244 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tMABCH 27, 1897. 
there trapping, to say nothing of the good hunting we found. 
In the earlier days it was also a favorite resort of panthers 
and hears. It got its name from the comparative ahundance 
of panthers, and I used to hear a great many yarns ahout 
encounters with these ferocious creatures along the banks of 
classic Panther Creek; hut I think it was John "Wright's ex- 
perience with a panther nut there that finally gave the name 
to the stream that still ahides with it, and probahly will even 
until the end of time. He, with his brother in-law, Green 
bury CoiHn, were out on a hunt in that vicinity, and were 
strolling along through the tall grass and underbrush, when 
they suddenly came unon a very large fhe panther, which at 
once showed fight They were both brave men, fully accus- 
tomed to such dangers, and they at once appreciated the fact 
that their only hope was in boldness and caution. They 
were too close upon her when discovered to retreat, and they 
had to face the music or do worse. Wright in particular 
was a most fearless hunter, and delighted in close communion 
-with tierce, wild animals — the closer and 'fiercer the better. 
He threw up his rifle, drew a bead on her eye and sent a 
bullet through her brain, and turning to Coffin, who had ad 
monished him to "be careful," remarked: "I am always 
sure of my aim when I have to be." And I guess that John 
was about right, for he certainly was a remarkably cool and 
brave hunter. 
Speaking of panthers reminds me of a little incident that 
occurred later on, after I had got out of knee breeches and 
felt big enough to go home with the girls. Uncle Billy Pitt 
and old Queen, his pointer bitch, had treed a panther over 
on the east side of the river, not far from our place, but the 
panther had unfortunately escaped and was terrorizing the 
whole neighborhood, killing calves, sheep, etc. Now it so 
happened that my best girl lived just a mile east of the river, 
and I had been bracing up pretty strong of late and seeing 
her home from church every Sunday night. There was 
undue hilarity and a provoking amount of winking and 
giggling among the other boys and girls after this panther 
story got a good start, and even mother and sisters smiled 
quietly, for it seemed to be the prevalent opinion that the 
panther business would in the end abbreviate a certain 
courting affair, and possibly break off entirely certain Sun- 
day night promenades through the woods east of Adel. I 
myself had seriously considered the subject— had even laid 
awake of nights contemplating certain probabilities and pos 
sibilities. But I couldn't stand the nagging of my well- 
meaning friends, nor the snickers of my envious rivals; for 
I had claimed to be brave, and besides. Puss was the pretti- 
est girl m the whole settlement, and there were plenty of 
boys readv 1o take advantage of any weakness on my part 
or discomfiture that fate might have in store for me. 
Sunday night came, and with it church and Pussy. I 
was there, 1 had made up my mind to go home with Puss 
that night if it took the hair off. Puss too was brave, like 
all frontier girls, and gratifyingly willing, and I thought I 
observed a twinkle in her eye as we passed out of the door, 
when she saucily threw her head back and surveyed the ob 
serving throng. It was as if to say to them, "My fellow is 
all right and don't you forget it;" and I felt — or tried to feel 
— correspondingly brave and manly. And so we started on 
our jaunt with lights steps and brave hearts. At l- ast I am 
quite sure that Pussy's heart was brave. It was a long tramp, 
and we didn't get to her home until li o'clock. I wanted 
to kiss her awfully bad that night, and felt that I was en- 
titled to a kiss for my bravery; but someway T couldn't 
pucker up the courage to ask her. Honestly, I believe the 
dear little creature would not have objected that night if 
my bravery had manifested itself in the proper way. 
Without the coveted kiss I bade her good night, turned 
away into the dark and struck out for home, whistling along 
(possibly to keep my courage up), with eyes and ears wide 
open and every nerve in its proper place and ready for duty. 
I hadn't gone far before I heard something pattering along 
in the brush near the trail, and my bravery seemed to be ooz- 
ing out at the ends of my hair. I stopped and listened. It 
stopped. Then I walked faster, stopped suddenly and lis- 
tened. It took a few steps after I stopped and then it again 
stopped. I heard it very plainly and saw, or imagined that 
1 saw, two halls of fire peering at me from the adjacent 
brush. To say that 1 was scared is expressing it very 
modestly. 1 stooped down and picked up a couple of good- 
sized stones and proceeded on my way in fear and trembling. 
At last I came to 'Coon Hill, where, as I felt sure, the tragedy 
would be enacted, if at all. 
