326 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 27, 1895. 
as I have had opportunity to know, and my camps with 
him were indeed a good school. '^T' 
So, too, with Johnny, no bird or beast couldfutter song 
or shriek that he could not afc once perfectly imitate. He 
has called a quail so perfectly that the cock bird flew and 
alighted between the camp-fire and tent, not six feet apai't, 
and it might have been persuaded to come in and visit us 
had he called again. One call to the owl would rarely 
fail to bring him from the swamp into the tall pine that 
overhung our tent and camp-fire. I have seen him, 
standing bolt upright against a huge pine, in plain sight, 
call a gobbler within ten feet of him. Once, one foggy 
morning, in answer to his turkey call, a wildcat came 
creeping up to him and was not a rod away when he 
must have winded us and made off. 
I was once a few feet nearer the edge of the swamp, 
while Johnny was trying to call an old gobbler away from 
some hens, who were parading with him out on the pine 
ridge, for my friend 0. to kill, when I, bearing a noise in 
the "thick" back of us, I thought it might be a 
deer and prepared to give him a warm reception; but soon 
the noise ceased, and as the gobbler preferred "a bird in 
the hand to two in the bush," and would not leave 
the society he was in, we had to give hira up. On going 
into the edge of the swamp there were the fresh cat tracks 
in the soft mud, showing just where he had changed his 
mind about having turkey for breakfast. 
At another time, Johnny told me, he was standing up 
against a tree calling turkeys, when he saw a man creep- 
ing up on hands and knees to get some poultry. He let 
him wear his trousers about out and then gobbled at him, 
and the way the would-be turkey hunter sneaked off was 
a caution. It beat firing into dewy ducks. Now, when 
a man can call a turkey to kill, and a man and a wildcat 
to kill it, he must be an expert turkey caller. 
This section is as good ground for wild turkeys as any 
as easy accessible in the State. 
The law which forbids killing them after March first 
should be changed by taking a month from the open sea- 
son in the fall, when one shot into a bunch of half-grown 
turkeys will destroy more in number than would satisfy a 
self-rpspecting hunter for a season's work during February 
and March, when they are at their best. The hens rarely 
lay before May first, and if the close season began April 
first it would give the birds ample protection and also 
give the sportsman a better chance to enjoy the next best 
thing to calling a bull moose, which is outwitting an old 
turkey gobbler. 
If any readers of Forest and Stream wish to excel 
the writer's record of a 26|~pound wild turkey gobbler, 
shot some five years ago at this same camp with Johnny as 
guide, they can do no better when the "grippe" begins to 
rage next winter than to come down here and engage his 
services, which are very moderate, and I'll guarantee that 
he will take them to his turkey farm, and give them such 
sport as would satisfy an ordiaary mortal. He is thor- 
oughly competent and to be trusted. T. B. C. 
A METHOD OF VACATION. 
I have nothing new or strange to tell you, but hope 
that some one may find something of interest, more es- 
pecially if they contemplate a trip to the northern woods. 
There roav be said to bo three ways of spending a vaca- 
tion in Maine — a sojourn at a hotel, a stay at a kept 
camp or camping on your own hook. Our objective 
point was the camp known as the King and Bartlett and 
Spencer Stream camps in Somerset county, Maine. We 
left the Quaker City behind us on August 9, and went to 
Boston by way of the Sound steamers, thus getting a good 
night's rest. The next morning we left for Portland, 
which is one hundred and six miles. Here we took the 
1 .06 P. M. train on the Maine Central Road for Farming- 
ton, eighty-one miles, where we arrived at 4 30 P. M.; 
then changed cars for the Sandy River Road, and arrived 
at Phillips at 5.30 P. M., changed locomotives and pushed 
on to Dead River Station on the Phillips and Rangeley 
Railroad, where we arrived at 7 P. M. 
I have gone into the dry time-table details to indicate 
the character of the journey and the time it takes — an 
important consideration with invalids and delicate per- 
sons. It is about thirty -six miles from Farmington to 
Dead River, the end of our railroad journey, thus making 
two hundred and twenty-three miles from Boston. The 
interesting scenery begins after leaving Farmington, as 
the country then becomes mountainous, and the quaint 
one-seat, narrow-gauge railroad cars add to the charm of 
the views from the window. The Phillips and Rangeley 
Railroad is the pathway from the south into quite an ex- 
tensive fishing country in northwestern Maine, and Dead 
River Station and Rangeley, the terminus of the road, a 
short distance beyond, are jioints from which tourists and 
sportsmen proceed to their various destinations. Dead 
River Station consists of the station, and that is all. It 
looks as though it had jusb dropped down into the woods 
from somewhere. 
