Sept. 29, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
267 
what he would do. lie cauie immediately down and on 
it, and after examining it with much interest and amuse- 
ment, he went back to his boughs, and if he did not 
laugh it was for lack of the necessary feelings. He 
swung himself about on those branches, and me-ewed 
and sang random selections of other bird notes in a riot- 
ously mirthful manner. The idea of the thing. And to 
think that any bird would be green enough to be taken 
in by it. Then he would come down and look at it and 
watch the movements of the call bird through the wires, 
and repeat its notes derisively. 
The catbird appears to be rather more rational-minded 
in regard to his domestic affairs than most birds. His 
family are as well brought up as any bird's, but he does 
not apparently regard their well being as the sole object 
of his existence. He seems to look upon the nest build- 
ing and worm hunting as an amusement rather than im- 
portant occupation, judging from the way he proceeds 
about them. He goes about such work with a mysteri- 
ously interested manner, with an air of subdued amuse- 
ment, as if he thought the whole thing a joke, but it 
wouldn't do to say so. And when his possessions are 
interfered with he shows a proper concern, but he does 
not usually become frantic like some birds — the robin for 
instance. On the contrary, he shows often on such an 
occasion an admirable presence of mind. He will en- 
deavor to persuade me of the non-existence of a nest in a 
place I know it is with a suave dignity and show of 
candor, which would be convincingbut for my knowledge 
to the contrary. C. A. Tyndall. 
HAD ENOUGH. , 
While stopping a few days at the Sault Ste. Marie the 
past summer, en route to Clear Lake, Canada, I witnessed 
a prize fight between a full grown mink and a red or fox 
squirrel — the stakes evidently being the satisfaction of 
seeing which should lay the other out. It was in a small 
shoe shop, near the hotel, just before early breakfast, 
while waiting for the boy to make an extra dime by giv- 
ing me a "shine." 
The owner of the shop was evidently fond of pets, judg- 
ing by the cages of owls and other birds, with small 
animals lodged on Bhelves about the room. In one cage 
was a large red or fox squirrel, and on the floor near the 
amateur boot black was a small paper box containing a 
couple of young robins. While watching the job, I saw a 
long, slender, full grown mink dart out from beneath a 
bench and take a bee line for the robins. The lad ex- 
citedly exclaimed, "He's out of his cage," and struck at 
the mink with his brush. The robin cage was upset and 
one of the birds ejected, but in the scuffle the mink was 
driven back minus his prey. For a minute or two the mink 
disappeared, when I noticed him climbing a corner of the 
shelving beneath the red squirrel. 
The moment his eyes caught a glimpse of the squirrel 
he darted at the cage with lightning quickness, and wind- 
• ine his lithe body around the wires, sought to get contact 
with the now highly excited prisoner. The latter chat- 
tered and bit at his foe and faced him on every turn as the 
mink, "not spakin' a word," rapidly traveled over the 
bars hunting an entrance. Blood was up on both sides — 
one the eager assailant and the other the desperate defen- 
der of his life. Disappearing behind the cage after half a 
dozen circuits, the mink in some way found a loop-hole, 
as the next moment the two were locked in deadly em- 
brace inside the cage, fighting furiously. Over and over 
they went — a streak of black and red — shifting positions 
so fast it was impossible to tell where either was using his 
teeth or which was head and which was tail. The squir- 
rel still kept up his now subdued chatter — too busy to 
strike the loud notes, while the mink maintained his 
ominous silence. 
For several minutes the battle waxed hotly until sud- 
denly the mink dropped on the bottom of the cage on his 
back, and the now maddened squirrel, with his back to 
his foe, angrily attacked the bars of his cage near the top. 
At first I thought the mink was done for, but closer in- 
spection showed his small beadlike eyes sharply watching 
the squirrel's movements. He was clearly playing possum 
and watching for a neck hold. 
Seeing an apparently favorable opening, he suddenly 
darted at the squirrel, and again the battle was on. 
Round and round they went, over and over, for another 
three-minute round, and again the mink dropped to the 
floor on his back and the squirrel resumed his attack on 
the bars. Neither seemed much the worse for wear and 
no blood stains were visible. The shop lad was in sore 
trouble for fear the combatants would be slain and the 
boss be very mad. Getting a slender iron poker, he in- 
serted it between the bars and pressed it across the mink's 
body. It didn't require anybody to hold the squirrel. 
