28 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jult 14, 1894. 
Mow. 
A STUDY OF DADDY-LONG-LEGS. 
I had a job of work on hand a few mornings since, and 
as I stood by the wood pile considering — for I like to con- 
sider considerably before an undertaking— my attention 
was attracted to a little black something moving on the 
ground and something else just above it moving with the 
same velocity. On examination I saw that the upper- 
most object was one of those long-legged spiders (Longens 
stridatus), vulgo, daddy-long-legs, and the black object 
beneath was a big black patriarch of an ant (Formicu- 
laris giganteus), which had fallen into tho clutches of 
the spider, either as a prisoner in some foray or as a means 
of subsistence. Curious to see what the result of this ex- 
pedition would be, I postponed my labor, entomology 
having the call anyway — and was entertained for a few 
minutes quite pleasantly. 
The spider's body was about the size and shape of the 
half of a small pea, convex side up, and attached to this 
were six of the longest and slimmest legs you ever saw 
fastened to a body of that size, I reckon. Regular skir- 
mishers of legs they were, away out on the flanks in the 
enemy's country, ready, though, to close in on the columm 
on short notice. There were two antennas several joints 
longer than the legs, and these were the advance guard, 
'way up the road, always in motion to guard against sur- 
prise and to look out for ambuscades, rifle pits and things. 
With two short arms close up to his head, he had the ant 
by the neck, and thus loaded he stilted off across the 
country without caring much, apparently, which way he 
went. 
There was a tree near-by, against which on one side 
leaned a short board, on the other a hoe handle, but before 
he got to the tree toward which he was headed, he came 
across two or three little tufts of grass, several inches 
apart, each tuft composed of not more than four or five 
fine blades, the ground clean all around. Now his advance 
guard touched these blades two or three times before the 
column came up, and if they were of any use to him, and 
if he had known as much about this thing as he appeared 
to know about some others, he would have known that 
the thing to do was to flank the obstacle, but he 
didn't. It was plain that he' had not learned Sherman's 
tactics, so he just sprawled over the spears, some of his 
legs hitting them and some going between, and so got 
past, doing exactly the same thing at the next and the 
next, demonstrating that he was, on the marsh, anyway, 
a wooden-headed spider of the first order. 
His body and the load he carried reminded me of those 
low-down swinging trucks which are used for carrying 
heavy stone and safes. His legs made a sort of derrick, 
and when all was plain sailing the truck skimmed pretty 
close to the ground, but when an obstacle appeared he 
just stiffened or straightened his derrick and the truck 
rose into the air to clear it, lowering again when he had 
passed. I admired that trick very much. 
When he came to the board be halted, threw up his 
antennae as far as they would go and was evidently 
debating whether the trail led that way, but eventually 
concluding it did he took a fresh grip on his plunder and 
started up, but went only a foot or so before doubts about 
the trail caused him to retrace his steps. When he 
reached the ground he made several excursions into the 
surrounding territory, but eventually took to the board 
again and ascended it until he reached the tree, round 
which he went until he struck the hoe handle. Here he 
stopped and reconnoitered, felt the handle with his 
antennae up and down and around. It was something 
he hadn't dreamed of. I doubt if he ever encountered a 
hoe handle before. His antennae waved uncertainly with 
a lost motion (first time that I ever knew that a spider's 
machinery was subject to it) and evidently that spider 
was indulging in slang, as he said, 'Well, if I ain't up a 
tree I hope to never." But there seemed to be something 
about the handle that attracted him, so he boarded it and 
began the descent. It was pretty slippery, for I work 
hard with that hoe, and he had to put in his drags pretty 
stiff. Once or twice I thought he'd have to run for it, 
like Hough with his sMs, but he got down all right; and 
evidently hunger overcame him then and there, for 
he stopped, dropped his rations and proceeded to 
business. 
