134 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 18, 1894. 
AN ENCOUNTER IN THE CANYON. 
Shasta Mountains, Cal., June. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: During nay explorations in the world, I fre- 
quently meet with problems and other things that I do 
not understand. "When I meet with things which I think 
I do understand, I am very often prone to form opinions, 
to which I adhere with more or less tenacity and satis- 
faction. However, after close investigation and consider- 
ation, I believe that there are more things in the world 
beyond ordinary human comprehension than some people 
freely admit. I have known persons who seemed to 
know all about nearly everything, and who would readily 
and fluently explain things that had eluded my under- 
standing; but sometimes, even then, I could not grasp 
and retain their knowledge or their philosophy. Some- 
times, after I have had things very fully explained to me, 
I have gone on my way rejoicing until I encountered 
some new and unexpected phase of the subject under 
contemplation, which upset both the explanation of my 
friends and the satisfactory conclusions I was about to 
reach in my own mind. You will perceive that, to one 
laboring under such obstacles, the acquisition of know- 
ledge is a slow and difficult process, and will not wonder 
when I admit that I think there are many things which 
I never will understand. When one is away back in the 
mountain and woods, where not only books but people 
are scarce, there is a great deal of knowledge absolutely 
beyond his command. 
In many of my excursions I am alone, and it is at such 
times that I most frequently collide with things beyond 
my comprehension — even in the wilderness. At one time 
I was with people a great deal, and was familiar with the 
admonition of the poet Pope — 
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan ; 
The proper study of mankind is man. 
But to me, however proper the study of man may be, it 
was evidently too complicate and I never progressed; so I 
took to the woods. And now I find the woods full of 
subjects almost as difficult to comprehend as is humanity. 
If Mr. Pope could be interviewed in our time I would 
apply for advice as to the proper method to study man — 
without going further — and getting into unfathomed 
deeps. When I undertook the study of man, about the 
first problem which obstructed my investigations was the 
brief query, What is man? which arose in my mind. I 
never surmounted that problem, and others crowded upon 
me until I became bewildered. I decided then to inves- 
tigate the alleged animal by degrees, and that I would 
segregate portions of him and thus master my subject 
little by little. I decided to leave the physical part of 
man to the surgeons and devote myself to his other attri- 
butes, and, after much hesitation as to where to begin, 
I concluded to first analyze his five senses, one at a time. 
As man usually sees more than he hears, touches, 
tastes or smells, I thought sight the most important of his 
senses, and I began with the sense of vision. After very 
hard study I arrived at the conclusion that the sense of 
seeing is a certain faculty common to most men and 
other creatures, by which they seem to see. I never got 
any further with the subject, sight. Taking up the next 
sense, that of hearing, I summed up that it was the 
faculty of seeming to distinguish what we call sounds, a 
sense also common to most creatures. I could make 
nothing more of the sense of touch, of taste or of smell, 
and I was about to give up the effort of obtaining knowl- 
edge as a very unsatisfactory and laborious thing, when 
a friend assured me that there were books containing full 
and complete information about all these things. I was 
thereupon much relieved, but I had lost some of my am- 
bition and I never prosecuted these investigations further. 
Having thus abandoned the opportunity of knowing all 
about so many things, I have felt many times since that 
it is a very important thing to have an uncultivated 
understanding. It is a continual source of trouble to 
meet with puzzles and mysteries everywhere, and yet, if 
one devotes himself to books and studies, a great deal 
of information in the woods gets away from him. 
Thus, as you may readily gather from foregoing ac- 
knowledgments, I frequently realize that I am abroad 
in a world of mystery, and a great deal of the time I am 
not within reach of any persons or books, to whom or to 
which I may apply for explanation. 
There are times when I find myself prowling about in 
the mountains and woods with a rifle or a fish-pole, and 
I frequently forget that I have either one or the other, as 
I become so deeply absorbed in conjectures or specu- 
lations. I have thus passed many days without securing 
game or fish. My bad luck is not owing to the fact that 
game is scarce in my field of operation or to lack of skill 
with either rifle or rod; for, years ago, I could decapitate 
a squirrel at 50 or 60yds., and always carried home the 
most conclusive evidence to submit with my fishing 
accounts. 
