104 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Feb. 9, 1895. 
we cannot be certain; suffice it to say that soon after 
the incident just described, the dead body of the criminal 
disappeared and the wrens returned to finish their home. 
The box was completely filled with sticks and "rubbish," 
a cosy little bed of feathers being prepared for the five 
little, brown speckled eggs, and later the wren babies. 
The sparrows seemed to profit by their lesson, for the 
wren-box was given a wide berth all the summer by the 
noisy, quarrelsome crew, and the wren family, as the 
story books say, "lived happily ever after." 
™!N.B. — Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in Askelon, but 
it is rumored that the life of the wicked sparrow ended, 
not by remorse or starvation, but at the hands of a per- 
son unknown to the authorities, who discovered the tres- 
passer fast in the wrens' door-wav, climbed up the arbor, 
seized him, and with one vigorous twist dislocated his 
cervical vertebrae. "Sic semper tyrannis!" 
H. L. Graham. 
Pennsylvania . 
THE POST BEEF HERD. 
Not very much is known, and singularly little has been 
written about the tendency in animals, wild and tame, 
to confine themselves to particular localities. The ranch- 
man knows that the horses and cattle, which feed on his 
range, divide themselves up into little bunches, each of 
which selects for itself some special area where they 
spend all their time, rarely moving far from it, except 
when they may be obliged to take journeys to water, or 
at some change of the seasons, when they may move 
from summer to winter range or back again. We a\\ of 
us know how common it is to find in a certain piece of 
woods or in some particular swamp, all through the sea- 
son, an old partridge, which makes its home there, and 
which we feel sure is always the same bird. 
A similar condition of things prevails among our larger 
game animals. White tail deer are greatly attached to 
particular localities, and when undisturbed confine their 
wauderings within very narrow limits. If to-day an old 
white tail buck is run with dogs, he may make a long 
chase and cover a wide stretch of country, but to-mor- 
row he will probably be found in his old home again. In 
the same way antelope, mule deer, mountain sheep, and 
white goats show their attachment for localities, and 
unless persistently disturbed wander but little. 
In domestic stock, such as horses and cattle, this at- 
tachment to locality is so strongly marked that it is a 
very common thing for animals that have been driven to 
a range hundreds of miles distant from that on which 
they have been accustomed to feed, to travel back to 
their old haunts as soon as they are turned loose. We 
have known cases where one-third of a large bunch of 
horses, driven to a new range four or five hundred miles 
away, were, a year later, gathered again on thfir old 
home range. 
During many years experience with big game we have 
often had similar facts thrust on our attention, but the 
attachment that wild animals feel for particular localities 
and the slight disposition that they have to wander is re- 
markably well shown in the story given below, which we 
recently heard from the lips of Captain G. W. H. Stouch, 
Third Infantry, a veteran soldier of nearly thirty years 
experience on the plains. Nothing could better exemplify 
the buffalo's attachment to locality, and its natural in- 
ertia, than this story which is given as nearly as possible 
in Captain Stouch's own language. 
In the fall of 1866 I was directed to proceed with Com- 
pany C. to re-establish old Fort Fletcher on the north 
fork of Big Creek, sixteen miles below the present Fort 
Hays, Kansas, when on Oct. 16 we marched down to the 
site chosen, and went into camp, I noticed half a mile 
above us on the creek bottom a considerable herd of 
buffalo feeding; there were, perhaps, eight or nine hun- 
dred of them. As soon as I saw them it occurred to me 
that I would leave them undisturbed, and that so long as 
they remained there they might furnish us a supply of 
beef at very little cost of time or trouble. I therefore 
ordered the men not to hunt up the creek, or to disturb 
these buffalos in any way, instructing them to do all 
their hunting down the stream. 
In order to put my idea in practice at once. I detailed 
one of the soldiers as hunter and butcher for the com- 
pany, and told him to go up the creek and kill a buffalo, 
but not to show himself either before or after firing the 
shot— merely to kill a fat cow and then to remain under 
cover until I joined him with a wagon. He did so. At 
the report of the rifle the buffalo fired at ran a few steps, 
and then lay down, while those nearest to it made a few 
jumps, looked around, saw no one, and then went on 
feeding. From the camp we were watching the result of 
the shot, and as soon as fired I went with a wagon to 
bring in the meat. As the wagon approached the car- 
cass, the nearest buffalo moved out of the way without 
showing any special fear, and the wagon returned to 
camp with its load. This was repeated daily, the buffalo 
never being frightened either by the shot or the wagon, 
and seeming to become more tame as time went on, often 
approaching within a few hundred yards of where we 
were at work erecting the buildings. 