When the mink got ready, the poker didn't seem to 
bother him much, as he was up and grappling with the 
squirrel in a twinkle. The fight didn't last long before the 
mink again lay on the bottom of the cage in his usual 
pugilistic attitude. 
Deeming my breakfast waiting, and fearing the fight 
might spin out to forty rounds or more, I left the shop for 
the hotel. After breakfast, with two of my comrades, we 
went back to learn the issue of the fight. Entering, I 
found the mink in a small cage gnawing a piece of raw 
meat, and the squirrel in his own cage "sucking his 
thumb," which had evidently been considerably chawed 
during the fight. Neither seemed ready for the hospital. 
Inquiring how the battle terminated, the shop boy stated 
that shortly after I left the boss came, and getting a small 
cage, opened the door and placed it opposite the open door 
of the squirrel cage. Seeing a way out, the mink slid 
himself into the small cage— saying never a word — and 
left the squirrel sole sovereign of his realm. The mink 
evidently had had enough, and the squirrel was satisfied, 
as he "hadn't begun that fight nohow." Old Sam. 
Flew Through the Window. 
Barton, "Vt., Sept. I'd.— Editor Forest omd Stream: I 
have read of instances of partridges flying against win- 
dows and breaking them, but never knew of an instance 
personally until this morning one flew against the win- 
dow of Mr. E. E. Liddell in this village, breaking through 
two heavy lights of glass, the lower sash being raised, the 
bird striking just above the bar, breaking both lights, 
going through the sitting room and falling in the kitchen. 
Its throat was cut by the glass so that it bled to death in a 
few minutes, and it was served for dinner. The bird 
must have been going with great velocity, as both lights 
of glass were shattered to atoms. One also flew into the 
house of C. E. Hamblet thi3 morning, breaking out a 
large glass, but escaped through the opening made. Both 
houses are in the thickly settled portion of a the village, but 
are situated about one-half mile apart. J. W. W. 
[Such cases are of course not uncommon, and seem to 
occur most often in early autumn, when the partridges 
(ruffed grouse) are shifting quarters.] 
m[$ §nq at\d §un. 
ADIRONDACK DEER. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I passed three weeks of August and the first week of 
September of this year at a lake where I first camped 
nearly forty years ago. I have been a visitor to the same 
lake a dozen or fifteen times in the interim. 
On my first visit we occupied the winter camp of the 
noted guide, Alvah Dunning. Now there is a comfort- 
able house there, holding twenty-five persons, with fifty 
acres cleared around it and the ordinary belongings of a 
farm. But as regards game the region seems absolutely, 
unchanged. Possibly the partridges are fewer, but the 
deer seem more numerous. During the three weeks 
when night-hunting was lawful, some one was out almost 
every night, and deer were seen or heard every time; and 
in four cases out of five could have been gotten if the 
hunter had been skillful. Four were secured during that 
time, which were as many as the house could use. Two 
of these were the largest X have ever seen in the Adiron- 
dacks and one of them would probably weigh 2501bs. 
In the region drained by this particular lake, which 
lies at the head of a system, it was estimated by good 
judges there were from seventy-five to one hundred deer 
which is as many as the food supply would sustain. 
Among the causes which help to maintain this con- 
tinued supply, I think the following may be enumerated: 
First — The better observance of the game laws. There 
was no attempt among the eight or ten hunters in the 
house to violate these, except in one case. This particular 
person wished to begin on the 13th instead of the 15th, but 
he was unsucc n ssf ul until the law was up. The guides 
and innkeepers have discovered that every deer in the 
region is worth to them, as a body, about $75, and they 
hinder in various ways illegal shooting and over-killing on 
the part of ambitious visitors. 
Second — Large sections have become so settled, and 
formerly isolated regions have so many visitors, that the 
deer are driven from them, and others are cleared, so that 
food and shelter are destroyed. The regions adjacent to 
the lines of lakes, on which the main travel is. sustain no 
deer. The space they occupy is thus greatly limited, but 
within this space they are as abundant as ever. A little 
more discomfort and some more expense are necessary to 
reach them, but these things will tend to preserve them. 
Third— While the number of hunters is greatly increased, 
their skill has not increased in proportion. They are out 
for a good time. The waters abound with pleasure 
parties shouting to wake the echoes, and laughing and fill- 
ing the air with strange noises, all the day: all of which 
tends to make the deer timid and wary, and so keeps them 
out of harm's way. And then they are unskillful shots, 
especially the women. 
