OCT. 9, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
288 
THE SHOVELLER DUCK. 
{Anas clypeata. Linn.) 
From ^'Audubon's Ornithological Biography." 
The Creoles, of Louisiaua, are well acquainted with this 
species, under the name of Micoine, the etymology of which 
1 am unable to tjpce. In that country it arrives, both from 
the westward ami from the eastern inland districts, along 
with the blue-winged teal, or at the commencement of 
autumn. Tt aspoclates with that species, to which, as well as 
to the green-winged, the mallard, the dusky duck and the 
gadwall, I should consider it very nearly allied, notwith- 
standing the peculiar espanfiou of its bill. The shovellers 
remain in the lower parts of Louisiana during (he whole of 
the winter, and depart, along with the blue-wings, between 
the end of April and the middle of May. There, in early 
spring, they resort chiefly to ponds, where they feed on 
grasses and their feeds, as well as at times a small kind of 
onion, the bulbs of which they pull up from the moist 
grounds on their margins. This may, perhaps, to some feem 
strange, but I have long since made up my mind to learn 
from nature, and believe what is, rather than what philoso- 
phers imagine ou^ht to be. Having fed through the night, 
they collect toward dawn into large bands and betake them- 
selves to the margins of sand bars on the Mississippi, where' 
they spend the greater part of the day. At other times I 
have found them swimming or wading along the muddy 
mirgins of ponds and streams, immersing the bead and part 
of the neck, while alternately moving the bill to either side, 
in the manner of the roseate spoonbill, sifting as it were the 
contents of the soft mud or water, and ejecting the sub- 
stances unfit for food. Repeated inspection of the stomach 
has shown me that the shoveller is not more nice as to the 
quality of its food than the mallard or any other of the duck 
tribe, for I have found in it leeches, small fishes, large 
ground worms and snails. They never, however, I believe, 
feed by semi-itflmersion, like the mallards and teals; nor do 
they dive unless hard pressed, or when in a sportive mood, 
when they will dash for a moment beneath the surface. 
This species is generally considered scarce in the Uuited 
States, and 1 believe it is so, for, although many pass north- 
ward and breed in the fur countries, a greater number spend 
the summer months in the Texas and the districts further west- 
ward. It is, however, abundant on the streams of the 
Rocky Mountains, as well as on the tributaries of the Col- 
umbia River, where it was frequently observed by Dr. 
Townsend during summer. 
We have no ducks in the Uaited States whose plumage is 
more changeable than that of the male of this beautiful 
species. While the female is sitting on her eggs, he under- 
goes a moult, after which he appears mottled, and seems as 
if inclined to assume the garb of his partner. From this 
period, the beginning of Jiily, until late ia November very 
few finely-colored males are to be seen, and only such as 
have not mated that season, in which c^se they do not 
moult until the beginning of winter, as if to be the sooner 
ready to associate with females on the approach of the next 
breeding season. 
la the Carolinas, this species, though, found during winter 
in the rice fields, is not abundant; more than three or four 
being seldom seen together. In our Central and Eastern dis- 
tricts they are rather rare, and a male in full dress is not to 
be obtained without difficulty, although I have seen some in 
the markets of New York and Philadelphia. 
The shoveller walks prettily, and I have often admired its 
movements in the puddles formed by heavy dashes of rain in 
our Southern corn-fields, where I have found it in company 
with the wood duck, the mallard and the pin-tail. Its flight 
resembles that of the blue-winged teal ; and in tenderness as 
well as in flavor, it rivals, as an article of food, that beautiful 
bird. No sportsman who is a judge, will ever pass a shovel- 
ler to shoot a canvasback. It is rarely, however, found on 
salt-water, and that only when compelled to resort thither. 
In the beginning of May, when I was in Texas, I found 
shovellers breeding in considerable numbers. The males bad 
already left the females, and were seen on the sand-bars of 
the Bay of Galveston up to the River 8m Jacinto, but none 
of my party discovered the nest. During the autumn, they 
are to be seen on the waters adjoining the Ohio, and gene- 
rally in ponds in company with the bald pate or American 
widgeon, when they become very fat, and afford delicious 
eating. At this time I have been often much pleased, when 
on perceiving a flock of eight or nine of these ducks, prob- 
ably members of a single family, and cautiously approach- 
ing them while they were busily engaged in searching for 
food, with their heads and necks immersed, I have obtained 
several of them at the first shot, and as the survivors flew off, 
have succeeded in procuring one or two more. On such oc- 
casions, they rise almost perpendicularly to the height of 15 
or 20ft , and then fly off in a direct course in the manner of 
mallards. 
