he began striking right and left with more 
vigor than definite purpose. After dispatching him I dis- 
covered that his eyes were opaque, and he was conse- 
quently quite blind, having recently sloughed his skin. 
I have seen specimens of this snake as much as 4ft. long, 
and, like the rattlesnake, very large in proportion to 
length. 
The copperhead is a very handsome snake, the ground 
color being almost ferruginous in intensity, and the pat- 
tern of the darker markings large. 
I inclose two fangs of a rattler, killed about a month ago. 
The snake was 4-,%f t. long, with nine rattles. These fangs 
are twins, having been both attached to the same base. 
They became separated in boiling the head to pieces. 
It is quite rare in my experience to find a snake pos- 
sessed of twin fangs, but I have encountered several speci- 
mens. , Coahoma. 
IN JACKSON'S HOLE. 
In Four Parts— Part Three. 
The morning of the 18th found us in the saddle at day- 
light. It was beginning to get interesting, and every fel- 
low had his mind made up to secure a fine set of elk or 
moose horns to carry home with him. Ed, Cooke and 
Wester went in one party, and Will, Frank and I in an- 
other. We had not gone far, however, before I deter- 
mined to take a hunt alone. Will and Frank wanted to 
go back to the place where they had killed the cow elk 
and see if the bears had been after the carcass. So we 
agreed to meet at a small lake we all knew in the evening, 
and with this understanding separated. I rode up one of 
the numerous canons as far as my horse could travel, and 
when the ground got so rough that the horse could go no 
further I dismounted and took it on foot. I hunted hard 
until after 12 o'clock. I could see fresh sign almost every 
step and thought sure I would jump an elk after a while. 
I am satisfied that I was driving both elk and deer before 
me. Finally I gave up the chase and retraced my steps. 
I had been over the ground once, and thought there was 
no chance of starting anything. I was walking along 
carelessly, not even endeavoring to avoid stepping on 
twigs or making a noise, and had my rifle on my shoul- 
der. I was not thinking about game and had started for 
camp. All at once I heard an elk give a shrill snort or 
whistle, and the next moment saw a large cow elk jump 
out of a thicket of quaking asp. She looked wild* held 
her head high in the air a moment, then gave a tremen- 
dous leap and was lost in the brush. I did not have time 
to get my rifle down from my shoulder and cock it before 
she was gone. I did feel mean. There I had been hunt- 
ing all day, half the time with my rifle ready to shoot. I 
had followed one elk trail after another and had heard 
game running several times, and then on my way to 
camp started a fine elk and did not get a shot. I hastened 
to my horse and met the other boys at the lake. They 
had jumped one or two deer, but failed to get a shot also. 
We nurned on back to camp and found the other party 
there. Bob Cooke was the winner on this day. He had 
killed a large cow moose and had brought the usual por- 
tion, the hindquarters and one side of ribs, and old Ed 
had saved his tallow. We now had plenty of fresh meat 
in camp, so we erected a smoking rack and salted and 
smoked a lot of it. We consumed so much meat we 
thought we had better do this, as our hunting might not 
always be successful, In this dry and high atmosphere 
meat will keep in the month of September for two or three 
weeks without the least taint, so we did not make our- 
selves uneasy about running out. 
We decided that night to send our guide Ed Trafton 
back to the settlement to get our mail and also to replen- 
ish our groceries. Next morning before day Ed had 
loaded two pack horses with venison, elk and moose meat 
and had his pockets full of letters for the post-office. He 
was to take a lot of meat to his family and then load the 
horses with our groceries on the return trip. It would 
take him three days to make the trip. 
After Ed had gone we determined not to take any hard 
hunts until he returned, but to amuse ourselves with the 
antelope and chickens and fish, as Ed had promised us 
all the big game we wanted when he returned. 
The 21st was Sunday, so we laid up and rested and told 
tales and had a big dinner and made ourselves as happy 
as possible. About 6 o'clock old Ed came riding in. He 
was hot and dusty and his horses covered with foam. He 
had started! h o'clock in the morning and had been in a 
swinging trot and gallop every since. Only stopped one 
hour at noon. These Western horses have an unheard of 
amount of endurance. Forty miles of such travel would 
kill any horse in our State, to say nothing of eighty. We 
all received letters from home, besides bundles of papers; 
so we were a happy crowd. We had a big dinner that 
night m honor of old Ed, and he declared we were the 
best set of fellows he had ever been with. 
The morning of the 22d daylight found all of us in the 
saddle. Sam and Bob hunted together, Ed and Will were 
together and Frank and I. 
