Feb. 23, 1895. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
147 
poor and unfit for food. Those in the best condition are 
picked out, and the rest are permitted to go to waste. 
When the ducks first come there is very little open 
water, and the shooters have every advantage over the 
ducks, and as the bluebills and other ducks, at that sea- 
son of the year, are possessed of an insane desire to get 
alongside of anything in the water, be it made of wood, 
tin, or rubber, that has the slightest resemblance to a 
duck, great bags are made. It is otherwise with the 
canvas-backs. By the time they arrive there is plenty of 
open water; they are more wary and not so eager to 
decoy; and, as a result, fewer birds are secured, albeit 
theyare at this time of the year the best ducks we have. 
This does not suit the game hog, and, as a rule, the can- 
vas-back escapes fairly well. F. C. G. 
Fort Qu'Appeixe, Assa., 1ST. W. T. 
AN ANGLER'S SNAKE NOTES. 
I have knocked around fishing and camping for a good 
many years, mostly in West Virginia, and have hardly 
ever started on one of my trips without some one cau- 
tioning me about snakes. From my experience with 
snakes, I don't think the camper has anything to fear 
from them, as I have never' known of: one. of any species 
getting into our tent, and I have seen but very few in 
the vicinity of our camps. Once when contemplating a 
trip to the Gauly Mountains and River in West Virginia, 
I was strongly advised not to go into that country, as it 
was alive with rattlesnake". One friend told me that 
when he was engaged in running a line, for the C. & O. 
R. R. through these mountains, he had found rattlers so 
thick that you could smell them all the time. I was not 
deterred, however, and spent ten days hunting in these 
mountains, and rambling along the banks of the river 
without seeing one snake of any kind. I told our guide, 
Andy, that I would give him fifty cents if he would 
show me a live rattler, and the way he worked to earn it 
was astonishing, but without success, He poked around 
among laurel tliiekets, and the loose bowlders in sunny 
spots, hunting assiduously in places I would not have 
gone into for anything, and I am not afraid of snakes. 
In 'all my tramps through seven of the wildest counties 
of West Virginia I never saw a live rattlesnake, and not 
more than half a dozen that had been killed. 
The only live wild rattler I ever did see was in Massa- 
chusetts when a boy. I was driving from West Newton 
to Northboro, and got out to ease the horse up a steep 
hill. Seeing some tiger lilies growing in the woods near 
the road, I went in to gather them, when a strange buz- 
zing sound greeted my ears, and an enormous snake 
moved near my feet. I was much frightened, but did 
not know the danger I was in. The ladies in the car- 
riage screamed for me to get in, and bade me drive to a 
farm house near by. From there the alarm was given, 
and a party of men hunted the snake, which they soon 
found, and killed. 
A rattlesnake got into a house where I was staying one 
summer on the south branch of the Potomac "in West 
Virginia. The lady of the house went into the room 
where her children slept, to quiet one of them who was 
crying, and who told her mother there was a rat in the 
room. She called her husband to bring a light, and dis- 
covered a large rattlesnake coiled in one of the corners. 
It was killed, and an investigation showed that it must 
have come in through a knot-hole in one of the floor 
boards, there being no cellar under the house. 
J have run across a great many copperheads and black 
snakes (and, of course, water snakes, but they don't 
count), and from what I know of the copperheads I 
should think it much more dangerous than the rattle- 
snake, for it gives no warning of its presence, will not 
ran away from you, and its bite is very venomous. One 
day as I left the shore of a river to fish, I picked up a 
small tin box, by running my fingers through the slats 
and deposited it in the boat. Arrived at the fishing 
grounds I picked the box up in the same way, and put it 
overboard; as soon as it touched the water a copperhead 
of about fifteen inches came out of it, and swam toward 
the boat, and was killed with an oar. Why it did not 
strike my hand is a mystery to me, and can only be ac- 
counted for by the fact that it was either numbed by the 
cold, or had not room enough inside the box to coil. 
One day while gathering peaches in an orchard in West 
Virginia, I was accompanied by a barefoot urchin four 
years old. A particularly luscious peach was knocked 
down, and as I watched it fall I saw a movement in the 
grass, just as the boy jumped to grab the peach. I 
grabbed him, drew him back, and carefully looking saw 
an enormous copperhead coiled alongside the peach. 
That was a narrow escape for that boy. 