The trouble I am now inclined to attribute to the 
almost morbid habit of thinking. Queries and theories 
are constantly being flushed where 1 expected deer, or 
bobbing up and rising from pools or riffles where I 
always, in former times, anticipated trout. So, it seems 
to me now, that woods and waters formerly well- 
stocked with game and fish, yield chiefly food for 
conjecture or contemplation; and, as I have to constantly 
contend with a circumscribed understanding, I often find 
my larder composed chiefly of store goods and groceries. 
The other morning before daybreak I was out in a very 
rough section of mountains, and picking my way down 
a canyon to a trout stream. I had got partly down 
to the water when I reached a bench which overhung the 
slope so that I could see down a long, winding avenue of 
immense pines and firs, ledges of time-stained rock and 
huge granite boulders, great logs and piles of drifted 
debris from mountains piled above, through which the 
roaring, foaming stream tumbled eastward. It was a 
good point from which to see the sun rise, as I guessed it 
would come up in a line with the canyon, and as it was 
yet early and cold for fishing, I decided to wait awhile. 
The sun was coloring the horizon in a fashion often 
described, but forever varying in combination, and I was 
prepared to make a mental snap shot view of its first 
beam, when a polecat attracted my notice. The animal 
was either a polecat or a skunk. There may be a Latin 
name for him more genteel and less suggestive, but I can- 
not command it; in any case he was one of a large sized 
species, beautifully marked in his coat of bright, shiny 
black, with stripes of white that looked like snowy 
white harness. He was actively engaged in the erratic 
and to me inexplicable business of trotting about, some 
yards below me, peeking into all the cracks and crevices 
of the rocks, stopping, turning this way and that; and I 
wondered what he was after. 
While I watched I suppose the animal started away in 
every direction that radiated from his constant changes 
of base. Whatever he was looking for, he did not seem 
to find it and I began to hope, after a while he would 
give up his quest and go home; but when he did begin to 
move away from where he was, he began to come in my 
direction. Of course he kept up his tactics of shifting 
this way and that, but he was coming, as it seemed, ine- 
vitably. He was a very nice-looking, able-bodied polecat, 
corpulent and prosperous in appearance, and I presumed, 
with reasonable judgment, that he was in possession of 
all his faculties and that he had them with him. I 
coughed — a sort of a forced cough frequently practiced 
to attract attention — and he stopped, spread his tail aloft 
like a feathery canopy, jumped sidewise once, like a wild 
hog, and then forgot everything and kept coming in his 
erratic but inevitable manner. The bench I was on — that 
we were both on — was narrow, at either side it was pre- 
cipitous. I wanted to go down, the polecat was coming 
up and had the only path. I now scraped my shoes, 
struck my fish-pole on the rock, and. exclaimed, Scat! 
He stopped again, stood on his hands for a moment, then 
on hiB all-fours, seemed to think awhile, then forgot 
everything and continued, in various attitudes to advance. 
I have complete control over my admiration of skunks 
or polecats, whichever they are, and I never forget our 
relative positions in society. I had hitherto maintained a 
formal and proper barrier of distance to separate and 
distinguish our different social standing. I have invari- 
ably met their advances beyond a certain point with cold 
austerity, or I always retired and refused them an inter- 
view. TJpon this occasion, however, it would appear that 
I had, without intending it, made the first advances into 
his circle and he intended to make the most of his oppor- 
tunity. Before I could find any loose fragments of rock 
with which I now proposed to bombard him if he did not 
retire, I was aware that it would be impolitic to begin 
actual hostilities as he had approached quite near me a nd 
seemed not only prepared to resent insult, but rather 
anxious for me to strike the first blow so he would have 
the law on bis side. It appeared that he would rather 
enjoy a conflict from the way he smiled. 
1 never could throw a missile with assurance of produc- 
ing instant fatality and I now hesitated. I did not want 
to maim or offend him or cause him to suffer any 
torture — I only wanted to kill him suddenly. In the 
meantime he swiveled round like a weather vane, stood 
on his hands, fanned himself with his tail, and pretended 
that he liked me. 