Frank and I hunted the rolling fir forests and around 
the edges of the numerous small lakes. We killed a black- 
tail deer together. We were walking along side by side 
when it jumped up and both fired almost at the same 
time. I saw the deer tumble and looked to see if Frank 
had fired, and saw his smoking gun in his hands. When 
we got up to the deer we found that both of us had pm a 
bullet through her. It was a large doe. We put her on 
one of the horses and went back to camp. About dark 
the other boys got in. Bob Cooke was the winner 
again. He had killed two large bull elk and all the 
horses came in loaded. Old Ed was for saving 
his winter meat and tallow, and we were only too glad 
for him to have it. We otherwise could not possibly 
have used all the meat we killed. Bob had two nice sets " 
of horns this time. Sam said he never saw a man do bet- 
ter shooting. Sam was on the opposite side of the cailon 
and saw Bob when he jumped the elk. There were five 
of them, and all bulls but one, and Bob killed two before 
they got away from him. That is what I call good shoot- 
ing. When a man jumps a herd of elk and kills one as 
they run off at a rate of speed almost beyond conception, 
and the animals jumping logs and crashing through the 
brush, it is good work, but when he drops two of them it 
is just grand, that is the only word to express it. He 
shot one elk twice and the other three times, so you 
know he must be "chain lightning" with a rifle. We had 
a royal feast and drank the health of the ISlimrod of the 
day. 
Next morning, the 23d, all were in the saddle by day- 
light. Ed, Bob and Sam took three pack horses and went 
back to the canon where Bob had killed the two bulls. 
They wanted to bring in more of the meat and Ed was 
particularly anxious for the tallow. Will, Frank and I 
went together. We hunted around the edges of the 
lakes and in the ridges and flat timber for a while, and 
finally struck a fresh elk trail leading up one of the lar- 
gest canons. We followed it as far as we could on horse- 
back, and then dismounted and continued the pursuit on 
foot. We climbed over boulders and fallen trees and 
scrambled through quaking asp thickets and currant 
bushes until we almost tore our clothes off, and kept on 
and on until we were exhausted. It was a fresh trail and 
could not have been more than two or three hours old, as 
we could tell by the droppings. There were several 
tracks of unusual size in the herd, so we knew there were 
some old bulls along. We finally had to give up the 
chase for that day, however, and in returning killed two 
deer. Will killed the first mule deer we had killed on 
the trip, and I got a black-tail yearling. Both were 
killed running, of course, as you very rarely obtained a 
standing shot. We took only the hindquarters, as they 
were killed some distance from our horses. 
When we got to camp we told old Ed about the trail 
and the big tracks and he told us to sleep well that night, 
as he was going to camp with us on that trail the next 
night or have some of those bighorns. He said that the 
bulls were getting ready to start to running and we 
would find some old fellows with that band. 
We slept soundly that night and dreamed of bighorns 
and old bulls all night. Next morning by daybreak we 
were ready to start. Each man had two days' rations of 
bread, potatoes, onions and salt and bacon. We were 
going to lie out that night or find that band of elk. We 
also strapped our overcoats and one blanket to each 
saddle. All were moving by daybreak. It was about 
eight miles from our camp to the mouth of the canon. 
There was a lake three or four miles long and about as 
wide in the mouth of the canon; in fact, it extended up 
into the canon for a mile or two. It was a wild-looking 
place and the scenery was beautiful, just like pictures I 
have seen of lakes in the Alps. The borders of the lake 
were so thick with matted vines and undergrowth that 
our progress was very slow. We toiled on for several 
hours and got well up into the canon, and when it became 
so rough we could ride no longer we dismounted. We 
tethered our horses on the bank of the mountain stream 
which dashed down to the lake below. We intended to 
come back to our horses and camp that night. This was 
one of the widest and grandest canons we had been in. 
It was fully a half mile wide from one bluff to the other. 
Through the center rushed a mountain cataract that 
foamed and boiled among the huge boulders in its bed. 
There were masses of rock scattered here and there, up- 
heavals of earth, upturned and interwoven trees. The 
whole surface of the ground was a mass of huckleberry, 
currant and wild gooseberry bushes, intertwined with 
mountain laurel and ivy. I never saw such a crop of 
berries. The bushe3 were loaded, and every few steps we 
could see where the bears had been feeding on them. An 
old bear bends a bush down and usually breaks it, and 
never leaves it until it has stripped off every berry and 
usually a goodly quantity of the leaves. A bear will de- 
vastate a pretty good area of berry bushes in a few hours' 
feeding. 
We now began to see numerous signs of both bear and 
elk. We knew that a big herd of elk were up in this 
canon, as we had trailed them up the evening before. 
We now separated into pairs, with the understanding 
that we would rendezvous at our horses that night. We 
also agreed that no man was to fire his rifle at anything 
smaller than a deer. I claimed old Ed as my companion 
on that day's hunt. Ed was an expert in the art of find- 
ing game, and the man who hunted with him was almost 
certain of a shot at some large game. He wore mocca- 
sins like an Indian, and could walk as stealthily as a cat. 
We all now started, divided into pairs; we were to hunt 
up the canon. There were several pairs, and we were 
separated from each other some 200 or 300yds., and all 
hunting parallel to each other. In this way we could 
hunt the canon out thoroughly, and would be apt to drive 
game to each other. We were determined not to allow 
that fine herd of elk to get out of that canon without get- 
ting one or more of those old bulls. We were hunting 
now for horns, and we knew that they were up in the 
canon and have them we must. Ed and I traveled about 