Now, I thought, the mystery of how you'll ever get 
into that ant's iron-clad anatomy will be solved, or not, 
one of the two. And where do you suppose the hungry 
fellow began? Why at the eye, of course — nowhere else 
could he effect an entrance, and if that ant didn't see 
Fttars it's strange, for he wasn't dead yet. Oh I No, but 
just paralyzed, either by fear or some of the spider's em- 
balming injection, for the movement of a leg occasionally 
told of his condition. Ant brains for breakfast! Wasn't 
that a tidbit? With two little lances, or knives or saws, 
the spider worked away until one eye cavity was empty, 
when I touched him with a stick, at which he stepped 
off to one side, licking his chops and snuffing danger with 
those long antennas. I examined the ant, which had be- 
gun to evince signs of more activity, and laid it down 
near the spider which apparently took no notice of it, 
but after a moment or two stretched out one long leg 
and touched the quarry, which kicked vigorously. Up 
went tbe spider's leg. Pretty soon it descended and 
again touched the ant, and again the movements were 
repeated, when after a pause the spider approached, 
seized the ant and began the surgery on the other eye, 
and while I was watching, it suddenly scented danger 
somehow and scuttled off up the tree out of reacb of my 
vision, and when I left, it had settled down to its meal 
again. 
Now it never before occurred to me that the ant was 
the prey of the spider. It may have been in this case 
that the ant had been disabled in some way and so had 
fallen an easy victim, for ants and specially these big 
black fellows are fighters with their strong mandibles, 
and would, I suppose, prove formidable antagonists to 
spiders or other insects. There are several kinds of ants 
bere from the tiny ones of rfain- long which infest the 
blackberries (ripe now), to the big-headed black fellows 
which roam the earth with the don't-care-a-continental- 
touch-me-if-you-dare air of a fighting bull pup, and when 
these gentry (ants I mean) fasten their jaws in a tooth 
and nail conflict, decomposition alone unfastens them. 
0&4BKS, Missouri, June,J 0, (>■ S, 
Serpent Suicide. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The disclosures made recently by Capt. Dan. C. King- 
man, of the U. S. Engineer Corps, and Dr. M. G-. Ellzey 
in Forest and Stream, on the subject of snake suicides, 
have somewhat shaken me up. I had learned from the 
snake specialists that snake venom was innocuous to snake 
organisms, and had pinned my faith to that belief from a 
feeling of loyalty to science; and have combatted the 
statements of the unlearned, that snakes do bite and kill 
themselves, as belonging to the rich and prolific realm of 
snake myths. 
But the statements of those gentlemen have knocked me 
out of my perpendicular, as it were. 
I had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with Capt. 
Kingman for several years when he was stationed on the 
lower Mississippi River, and feel implicit confidence in any 
statement of fact made by him. I have no doubt that Dr. 
Ellzey is equally entitled te credence. But how does this 
comport with one's respect for the accuracy of scientific 
investigation, when science is so much at fault upon such 
a commonplace and patent question as this? Verily, those 
who assume to teach us in this field must have been ex- 
ceedingly careless in their observations upon a very im- 
portant phenomenon of natural science. I feel hurt. 
Coahoma. 
A Pipefish Specimen. 
Ventura, CaL, June 22. — By to-day's mail, under an- 
other cover, I send you what I believe to be a dried speci- 
men of the pipefish (Lophobranchia). Being an old 
subscriber of Forest and Stream, and thereby feeling 
interested in its welfare, it occurs to me that this speci- 
men may be of some interest to you. The fish was picked 
up from our beach near town in the condition you see it. 
It is the first I have seen, and did not know it inhabited 
the wafers of the Pacific at this latitude. A. J. C. 
Sea Gulls in Trees. 
Muskoka, Canada. — In the early spring of this year I 
was watching four sea gulls floating about on the wing, 
and to my astonishment three of the four finally settled 
on the topmost limbs of a dead pine tree, where they re- 
mained for some time. Tbe pine was situated close to a 
lake. I should like to know from correspondents whether 
similar instances have come under their notice. 
J. H. Widmott. 
nn\e Jf## m\d %nn. 
NETTING WILD PIGEONS. 
Wild pigeons are growing more scarce each season. 
The business of snaring and handling them for the trap 
and table has been closely followed for a generation by a 
number of netters, and a few of the details which are 
most interesting will be given by one of them who has 
had a rare experience. 
As swift on level flight as any bird that flies, in the habits 
and mental capacity of the pigeon there is something 
lacking, which makes it the frequent victim of its enemies, 
and of which the netter avails himself. 
The birds migrate in a large body or a number of large 
bodies. You have heard of the wonderful flight of pigeons 
which your father or grandfather saw. Some have seen 
a fh>M of them in their semi-annual migration to the 
north It is the only way these birds ever leave winter 
quarters for summer. When their scouts return with the 
old story of "corn in Egypt," the birds quickly leave in 
regular flocks, stringing into line, and having reached 
the proper height, fly in a solid sheet to their destination. 
