OCTT. 17, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
SOS 
could not feel the rod or manage the reel. Not untU the 
day 1 was to take the Thyra at Hueavlk did the storm 
cease, and I rode away under serene sunny skiea, looking 
back with keen regret at the beautiful river, where those 
big fish lay that I didn't catch. 
That evening the fog closed in again, and at 10 o'clock 
the waiting population of the little settlement heard a 
faiiit muffled voice somewhere out at sea. 
"Thyrakommerl" cried an old fisherman seated on the 
beach, and "Thyra kommer!" went from mouth to mouth 
as slowly through the fog loomed a shadowy vessel, to be 
shut from view in another moment by the inrolling 
mists, 
Three hours later we were steaming cautiously to the 
westward en route for Reykjavik by the north and west- 
ern coasts of Iceland. Elizabeth Taylob. 
"Forest and Stream's" Contributors. 
Charlestown, N. H., Oct. 9.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Words fail to express my regret when, as I 
opened my Forest and Stream last night, the first thing 
that met my eyes was the announcement of the death of 
O O. S. I cannot add to your own expressions of the 
charms of his contributions to your columns for many 
years, but to my own mind he was one of the most de- 
lightful of your correspondents, and I always anticipated 
pleasure when I saw his initials at the bottom of a letter. 
How tbe old ranks thin outi "Nessmuk," "Ned Bunt- 
line," "Ufford," "Wells" and now "O. O. S." are gone, 
while "Bourgeois" and others seem to have dropped their 
pens. To be sure, you have plenty of fresh contributors, 
and the dear old paper is as interesting as ever, but I miss 
the old signatures at the foot of the columns. Let me 
add my word to the general expression of delight at the 
letters of my old friend "Fred Mather," if he will allow 
me to call him so, in which 1 recognize much of the same 
quaint fun which used to crop out in our occasional cor- 
respoadence on fishculture in years pist. 
I have had no adventures to chronicle myself this sum- 
mer. Local laws, which I helped to instigate, have closed 
our trout streams for a time, and the leaves are too thick 
in the woods yet for my old eyes to distinguish either a 
ruffed grouse or a gray squirrel, though both are said to 
be plenty, and some of my young friends have brought 
in their game pockets full of the latter game. I have 
confined my rambles t flower hunting, and have just 
thrown away the wilted remains of a glorious bunch of 
fringer gentians, which have opened their blue eyes to 
the sunshine in my window for more than a fortnight, 
I hear good reports through the boys of the young 
trout we planted in our brooks this spring, when I 
secured 10,000 fry from Commissioner Wentworth, and 
hope if I live till the spring of '98 to wet a line in some of 
my old haunts again. 
It is the first sunny morning for sixteen days, and I 
wish you and some of my other "chained to business" 
friends in the city were here to enjoy the glory of the 
hillsides with me. Von W. 
WOODLAND BIRD NOTES.— IV. 
The Migfrants Return. 
"The fern was red on the mountain, 
The cloud was low In the aky. 
And we knew that the year was dying. 
That the wintry time was nigh." 
In musical phrase, the period from January to July is a 
crescendo— that from July to January, a decrescendo. 
In many ways the record of the last six months is the 
same as that of the first six, read backward. Nature 
shows a grand climax and anti-climax as the sun 
annually creeps up from its low southerly circuit to the 
zenith and back again, making the coldness, desolation 
and stillness of January culminate in the warmth and 
the full chorus of birds in June, only to relapse again into 
the frozen and dreary silence of midwinter. It is the 
balmy breath of spring that wafts the migrants from the 
South, the sharp chill of autumn that recalls them from 
the North. The fall transit is in the mood of the season, 
and the volume of life suddenly but faintly swelling and 
disappearing is like the last expiring brightness of the 
candle, except for the few species that are with us in 
winter. In taking a poetical view of the matter the bird 
life of June is at a greater advantage than that of Septem- 
ber or October, the birds being in full song, brilliant in 
plumage and appearing more willing to stay with us 
longer than in the fall, and everything is brisk and cheer- 
ful then too. From a scientific standpoint, however, the 
fall is the best, for though the birds are silent, yet they 
come down in large numbers, they are tamer, and can be 
easier seen than in the spring and in a suitable locality on 
a fine day in the fall, a scientific collector can secure num- 
bers of specimens, whereas in the spring he might not be 
able to secure any. 