It has become a fad with women to shoot with the rifle. 
They seldom hit anything. Some make the attempt who 
never before had a gun in their hands. I met with one 
who called the stock a handle. They generally bang 
away half the day at targets, and then go out at night, 
and if a deer is seen, bang away at that, without doing 
any harm to the deer, except to frighten it, and make it 
more fearful and cautious in future. 
Hounding is undoubtedly most fatal to the continued 
supply. A month is too long. If the use of dogs could 
be limited to two weeks it would probably be better — any 
limit would be an improvement. If the deer do not 
diminish under the present law, well and good. Certainly 
they have not diminished in secluded places, and away 
from the thoroughfares, during the life of a generation of 
hunters. w. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
If the Adirondack deer were a blight which man sought 
to drive from earth, it could suffer no more unfair per- 
secution than it has or does suffer. It is possible that I 
take rather a pessimistic view of the situation, but my 
fears that ten years more will see the deer a rarity in the 
paradise of New York State sportsmen, are founded on 
more than mere chimerical rumors. 
In the first place, the deer laws are not and cannot 
under the existing method of enforcement be effective. 
A law is gauged as a law and a protection by the manner 
in which it is enforced, and no sportsman can tell me 
that either in Herkimer or Hamilton counties the laws 
covering illegal killing are regarded in any manner other 
than as a spice to the so-called sport. The authorities in 
whom the protecting power is vested are perhaps not to 
blame; I believe they attempt to do their duty, and here 
lies the peculiarity of the situation. How any legislator 
with the encephalon of a field mouse can expect that the 
miserable financial provision made at present can provide 
wardens and watchers enough to cope with the situation 
is beyond my humble powers of conception. How is the 
pot-hunter, the cur who sets traps at the drinking places, 
the salter or the spring-gun fiend to be foiled? Unless 
something further is done by legislators and done before 
long, the stable door will be shut too late, and what is 
more the horse won't be found again. 
All men should have convictions and the following is 
one of mine. I consider hounding a sport in name only. 
A surer means of deer extermination does not exist; it is 
also an incentive to law-breaking. It has its own excuse 
to offer when hounds are caught running out of season. 
Many times this excuse has been given me, "My dogs are 
deer mad and have been running on their own hook." In 
Borne cases this is true, but even so — I appeal to every true 
sportsman — are the benefits a few derive from hounding 
a sufficient recompense to the few for the outrageous doe- 
running, fawn-tearing proclivities possessed by these 
brutes? Is not a menace to the means of the recreation of 
society a blow at society itself, and is not a human being 
who loses control of himself called mad, and for the 
safety of society locked up? Then why not, if hounding 
is detrimental to the breeding and spreading of the Ameri- 
can deer, why not stop hounding? 
Another menace to the deer is that animal known as 
the great American game hog. He kills two deer in the 
morning, but can not allow two more to\pass by at night, 
and kepps as much meat as he has use for, burying the 
rest. You will recognize this delicious creature as a rule 
by his bragging; so many deer in so many hours! Per- 
haps you have met the type. 
In my hearing a well known Bisby guide told a tale of 
trapping deer. The good man it appears had brought a 
party into the Cauchaagala wilderness, and deer being 
shy and scarce, he, with the whole genius of a mighty 
brain, set large steel traps among some lily pads at vari- 
ous intervals. The jolly fellow described to an admiring 
audience how "By ged. you couldn't beat it. I got them 
folks three deer in one night; broke their forelegs mostly, 
and I and one of the girls who wanted to shoot her deer 
came out and fixed them the next morning." 
I endeavored to secure the young ladie's (?) name, wish- 
ing to express to her my esteem for her Diana-like ways. 
I was unable to do so, but made up for it in part by losing 
the good man who told the tale a twenty days' fishing 
trip into Moose River. 
Salting is a pastime that even the youth of the Adir- 
dacks often indulge in. A nice easy low-down way of 
securing meat it is, just the thing for a man too lazy to 
still-hunt. I don't believe my hand ever itched to^swing 
a horse whip as they did one day in August,' 1889. An 
old toothless reprobate had just told me with many a 
cackle how he had salted eight deer within two months, 
and in proof of his statement showed me the skins tacked 
up in his barn when he wheezed, "I'm old, an' I've the 
rheumatiz an' the asmay, but begosh I kin lay it out 
them yit." 
