306 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
April 20, 1895. 
THE SILENT ENERGY OF TREES. 
One does not realize when in the forest in early sum- 
mer, that all around there is a silent, ceaseless mysterious 
force at work, greater in its aggregate hydraulic power 
than any engine ever constructed by man. It is the 
mechanical circulation of the life element of the tree, 
one of the marvelous things of nature. 
This life giving substance, this silent force, is largely 
water, and contains in solution the elements needed for 
the nourishment of the tree. It is gathered by the roots 
that reach out in all directions, like the arms of a giant 
cuttle-fish, and thence taken up the tree through the 
cells, or veins, throughout the tree, even to the tips of 
the tiny twigs, and thence enters the leaves. 
The outer woody portion of the tree, or that which lies 
next to the bark, is commonly known as sap wood, 
and varies in thickness in trees of different species, as 
well as in trees of the same species, age and size. It is in- 
fluenced in its growth by location, soil, exposure and 
other physical conditions. In trees of considerable size 
the sap wood is often not more than one inch m thick- 
ness, while in trees of small size, it may be seen several 
inches thick. The porous and yielding character of sap 
wood and its cellular structure, afford a convenient 
medium for the passage of the sap, or life element, for dis- 
tribution throughout the tree. 
The leaves are wonderfully constructed, and perform 
singular duty.* They are the catch basin and escape 
valves of the [circulating element. In the back of the 
leaf are numerous breathing organs, or lungs, which 
partly absorb the circulating element gathered by the 
roots and also assist in|throwing off the moisture. 
When the life element, which the roots have gathered, 
reaches the leaves, a process takes place which separates 
by chemical^action most of the water, and throws off the 
surpluses vapor into the air. 
There is, however, enough water retained to act as a 
circulating element, a portion returning to the roots, 
during; which time the digesting process goes on in its 
assimilation with the food substance. The number of 
lungs in a single leaf'seeni almost incredible. As many 
as 160,000 have been ascertained to occupy one square 
inch of surface. 
Dr. Parker says that "an evaporation from the leaves 
of a single tree would be equal to two and a half gallons 
daily." Another has estimated that it would equal two 
hundred and twelve inches of rain fall, or one foot of 
water from a surface equal to fifteen fpet square. 
For evidence of the wonderful working power of tree 
sap, strike an axe into a young and thrifty tree of decid- 
uous species during May or June. Upon withdrawing 
the axe,' a stream 'will trickle down like blood from the 
newly made gash of an animal. If girdled at such time 
the cells or arteries having become severed, the treejsvill 
soon begin[toJwither and then die. 
A striking instance of the silent energy of trees came 
to my noticelmany years ago, while exploring the then 
vast f orest^wilderness of the upper peninsula of Michigan. 
One. day'^during the early part of May, with two Indian 
packers," or carriers, we had reached the divide that sep- 
arates the waters of Lakes Superior and Michigan. Fires 
a few years before had denuded most of the original 
forest growth, and for. miles we traveled over sandy 
plains, in places partly! covered with a growth of jack 
pine. The sun's rays seemed scorchingly hot. We 
suffered much from thirst, for not a drop of water could 
we find. About sunset I noticed in the distance a clump 
of heavy timber, and pushing forward to reach it before 
dark, found it to consist mostly of sugar maple and red 
birch. This timbered spot was in a depression of the 
surrounding surface, and covered an area of two or three 
hundred acres. I instructed the Indians to; quickly un- 
sling their packs and hasten in search of water before 
darkness set in. They hurried off in opposite directions, 
while I prepared to camp. The eyening had grown quite 
cool, and I looked around to find suitable wood for fuel 
during- the night. Often whenfeamping I had used the 
red birch, and found tnat it burned freely while green, 
and gave cheerful flame -without crackling sparks, like 
some other kinds of wood, but burned down into quiet, 
glowing coals, which lasted through the long nights. 
Finding a young'and thrifty birch near where I had 
made camp, I took an axe and struck a vigorous blow 
into the tree. e T JJpon withdrawing the axe, I was; as- 
tonished to see a stream of sap gush forth and,trickle 
down upon the leaves at the roots of the tree. I then cut 
a V shaped groove around a portion of the tree, hollowed 
out a piece of wood for a spout, struck a deep blow into 
the tree at the base of the groove and^drove the spout 
into it. Quickly^ unloosening one of the packs, I took 
from it a half-gallon vessel, and placing it under the 
spout, in a few minutes there was^enough cool, delicious 
sap in the vessel to satisfy my longing thirst. When the 
Indians returned — who reported that they had found no 
water — the vessel was^running over with sap, and they 
were not slow in emptyingjit. That evening and the next 
morning, having no water, we made coffee from this sap, 
and it was as fragrant and refreshing as^the Mocha 
sipped in far distant lands. 