During September this year the migrants were very 
slaw in appearing, it being only in the latter part of the 
month they were at all abundant. On the 19fch of the 
month I saw the first return flock of the warbler family, 
consisting of a large flock of magnolia and golden- 
winged warblers. With the returning warblers in the 
fall come the young males and females of the summer 
and on account of their nondescript plumage, which has 
none of the characteristics of their species, they are hard 
to identify and are apt to mix one up. On the 31st the 
migrants became more numerous, appeariug in white- 
throated sparrows, juncos and flocks of migrant thrushes, 
among which were the gray-cheeked, olive-backed Pick- 
nells and hermit thrushes. The 35th, which was some- 
what stormy, brought down the migrants in large num- 
bers. The flocks of warblers were of different varieties, 
consisting of the migrants and the summer warblers 
that were still lingering behind. Among the flocks 
the parula, black-throated blue and the rare Connecticut 
and mourning warblers were the most abundant. With 
the warblers was associated the Canadian or red- 
breasted nuthatch, which appears to be quite abun- 
dant this year, and our tiny, hardy, little winter 
friend, the golden-crowned kinglet. Now too comes 
back our monotonous friend, the brown creeper, who 
with the perseverance of the saints has begun his win= 
tar's work just where b© left off, at the bottom of the 
adder. This bird is generally solitary, and is seldom 
found in the company of other birds unless it is the chick- 
adee or white-bellied nuthatch, but you never find him 
with others of his own kind. There is always an excep- 
tion to a rule, however, and that I found on the 30th, for 
I came across a large flock of creepers in a grove of oak 
trees. There were dozens of them in every tree, and 
with the noise they were making you might judge they 
were enjoying each other's society immensely. 
The bluejays are very abundant this fall, and I have 
never observed them here (New Rochelle) before now. 
So far this fall I have found the female and young war- 
blers abundant, while the brightly plumaged males are 
rare. Evidently they do not travel with their families. 
Birds are short-lived little creatures, they fall like the 
leaves from the trees, but where no one knows, or how 
they die and what of. Science is growing fast, and still 
there is much to learn, and it will be many a day before 
man has come to learn to a fine point the habits and ciis- 
toms of nature's children, and that day is probably far 
down the misty aisles and paths of the future, and then 
perhaps never. Edwin Irvine Haines. 
Nkw Roohklle, N. Y., Oct. 1. 
HORNLESS DEER. 
Editor Forest and Stream'. 
I think I can throw some light on the aubjpct of horn- 
less deer. In Scotland the red deer {Cervus elephas) is 
called as follows: The male is called a stag, the female 
a hind, a barren female a yeld hind, the young a calf, a 
gelded stag a havier; and there is another class of stag — 
rare, but still existing — without horns, though a perfect 
male, which is called a hummel stag. 
I have shot both hummel stags and haviers. 
The haviers are either gelded by accident (by a bullet or 
in fighting) or else are found by the forester when just 
born and gelded by him. These latter are ear-marked 
generally, so as to know how old they are. The idea of 
gelding is to make them better venison. 
A stag never grows any horns if gelded as a calf. If 
gelded when he has horns, the horns remain as they were 
at that time, do not grow any more, and if in velvet at 
the time remain so always. (These fact were told me, not 
from my own observation.) Also, if a stag is gelnled on 
one side only the horn on the opposite side is affected. 
When I shot any stag with a malformed horn, I always 
looked to see if he had been injured on the opposite side 
by an old wound ; but I was never able to verify this from 
actual observation, but T think it is a proved fact. 
The hummel stag is a hornless stag, born so, perfect in 
every other way. I shot a very large one and kept his 
skull for some years, but have now lost it. The pedicels 
for horns were very rudimentary under the hair, just as 
F. T. describes it in your paper of Sept. 13. The foresters 
say these hornless stags drive away horned stags in fight- 
ing, and keep all the best hinds to themselves. In looks 
he was just an ordinary, very fine stag, without horns 
and rather a prominent forehead; I think his skull was 
thicker on top than normal. 