It was almost dark as we stood on the platform and 
gathered our troops together preparatory to taking the 
stage for Eustis, eighteen miles further. Although the 
10th of August, it was bitter cold, and no thermometer 
was necessary to demonstrate it. Our heavy coats and 
wraps were in the trunks. With the aid of a horse blan- 
ket, the bear-Bkin robes in the stage and a borrowed 
sweater we managed to be fairly comfortable. There is 
no time in the summer when it is safe to visit the Maine 
woods without an abundant supply of warm clothing for 
use at night. Great suffering and even danger to life 
may be averted by remembering this fact. The trouble 
usually occurs at such times when one's baggage, through 
thoughtlessness or carelessness, is not accessible. The 
moon came out full in all its soft beauty, and we enjoyed 
our ride over a fine hard road in the keen cold air. We 
had supper at Green's, a place on the road, and warmed 
up in a comfortable parlor, heated by a good heater fire. 
The change was very great in contrast with the stifling 
heat we had lately left in Philadelphia. Among the 
things on the table for supper was mouritain sheep, after 
October first to be known as venison. 
At 10.15 P. M. we reached the village of Eustis, the bub 
of the Dead River and Rangeley region, where all pro- 
visions and guides are to be had, and where wild deer 
are said to be seen almost any evening from the hotel 
porch. The town was full of people, and the hotels, so- 
called, were full. The proprietor of the Shaw House 
kindly gave us his own room, and we retired, weary but 
happy. The hotel, as usual, was headquarters for the 
gentlemen of the town, and it was an interesting thing 
to go into the office and listen to and look at the motley 
gathering of lumbermen and guides, who doubtless found 
city folk just as amusing. 
Saturday, August 11, at 8.15 A. M.. with two buck- 
boards our party started for camp. The scene was an 
animated one; the single street of the village was full of 
parties and buckboards preparing for their final journey 
to their respective camps. Guides and drivers were hurry- 
ing hither and thither on various errands. A number of 
tourists were taking snap shots at their novel equipages 
and the parties on them, but as our camera was in the 
trunk we did not get any of the interesting pictures. I 
hope the other people's films were all right. 
The sun was shining brightly, and the day was all that 
could be desired for the last section of our journey. They 
told us we had eighteen miles to go, but before we arrived 
it seemed like one hundred and eighteen. There were six 
in our party and it took two buckboards to hold us and 
the impedimenta, The first part of the journey was 
along the Dead River, which we finally forded. The 
land here is level, and buckboard riding not unpleasant. 
The country here had been burnt over some ten or twelve 
years ago by a very destructive forest fire, but was far 
from uninteresting, as the mountains in the distance al- 
ways made a beautiful background to the landscape. 
The gentlemen of the party walked nearly all the dis- 
tance and enjoyed it, as the glorious weather and ever- 
changing scene and objects of interest along the road (I 
use the word with an apology) were an antidote to weari- 
ness. We soon left the river-bottom country and began 
to ascend, and reached a very rugged and wild country 
with surrounding mountains and hills and many lakes, as 
this part of Maine is both mountainous and full of small 
lakes. Blueberries were in the greatest profusion, and 
were very large, and we enjoyed them hugely. We ran 
across a number of coveys of pheasants, which were 
quite tame, and in several instances we watched them 
for quite a time. We passed one place on the way, a 
single cabin known as Camp Jack, where one could re- 
main over night if he wished to divide the journey. 
About one o'clock we arrived at the Deer Pond Camps, 
which are very prettily situated on a lake of that name. 
We took dinner here and a good appetite made up for any 
deficiencies in the food or cooking. 
We had traveled over some exceedingly rough and 
stony road and some corduroy, but the road, most of the 
way from Deer Pond on, was something appalling. This 
so-called road consisted of rocks and boulders ranging in 
size from a baseball to a barrel, and the buckboard riding 
was a series of thumps and bumps for miles; one minute 
up in the air and the next sliding off a rock. Every now 
and then we would strike swamp land from springs, and 
that meant from twenty feet to a quarter of a mile of cor- 
duroy — logs laid lengthwise in a swamp — and the thump- 
ing over this meant a shaking up sufficient to churn butter. 
I think a good name for this road would be Purgatory, 
but the terminus was not Hades, and we never regretted 
having commenced the journey. We soon arrived within 
a short distance of the camp, passing through a beautiful 
patch of green wood, in which we quenched our thirst at 
several limpid and cold springs. Red squirrels were chat- 
tering everywhere, and birds and butterflies were to be 
seen. It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when we 
arrived at King and Bartlett, and thus it will be seen that 
it took us all day to make this journey of fifteen miles. 