The uiffht was one of those proverbially dark nights when 
one "couldn't see their hand before them," and the intense 
darkness and stillness impressed me as being just the proper 
thing for such bloody work. Lord! but I was scared. If I 
could have got out of that scrape then with a whole hide I 
would have been willing to take a solemn oath that I would 
never go home with Pussy again, even if the boys and girls 
tied tin cans to my coat tail. But I wa? in for it and had to 
see it through whether I wanted to or not. I had nearly 
reached the bottom of the hill when I thought that 1 dis- 
covered a very dark spot in the middle of the road right m 
front of me. It hadn't been raining and I could not recall 
any wet spots on the hill, and I was in something of a 
quandary. I hesitated. I involuntarily stooped down and 
mechanically put out my hand — and put it right on to 
something warm and hairy. I had always been regarded as 
a pretty spry lad, and on this occasion my agility found 
ample opportunity to display itself. I leaped into the air, 
kicked with both feet simultaneously, fired both rocks at 
once and let a yell out of me that would have put an Apache 
to shame. Away went the other member of the conference 
howling with fright and pain, for my kicks had been well 
if not wisely placed and my other ammunition had not been 
expended in vain. Then 1 discovered that the object of my 
dread and unwarranted abuse was only a lost hound that had 
evidently been sizing me up and finally concluded to come 
out in the road and make a friend of me— only another ex- 
ample of the distressing consequences that too often result 
from misplaced confidence. 
As I have stated. Panther Creek was the outlet of Pilot 
Lake, a prairie lake of considerable size in the northwest cor- 
ner of the county. And some of my fondest recollections 
cluster about that lake. From a slight eminence near our 
ouse we could see away off to the northwest the top of a 
lonely tree. I had been told by hunters and trappers that it 
was the top of a large, solitary elm that grew on a small 
island out in the center of Pilot Lake, and after 1 had come 
into possession of the No. 14 muzzleloading shotgun men- 
tioned in a preceding chapter I used to sit for hours on the 
hill and gaze wistfully at the top of that tree and wish that I 
was there. 
One pleasant autumn day father and I took the wagon and 
went over on Miller's branch after a load of wood. The elms, 
cottonwoods, oaks and maples were shedding their leaves, 
the f quirrels were gathering their crops of nuts, the Indian 
summer's sun smiled pleasantly down upon us, and all the 
sweet things in nature seemed to be conspiring to promote 
peace on earth and good will toward men, boys in particular. 
Even the sad leaves and yellow grass 
"yyhisper'd of peace, and truth, a.nd friendliness unquell'd." 
"So you want to go to Pilot Lake, do you?" said father, 
interrogatively. 
"Yes, sir," I responded with spirit. I felt like saying 
"You bet, ' but I knew full well that such an expression 
would not be calculated to improve ray chances. 
"Well," said father, "we will hurry things up a little and 
go next week." 
I was very happy, and during the followinar week worked 
with a spirit that T had seldom manifested before. 
Knowing, as I did in a degree, the wants and necessities of 
a camp on the prairi&s, I had everything in readiness when 
the auspicious day arrived. A covered wagon, a spanking 
span of bays, father's rifle, my shotgun, necessary ammuni- 
tion, a few cooking utensils, some kindling wood and pro- 
visions, and two hopeful sportsmen constituted the outfit. 
Father was a nervous, pushing sort of a man, and when the 
wagon was comparatively empty he always drove on the 
dead run. I recall distinctly our departure from home on 
this occasinn. I was sitting in the bottom of the wagon on 
some hay holding the guns, father was standing up in the 
front leaning far out pushing on the lines and putting the 
bud to the spnited horses, and the outfit fairly flew across 
the country, as if trying to escape from a wild prairie fire. 
We had but about twenty miles to drive to reach the lake, 
and we reached our destination quite early in the afternoon. 
As we drove up on the ridee that overlooked the lake a large 
eagle dropped out of the elm thai grew on the little island out 
in the lake and slowly sailed away, creating much uneasiness 
among the water fowl in his line of flight. And talk ahout 
water fowl ! 
That was thirty -five years ago next November. I have 
hunted more or less ever since then all through the Northern 
and Northwestern Slates, but never since have I seen gath- 
ered together at one time and place so many or such great 
variety of water fowl. There were white cranes, swans, 
sandhill cranes, pflicans, brant, geese and ducks_ of every 
variety, and in such vast numbers as would seem incredible 
to the youDger generation of sportsmen. After unhitching 
the horses and tying them at the feedbos behind the wagon, 
father fired a shot to start the game. Prior to this the air 
had fairly quivered with the movements of the restless birds, 
but now, as the shot rang out over the lake, there came a 
roar as of a mighty storm, and the sky was fairly darkened 
with their numbers. 