After considerable active thinking I concluded that if 
I could withdraw gracefully, I had better climb back up 
the hill, although it was a steep, rough climb and the sun 
was now shining warmly upon the dry rocks, pouring its 
beams upon the exposed position in which I stood. The 
polecat seemed to enjoy the sun and as he warmed him- 
self, he wanted to be more and more friendly. I 
exclaimed hist! and s-scat! and threatened to throw rocks 
at him — but he only stood on his hands, then on his 
elbows, fanned himself gently with his tail and smiled 
assuringly. 
I admire activity, and even labor conservatively, but I 
abhor a useless expenditure of strength and force, and I 
sighed and perspired as I re-ascended that hill cautiously 
as the sun grew hotter. If I stumbled the polecat was 
inclined to become emotional and if a loose rock rolled 
down to him he manifested excitement — but he came 
right along up with me. There were many nice holes in 
the rocks where he could have gone and stayed but he 
only peeked into them, and about the time I thought he 
would branch off, and give me a chance to throw a rock 
from a good safe range, he would suddenly ' 'corduroy," 
(as Mr. Hough says they do on skis in the snow) and 
become so adjacent to me that I had not the heart to hurt 
him. 
Sometime after I had become impatient and weary and 
warm in the broiling sun, the polecat and me reached the 
top of the hill where there was better ground and some 
trees. As soon as I reached a big tree I dodged behind it 
and went away abruptly. I succeeded in reaching a log 
at a seemly distance from the eccentric animal and now 
thought he must be satisfied, having got up the hill, and 
that he would withdraw and permit me to retrace my 
steps down the cliff and regain my fish-pole. 
He missed me all at once and seemed quite forlorn and 
sorrowful. He shied around anxiously for many mo- 
ments, sat down and communed with himself, scratched 
his northwest ear with his southwest paw, wandered 
aimlessly here and there, and then gradually shifted back 
down to where we had met — where my fish-pole was. 
Probably he conjectured that I would go back there and 
he would renew his operations and overtures. At last I 
was in a commanding position. I would disappoint him. 
If he is still waiting there for me he must be weary, if 
not nearly starved. I have not yet gone down that way 
and I will allow him vainly to await my coming. If he 
wants to he may take my fish-pole and fish with it — he 
may fish on and fish ever and fan himself and smile, but 
if he waits for me to return his mind's diseased. 
The log I had found was in the shade, there seemed to 
be no ants upon it and no polecats now within limits, and 
I found a comfortable location. As a consequence I got 
to thinking and began to speculate upon polecats, an un- 
profitable theme. Then I wondered why a man liked to 
fish, go fishing or even start out to fiBh. It seemed a 
queer thing, to examine it closely, why a man should fix 
up a rod and string, clamber over rocks, tread on snakes, 
fight mosquitoes, gnats and other tyrannical pests, get 
tired, hungry and wet and then go home generally out of 
humor, with a few fish about the size of sardines and a 
repertory of anecdotes about the size of whales. 
When I had thought about these things and a great 
many others I realized that another day was about to be 
filed away with the past, and I made tracks tending 
homeward. On my way I made a mental resolution tbat 
I wasted a great deal of time and energy in thinking, but 
I have adopted the only remedy as you will see. There 
is an old rhyme which goes, 
They never taste who always drink, 
They always talk who never think. 
There is no one within reach to talk to and so I have 
had to write to give my intellect rest. I will revert to 
some of my incomplete philosophy some other time. I 
have no animosity toward the Forest and Stream or its 
readers, but sincere regard, believe me. Ransacker, 
NEAR TO NATURE'S HEART. 
To him who in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language; for his gayer hourB 
She bath a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty. —Thanatopsis. 
There are probably none more responsive to the varied 
language in which nature converses, or who are more 
willing and apt scholars in her school, than those who 
from boyhood go afield with dog and gun to roam the 
woodland paths, or with the zeal and patience of devoted 
anglers to fish the streams on mountain or in meadow 
and cast the seductive fly on lake or pool. How expert 
do such become in woodcraft, and the interpreting of all 
those delicate signs in forest, field and flood, which reveal 
themselves on every side to the discerning eye and ear. 
How readily they learn the name, nature and habits of 
all wild things, and can read to you chapter after chapter 
out of nature's mysteries, which are as a sealed book to 
the uninitiated and to those who have not learned to live 
"near to nature's heart." 
