244 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 26, 1898. 
Notes of Recent Rambles. 
In the Oafes, 
Yesterday (Feb. 27) was a day typical of early spring 
— resplendent with sunshine and full of the relish of 
growing things. A week previous, when it was raw and 
chilly, I had seen and heard robin, bluebird, song spar- 
row and meadowlark. What wouldn't such a day as 
this bring forth? I entertained serious doubts of finding 
good walking along the countr}^ roads, still the tempta- 
tion for a ramble proved too strong, so I boarded an 
early west-bound car and rode to the terminus. I was 
about to strike out for the nearest woods, when I was 
aware of a bright bit of color in a tree across the road. 
A second glance was sufficient to tell me that it was a 
cardinal grosbeak. T am always glad to meet him. He 
is such a beautiful creature, such a delight to the eye! 
In many cases it is alwaj'^s the unexpected that happens. 
If I had been in quest of the cardinal he would have 
eluded me, as he has done on many occasions. I feasted 
my eye on him until he flew away in a southern direc- 
tion, when I presentlv followed on his "shining trail." 
But Mudland was before me. I must either turn back 
or brave a Farmers' Protective Association sign, stuck 
on a tree at the entrance to Oakland, warning trespas- 
sers. I chose the latter, and the oaks soon encompassed 
me. I would explain to the owner afterward. Surely 
he would prefer matted leaves to walk upon than just 
plain black mud. Signs of spring were creeping apace. 
A large willow standing by a water course hard by almost 
cast a halo over the surroundings from its golden whips; 
from a hillside sugar maple the sap was dripping where 
some one had cut ofif some twigs; in a hollow the thorny 
tips of the haws were reddening and grass was greening 
in patches. A simnv, sheltered slone looked so sug- 
gestive of coming- wild flowers that I instinctively stirred 
over the dead leaves, perchance to reveal a swelled bud. 
I thought of the trailing arbutus. Even its glossy, ever- 
green leaves would be a welcome sight. But this "dar- 
ling- of 'the mold" of my native woods finds no horne 
here. Some weeks hence the saine sheltered slope will 
yield an abundance of spring beauties and dosr-tooth 
violets, but just now they must exist only in one's imag- 
inati-^n. Und^r vonder oak a bluejav is hopping awk- 
wardly along the ground, savagelv pecking- at some fallen 
acorns and screaming vociferously, at times pausing to 
look at the vpsistine^ acorn wifh a significant look and 
screaming, "rio it! do it!" What a morning for birds! 
Stranp-e and familiar sounds come from far and near. 
The downv woodnecker's drumming, the chickadee's 
sweet ohoebe note, the nas&l pipe of the nuthatch, and the 
ppcuHar dog whistle nf the crested titmouse enliven the 
stiff-lookinp- oaks. T?eaching an onen field I note the 
unrisins" of a meadowlark, and catch the gleam of his 
vehow breast. .Shore larks are walkinsr or running about, 
freauentlv flashing back and forth sineincr their sprightly 
sone-s. All during the winter these birds have been here 
in goodlv numbers, g-ivinp- soul and life to otherwise 
bare places. A colonv of Canada snarrows and iuncos 
are holding high carnival in a weed-grown swale, and 
from frequent per-chic-o-pees I know that goldfinches 
are there also. Leaning on a fence- watching them, I 
hear the song of a song snarrow. and verv sweetly it 
sounded. Presently I see the little minstrel in a low haw 
bush hard by resrard me with a hoarse chip. Other 
bird voices are in evidence. Highholes are calling in 
the oaks, a cawing crow s^oes bv on lumbering wing, 
and in strano-e contrast I hear that "violet of sound" 
the bluebird's warble. In a grove of mixed oaks and 
walnuts T find a solitarv redheaded woodpecker, who has 
been linp-erinar here throughout the winter. Emerging 
into the highwav on my homeward way. T hear the itn- 
mi.stakable "honking-" of wild sreese, and high above a 
V-sbaned flock of fiftv-three are northward bound. I 
■(vafchpd them until thev faded awav in the distance. 
There is alwavs somethinp: wild and exhilarating in such 
a sight. It Avas John Burroughs who said, "I hurry 
outdoors when T hear the clarion of the wild gander; 
his comrade in my heart sends back the call." 