Guttard demonstrated the sweating operation of trees, by 
an experiment in which he enclosed the*branch of|a tree 
in a glass tube containing a neck, which was inserted in 
a flask and the whole hermetically sealed to prevent 
evaporation. The moisture oozing from the branch 
gathered in drops upon the sides oftjthe tube,'and trickled 
down into the flask below. After remaining in the flask 
twenty-four horns, when? opened, it was shown upon 
weighing that the fluid exuded from the branch was an 
ounce and three drams, while the branch weighed only 
five drams and a half. 
•feThe physical energy of the sap>f trees has been esti- 
mated as fourteen tirnes'greater than that of the blood in 
man. " 
Hales, while experimenting'in this direction, fitted a 
long tube to the stem of a^young vine, and ascertained 
that the fluid from the vine rose to the height of forty- 
four feet. Scientific experiments along various lines in 
this interesting field havejieen many, and from these we 
are led to believe that forests exert influences that are in 
many ways beneficial toman. _In carrying out the plan 
of creative design, the silent energy of trees no doubt per- 
form an important part of this work. There is much yet 
to learn, for as an eminent scientist has said, there is a 
vastresidium of unexplained phenomena.'' 
Tennessee. H. B. Wet/ell. 
mx[t §ng m\d §ttn. 
Sportsmen's Exposition. 
May 13 to 18. Madison Square Garden, New York.— First annual 
Sportsmen's Exposition. 
ANOTHER TRIP TO CEDAR POINT. 
"Breathes there the man with soul so dead. 
Who never to himself hath said, 
This is my own, my native land." 
And every true and loyal son of old Maryland should 
hold m affectionate remembrance the gentle old bard for 
striking that one golden chord on his "harp of a thousand 
strings." Especially do we, sons of old Kent, as we drive 
down through Maryland^ garden on the eastern shore, 
and note its broad, fertile acres, hemmed in with fine 
orchards of peach and bits of woodland primeval, while 
the old colonial mansions crown the numerous risers and 
creeks that belt her around like some sylvan queen of 
old. It is a land of milk and honey, and though the 
ducats may be scarce, her horn of plenty is never empty. 
To the sportsman-epicure it is Elysium, for here.when he 
drops the canvas back or red head (wild celery fattened) 
the chances are that the bird will strike the water 
directly over a diamond back terrapin, which in turn will 
be over or in sierht of an oyster as large as a saddle rock. 
Humor, wit and hospitality are the traits of her sons (and 
though the writer is a non-resident of twenty years) he, 
like every one else, finds the latch string on the outside. 
The club is composed of gentlemen of the county who, 
during the season, take every advantage of its fine 
shooting of ducks, geese and swan. What red-letter 
days of our lives are those spent at the old club 
house, nestling beneath the giant cedar tree, out on the 
point, with the broad waters of the Chester River all 
around us, and of the Chesapeake only a mile or so back 
of the house. There a man is only as old as he feels, and 
the abandon of youth is common to all. 
On reaching the club house with my kind host Wm, 
S. Walker, Esq.. as true a sportsman "in every sense of 
the word as ever| glanced down a gun barrel, we find 
several jolly "members already there, including Mr. H., 
of Washington, and Walton, with the swan-like voice. 
We stow our traps away for the next five days, amid a 
chorus of welcomes, and set about preparing luncheon. 
It being about Thanksgiving time, out come the fresh 
spare-ribs and hominy. "Hog and hominy!" do I hear 
some one slightingly remark. Go slow, brother. Pos- 
sibly your acquaintance with the hidden gustatory secrets 
of the ^Southern frying pan is as slight as the aforesaid 
pig's was of Greek. When the club's chef, Mr. Walker, 
grasps his old shot bag fender and brings the hissing skil- 
let to view, if his critical eye pronounces the rich brown 
of the meat, "just right," its dollars to cents you would 
have eaten the whole spare rib, just as I did. 
Slinging shell bags over shoulders, we are followed by 
Toler, one of the best duck dogs that ever plunged into 
water, and make for the landing to take the batteau on 
our, way out to the island. This island, off shore about a 
quarter of a mile, is a hundred yards long by twenty 
wide, with a blind at each end. Here the club shoots on 
the days they forbid shooting in the creek blinds, which 
are on the other side of the point. Reaching the island, 
we put out nearly a hundred or so decoys, and take posi- 
tions in the blind ready for them. Presently we see in 
the distance a dark line just skimming the water on their 
way up the river in our direction. How you rivet your 
eyes on them, until it seems as if your fascinated gaze 
must in some way or other help them to see the decoj's. 