About Nov. 1 Troop E., Seventh Cavalry (under Lieu- 
tenant Wheelan, Second Cavalry) arrived to re-enforce 
the post, and about Nov. 19 Company B., Thirty-seventh 
Infantry (under Lieutenant Phelps), also arrived. I ex- 
plained my plan of operation to these officers, and re- 
quested them to detail hunters from their companies, and 
to order their men to hunt down the creek and not to dis- 
turb what I had come to regard as the post beef herd. 
They did so. and the herd still remained with us. 
One morning in Feb., '67, a sergeant whom I had sent 
the day before with a small detail to make a scout, 
rapped at my door, and reported his return. Among 
other things, he said: "Lieutenant, I met our buffalo 
herd traveling up the creek about fifteen miles from 
here. They were moving slowly, just feeding along. " 
I determined to see if they could not be brought back, 
and taking twenty-five men (accompanied by Lieutenant 
Cooke, Third Infantry, Adjutant Assistant-Surgeon Fisk, 
and Mr. Hale, the post trader) rode up the creek and en- 
tered the valley above the herd. Then forming a skirm- 
ish line across the bottom, we very slowly advanced to- 
ward the buffalo. When they first noticed us the leaders 
seemed uncertain what to do, but as they had been ac- 
customed to seeing large pirtiess of us, instead of run- 
nings as I feared they might, they at length turned about 
and began slowly to work backward in the direction 
from which they had come. By nightfall the herd was 
on its old feeding ground, and there we left it. and there 
it remained until spring, and would no doubt have re- 
mained longer, but unluckily the Seventh Cavalry, under 
General Custer, rode in upon it as they came down the 
creek to the post for supplies after their unsuccessful 
chase after the Cheyennes, who had run away from Gen- 
eral Hancock. General Custer detailed two troops with 
orders to secure meat for the command. After chasing 
it, and killing forty-four head, the herd was scattered 
and never returned. The herd supplied the post (con- 
sisting of about 800 officers and men) with fresh beef 
from Oct. 16, 1866, until about April 20, 1867. 
Water Prevents Freezing. 
Editor Forest and Stream : I have observed that 
domestic fowls and small domestic animals, usually kept 
in enclosures and under roofs, frequently suffer from 
frost bitten toes, ears, etc. , while the wild game survives 
unscathed cold and stormy periods which would be 
injury or death to confined' animals and birds. I have 
noticed also that ruffed grouse, wild turkeys, quail and 
deer are generally found near the streams in extremely 
cold weather and not far up the sides or on top of the 
hills, as they often are in moderate weather. This is 
the case with all game with which I am familiar. A 
mountaineer friend, who has noted this circumstance 
and always uses the knowledge to his advantage when 
hunting, attributes it to the instinct of the game, and 
he believes that the water "draws" the frost away from 
anything near it, and gives this as the reason why 
grouse never have frozen feet while poultry kept away 
from any considerable amount of water often suffer. It 
is said that ' ' care will kill a cat, ' ' and no doubt pam- 
pered domestic birds are less hardy than their wild 
relatives, but "Pennsylvania Dutch" farmers place tubs 
of water under blossoming trees to prevent them from 
freezing, then why not in the hen coop? I believe the 
wild birds practice this plan of roosting near the water 
for protection in extremely cold weather and would like 
to hear what some other Forest and Stream woodsmen 
know about it. 
Greensbubg, Pa. Deacon. 
A Frozen Wildcat. 
Town Creek, Ala. — Jake Bear, painter and lockmaster 
of lock No. 5, witnessed a novel sight on Dec. 29. 
While tricyling over the railroad on the tow-path be- 
tween locks five and six he discovered a large wildcat 
with one foot on the north rail, standing motionless. 
Jake came to a sudden halt, but as the cat did not move, 
he advanced to investigate. He found the cat benumbed 
with cold, with its feet frozen hard and fast to the rail. 
As the entire body of the animal was bedecked with ice, 
and frost it is evident that it had swam across the canal, 
either to elude pursuers or in search of food, had climbed 
out on the tow-path tn survey its surrouudings, and 
been overcome by the cold. 