A Tricky Brown Tfee Creeper. 
That the tree creeper is shy and unwilling to be ob- 
served I know full well, but T never had reason to think 
that he would indulge in little tricks until on a certain 
occasion when a companion and I, finding hiro on a 
small oak, crowded very close to better observe his spiral 
climb and minute inspection of the highwavs and byways 
of the tree. Seeing that he was watched he flew to a 
post of a railway trestle near bv and disaooeared in some 
manner. We noticed that he did not fly beyond, and so 
made a careful search for his hiding nlace. We were 
about to abandon this when I discovered him in a narrow 
niche between a nost and a crossbeam, closelv clinging, 
within srm's reach, to the side of the beam. He appeared 
to be a,slee-D. but when I tanned the post he suddenlv 
became alert. He was onlv "nlaving possum," it seemed, 
and not until niy comoanion's hand was about to close 
on him did he fly away. 
A StttpJd Screech-Owl. 
^ Walking along the edge of an oak opening a few Sun- 
days ago. my comnanion and I heard the whinnying of 
a screech-owl. The sound appeared so close by that 
we turned in the direction from whence it came. _ Pres- 
ently hearing a repetition we located the sound issuing 
from a thicket of wild f^ooseberry bushes adjoining a 
nurserv, where a ^oc[< of Canada sparrows were revel- 
ing. Reaching the scene we sharoly scrutinized the 
thicket and the contiraous fence, but without seeing 
anything that looked like an owl. We were about to 
pass ori when my companion's sharp eyes discovered 
something on the lower board of the fence._ where it 
issued from the thicket, that looked more like a ball 
of brown leaves than anything else. A closer look re- 
vealed the owl staring at us with his big eves. Such 
a round, fluffv creature! He looked so stupid, demure 
and helpless that his capture seemed an easy task. Slowly 
approaching from opposite directions, we kept his owl- 
ship busy for a while, turning hjs head from one to 
the other. He evidently was aware that something un- 
usual was transpiring, and it seemed queer that he would 
not attempt to escape. Almost up to him, I was about 
to seize him when he slipped from my fingers, and with 
noiseless flight sailed down to a clump of osage orange 
saplings, where in the manner of a young bird he missed 
his hold and fluttered to the ground. Before he re- 
covered my companion had covered the intervening- space 
and had placed his cap over his prisoner. The strangest 
part of it was that he seemed perfectly reconciled to 
his capture — did not offer the least resistance. Think- 
ing that perhaps he might have been hurt we made an 
examination, but nothing was revealed. My companion 
took him to his home, a short distance down the road, 
and placed him in a large cage. I waited until dark to 
see how the owl enjoyed his prison and left him blink- 
ing contentedly on his perch. The next day my com- 
panion informed me that he had given the owl his liberty 
shortly after I left, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
him noiselessly^disappear in the darkness. T. M. S. 
Springfield, 111., Feb. 28. 
About Wild Pigeons* 
New York, March 14. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
I wish you would write 'an article in your paper and 
tell me, if you can, what has become of all the wild 
pigeons. About twelve or fourteen years ago they used 
to appear in large numbers; sometimes the sky was 
perfectly black with them. Now they are rarely if 
ever seen. I am speaking of the South, as I do not 
know whether they inhabit the North or not. You will 
much oblige A Reader. 
Macomb, 111., March 6. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
A few months ago a correspondent of your valuable 
paper at Chicago wrote an article stating he had found 
out where the American wild pigeons had gone to; that 
thej' were in Central America. As soon as I read this 
article T wrote to the American Consul-General at 
Guatemala, asking if the American wild pigeon was 
found in that part of the country. I inclose his reply. 
I have taken great interest in trying to locate this 
beautiful bird. Every attempt has proved a failure, and 
I am satisfied that but very few are left on the American 
Continent. The question arises, what has become of 
them? My opinion is that some disease broke out 
among them, which came very near exterminating 
them, Two years ago a hunter here found three and 
killed two of them. I understand there were three small 
flocks seen in the State of New York last year. 