As an evidence of their vast numbers, standing there in 
plain sight and in the broad light of day we killed quite a 
number before the flocks had passed out of range, armed as 
we were with muzzleloaders. I remember that father at one 
shot with his rifle brought down two white cranes, while I 
got three snow geese with a right and left. Then we went 
down by the lake and hid in the tall grass and shot until 
night shut down, and we had about all we could carry to the 
wagon. Of course, we did not use decoys. At that time I 
had never hpard of such a thing as a decoy, and I doubt 
whether father had. That night as we lay under the wagon 
we talked of the prospects, which seemed bright indeed, and 
father seemed to enjoy the trip as much as I did. 
Some time in the night father awoke me and I started up, 
chilled to the very bone. The wind had whipped around 
into the northwest and a November blizzard was upon us. 
For the balance of the night we walked to keep from freez- 
ing. The air was alive with birds going and coming, and 
their varied calls were incessant and confusing. Peep of 
day revealed a frozen lake surface, and the birds had in a 
measure vanished, having doubtless pufled out for warmer 
climes. It was awfully cold and disagreeable, and I was 
about as anxious to go home as I had b'^en to come. And so 
ended my first trip *o Pilot Lake; but I shall never, while I 
live, forget the sight that met our gaze when we first looked 
down upon the placid waters of this lonely prairie lake. 
S. H. Greekb. 
PoKTLAND, Oregon. 
INTERCOMMUNCATION OF ANIMALS. 
Latona, Wash. — Editor Forest and Stream: Mr. Ernest 
Selon Thompson has made some very interesting comments 
and drawn some very reasonable conclusions in regard to 
wolves, and as a hunter of them I wish to say he has described 
what every still-hunter has observed, not only among wolves, 
but among all of the lower tribes. 
AH animals, birds, bugs and fishes do, without doubt, have 
means of communicating intelligence not only to their own 
kind, but to others as well. Of that there can be no doubt 
in a hunter's mind. 
All of the senses are undoubtedly used, hut sight, smell and 
hearing are the principal ones. 
Moose, deer, antelope, ducks, geese and many other spe- 
cies locate each other by a call, alarm their fellows by a call 
or a motion, have a war cry, another when in pain, and 
another when they are in trouble and need help. 
This fact calls into being the birch bark horn for a moose 
call and makes it possible to make and sell duck calls, which 
a great many men use to make a noise with, not knowing 
that this httle instrument will give the alarm note as well as 
the "good -feeding" note. Therefore, duck hunters, listen 
and learn to distinguish this peaceful note from all others, 
and then be sure you can imitate it, tone, inflection and all, 
if you would make the call of pradical use 
We all know how a bunch of Bob Whites scatter when 
flushed and we all know that they get together again soon if 
not disturbed. That is intercommunication. We also 
know that if one robin finds a good feeding ground he 
begins to whistle in a way that is not a simple song of glad- 
ness and that soon there are two robins, then a dozen there. 
That is another phase of the same thing. 
Let a bluejay or a crow find an owl in some dark nook. 
Immediately there is a hue and cry raised by this one bird, 
and in a very few minutes there are numbers of his fellows 
on the wing, hurrying to get there in time to help fight that 
owl. The cry is plainly a battle call, and every bird that 
hears it knows there is going to be a fight just as soon as 
the numbers warrant it. That is intercommunication and 
with a vengeance. 
Yet let the bluejay or the carow discover anything that 
means danger, as plainly as the sight of a man with a gun, 
for instance. Again the screams and racket as he hurries 
away and everyone of his fellows likewise places distance 
behind him without stopping to question the cause of the 
alarm calls. He knows from the sound that whatever his 
friend sees is cfangerous to him and a good thing to get 
away from. So does the squin-el among the leaves hunting 
hazielnuts, and he scurries up a gnarled oak and peeps 
down, silent until he knows the danger is past. A.11 other 
birds hear the same a^arm and skip into darkening thickets, 
where they are better hid. A rabbit, out for an early nip of 
vegetation, hears the call and nips no more, but pops into a 
convenient brush heap for cover. The bluejay has told 
them all to hide. , . 
Now let the hunter stop and remain perfectly quiet, mak- 
ing neither sound nor alarming motion. Soon the squirrel 
slips down, and begins his work of hunting and "cacheing" 
nuts again. One by one birds begin to hunt their food and 
twitter softly to each other, the bluejay slips back among the 
branches, talking to himself, and fairly puffed up with curi- 
osity and importance. 
These are only a few instances of the intercommunieation 
that everyone who goes into the woods and observes his sur- 
roundings knows without doubt takes place daily. 
Of course, different species have their own way of getting 
at these results, but they all communicate more or less with 
their own kind and with others; and wolves have become 
v.ry proficient, because they must be so or die by the hand of 
man. El CoMAfiCHO. 
THE ANTELOPE IN MONTANA. 