In the fall, after thev have got their winter plumage 
and are bound for the South, they are scarce and shy, for 
they are well fed and the young are fully grown. They 
have gleaned the stubbles of the Northwest and are on 
their way to a land where rice and acorns and corn will 
be their food during cold weather. A few may be caught 
on bait, but it is only by the greatest care and skill, aided 
by fortune. 
From 100 to 200 men have bpen engaged in the business 
of netting these birds all the time, and this number is in- 
creased by a great many local netters wherever the birds 
happen to nest. These regular netters are located in 
almost every State in the Union, each new nesting seem- 
ing to develop a few new catchers, who make frantic 
efforts to get into the ring and find out the news away 
from home and in return give the boys any local points 
they may discover. 
In thiB very large country there would seem to be every 
chance of losing a body of birds and not finding out where 
they are. But a very good system has been established 
for keeping track of them, which is specially looked after 
by the different express companies and the shippers and 
handlers of live and dead birds, who form another sec- 
tion of those interested in the history of the wild pigeon, 
before the epicure meets him at the table. When the 
body of birds leaves the South the local superintendents 
of the express companies are instructed to keep their eyes 
out for indications of a nesting, and the messengers gen- 
erally are to report on their route. A correspondence of 
an inquisitive nature is carried on by every regular netter 
in order that he or his chums may strike the birds first. 
One may judge of the importance of the receipts to the 
express companies from the fact that a total of four to 
five thousand barrels of birds are shipped from each nest- 
ing, averaging thirty dozen to the barrel, on which the 
charges are from $6 to $12 per barrel, which sometimes 
include re-icing on the trip. This does not include the 
stall-fed birds for later market, nor the live birds for trap- 
shooting, and on which charges are 75 cents per crate of 
seventy-two birds to $300 per carload, nor the squabs, so 
that it is of considerable importance that no nesting be 
overlooked. 
The same flocks of birds will be reported from ten or 
twenty different points, sometimes two or three hundred 
miles apart on their first appearance in the State, Then 
the plot thickens and it becomes a question, "Where is 
there feed enough to hold a nesting?" All probable points 
are then closely watched and daylight finds each netter 
out, set and ready to try and hail any passing flock of 
scouts and see bow well the eggs are developed, and by 
the contents of the craw to tell whether the birds win- 
tered in Missouri on acoms or in Alabama on rice. In 
this way the small flocks, are watched and if they form 
a'roost'they are not disturbed. Generally the birds pick 
the best feed possible in Michigan or Pennsylvania; beech 
nuts are their nesting diet, followed as the nuts sprout 
by budding on the young elm buds. In Wisconsin and 
Minnesota acorns are their main food. 
The first parties of birds generally form a roost in some 
swampy piece of land where tamarack or alder grow 
thickly, and the others join in, their cries filling the 
woods with noise. For two or three days the noise is 
terrific and the colony increases rapidly, each flock com- 
ing in calling as it flies, which is a sure sign of a nest- 
ing. The birds now select their mates and for two days 
sticks are carried, each doing a fair share in the work of 
building the nest, which is all sticks, with no moss nor 
lining. Here two eggs are laid and on the third morning 
the torn birds leave the nesting for their first drink and 
feed, and generally drink first. They start in large 
sheets, gradually splitting into flocks a short distance 
from the nesting, and feeding and returning at 10 o'clock 
to relieve the hens, who take their outing until 3 o'clock 
and return to let their partners take a second trip out in 
the afternoon. This goes on daily, rain or shine, until 
the young are batched. They are fed first on a substance 
called curd, which the parent birds secrete in their craws, 
and which must be removed from all birds killed, as it 
soon spoils them. After the young get a little larger 
both parents have to hustle for food and sometimes they 
go out together. All young hatched will be fed even if 
their own parents are killed. 
We will take a trip out with a good netter the first 
morning a regular fly commences from a nesting. A 
grain sack, in which are a net and stool and a canvas 
covered cheese box of which he is very careful, besides 
the pipe and lunch, comprise his visible outfit. I say 
visible because it is not yet daylight, and we are none 
too early. It is a clear cold morning with prospects of a 
bright sun, and one man knows that the birds will leave 
at dawn if they come out to-day at all. He has been 
waiting two or three days, hearing each day from men 
who have been through the nesting how they were build- 
ing, so he is on nettles. All his preparations are made. 