A havier does not look so stag-like, but is more round 
and sleek like a very large yeld hind, is apt to put on fat 
and has no fight in him. As perhaps you are aware, in 
England there are packs of hounds kept for hunting 
"carted deer," that is deer taken out in carts and hunted 
with hounds, and when taken not killed, but kept for 
another hunt; the hounds do not hurt them. 
With the Queen's stag hounds, which run over a coun- 
try with very large fences, which require good jumping 
and resolution in horses, the deer hunted are generally 
haviers; and with Baron Rothschild's hounds, always ha- 
viers, as they are considered to go bolder. But with the 
pack I hunt with, the Surrey stag hounds, we use yeld 
hinds, as haviers are apt to turn crusty and refuse to run, 
and hinds can get over our fences well enough. 
You will pee from the foregoing that in Scotch deer for- 
ests, where the deer are naturally more under observation 
than in a really wild country, hornless male deer are 
known and even have a name. Walter Winans. 
A RATTLESNAKE'S STRANGE END. 
Ft. Meade, S. D., Sept. 26— Editor Forest and Stream: 
Having always been an ardent admirer of your valuable 
paper, I take great pleasure in presenting your snake edi- 
tor with the head of a rattlesnake, the unhappy bearer 
of which committed suicide a week ago at the foot of 
Devil's Tower by drowning himself in the Bslle Fourche 
River. Please note the three-fangedness of the head. I 
have been somewhat puzzled in this matter, as I do not 
know for certain whether all rattlers in that section of 
Wyoming are equipped with an extra fang, though I am 
inclined to believe that nature in its omniscience has 
made such a provision on account of the toughness of the 
natives, whom just a common, every-day, two-fanged 
snake could not possibly undertake to vaccinate success- 
fully. Yet this can hardly be her plan, as even a three- 
fanged strike would hardly be of any great shakes against 
the local precaution of three fingers of S. S. Gr. (Sundance 
Sealed Goods). 
As to the suicide of the creature, I am forced to ask for 
an explanation. The snake, at first sight, coiled up in 
the usual manner for a prime strike, made a vicious lunge 
at my legging, then drew back and closely scrutinized me 
from hat to shoe. Instantly a change of expression came 
over his features, and ferocity gave way to' a look that 
might have been born of disgust and resignation. I 
watched him closely, not knowing what might be his 
next move. He suddenly astonished me by plunging 
headlong into the Belle Fourche. Motionless he sank, 
and lay at full length at the bottom. I continued to 
watch him until the last vestige of his reptilious breath had 
risen to the placid surface in a pearly bubble, and then with 
the aid of a stick I raised him from the water, placed him 
in the sunshine and satisfied myself that life was extinct. 
I had never known or heard of a rattler taking to water, 
and here I was confronted by the plainest case of suicide 
by drowning in broad daylight. I have since then lost 
all faith in snakes. I have adopted and discarded every 
theory that might offer a solution in this case and am 
now uriven to believe that this snake deliberately suicided 
because it had committed the blunder of wasting a well- 
meant three-fanged strike on an United States Cavalry- 
man. Hereafter I shall travel incognito in those parts. 
Wm. Gadldt, Troop K, Eighth Cavaky. 
[The three fangs observable in the head which accom- 
panies our correspoBdent's note are, we think, not unu- 
sual. As the long fangs are very liable to injury, they are 
frequently shed and replaced by others pushed forward 
from the groove in which the partially grown teeth lie. 
There is thus a regular procession of teeth running from 
the minute germs which have not as yet taken the shape 
of teeth up to the long and perfect one in use. This 
method and its order are expla'ned in Miss Hopley's book 
on snakes, and in other works. Often the second fang, 
that is to say, the one behind the most prominent one, 
makes a puncture as well as the large one.] 
Mexican Rattlers. 
San Litis Potosi, Mexico. — Oa a recent trip to a high 
range of hills, bordering on the east the dry mesa in which 
San Luis Potosi is situated, I found and killed two rattle- 
snakes. The hills I have mentioned are often enveloped 
in fog, and their dense green vegetation is in striking 
contrast to the drought-stricken country of the plain. 
The timber is almost entirely oak, and the slopes are cov- 
ered with sward, and in protected corners with high 
weeds. The snakes w^re the darkest in coloring I ever 
saw, almost black. This seems to be out of adaptation 
to their surroundings, the weeds and decaying^ oak 
boughs. 