DO SNAKES CARE FOR THEIR YOUNG? 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Our Don-venomous snakes are all oviparous, and I have 
never seen, read or heard of their evincing any care of either 
their young or their eggs. But our venomous §nake8 bring 
forth the young alive. The little ones are often found near 
their mothers, and stories have been told that, on the ap- 
proach of danger, the mother will open her mouth and the 
young will run inside. Naturalists, however, entirely dis- 
credit the story, and in fact the general attitude of all our 
venomous snakes on the approach of danger, is that the dan- 
ger is all to the other party. Their "Monroe Doctrine" 
seems to be neither to seek nor to avoid a fight. And, gen- 
erally, they— like the Guard at Waterloo— even permit the 
other fellow to fire first. That is where they make a mis- 
take. 
But, among the "snakes I've met,'" I have found a single 
instance of a behavior so different that I can only account 
for it on the supposition that the snake was a female with 
young. 
It was in September, 1858, on the emigrant trail along the 
south side of the Platte River, in Nebraska. I was retiu-n- 
ing from Utah with a company of engineer troops, and was 
shooting ducks along the river bank late in the afternoon, 
some distance behind the command. I had suddenly real- 
ized that I must hurry to be able to reach camp before dark, 
when my pony came upon a very large rattlesnake lying 
across our path in the high thick grass. When we were 
within some 13 or 15ft. the snake ran slowly off to the right, 
giving me a good view of it. It was about the largest I had 
ever seen, and I decided to kill it and get its rattles, so I 
watched closely to see where it stopped. The grass 
soon hid it, but the shaking of the high grasses showed it 
still going for such a distance— some 80 to 100ft.— that I 
feared I would not be able to find it, and I hesitated if I 
should lose the time necessary to hunt. But the desire 
to set the rattles prevailed, and I dismounted and 
picketed my pony, and began to prepare my gun 
to kill it. I had a muzzle-loader with the right barrel 
empty. I did not wish to waste shot, and I decided to blow 
its head off with a heavy paper wad, so I put a charge of 
powder in the right barrel, and, re^'ting the butt on the 
ground, began to roll up carefully a heavy wad, using both 
hands. Suddenly I heard the snake begin to rattle, and I 
saw bv the shaking gra»^s that it was coming rapidly back to 
me. Before T could get the wad ready I saw that I did not 
have time to ram it down and cap before it would reach me. 
So I had to droD the wad, and picking up gun in my left 
hand I began to feel for a cap in my right vest pocket. 
By the time I could get the cap the snake was so near that 
I began to motion at it with the gun in my left hand, as if to 
strike it, so as fo make it stop long enough for me to get the 
cap on. This had the desired effect. The snake stopped 
within 6ft. of me It did not coil, but with body contracted 
and head and tail erect its rattle sang as I never heard one 
before or since. I quickly capped, and holding the aun as a 
pistol, bv the small of the stock in my right hand. I slowly 
advanced the muzzle to about a foot from its head and fired 
the blank powder in its face. It did not tear the head, but 
it blinded, and the snake rolled over and writhed and twisted 
in all sorts of mixed contortions. I watched for a chance, 
and with buit of my gun came down on its back, breaking 
the spine. The rest was easy. I was disappointed and sur- 
prised to find only ten rattles and a button. I have seen as 
many on snakes less than two-thirds as large. This would 
indicate that the snake was a female, as females are usually 
larger than malps of the same age. 
It did not occur to me at the time to search in the srass 
for young ones, which I have ever since regretted. Fori 
have always believed that it was the maternal instinct which, 
first, led this snake to go off slowly, to such a distance, to 
lead the intruder away from her yoimg, as the female quail 
will do; and. second, to return to defend them, when she 
saw me stopping right where she had left them, and both the 
goipg off and the coming back are equally and utterly unlike 
a big rattlesnake's normal behavior. Jack Hildkjo. 
GrAytown, JSJicaraugua, 
CHANTICLEER VS. EGRET. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
A few years ago, through the medium of this far-reaching 
paper, it was my lot to call attention to the possibility of 
breeding fur animals for profit. I have heard of quite a 
number of fur farms that have sprung up since, and to some 
extent in consequence of my article. 
I would now like to call attention to another chance for 
small capital and large enterprise. We are all in sympathy 
with the movempnt and endeavors of the Audubon Society. 
The thousands of good folk enrolled as members are doing 
good work, but so far they have not accomyjlished a certain 
object that is of great importance, and one which has re- 
ceived exceptional attention — viz., arresting the extermina- 
tion of the plumed egrets. 