He far from realized that his age saved him from a 
practical demonstration of his last words. 
Something must be done, brother sportsmen, and the 
only thing at present to do is either for private parties or 
the authorities to offer the informers suchjlarge rewards 
that no man will dare either to evade or to break the law. 
A man would think twice before he attempted illegal 
hunting if a reward of $200 was to be the incentive for 
all about him to prove the crime. Let us have the 
remedy, may it be quickly applied, strongly administered, 
and the good wishes of good sportsmen go with it. 
R. P. F. 
PRAIRIE CHICKENS IN THE SIXTIES. 
Away back in 1865 I lived in what I called the 
chicken paradise, near the confluence of the Piatt and 
Elkhorn rivers in Nebraska. A magnificent valley ten 
miles wide stretches away in the distance; and clumps of 
willows and box alders border the low sandy banks of the 
little lakes, which dot here and there the beautiful land- 
scape. I lived about midway between the two streams 
on a farm, five miles from neighbors. Prairie chickens 
had lived and flourished here for ages, undisturbed, save 
by a few hunters, the freighter and emigrants on the old 
military road which ran hard by. 
Long rows of sunflowers lined this road, producing rich 
nutritious seed by the bushel, on which the chickens 
thrived and grew fat. However, they soon learned that 
corn was sweeter than sunflower seed, and exactly filled a 
long felt want in the chicken's craw. The way they went 
for that corn was a surprise even to the Indians, who 
visited me quite often. A friendly old buck sagely re- 
marked to me one day, as he pointed to the corn field, 
"Heap corn, heap chickum, pretty soon him eat white 
man's corn all up. Chickum heap fat " 
As soon as the corn was ripe, at the first streak of dawn, 
a few early birds could be seen headed for the field, then 
as dawn developed into daylight, the air was full, and a 
wild rush of wings could be heard coming from every 
point of the compass, till they must have numbered 
thousands. And what a noisy lot they were, holding a 
regular jubilee over the wonderful discovery they had 
made, and taking full possession under the right of 
squatter sovereignty. How they did squawk and chatter 
about it. The din was incessant. With the rustle of the 
dry leaves as they chased each other about in their play, 
the stripping and picking of the dry shucks, the thumping 
of their wings on the stalks in rising up and fighting 
again, they frequently deceived me, and I ran out ex- 
pecting to find a herd of 500 or more Texas steers ranging 
the field. 
It was really becoming a serious matter with me, as 
corn was a ready sale at my door to freighters and emi- 
grants at 50 cents a bushel. It began to look as if the 
old Indian had formed a correct estimate of their number 
and the capacity of the Nebraska chicken for storing 
away corn. He was a Pawnee and had learned to talk 
English of the soldiers at the fort. He and his squaw 
stopped one day to get watermelons, of which they are 
very fond, and I had them in such abundance I was haul- 
ing them out by the load for my cows. "Ugh!" he 
grunted. "Bad chickum, heap too much chickum." 
At that moment a flock came sailing past. As quick as 
a flash he let fly two arrows, one after the other, and two 
chickens fell fluttering to the ground. The squaw 
shuffled after them, brought them back, and squatting 
down before the fire on which their coffee was boiling, 
she proceeded to roast them after having picked a portion 
of the largest feathers off. They ate all of the flesh and 
"innards;" nothing remained but a few bones. Patting 
his stomach, the Indian said, "No like chickum much; 
chickum bad; buffalo heap good." 
This then explained why the birds were so numerous; 
the Indians only killed them when out of other meat. 
I spent the greater part of my time hunting and endeav- 
oring to drive them out of the field. When I fired they 
would rise with a roar like distant thunder, only to circle 
around and alight again just out of reach of my gun. 
Dan Parmelee, the crack shot of the State at that time, 
came out with two of his friends from Omaha, and slew 
them by the hundreds, until I could get men to shuck my 
corn in order to save it. 
As other game became scarce, the demand became 
greater for chickens in market, and the pot-hunters and 
trappers wiped nearly all of them out of existence. To- 
day they are a rare bird in that locality. 
D. E. Fuller. 
Chickens, Ducks and Geese 
are going to be very plentiful along the line of the Northern Pacific 
thisseason. Make your arrangements to go and get some of them. 
Send Charles 8. Fee, General Passenger Agent, St. Paul, Minn., 4 
cents in stamps for "Natural Game Preserves of the Northwest."— Adv. 