At any rate, it was frozen to the rail when discovered 
by Jake Bear, and with life almost extinct. Jake prompt- 
ly dispatched the cat with a club, and turned it over to 
Mr. Reuben Patterson, the taxidermist, who has pre- 
served it in form and features. The facts, as stated 
above, will be verified by Major McFarland, chief of the 
department, at Muscle Shoals. 
J. H. Wallace, Jr. 
Eemora and Shark. 
I have followed with great interest Mr. Alfred C. 
Harmsworth's articles on Florida fishing. There is a 
sentence in the last paragraph of the third article that 
should be revised. It reads: "Attached to him were a 
number of those little flat-headed fish which are said to 
follow the sharks in all parts of the world, and are known 
as pilot fish." The little flat-headed fish referred to are 
no pilot fish but remoras. I have seen sharks swim- 
ming in the clear waters of the Mexican Gulf, with one 
or more of these parasites attached to their backs. To all 
appearances they allow the sharks to do the foraging 
while they get their share of the spoils without any ex- 
ertion on their part. Their upper jaw is somewhat cor- 
rugated, and they maintain their hold through suction. 
Ivanhoe. 
[The remora was described and illustrated in our issue 
of Nov. 25, 1893.] 
White Wild Turkeys- 
While in Amelia County, Virginia, on a deer hunt a 
few days ago, I was invited to the hospitable home of 
Mr. Wickliff Jackson, where I found a gang of eleven 
pure wild turkeys. They were raised from wild turkey 
eggs found in the woods. They are so gentle that they 
will eat from the childrens' hands; but are taught to go 
in a pen for most of their food. 
W. G. D. 
Nov. 6, 1894. 
Tough Old Ganders. 
It may be of interest to some of the readers of your 
valuable paper to know of the old age to which geese 
live. This subject came to my notice last fall while 
spending a few days with friends at a gunning-stand at 
Lakeville. 
"You see that old gander out there on the point of the 
beach," said an old veteran in the party. "Well, that 
chap I've gunned over for thirty years, and I know the 
man what owned him for ten years previous to my own- 
ing him." 
This seemed incredible to me, but later a gentleman 
told me that he had a gander that he knew was seventy 
years old, and how much more he could not say, as the 
old fellow had been wounded from a flock of wild geese. 
The most remarkable part of it is, that Old Ephriam, as 
the gander is called, was father to six handsome goslings 
last spring. On looking into the matter I find that it is a 
very common occurrence for geese to live to the ages of 
from fifty on to ninety years. I should like to hear from 
others regarding the ages of geese. 
R, Clement , Stevens. 
\ntt\t JJtfij m\d ($un. 
A WINTER DAY WITH GROUSE. 
Grouse hunting near the heart of what is to be "Greater 
Pittsburgh. 
When the gay holiday season had once more come, 
bringing its accustomed pleasures to all, aud, in addition 
a week's vacation to the writer, my annual longing for 
the free, Bohemian life on the farm came also. Yielding 
to this desire, I decided to spend tlie days of my vacation 
in once more shooting over the rugged hills of my 
"Old Homestead." 
On Dec. 26 I hurriedly gathered up my hunting para- 
phernalia, borrowed my neighbor's Gordon setter dog 
"Dan," hurried down the street to make the 8.15 train 
east, glad with the joyous anticipations of a week's hunt. 
While the train rumbled along over the rails, I noticed 
the wind had veered around from the south to the east, 
and a fine dust-like snow was beginning to fall. 
It snowed uninterruptedly until the next afternoon, by 
which time it had dropped fully fifteen inches of the 
fleecy whiteness over the brown earth. The wind 
then veered to the north, when it grew bitterly cold, 
registering somewhere near twelve degrees below zero. 
Friday, in spite of the protests of my friends, who de- 
clared we would be frozen, my brother Dave and I de- 
termined to drive eight miles back into the country to 
the home of my childhood, in quest of the wiliest of all 
American game birds — the ruffed grouse. 
As the roads were unbroken, and the drifts up over the 
fences, we decided to drive those eight weary miles in a 
buggy. 
It was a weary ride, indeed, but I comforted myself by 
recalling to mind the many happy years I had spent in 
quest of this the gamest of all game birds; I recalled the 
only time I had ever seen this stately bird unrestrained in 
its native haunts, when, as a barefoot boy with cheek of 
tan, I had driven the cows to a pasture near a forest. 