This will give you a better idea of the roughness of the 
road than any words of mine. If one is able to walk it is . 
a very enjoyable tramp, but for ladies, who stick to the 
wagon, or for invalids, it is a rough trip, but it can be 
divided by remaining at Deer Pond to rest as long as one 
pleases. A very pleasant way to go into camp is on horse- 
back. It was an agreeable sight to see the cabins stretched 
along the lake front as we emerged from the woods in 
their rear. This was to be our home for a month, and 
we did not know whether it would be home, sweet home 
or the contrary. We were met by the genial proprietor, 
Mr. Harry M. Pierce, who, with his sombrero decorated 
with trout flies, made quite an imposing appearance. 
The buckboards rattled over the stones to the front of the 
three cabins assigned to us. The trunks were dumped off 
and we entered our habitations, The old-fashioned Frank- 
lin stoves were filled with chips and birch logs, ready for 
lighting. Soon the blast of a horn was heard, and the 
echoes rebounded from old King and Bartlett mountain 
back of us, and we were told that the sound meant that 
supper was served. The guests of the camp took their 
meals in a cabin known as the dining room, where we 
found everything served in a way to please any one who 
was not captious. 
This is not a tale of adventure or travel, only a homely 
description of an outing, and as the subject of food in such 
places is one of interest to most people seeking a desir- 
able place, I will give you an idea of an average evening 
in the woods. Broiled lake or brook trout, cold 'lamb, 
delicious hot biscuit, baked and fried potatoes, Boston 
baked beans, coffee, milk, chocolate or tea, various kinds 
of cake, mountain blueberries and pickles, etc. , always on 
the table. After supper we usually adjourned to a cabin 
called The Casino, which was decorated by fine mounted 
specimens of trophies of the chase. Beside the roaring 
log fire the experiences of the day were exchanged, or 
letters written. The day being devoted to tramping, 
hunting and fishing, the evening was also the time for 
social calls, and a knock on a cabin door was always 
answered by a cheery call to come in and take a chair 
next the fire, and a good cigar or a pipe was always at 
one's disposal. There were a number of ladies in the 
camp, and they enjoyed the life fully as much as the men, 
and went boating and fishing frequently, and one lady 
was quite a Diana, and succeeded in killing a deer. 
There were numerous outlying places of interest where 
one could go on trips and remain as long as desired, as at 
most of these places comfortable cabins had been built 
and were supplied with everything necessary for camp- 
ing. All that was necessary was to state how long you 
intended to remain away and what provisions you 
desired, or if you employed a guide he would attend to 
all this for you and carry everything and do all the 
cooking. The objective point was usually some pretty 
lake or a fine trout stream, and would be from a half hour 
to four hourB' walk. It was always safer to ask how long 
it was to such and such a place, as the distance in miles 
never seemed to agree with our own ideas, and the miles 
were quite elastic. The woods are dense, and there is 
little or nothing to be seen in traveling over a blazed trail 
except the natural beauties of the woodland itself. The 
woods are very still, and there is a scarcity of life of all 
kinds, even beetles are seldom seen, and the only sounds 
at this time of year are the tap of an occasional wood- 
pecker, the whir of a covery of pheasants, or the crashing 
made by a startled deer as it goes through the under- 
brush. It was always safest to arrive at camp before 
nightfall, as it is quite easy to step out of a trail after 
dark. One afternoon our jack-lantern was accidentally 
left behind, and we had to make camp where 
we were, but with the aid of a hurriedly constructed 
"lean to" and a good fire we spent a comfortable night, 
but the ground is not as comfortable as a bed to those not 
accustomed to the former The day we started on our 
first trip it was raining, and we wore rubber coats and 
walked briskly over the trail, and soon found that rub- 
ber coats were an abomination. They are so heating and 
prevent evaporation to such an extent, that one is soon 
drenched far more and in a more uncomfortable way 
than any rain could accomplish, and such a coat is only 
of use in riding, or fishing from a boat, where one is not 
compelled to make any exertion. After a tramp of some 
hours through the woods it is exceedingly pleasant to see 
through the trees the silver glimmer of the lake you are 
seeking, and to find the comfortable log-cabin prettily 
situated on its shore. After your arrival you are very 
busy, although the guide, if you have one, does the greater 
part of the work. Wood must be chopped, water dip- 
ped from the spring near by, the fire made, and if the 
party, who has been there last, has p'ayed a mean trick 
on you, it will be necessary to clean up the pots and pans. 