The greatest number of snakes I ever saw on any trig 
was during a canoe run of one hundred and ten "miles 
down the Eik River, West Virginia. Water snakes 
abounded, and blackheads and copperheads were numer- 
ous along the shores. Our guide shot a large copperhead 
through the. tail, and captured it. He tied it with some 
leatlu r woodbar k to a bush near the tent to show it to 
us when we returned from fishing in the afternoon. It 
was terribly angry and savage, striking at us viciously, 
springing as far as its tether would permit. It was an 
ugly customer, and we dispatched it at once. 
Almost every guide and farmer you meet in West Vir- 
ginia has some marvelous snake stories to relate, but 
from my own observations I think many of the fearful 
encounters and miraculous escapes from death from 
snake-bites which they tell of are either in ventions of 
their own brains, or are exaggerations which they have 
told so often that they believe them to be true them- 
selves. Se\eral years ago on the shore of Lake Roland, 
near this city, there was a very large water snake, which 
had his den in some big rocks. He was very shy, and 
would hide himself immediately on the approach of any 
one, as many had tried to kill him. I was out one morn- 
ing at daylight fishing for black bass, and noticed some- 
thing strange looking waving to and fro at the water's 
edge, quite near these rocks. My curiosity was enough 
excited for me to leave my fishing to investigate. When 
within a few feet of the object I made it out to be the 
tail of a good sized catfish, flapping slowly backward and 
forward. I got a long stout pole, and brought it down 
with all my force, where I thought it would do the most 
good, supposing it was a snapping turtle that had the 
fish. But to my surprise I found it was that big snake, 
which had tried to make his breakfast of the catfish, and 
had swallowed it down to its fins. I hauled the snake 
out on the brink, and released the fish, which on being 
pat back into the lake swam feebly away. 
Edward A. Robinson. 
SOME PENNSYLVANIA MAMMALS. 
In Part III. of the Proceedings of the Academy of 
Natural Sciences of Philadelphia for 1894, Mr. Samuel M. 
Rhoads has an interesting paper, entitled "Notes on the 
Mammals of Monroe and Pike Counties, Pennsylvania." 
These two counties are sparsely inhabited, and some 
large mammals still exist there. "Much of the region is 
elevated, lying from 1,000 to 1,500 feet above the sea 
level. The land is barren and stony, and has long since 
been denuded of its original forests of oak, pine and 
hemlock, which have been replaced in large measure by 
scrub-oaks and underbrush. The fauna and flora com- 
bine features of the Alleghanian, Canadian, and Caro- 
linian regions. 
Mr. Rhoads states that in spite of the immense range 
and the sparsely populated condition of the country, deer 
are becoming very scarce. Mr. Eilenberger, an old 
hunter, attributes this to continual destruction by resi- 
dents at all seasons of the year, and to the forest fires, 
which often destroy newly-born fawns. This gentleman 
believes that a close season of three years and a law to 
prevent the export of deer for sale, would quickly and 
permanently restock the Pocomo wilderness with deer. 
Mr. Rhoads expresses the opinion that the wapiti or elk 
was probably never so numerous in Pike and Monroe 
counties as in the Central Allegheny Mountains, but they 
were found here in some numbers, and the last capture 
in Pike County wa,s not later than 1840 or 1845. 
It will be remembered that remains of the bison and 
caribou Avere found in Hartman's Cave near Stroudsburg, 
and were described and figured by Dr. Joseph Leidy in 
the Pennsylvania Geological Report for 1887. 
Old residents of this region agree in the belief that the 
beaver was exterminated in Northwestern Pennsylvania 
nearly fifty years ago, but their dams and meadows are 
still pointed out at various points along the Bush Kill and 
Dingman's Creek. 
The black rat, though exterminf.ted in most parts of 
Pennsylvania by its stronger relative, the Norway rat, 
still holds undisputed possession of the barn and out- 
houses of the more remote districts. 
The Canada porcupine is almost, if not quite, extermi- 
nated on the Pocomo Plateau, and has not been seen by 
local hunters for several years. 
Mr. Eilenberger assures Mr. Rhoads that a panther has 
not been killed in Pike County for thirty years, notwith- 
standing the frequent hair raising accounts of destruc- 
tion by this animal which come from that locality. As 
this is the apparent starting-place of the bear and pan- 
ther stories which occupy so large a portion of the Sun- 
day Sun, Mr. Eilenberger's statement has a decided local 
interest. The wolf is reported to have been extinct in 
this region for forty years. The bear still exists, but the 
killing of an individual is a rare and remarkable event. 