This bunch of ledheads do see them anyway, whether 
hypnotized or 'not, and as they come off abreast of us 
they make that fsudden and graceful sweep in, still in 
flock formation, to join their new found friends. What 
a pretty picture it is, and where is the man to whom it 
will ever grow old, as he sees them set their wings and 
sail in to the decoys, until within a few yards of the outer 
ones, when they ttirow their whole body up against the 
wind, and with necks outstretched to balance their drop- 
ping feetfaL it were, slowly settle down to light. Just as 
tnose two feet are beginning to drop is the time to see 
that your gun sight is bearing exactly between them, and 
if so, pull the trigger — which we do. As the smoke rolls 
off, five or six nice fat ducks float in the water before 
you, and what a pleasing sensation fills you as you note 
the particular one you remember having "had it on" 
float off on bis back, kicking his paddles in the air to 
show he requires no shooting over. Toler brings them 
in, and we place them on their breasts to let the meat 
drop, the only way to lay down a freshly killed duck. 
This is a good beginning we think, so out come our pipes 
as additional consolation, and Mr. Walker resumes his 
man-of-war tread in his end of .the blind to ward off 
cold feet. 
Here come three "buckets," as the coot is known and 
termed in these waters, and with their cootish charac- 
teristics they decoy up nicely, as you think, only to try 
and dart across the decoys, but we are on to them, and as 
they make us a nice left driving shot, the shells explode 
the exact instant the guns find a straight line between 
the tip end of their wings and their bills, resulting in Tol- 
er having three more jobs on hand. 'Tis thus the 
pleasant hours pass away, until taking up time comes, 
when we pay the^piper well for our fun, as the taking up 
of a hundred decoys with ice making on your hands as 
you wind the strings around them, is no joke on the fel- 
low doing it. 
Supper over we settle down to solid comfort beside the 
roaring wood fire, and joke and story follow in quick suc- 
cession — one on my excellent host is too good to let pass. 
His reputation as a shot is Becond to none. A former 
factotum of the club, known as Sammy George, now 
gathered to his fathers, possessed a droll humor: "I was 
crawling down on a flock of forty black ducks the other 
day," he used to say, "and when I was within two gun- 
shots of them the old drake stucfc his heaa up and took 
a look. 'Mr. Walker!' he said, and went /on feeding 
Then an old hen stuck her hrad up. 'Mr. Walker!' she 
said, and went on feeding. Still another " r. Walker!' 
and another 'Mr. Walker!' and they all wen an quietly 
feeding. Presently I gob within gunshot of them and 
blazed away, killing half the flock. Lordy, how they got 
out of that, saying 'Another gunner! Another gunner! 
Another gunner!' " 
The following day was a creek shooting one, and the 
dawn found us in the muddy blind. An oystering pungy 
had anchored in the north of the creek over night, and 
we were afraid it would interfere with ducks coming in 
the creek. But no. "Mark! around Cedar Point," and 
the ball is opened by a fine flock of bay blackheads swing- 
ing in the creek. It is a large bunch, and we know that 
in consequence they will be chary in tolling. Spying our 
decoys, they draw in, and we think everything fine, and 
they are our meat; until suddenly they flirt off about 
seventy yards out. "Here goes, anyhow," says Mr. 
Walker, springing up and levelling on them; and as he is 
always "loaded for b'ar," his single B's drop two dead as 
Hector. They didn't think our invitation with 4's was 
urgent enough, and kept on up the creek in the way our 
fathers say an election in Maine went for Gov. Kent. 
"Now gentlemen, in case any single ducks are flying, 
it's turn and turn about, and L., you lead off," says Mr. 
Walker. The sun had just thrown his first glance above 
the horizon, when, looking over towards Hail Point. I 
saw a duck swing into the creek from his flight down 
the river. My low call of "Mark" was instantly fol- 
lowed by that duc-K being able to see nothing about that 
blind, save possibly the crowns of our dead grass colored 
caps, but he did see the redhead decoys as he came 
nearer. How prettily he sweeps in to join them, being 
only eight or ten feet high, and sets his wings to sail in 
for his light, which he does until nearly up to the decoys, 
when he resumes them suddenly and continues his flight 
right over the decoys and on toward us in the blind, rising 
as he comes and describing a half circle as he draws off. 