While the guide is frying the trout and potatoes and cut- 
ting up the jerked venison, you will be busily engaged 
jointing your rod and picking out your favorite flies, or 
preparing your trolling hooks for lake trout. Soon the 
coffee is boiling and everything is ready for dinner. 
After eating with an appetite that pure air and exercise 
give, your canoe is shoved into the lake and you are off 
for trout. Later in the day you take a row around the 
lake and enjoy the beauties of the scene, the mountains 
are reflected in the clear water and the setting sun casts 
its effulgent rays over lake and hill. Now is the time 
when the wary deer come to the water to feed, 
and you may probably see several of these graceful 
creatures, sometimes standing statue-like on the 6hore 
gazing at you with their big eyes, 
There are many things to do and so mueh of interest 
that one always feels that only about half the work has 
been accomplished. All the places of interest have not 
been visited, there are more hills to climb, you have neg- 
lected some pretty bit of scenery you intended to visit 
with your camera. It also takes many words to tell what 
little you have done and seen, and even then it cannot be 
adequately described. You return to the city with many 
interesting mementoes of your outing, including some fine 
pictures which serve at ail times to remind you and your 
friends of a delightful outing in the woods, and renewed 
health and vigor teach the real meaning of the word 
recreation. U. S. 
Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadephia. 
Mithiiil T)Vitorth 
MARINE BIRDS OF THE GULF. 
f St, Petersburg, Fla.— After our Christmas dinner we 
took a walk to the seaward end of the long dock. We 
had filled our pockets with hard bread to feed the sea 
gulls, whirh have become our special friends. It was a 
lovely winter day. The sky was a clear deep blue. A 
slight zephyr came from the northeast, tempering the 
rays of the sun down to a degree delightfully cool. The 
water covering the broad sandy beach was a bright yel- 
low, while just beyond, with a well defined line, it was a 
dark greenish blue. A swell, the remnant of a late gale, 
was rolling in from the southwest. Way off twenty 
miles to the eastward we could see dimly the opposite 
shore, looking in the distant, hazy horizon like a long- 
bank of misty clouds. Here and there were the white 
sails of many fishing and treasure boats, while far to 
the southwest rose the smoke of a "tramp" steamboat on 
her way to Port Tampa, the only deep sea port on this in- 
comparably beautiful bay. 
It was a capital day to study the sea birds. We found a 
convenient and easy seat and proceeded to break off small 
pieces of hard bread, which we tossed overboard, where 
a swift ebb tide bore the food out towards the gulf. 
After waiting a while we saw a gull picking up the 
bread. Very soon other gulls joined the first, until we 
had a flock of hungry, greedy, screaming birds. They 
came up so close that we could clearly see their keen 
black eyes. They were extremely graceful and beautiful 
in every phase of their eccentric flights. They did not 
pounce upon a floating crumb without first sailing over 
and around it several times. When they made tne final 
swoop, they lightly dip their web-footed toes in the sea, 
and bending down the head, daintily and deftly pick up 
the bread without touching a feather to the water. They 
nest on isolated sandy keys, and leave the eggs to be 
hutched out by the solar heat. They are about the size 
of a "broiler" spring chicken. It is about twenty inches 
from tip to tip of their spread wings. The body is white, 
the wings are brown, blended into a decided black at the 
tips. The margin of the wing is wtvite. The tail is fan- 
shaped, and serves as a rudder in guiding thorn in their 
eccentric flights. When flying leisurely, tiiey have the 
peeping cry of a tame chicken, but when excited and 
fighting over a school of minnows, tney can scream like 
a small steam whistle. They are— like the Lord's poor— 
ever with us, for go where we may on the great Gulf, we 
always find the gull. On our late trip across the Gulf a 
sailor tied a small piece of salt pork to each end of a Lhort 
line and threw it overboard. A gull swallowed one of 
the pieces of meat, flew away with the string and meat 
dangling in the air. Another gull swallowed the pendant 
pork, and a battle was fought high in the air. Theyj 
screamed and fought with tooth and nail, and getting , 
their wings tangled with the line, they fell to the water, ■ 
where they fought until the pork was torn from the line. ' 
We broke up the rest of the bread and threw it over by 
the handfuls. On they came, screaming and fighting. 
At times two or three gulls seized the same piece of bread, J 
and then they made the water foam in their struggles fori 
the food. The pandemonium attracted the pelicans,- 
which are always on hand when a free lunch is in sight, j 
The pelicans would not eat the bread, but they lit.among^ 