W. O. Blaisdell. 
Consulate- General of the United States of America, 
Guatemala, Feb. 14. — ^W. O. Blaisdell, Esq.-— Dear Sir: 
For dinner last evening we had your wild pigeon, that 
is in fact a small dove, quite similar to our mourning 
dove at home. They are not the wild pigeons you are 
looking for, and which the Smithsonian Institution says 
are extinct. There are no pigeons here. 
A. M. Beaupri, Consul-General. 
Wabsworth, O., March 15.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Some time ago I noticed a coniment as to the 
wild pigeon, and if there were any left. 
Last week (March 8) a flock of fifteen passed over 
this place, going in a northwest direction. On the loth 
a flock of twenty passed here, going in the same direc- 
tion. 
These are the first that have been seen here in many 
years. There can be no mistake in the birds, for they 
were seen when flying low, and by old people that are 
accustomed to their flight. 
I would be pleased to hear if pigeons have been seen 
in other parts of the State and United States. 
J, F. Detweiler, M. D. 
[The wild pigeon has gone to the place occupied by 
the buflfalo — out of existence as a species to be com- 
monly seen. 
A few still exist. Last year we saw three or four in 
Connecticut during the breeding season, and heard on 
good authority of ten or twelve others. A few are 
said still to be found in Minnesota, where they breed 
in pairs, and not as of old, in great communities. The 
disease that exterminated them was a persistent course 
of netting and of breaking up roosting and breeding 
places. They are now rare birds, and are likely to be- 
come more so.] 
A "Wild Goose Story. 
The Rochester Herald prints this story, coming from 
Mt. Morris, March 14: A very strange and before un- 
heard of incident occurred about a mile west of this 
village Saturday evening about dusk. Frank Kress, 
accompanied by his little son, had been to this village 
after a load of coal, and when near their home on their 
.return they discovered a flock of about twenty-five wild 
geese. Kress thought he would capture the whole flock 
with the aid of his boy. They went at it in a very sys- 
tematic manner, and the birds did not seem to be afraid 
at all. 
They succeeded in driving the whole flock into the barn- 
yard, and Kress was congratulating himself on his val- 
uable capture, when about fifteen of the big birds rose 
up and flew away. It looked for a moment as if the 
others would go, but they acted as if dazed, and did not 
attempt to fly. They drove the rest of the flock, consist- 
ing of ten birds, into a shed, where they were captured 
and taken to the house and locked in the woodshed. 
Some time Saturday night three of the geese escaped 
through a small door, which had carelessly been left 
unlocked, but seven of the birds are still in captivity. 
Mr. Kress told his story on the streets in the village 
Saturday evening, and many old hunters who knew of 
the habits of wild geese and are aware how difficult it 
is for a hunter to get very close to a flock of them, found 
it hard to believe that the birds captured by Mr. Kress 
were really wild geese. Mr, Kress had many visitors 
yesterday to examine the birds, and all who saw them 
were fully convinced that they were the real wild birds, 
but how they happened to be so tame as to allow Kress 
to drive them into a §he4 i§ a mystery. Kress says the 
birds are for sale. 
drtie ^<tg mid 0tm. 
Paradoxes and Sport* 
Had it been so ordained that our pathway through 
life would be marked by an unwinding ball of thread, 
what devious pathway would be revealed on attaining 
the summit of life, and how different the task of re- 
tracing our footsteps! 
And could we scan the tortuous unwinding of pur. 
mental footsteps, would we not be confronted with many 
inconsistencies and paradoxes that highest philosophy 
could not explain or harmonize? 
The toddling boy on his way to school pelts the fr.pgs- 
with pebbles, and therein finds superlative joy; his older 
brother climbs a tree and robs the helpless mother of 
her callow brood, and finds pleasure in exhibiting his 
booty to his envious and admiring companions; and 
the beardless youth about to exchange the pulpy ado- 
lescence of immaturity for the less mobile material of 
mankind finds keenest diversion in setting miles of 
snares to capture the unsuspecting grouse. 
Childhood, boyhood and youth vanish with the fleet- 
ing years, and pebbles and snares give place to rod 
and gun — engines of greater destruction, ajcid more re- 
lentless. Waters are vexed and forests overrun, and 
satiety is still beyond the horizon; the highest peak, 
is no barrier, and the ice fields of the frigid north do 
not repel; man armed with the implements of death- 
ever continues the work of destruction during all his 
active years. 