Did you know a rattler's music box would not perform 
if wet? It stands to reason, as the saying is, but I never 
happened to run up against the fact before. 
I have just read Raniacker's account of the Chinaman 
that did not die. I was surprised to learn from my Mex- 
ican guide that the bite of the rattlesnake was not usually 
considered fatal in the section alluded to. He mentioned 
a man whose arm had decayed and slousjhed off from a 
bite in the finger, but said it was because he had not had 
it treated immediately. I ir quired about the treatment, 
knowing no drugs were to be had and hoping to get on 
track of some interesting plant. But he knew nothing 
except cauterizing with heat. He had not heard of suck- 
ing or ligature, nor even, what is passing strange, of that 
"snake- bite rempdv" which fishermen and hunters so 
generally carry in flat bottles. Could there be any better 
exhibition of pristine simplicity? Aztec. 
The Woodcock's Whistle. 
Maine, Oct. 4. — Editor Forest and Stream: At various 
times during the past few years I have read with much 
interest discussions in Forest and Stream as to how the 
woodcock makes his whistle, that delicious ripple of 
melody so fascinating to the ear of the sportsman who 
hunts this shy and handsome game bird. 
While shooting woodcock recently in company with a 
friend this question was discussed, my friend at once as- 
severating that the whistle was made by the bird's wings 
and not through the bill by aid of the throat, at the same 
time saying to me, "When next you shoot a woodcock 
without injuring his wings and without killing it, simply 
making a body shot sufiiciently hard to bring the bird to 
the ground, call your dog to heel, retrieve the bird your- 
self, hold him by the bill suspended in the air at arm's 
length, and in fluttering to escape from your hand the 
whistle will be made by the bird's wings." 
While shooting a few days later with ^another friend I 
was fortunate enough to make a body shot on a wood- 
cock, which came to the ground with the wings unbroken. 
The dog caught the bird, which had attempted to fly 
after it struck the ground. I took it from the dog's 
mouth, and seeing its wings were unbroken I determined 
to make the test then and there. 
After telling my friend what I was about to do I held 
the bird by its bill at arm's length, and the result was 
that it made the whistle three times, each time by exe- 
cuting a rotary movement of the wings and body while 
fluttering. 
If any sportsman doubts this statement I wish he would 
do as I have done and all doubt will be dispelled from 
his mind as to how this enchanting whistle is produced. 
W. H. Harris. 
Coyotes Catch Cats. 
Shirley Basin, Wyo., Oct. "7.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: For many years I have been a reader of your 
paper and I have never asked you a question, but now I 
want some help. 
I live on a ranch, and we are somewhat troubled by 
field mice and mountain rats, and so we must have cats. 
We have them, but we do not keep them long because 
they are caught by coyotes, Within a few months I have 
lost four cats in this way. The one I have now, how- 
ever, I have had for some time. Why she has escaped 
the enemy I do not know, for she often goes 300 or 
300yds. from the house on her hunting excursions. I fear, 
however, that she will go the way of the others before 
long. How can I protect her? Don't suggest killing off 
the coyotes. I have been trying to do that for, lo, these 
many years, and without success. E. 
Our Audlibon Bird Plates. 
Speaking of birds, the Forest and Stream is showing 
much appreciated enterprise by presenting reproductions 
of Audubon's bird portraits chiefly for the prirpose of 
affording its readers an opportunity for seeing for them- 
selves the pictures of which every one has heard, but 
which few have ever been privileged to see in the original 
because of the extreme rarity and inaccessibility of the 
work. The copies of Audubon now in existence are con- 
fined to a few libraries and fewer individual possessors; 
and when the work falls upon the market, as it does now 
and then, it sells at prices ranging from |3,500 to $3,500. 
The series of pictures are and will be of full-page size, and 
the first reproduction (black ducks) has remarkable artistic 
excellence. The engraving is by photographic process 
direct from the original. — The Easy Chair in Syracuse 
Herald. 
M CHAINED 
Business? ^' 
^^^^mf Can't go Shooting? 
p^^^^l Do the next best thing— 
U^^Pi^W^ Read tSie '~ 