Fort AssiKABOiNE, Mont., Feb 17. — Editor Forest ixnd 
Stream: From a recent conversation with James Paiotti, 
the game warden for this (Choteau) county, I gathered a few 
facts which may be useful to you in your work on the dis- 
tribution of antelope. He is, of course, familiar with the 
distribution of game in this county, butf is also well informed 
as to its abundance throughout the State generally. He 
informs me thai antelope can be found at the following 
points during the entire year, besides which a good many — 
according to the severity of the weather— move in from 
Canada every fall : 
Rocky Springs, near the Canada line — Many small herds. 
Sweetgrass Hills — Large numbers of antelope. 
Antelope Springs, ^oulh of Bear Paw Mountains, near 
Cow Creek— 150 to 200 head. 
Landusky P. 0 , south of Little Rockies — Plentiful. 
Sage Creek, twenty-five miles from Havre, west — Several 
small bunches. 
Milk River, twenty-five miles from Havre, west— Several 
small bunches. 
North of Chinook, about twenty miles — A number of 
small bunches. 
Old- man-on-his-back Butte, thirty-eight miles northeast — 
Large hands. 
Old Benton and McLeod trail — Scattered bunches any- 
where. 
Augusta, on South Fork of Sun River— Scattered bands. 
Poplar Agency, Fort P. ck Reservation— Fairly plenty. 
Southeast of old Fort Claggett, on Missouri— Plenty. 
Musselshell county— Plenty. 
Between the Musselshell and Billiogs- Plenty. 
Antelope Hill, nea- Blackfoot, Deer Lodge county— A few. 
This is west of the Rockies. 
Lower Yellowstone — Scattered bunches. 
North of Hjivre thirty miles, on Willow and Battle creeks 
—Plenty. 
North of Glasgow — Scattered bunches. 
Mr. Parotti has been in this country as hunter and guide for 
nearly twenty years. He t^Us me that the fearful winter of 
1893, when the thermometer registered 61° below in this post, 
killed off four-fifths of the antelope— that they starved to 
death by thousands on account of the deep snow. He found, 
after that winter, what he estimated were 900 carcasses where 
the antelope bad drifted into a deep ravine and evidently had 
no strength to get out. Before that time antelope were plenty 
through here, but that winter killed nearly all off. While 
they were shot by theusands, the number so destroyed was 
only an insignificant fraction of the total. He tells me that 
these antelope, like those which drifted in this winter, prob- 
ably came from the Red Deer River country, 350 miles to 
the north of here. He has hunted in that country, and re- 
ports antelope there in immense bands, the country unsettled, 
and few to molest the game. He believes that a large major- 
ity of the antelope now in Montana during the winters drift 
in from across the Canadian line. Edwarb L. Munson. 
NORTH CAROLINA BIRD NOTES. 
I AM spending the month of March in the suburbs of 
Asheville, N. C, a fact of no consequence whatever, except 
so far as it gives me an opportunity to speak about the birds 
I have seen here. 
During the last week in February the weather was very 
cold and windy. Ice formed every night and once snow 
fell. On the 27th an immense flight of robins appeared and 
large numbers were shot. We at the INorth feed them on 
cherries, strawberries, etc., for our Southern brethren to 
shoot and feast on. There are thousands of robins now all 
along the banks of the Swannanoa River, which flows 
throuah Biltmore, George W. Vanderbilt's vast estate of 
100,000 acres. They are on their journey northward. 
Yesterday I saw a flock of crow blackbirds (purple 
grackles), and to-day a flock of redwing blackbirds, going 
north. 
On Sunday the cackle of a flicker ijmyerj Tme-y&r!) 
sounded from the tall trees somewhere near the house, and 
while trying to get my eye on him I noticed a pair of yellow- 
bellied sapsuckers. A common bird here is the little white 
breasted nuthatch, which runs up and down the trunks of 
trees in close proximity to the house, apparently fearless of 
human beings It is found in company with the lively little 
chickadee, whose saucy investigations are pushed to the ut- 
most limits of familiarity. Two species of the chickadee 
are found here. Farm atneapillus and P caroUnensis, the 
latter being smaller, but not otherwise differing noticeably 
except in its call notes. 
In my rambles in the neighborhood I have observed such 
birds, common to the North, as the crow, bluejay, blue- 
bird, junco or snow bird, American goldfinch or yellowbird, 
cardinal grosbeak, chippy, song sparrow and field sparrow, 
whose hquid notes are so inimitable. But by far the most 
interesting bird to me is the tufted titmouse, an active little 
blue-gray, 6in. rascal, who is afraid of nobody, and spends 
one-half his time by day in seeRing food and the other half 
in telling you so in Latin from the highest^tree tops. At 