The boy who pelted the frogs has now ascended the 
steps to the heights of opulence, and purchased the 
fishing rights at a fabulous price in some famous salmon 
stream, and now with all the ardor of exalted manhood 
he contemplates with disdain and launches unkind epi- 
thets and vehement anathemas upon all who must be 
content Avith lesser sport; the older brother has long 
since exchanged his hundreds — perhaps his thousands — 
of dollars for a membership in some millionaire ducking 
club, and now learnedly discourses upon the ethics of 
sportsmanship and the higher branches thereof, and he 
has only contemptuous sneers and severest denunciations- 
for those with a smaller bank account, and who perforce 
must be content with more humble sport, while he and 
his companions wage merciless warfare upon the sea 
fowl when on their migration to their breeding grounds 
in the distant north in the early spring. The beardless 
youth in after years has forgotten all about his grouse 
snares of earlier years, and he is now foremost in the 
endeavor to secure legislation against their use, and 
glows with enthusiasm when relating his adventure in 
the distant wilds, where in the still evening of autumn 
time he sent the cruel leaden messengers of death 
through the heart of the unsuspecting lordly bull moose, ■ 
lured into his presence by the seductive music of the 
birch-bark horn in the hands of his skillful Indian guide! 
This latter would resent with righteous indignation- 
and scorn the suggestion that such slaughter savored of 
butchery, and he doubtless would be heard above the 
others who sit in judgment and condemnation of jack- 
ing deer, and with emphatic vociferation loudly extol 
the one while roundly denouncing the other. 
How oft, alas! do the words of the poet come un- 
bidden, and with what force and emphasis dp tihey- 
apply: 
"wTien suoli occasions are, 
No plea must serve; 'tis cruelty to spare." 
And where is he who will cast the first stone? Where 
is he who will call a halt? Where is he who will fix 
metes and bounds? And must all find shelter and pro- 
tection under the generous aegis of the ethics of sports- 
manship? 
The boundary line is but too often an indistinct blazed 
trail, leading through many a devious pathwaj-, and 
across which many thoughtlessly wander": and a gen- 
erous chivalry founded tipon consistency should prompt 
a becoming modesty to withhold words of censure and 
condemnation when they may apply with greater force 
to him who utters them than to the person for whom 
intended. 
We should not be unmindful of the words of Alex- 
ander Pope, written more than two hundred years ago: 
"Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understooilj 
Our greatest evil or our greatest good." 
Geo. Mcx\LEEit. 
WoRGESTER, Mass. 
A Florida Quail 
Hawthorn, Fla. — I with my little daughter came here 
in the middle of February from New Hampshire and 
took our old quarters at the Commercial Hotel (this 
being our third winter here). We came for the climate 
and shooting. This is a high, healthy place. The air 
and sunshine are charming. We can't realize that there 
is any cold weather anywhere. Mine host, W. S. Moore, 
keeps fine dogs and trained hunting horses; is the best 
of guides. He seems to know by intuition where every 
covey of quail is for miles around. We have had fine 
shooting and made good bags every day. 
We went one day to Moore's duck camp, on a large 
marsh, for ducks and snipe. From the effects of a recent 
rain the snipe had changed. We saw a great many empty 
shells, where they had been shot. Snipe come and go 
it seems in a night. We saw hundreds of all kinds of 
ducks. The marsh is bare of cover since the cold in 
January killed the water flags, and the water is so low 
that the shooting sink boxes stand up so as to look like 
bales of cotton, and a duck will not come near. We did 
not care to wait to have them put in deeper water, so 
gave up the duck shoot. We had some good winter 
yellow-leg, plover shooting. There are large flocks 
there, as the weather looks threatening. 
After dinner yesterday Ave started for home, expecting 
to shoot quail en route. That is my favorite sport. I 
took the dogs and went in to hunt a beggar weed field. 
Mr. Moore drove along on the outside. The dogs soor 
came to a point near the woods, but as my dog (Sport) 
was too near a large covey flushed before I could signal 
Mr. M. I got one with my right and two with my left 
in the rise. Mr. M. marked down. He got a beautiful 