The case is briefly this: Each egret bears a bunch of 
plumes worth more than its weight in gold; there is no dan- 
ger in going after the birds; little capital ia required for the 
expedition, and its character is cuch as to commend it to a 
certain class. The commercial demand for these plumes 
continues, and in my opinion there are but two things that 
can save the birds that bear them : 
First — ^A complete cessation of the demand, which I see 
not the slightest reason for anticipating. 
Second — The discovery of a cheaper substitute. It is well 
known that the discovery that silk would felt saved the 
beavers from extermination this century, and I venture to 
predict that whoever invents a substitute for heron plumes, 
will not only save the birds but will make a fortune. 
Thpre is good reason to believe that those skdled in the 
handling of celluloid have experimented much but fruitlessly 
in the attempt to produce a celluloid plume. I think there 
is a simpler though a slower solution of the question. It is 
this : Develop a breed of barn fowls that shall grow plumes. 
This suggestion may provoke a laugh from some, but not 
from those who know the boundless plasticity of our barn 
fowl in the hands of a skillful breeder. When we remember 
that breeding has produced a fowl with tail feathers 18ft. 
long — has produced one whose head and neck bearno feathers 
at all— has produced another whose head is smothered with 
long feathers — and has already produced one whose every 
feather ia a silky plume, we find it not difficult to believe 
that a breed might be made with plumy tail, the more so 
since several varieties seem to stand ready for development 
in the desired direction. ' 
Pure white Dorkings and the silky fowls offer a good 
groundwork for the breeder to start on. It is no uncommon 
thing to see a white Dorking whose hackle and tail coverta 
are so meager in the web and so open in texture as to be 
quite plumose. These peculiarities could be seized on and 
developed by judicious breeding with a rapidity that would 
surprise any one unacquainted with such matters, and the 
c^uestion solved. 
Finally, it should not be forgotten that no great outlay is 
required. The fowls would continue equally good and profit- 
able for table use, so that the increased value of the feathers 
would be an item of clear profit. 
EfiNEST Seton Thompson. 
123 Fifth Avenqe, N. Y. 
The liinnsBan Society of New York. 
Regular meetings of the Society will be held in the Amer- 
ican Museum of Natural History, on Tuesday evenings, Oct. 
12 and 26, at 8 o'clock. 
Oct. 13— Frank M. Chapman, "The Mammals Found 
Within Fifty Miles of New York City." 
Oct. 20— J. A. Allen, "The Origin of the Migration of 
Birds." Walter W. Granger, Sec'y. 
Amkr. Museum or Nat. EIistoby. 
Buffalo in the Vellowstone Park. 
Ce)L. S. B. M. Young, actmg superintendent of Yellow- 
stone Natirmal Park, in his annual report estimates the num- 
ber of buffalo in the park at twenty -four. He says he has 
consulted with the superintendent of the National Zoological 
Park, as to the advisability of corraling them in the park 
with a view of theii' preservation and increase, but that the 
idea has heen abandoned, as adult animals die under even 
shght restraint. Colonel Young estimates $350,000 aa neces- 
sary for next year's improvements iu the park. 
PACK-BASKET, RIFLE AND ROD. 
Part I. 
"The natural life in the woods, the strong day's work, 
The Hazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper, the talk, and the 
Bed of henalock boughs." —Whitman. 
It came at last, the long-anticipated day, when the fet- 
ters of business were snapped and commercial problems 
were left for other brains to solve. Farewell, for a blessed 
season, to the sounds of brawling traflSc, to newspapers, 
politics and all the ignominious details of our watch-con- 
sulting and train- catching existence! Away to the land' 
of the trout and deer, to the forest camp and the cedar 
boat! 
The Adirondack air was like wine, as my friend L. and 
I stepped from the train at Spring Cove on that fair August 
morning on our way to Blue Mountain. The St. Regis 
River glimmered in the sun, the tamaracks were ablaze 
with jewels of dew, the tall spruces rose like spires against 
the sky, and the great hills towered in ma;iesty above us, 
making a picture which I doubt not will be recalled with- 
a mixture of pleasure and regret on winter nights in the 
future. 