A brisk walk of a mile brings us to the slope of a large 
hill where the oak timber skirts two sides of a coulee, on 
which was corn last season. I note a few stakes stuck up 
and a small house well -thatched as to its top, front and 
sides and open behind; and then I must watch him. 
Quickly his net is shaken out of the sack, out come the 
hooks and hubs, fly-sticks, stool and fly-lines and a hatchet, 
and he is full of business. The net is made ready. 
Now he arranges his flyer's boots by attaching them to 
lines 20ft. long, tied to a small stake behind the house. 
His flyer is next produced from one corner of the box 
and quickly a silk thread and fine needle (a pigeoner's 
trade mark) is run through the callous membrane of the 
lower eyelid, then carried over the crown of the head to 
the other ditto, then brought together on top of the head 
and neatly tucked under. His mate is treated likewise, 
and the flyers are ready and set at the rear of the house 
in easy reach. Now the netter reaches into his box at 
the other end for his right bower. "Hullo, Tom," he 
says, and a gentle peck on the finger is his morning 
salute as he produces a finely-feathered, erect, slick-look- 
ing male bird which two seasons have rendered reliable. 
A gentle hover I Ah, there! Just watch him shut his 
wings. That is all there is of it, and it is beyond counter- 
feit. He is put out on the stool pad, which is a wire 
shank and rim and riveted center, a pair of boots is passed 
through the pad and over his feet, drawn taut and at- 
tached to the handle. A few dead birds shot yesterday for 
the occasion are produced and nicely arranged on the bed. 
Just then the first flock of about a dozen stragglers went 
through the valley to our right. I am told to keep down 
in the left corner under cover of the side and look out 
behind and see if the birds notice the flyers. The netter 
now buttons his coat, and taking a flyer on his hand, 
strokes it so as to calm it, while his eye travels every foot 
of the valley behind us. Suddenly I hear "Hist!" and the 
sound of wings as the first flyer leaves his hand, and the 
second follows a moment later. I at once forget the 
birds and look at the two flyers. Eight up to the end of 
their lines they go, strongly and well, then round in grace- 
ful circles until they light suddenly on the ground. Then 
I notice that he has taken hold of the stool line, and I can 
hear the hover of his bird, while the flock, having seen the 
flyers light, evidently desire company, for after circling 
once they set their wings and come broadside to the bed. 
He holds the stool up until they are about fifty feet from 
the bed, when he gives the lighting hover with the stool 
bird and releases the stool line. His eyes tell him when 
the bulk of the flock strike the bed, and as their wings 
close, a quick, strong pull on the spring line and a tumble 
out through the back speedily follow, 
I note a small bunch of birds making their way to the 
woods, but he is at the net, pincers in hand, and where- 
ever a head shows through it they are applied and the 
neck is broken. Out of breath from nervousness he 
says, "Eight out of fourteen; pretty good! " A pat to 
the stool bird, a hurried setting of the net, and with 
flyers gathered in we are ready once more. A flock 
passes out of range, but no effort is made to halt them, 
as he says the flocks will follow their leaders and more 
will come to our point. I am interested now, and only 
anxious to throw a flyer or do something to help. He 
says, " Take it easy now and we won't be disappointed 
to-day. The birds you see dead and those you see flying 
are all toms, and the nesting is ready to commence a 
regular flight. We will need help before evening and 
won't tire a flyer for nothing. As he spoke he made a 
quick jump into the house and I lie flat on my face. I 
don't know that a large flock is directly upon us. No 
time to throw a flyer, so under his coat it goes, and the 
stool birds and the bedders which were increased by the 
ones just killed, were used for all they were worth. I 
could hear him breathing hard, when suddenly he 
sprung the net and yelled, "Now hustle, we have some- 
thing worth going out for." 
As we rolled out of the house I heard the swish of 
wings, and there was a flock piling on the net, under 
which appeared to me to be a thousand pigeons. I was 
rattled. He told me to bring the bag, into which I 
dropped the birds as he killed them, counting until 69 
had been put in — a pretty good haul. All the while, 
though, flpcks of every size were passing over, so after 
saving one spry fellow for a flyer we set again, and had 
not a minute to spare before another bunch netted us 27. 
My hat was gone now and I was wild with excitement, 
but bent on seeing it to the end, For two and a half 