"By George, he's a big one," I say as I rise in turn for 
my aim. He saw me and made extra efforts to get out 
of it, now that his worst suspicions were confirmed; but 
too late, my boy, I hope, as I feverishly seek his bill over 
my gun barrel, and see him "shoved up" in the air as the 11 
charge of shot hit him, and pretty well ragged up, my 
first canvas back smacks the water 'neatly bagged" as 
my companion said. 
About 10 o'clock the wind swung around to the east, 
and it rapidly grew overcast, beginning to rain in a short i 
time. My companions left for the house, only a hundred j 
yards or so distant, for their oil skins, leaving me on 1 
guard. And now happened one of those incidents regard- j 
ing the peculiarities of ducks that are paradoxical. We ! 
all knew the extreme shyness of wild ducks, their sus- j 
picion, and how at times it seems that they can almost I 
hear you think. Well, my companions evidently found j 
the clubhouse attractive, for they were in no hurry J 
about returning. At length I became cramped from sit- I 
ting in one position in the boat, which the rising tide had j 
caused us to haul up into the blind, and stood up in it to ] 
restore my circulation with my back to the decoys, the J 
whole of my body showing above the blind. As nothing j 
had been flying, I relaxed my vigilance and stood up, j 
looking towards the house for my companions. Pres- ] 
ently I heard them coming through the path of rushes, j 
and as the head man came in sight I saw him stop sud- i 
denly, and burst out laughing, exclaiming "Will, you are 1 
a dandy duck-shooter, just look at the blackhead I ll 
scared up right out of the middle of your decoys." Yes, J 
it was a bad one on me, that duck had actually decoyed 1 
and lit in the midst of them, and my whole body was in ] 
plain view. I can only account for it by the cardinal ] 
rule of ducking — keep still, wbicb I happened to do. The { 
rain set in heavily and spoiled the shooting for the rest of 
the day. 
The first gray streaks of dawn the next day found us i 
out on the island, and the inner blind contained Walter 
and myself. We had out, besides forty or fifty decoys, i 
three swan ones also off on Walter's right, I sitting on his 
left. The morning gave no signs of promise, as the sun i 
rose on a gentle southerly breeze, which caused all the 
fine ducks to remain bedded off in Sandy Hollow, and 
nothing flew but a few trash ducks, such as sou'-souther- 
lies and buckets, several of which we caused to miss ap- 
pointments elsewhere they seemed in a hurry to keep. We 
had just lighted our pipes and -were sitting quietly enjoy- 
ing them, when W. suddenly touched me on the knee and 
whippered "don't move, don't turn your head, keep quiet 
as death, here come three swan right in to the decoys." 
"All right," I said, "let them draw in well, and save me 
the head swan." "Yes, I'll do it, but see that you kill 
him." In spite of his injunction my head slowly gets 
around somehow and there, sure enough, were the three 
grand birds, coming right on to us only a hundred yards 
off and twenty high. What in the world has suddenly 
got the matter with my heart? does the old thing want 
to crack a rib, or jump out of my mouth, which! i 
Steadily they bear down on us, and are so close W. thinks 
it best not to call. When they nearly reach the decoys, 
their quick eyes undeceive them, and tbey veer off, but 
too late, as they are now within fine gunshot. "Now 
let them have it," cries out W., as the leading bird draws 
out opposite me, and he springs up with old reliable 
aight-guage muzzle-loader in hand. Its boom is followed 
by the middle swan's neck curling up in its tumble, and 
it displaces nearly a hogshead of water as it strikes the 
river, as dead as Adam's grandmother. What became 
of my head bird? Let's draw a cm-tain o'er the seen p. { 
I wasn't after swan, anyhow. Ducks are more my size. 
But there is one thing you can bet your last penny on. [ 
and that is I shot— but where— I have not found out yet! L 
The only satisfaction I got out of that old head swan was j 
seeing Walter touch him up with his second barrel when | 
a hundred yards off so that we thought he would throw 
his tail feathers out of j rint, and we had no doubt that 
some oysterman over on the bay would enjoy roast swan] 
as the result of that shot. The ubiquitous Toler quickly I 
brought us the dead swan, which proved to be in fine ' 
condition, and I would have given my little finger to be i 
able to say "I killed it." 
The morning passed with a few more shots at ducks.! 
trading around, though with indifferent success. During 
the early afternoon, while nothing was flying, 
all assembled in the blind talking of various 1 
when the question arose as to the merits of 
ducks for the table. Mr. Walker remarked 