The mink is still abundant, but the martin has been ex- 
tinct for many years and nothing appears to be known 
by the inhabitants of the fisher. On the other hand, the 
otter is still moderately abundant, as are also the skunk 
and the raccoon. 
» Mr. Rhoad's paper mentions forty-five species, and is 
one of unusual, interest. 
SOME ONE PLEASE TELL. 
I am very fond of both rod and gun, and devote as 
much time as I can spare to the streams and woods in 
my immediate vicinity, but both fish and game are scarce. 
1 am not much of a hunter and earn all I get. I have 
kept a little diary of my different outings the past season, 
and find that I was out 29 times after fish, the total catch 
amounting to 266 trout, 79 pickerel, and 1 bass. In hunt- 
ing I have been out 21 times, and in all got 7 partridges, 
2 grey squirrels, and 1 mink. The results must seem very 
small to many of your readers, but I take more pleasure 
in bringing home two dozen fair sized trout than if I got 
a hundred, and in hunting, when I can successfully still- 
hunt a partridge, getting him sitting, running or flying, I 
take more pleasure than if I shot a dozen over a dog. 
I have been trying to follow in the footsteps of brother 
sportsmen by fishing with rod and reel in place of the 18- 
foot pole that I have used from a boy up to within the 
past two years, but have very often seen my neighbors 
pulling them in while I was trying with light tackle to 
keep a pickerel out of the weeds and finally losing him. 
I have also wasted a good deal of powder and shot on fly- 
ing partridges; and so far have only been able to get one 
on the wing, but have hopes of better success some day 
when I get the hang of it. Last year I did not get a sin- 
gle duck, although several flocks hatched and were raised 
here; but they were nearly all shot before open season, in 
fact a farmer told me that on Aug. 1 he saw two men 
who had been shooting on the river and bagged 20 young 
ducks. I could not get sufficient evidence to make a 
case, but I intend to see that there is very little illegal 
shooting next season. 
I am tempted to tell you of my first experience with 
rod and reel. It was two years ago when I got a nice lit- 
tle 8-ounce rod, some Natchaug silk fine with a fine reel, 
and in a little canoe only large enough for one I tried the 
river one afternoon. 
The wind was blowing quite fresh, but after getting 
about two miles up the river, finding I could not cast 
from the canoe I landed and tried from the bank. 
At first cast I swung the hook behind me so as to throw 
well out in the river, but the hook did not come back 
worth a cent. I thought I must have too much fine out, 
so reeled up a bit and tried again, this time I succeeded 
in sending the bait about two feet from the bank among 
the weeds. The hook caught there, and in pulling it off 
it came back with a spring and succeeded in winding the 
line about fourteen times around the pole. I got this dis- 
entangled, and tried again, giving myself a little more 
line but somehow the wind caught it and wound theTine 
again around the pole. I got it straightened out once 
more, and thought it would be better to cast with the 
wind. This time I landed the bait about ten feet out on 
the water, and then tried to skip it along for pickerel. 
There seemed to be too much spring in the rod, as the 
bait would jump a foot or so above the water; and at the 
next try, in place of jumping I would find the line wound 
around the end of the pole. About that time I began to 
think that 1 would remain a "yanker fish-hog," or any of 
the numerous names found in Forest and Stream, to 
designate those who fish for fish; still I had invested 
about fifteen dollars in a lay out and hated to throw it 
away. 
I fooled with it for some time but did not get a bite. 5*31 
I wanted awfully to feel the limber rod bend, the reel- 
sing, and all the other pleasures that we read about. I 
wanted, in fact, to get any kind of a fish on that hook so 
I would know how it would feel with so light a rod. I 
therefore dug up a couple of worms, and knowing that 
bull-pouts were plenty I determined to catch one of 
them. 
I cast in bravely, after a little felt a bite, and remem- 
bering what I had read in Forest and Stream I gave him 
some line, say a couple of yards. Waiting till I thought 
he would be well cooled, I gave a quick gentle pull to 
plant the hook, but found that there was either too much 
line out, or he had come up near the bank to see what 
kind of fisherman I was. Anyway I did not seem to pull 
anything but slack line. Forgetting about the reel, and 
seeing the pole was not long enough to raise the hook 
from the water, I moved down the bank a few feet and 
tried again. This time the rod bent, and I felt I had 
hooked him. I had so much line out that I could not 
handle him, and just then I thought of the reel, but feel- 
ing a gentle tug I thought I would leave the line out, as 
he might want it when he made his "mad rush," when 
he "churned the waters, put on speed," etc., but he didn't 
seem to be built that way. 