While I was resting in the angle of a worm fence I 
peeped between the mossy rails and saw a splendid pair 
of grouse emerge from a patch of briars followed by 
their ten lively children almost full grown. 
They had evidently just fared sumptuously upon the 
ripe blackberries that hung in great clusters on the 
bushes from which they had just come; and were in a 
jolly good humor. They would make a ludicrous at- 
tempt at fighting, ruffle up the tufts of feathers on their 
necks. One would rush away eagerly pursued by all the 
others. The mother gave a few" peculiar clucks, when 
the whole brood started up the hill as on a dress par- 
ade, a step or two, then their magnificent tails would 
unfold like my lady's fan, the bronze tufts on their 
necks swell out like a blower pigeon's. The.y took a few 
more steps, uttered a few short notes, and then another 
grand panorama of plumage. Oh, what a magnificent 
bird the male seems as he instinctively stretches up his 
bronzed neck to scent any possible danger! Did more 
grace, beauty, or strength ever walk in feathers, as he 
stands up so bright, so keen, and so alert, but Jack, the 
"chum clog," is on my track, and comes tearing through 
the dry stubble the old patriarch scents danger. There 
is a beating of wings, like tne rush of mighty winds, and 
the whole colony is off and my opportunity to learn the 
domestic secrets of the American cuffed grouse is at an 
end. 
By nine o'clock Saturday morning eager and expect- 
ant, we started across the fields to Leslie's Thicket, a fair I 
jungle of thorns, crab apples, hazel bushes, and briars. 
Bierhorst, my neighbor, of whom I had borrowed Dan 
repeatedly told me: "I never knew Dan to flush a pheas- 
ant." My personal experience with the grouse of Penn- 
sylvania had led me to consider him an exceedingly coy 
bird, but Dan worked so slowly and cautiously that I had 
no reason to doubt my friend's word. We had not yet 
entered the thicket until Dan was on the alert, and 
showed signs of great excitement. He crept along J 
through the deep snow for fully sixty feet, and finally 
came to a stand about forty feet from a fallen white oak. | 
When I had so located myself so as to get a good shot no 
difference how they flew Dave threw in a stick and seven 
as fine specimens of the noble ruffed grouse as ever 
gladdened the heart of a hunter came up with a rush and 1 
a roar, and shot down the long ravine straight away . 
from me. I pulled both barrels on the fast vanishing ] 
birds; but neither shell exploded. 
Only those who have experienced similar disasters can 
comprehend my chagrin and disappointment, when on 1 
examining my gun I found both plungers frozen fast. I ' 
coursed and marked down the last of the vanishing 
birds. I decided he had found cover on a high ridge .| 
about 500 yards ahead. Dan looked both disgusted and ! 
discouraged. 
In a small clump of thorns and wild cherries nearer ] 
than I had thought, Dan again began to show signs of : 
excitement. He slowly and stealthily crept through the 
snow finally making a staunch point in front of a large 
Stump partially covered with briars and fallen brush. I t 
had melted out my gun by striking matches, snapped it a 
number of times to be sure the plungers would work 
freely. I could see the tracks of the bird leading into the 
cover. 
This was the critical moment. Dave threw in an ex- 
ploded shell that failed to bring the bird up, then a club 
was tossed in that brought it up with a rush and a roar, '] 
and it plunged to my left toward a ravine. I cut loose | 
with my right barrel loaded with No. 6 shot, scoring a 
clean miss; letting my trusty left barrel go loaded with i 
No. 4s, I noticed the bird sort of squat as he passed out of 
sight around the bend in the ravine. "He's hit," shout- 
ed Dave, as he plowed through the snow in the direction I 
it had flown. About one hundred yards down the ravine I 
we located him in a tree top, and with some difficulty we 
caught him. I assure the reader it was with feelings of | 
shame that I noticed the poor bird's wing Avas badly i 
wounded. 
We retraced our steps, hunted out the same thicket ' 
thoroughly, hoping to raise the others; but our efforts 
were unavailing. 
We orossed the ravine into the clear woods, where my | 
brother flushed a bird about seventy-five yards to my left. 
He had a single barrel, muzzle loading gun that had a 
reputation for long distance shooting. Dave excused Iris i] 
neglect to shoot, on the ground that his gun was no good, 
and again: "I_ani only along with you for company," 
I 