It was an encouraging thing to see deer tracks in the 
moist margin of the road as we drove to the hotel, and 
when after a four- mile drive through the woods we arrived 
at the quaint old log hostelry, it was a solid satisfaction to 
shake hands once more with the burly and jovial proprie- 
tor, Darwin Day, and to see the picturesque figure of our 
guide, Will Martin, standing, rifle in hand, framed, as it 
were, in the doorway. The day was given up to unpack- 
ing our duffle, laying plans for the morrow and targeting 
our rifles to see if they or ourselves had lost accuracy dur- 
ing a long period of enforced inactivity. Our objective 
point was Lake McCavanaugh, four miles distant, near the 
shore of which Camp Saint's Rest was awaiting our occu- 
pancy. 
To provide for the comfort and internal wants of three 
hungry men who plan to make a protracted stay in the 
woods involves some physical exertion at the outset, and 
I wouldn't like to say just how much the pack-baskets 
weighed which we shouldered next day; but if the packs 
were heavy our hearts were light, and as "the labor we 
delight in physics pain," we waved a cheerful adieu to our 
friends and soon crossed the threshold of the forest. 
I believe it is .John Burroughs who speaks of "the 
ground-loving foot," and the phrase is a significant one. 
Certainly, to one who for months has walked on granite 
and bluestone, there are few things more grateful than to 
get his feet on the grand old earth. Moreover, a clean 
forest trail is the most delightful of all paths, and we 
would have been blind to the beautiful and picturesque if 
we had not enjoyed the tramp from Blue Mountain to 
Lake McCavanaugh. The brown streak winds around 
the precipitous sides of the mountain through a noble 
forest of maple, ash and yellow birch, avoiding huge, 
moss-covered boulders, crossing little fern-lined brooks of 
ice-cold water, and deer trails leading down froni the hills 
above, threading its way through wild, selected spots 
where the spruces grow thick among the ledges, and the 
close-cropped "witch-hopple" bushes show that the deer 
have wintered here; leading us up onto the high ridge 
above the lake, glimpses of which we get through the 
halsams and hemlocks as it shimmers in the sunlight far 
below; and descending at last into the sunny valley where 
nestles the snug little log camp, just as we three left it 
almost a year since. 
Standing in the door of this sylvan lodge, hearing the 
sound of the little brook as it sang among the ferns, smell- 
ing the fragrance of the balsams and feeling the freedom 
and the restfulness which are the gifts of the mighty for- 
est, I could readily believe that in some such spot the king 
of poets must have stood when he said: "This shadowy 
desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourish- 
ing, peopled towns." 
It is astonishing what a hold a simple camp of logs and 
bark may get upon our affections, and how vastly superior 
to the most luxurious homes its rough exterior and homely 
appointments may sometimes seem. Why is it that a man 
is compelled to live in a house costing $5,000 or $10,000 
when a $50 house suits him so much better? Whoever 
solves this problem and provides a remedy for this unfor- 
tunate state of affairj will become the patron saint of all 
hunters and fishermen. 
We have a cast-iron rule that, barring salt pork, no meat 
shall be brought in from the hotel, and that the woods and 
waters must supply our needs in this direction. Therefore 
Martin and I took the rods and started for the lake to win 
our dinner. The deep gutturals of the frogs among the 
lilypads suggested that if the trout failed to rise we would 
still have our feast; and so it turned out. The trout dis- 
dained our flies, but the frogs seemed to regard an ibis or 
an oriole with favor, and fifteen big fellows were soon 
sprawling in the boat. And such frogs! None of your 
sputtering, scurrying sort, but huge, bellowing batrachians, 
half as big as a muskrat. I wonder if people really know 
how much fun there is in catching frogs with a fly. T have 
seen fishermen turn up their noses at the thought of de- 
scending to 80 low a level, but, later on I have seen these 
same fishermen so absorbed in the pursuit of this unique 
game that they forgot to come in to dinner. The "frog 
chorus," which at the time of our arrival at McCavanaugh 
would have made a Yale crowd turn green with envy, be- 
came gradually fainter during our stay, and finally ceased 
as entirely as I have known it to do on the Manhattan 
Field when Princeton kicked a winning goal. We dined 
royally that afternoon, and thenceforth there was never a 
day when we were not at least one meal ahead in our sup- 
ply of fish, flesh or fowl. 
Before dark a big balsam was felled, its bushy top was 
reduced to a great aromatic pile of fine hrowse, and the 
bunks were filled a foot deep with it, shingled on, ends up. 
The man who has never yet slept on a properly made bed 
of balsam tips has yet to experience the keenest luxury of 
repose. 
We failed to get a shot on the lake at dusk, and jacking 
having become a lost art under the recent law, we decided 
to try a moonlight hunt, a species of "shining for deer" 
which Albany legislation will have difficulty in preventing. 
A mile below us, on Stony Brook, was a small clearing 