I then walked back from the bank a bit, so as to prick 
him up a bit and start him off on his "mad career," 
thinking that when he started I could run down toward 
the bank as fast as he could swim, and thus give him 
sufficient line to prevent his breaking away. 
I felt he was still on, but nary a rush did he make. 
I was doing some pretty hard thinking about the advo- 
cates of rod and reel, and concluded I would wind up 
sufficient line so that I could at least bring him to the 
surface and see what he looked like, even if then he broke 
away, as it was in my mind that I had to play him about 
fifteen or twenty minutes, drown him, and then pull him 
up the bank, as I had no landing net. 
^1 therefore reeled up, getting the line into a snag on the 
reel; but after getting sufficient wound up I stepped back 
and prepared to run again when he started. I pulled up, 
he was still on, I worked him around to what I thought 
was a good position, and cautiously looked over, afraid he 
might see me and break away, my heart beating quite 
rapidly; in fact, I seemed quite excited, but imagine my 
disgust when I found a shiner 3 1-2 inches long that I had 
been working over for about ten minutes. 
However,' it was a beginning, I thought there still 
might be some hope. As the wind was blowing hard I 
determined to go up the river to the woods, get into some 
quiet bay and taking the shiner for bait try the pickerel 
again. Getting into the canoe I soon struck some good 
grounds and tried a cast, but not being able to stand up 
in the canoe, and the wind blowing it around as soon as I 
let go the paddle, my line wound around the pole, I got 
all tangled up and had to go ashore to get it untangled. 
While at work at this I managed to step on the shiner 
and spoiled my bait. 
I had a good pork rind in my pocket, and made up my 
mind I would get so far back into the woods that the 
wind would not bother me before I cast again. I soon 
reached another place that I knew always yielded fish, 
and swinging the bait behind me prepared to make a 
good cast. I was not in luck. As the bait swung up the 
wind did catch it, and by the time the pole got back its 
swing the hook had caught in a branch over my head. I 
got out, climbed a small tree, cut off an inch limb with a 
small pocket-knife, recovered my hook and went further 
up. 
It was then about 6 P. M., the wind was going down, 
and I soon struck a small bay that was perfectly calm. 
I made up my mind that I would here make a last effort. 
I paddled noiselessly up, going very slowly, and making 
hardly a ripple, as I wanted the canoe to stop in a pertain 
spot, and having no anchor or anything to hitch to I did 
not want to make a noise stopping the canoe as I was 
afraid I could not cast far enough if I disturbed the fish. 
I finally reached there, took up my pole, shook the line 
out, and instead of swinging it behind me I swung it 
sideways, and cast back the other side of me. The bait 
seemed to barely touch the water about 12 or 15 feet 
away, when there was a splash, a very perceptible, in 
fact forcible yank, and the line started toward me, mak- 
ing straight for under the boat. I was between the fish 
and deep water. I thought he must be a big one, and 
would certainly prove the virtue of the tackle. 
This all occurred in the space of about three seconds. 
The splash so unexpected surprised me and caused me to 
make an involuntary start which made the canoe rock. 
The fish was going under and would surely break the rod 
unless I could get it around the canoe before he com- 
menced to pull it under, and in endeavoring to do this I 
upset the canoe. At the same instant, just as I was dip- 
ping under the water I noticed a big ' muskrat make a 
plunge about where my pickerel should have been. He 
seemed to scare the pickerel, as although I clung to the 
rod, there was a great pull, and the reel did sing, you 
bet. I let her sing as I had other business on hand. I 
was in about four feet of water, and steadily sinking in 
the soft mud. I wanted to play that fish, secure my pad- 
dle which was floating near, shove the canoe to the bank, 
put my watch into my upper vest pocket to get it out of 
the wet, and to get into more shallow water where I 
could work better, and wanted to do it all at once. I 
saw I could not accomplish it all, so I just put up the 
watch and turned to the reel, noticing that it was run- 
ning out very fast. The fish seemed to be near the sur- 
face, as he left a ripple, but was already in deep water 
and making for the other shore, while I had only 75 yards 
of line on, and knew I had to check him at once or he 
would break away with all the line, and possibly might 