The cry or song of every bird becomes as well known 
and as easily identified as the voice of human friends, and 
even the differing characteristics of flight come to be as 
readily distinguished as the notes. The myriad creaking, 
chirping insect voices that fill the summer night are but 
so many different tones in nature's grand, unceasing 
anthem; and to know just where those little musicians 
may be found and how they make their music detracts in 
no wise from the joy of him who listens. The songs of 
the cicada, the cricket and the katydid are of old friends 
quickly recognized and gladly welcomed as the circling 
years go round. 
All animated nature from the common earth worm or 
grub which the sportsman digs for his bait, to the high- 
est order of organism, is spread out like a book for the 
interested and willing student to read; and there are the 
trees, the Tocks, the flowers and the grasses, each and all 
with their language ready to converse with him who 
learns to love them and the story they can tell. The 
water, too, is full of instruction and information. It has 
its fish, beautiful spotted trout and dusky pickerel and 
pike, its shining silvery perch and dace, its sturdy bass 
and bream and all the endless varieties of fish and plant 
life which dwell in the depths, and the flowers and 
grasses which float upon its surface. O, there is life and 
beauty and instruction everywhere, and who picks up 
more of it than the sportsman. 
Time and space are all too short to tell a tithe — yea, a 
hundredth part — of the wonderful, interesting and in- 
tensely instructive things that are all about us and which 
need only the observing eye and patient study to become 
as familiar as the books we read. 
What man who has learned to live a sportsman's life — 
in its rational and best form, I mean — what man, I say, is 
there, as life draws on and he begins to count most of his 
allotted years as past, who would forego the pleasure he 
daily and hourly derives from his knowledge of nature, 
her children and her ways, which he has acquired in his 
thousand tramps with rod and gun? How memory of 
those happy days descends like a benediction or rises and 
floats about him like grateful incense. And as we sit be- 
side the winter fire, our heads white with the frost of 
years, and sip the cider or the more generous wine, how 
the dreams of other years gather about us, how the faces 
of old companions come thronging out of the mist of 
thought and we hear the whistle of the woodcock's wings 
as of yore we heard it in the alder swale. The ruffed 
grouse booms from his cover and darts across the wood- 
land path, while the echoes wake with the sharp report 
of a gun and a familiar voice calls out, "Did you get 
him?" How the birds sing and the insects hum ; how the 
partridge drums on his old log by the shady brook and 
the trout leaps out at sunset; how the water falls and falls 
over the old moss-covered dam in the distance till at last 
we fall asleep. A. Huntington, M.D. 
Islip, Long Island. 
Fishing and Camping on Lake Cayuga. 
From Cayuga, at the north or lower end of the lake, 
some forty odd miles, scarcely five miles intervene be- 
tween the villages. At this end of the lake the shores 
are low, with a long stretch of marsh on the western side, 
and the lake itself is shallow acroS3 its three miles of 
width. It is here that the fish and ducks resort for the 
abundant food found in the mossy bottom. It was here, 
too, that the poachers of the marshes had many a struggle 
With the law, using a seine that would drag half a ton of 
fish from the lake in a night, to be found in the markets 
of New York the next day. So successful was their 
struggle that only recently has the law secured its sway, 
and its benefits are shown by the capital sport to be had 
now with rod for bass and pickerel. 
About six miles from Cayuga at the head of a deep 
cove setting into the eastern shore is Union Springs, the 
largest village on the lake. From here to Ithaca the 
shore slopes more sharply up as one proceeds southward. 
For some miles below Ithaca the view along the eastern 
side has a strong similarity to the Hudson along the pali- 
sades, except that the cliffs are not so high. Almost every 
desirable point on the lake has its summer cottage or 
"camp." A trip through these lakes reveals numerous 
white tents scattered along the shores amid the trees. 
Among them hundreds are idling away their vacations, 
charmingly and inexpensively. A mere nominal rent, 
or more often a simple request, will secure a site for the 
tents. At hand are firewood and fish, and ice, vegetables, 
milk, and fruits are to be had at the nearby farmhouses. 
Ladies are at many of the camps, and these are made en- 
tirely comfortable with floors and spring cots. Stop and 
a welcome will be given you of the best the camp affords, 
and usually they are well supplied with what is consid- 
ered essential to camp life. — Correspondence New York 
Evening Post. 
