April 9, 1898. 1 
ST an£) Stream. 
^8S 
smell like, nen It's all gone. I like th* early morniii* bet- 
ter'n any part o' th' day, don't you?-" 
"I agree with yoix exactly," I said, and mentally noted 
that this young savage had a good deal that was poetic 
about him, in a rough way, and enjoyed antl appreciated 
the beauties — those untellable beauties — of old Dame Na- 
ture in her varying moods. It struck me that this liken- 
ing of the tranquil summer morning to Paradise was a 
homely expression of enjoyment to the fullest extent, 
innocent, healthy and satisfied enjoyment that lacked any 
thought of animal viciousness, and to this day I have 
never found a more fitting description than his. 
in time the sun came up, painting the few clouds with 
all the tints in nature's color box, and then settled down 
to the business of warming the world and painting the 
colors all out again. 
The canoe never slacked its even progress, forging 
ahead imder the shadow of the trees until the mist 
left the water and a cooling breeze rippled the quiet 
surface into tiny wavelets. 
When noon came the boy said "V^^iE had reached the 
beaver grounds, and we went ashore. 
The boy carefully inspected the cut-off stumps of the 
willows, looked long and carefully at the flat, webbed 
tracks in the mud, and hunted "sign" for an hour, while 
I sat in the shade and smoked, waiting until he should 
return. 
"I reckoh they's about nine or ten beaver here that's 
good fer fur this fall," he said, as he sprawled beside 
me on the grass. 
"They's a pair o' old ones 'n' two er three litters o' 
kittens o" different sizes, I figger. I'm g"oin' to have 
them pelts when frost comes, too, you bet. 
"Gee! I^ess eat. I'm hungrier 'n a bear. Funny how 
a feller gits so onreasonable hungry knockin' 'round 
this way, ain't it?" he said, with a smile, as we opened 
the lunch. 
"I got the jugs 'n' a few frogs down there 'n th' canoe, 
'n' I reckon we c'n float down with the current 'n' let 
the jugs do the fishin' 'safternoon, 'n' have some fun 
too. Got to ketch s'more hoptoads, though, first," he 
added, as he stowed away the remnant of a sandwich 
and went for the little tin bucket to get water from the 
spring near by. 
''Say, that's the best drink 't ever was invented, ain't 
it?" he remarked, as he came back with tlie bucket 
brimful of cold and good water from the spring that 
welled up among the rocks of "Stony Point." 
"Seems like white folks want to kill 'erselves drinkin' 
all kinds o' whisky 'n' beer 'n' stuff like that when they's 
s'much good water juss runnin' to waste. I can't juss 
figger such things out myself." 
We loafed about in the shade talking and resting for 
an hour, while the young philosopher tried to "figger 
out" the problem of humanity just as philosophers have 
thought and wondered and "figgered" since time began, 
and like them the boy finally "give it up," and turned 
to the immediate business of catching frogs for fish bait. 
I stretched at length along the grass, lazily watching 
the swallows flit in and out of the burrows in the bluffs 
across the river, wondering why these little creatures 
had been so constructed that they could annihilate dis- 
tance so easily, while man must plod slowly along up hill 
and down over the surface of this old world. 
The soft lullaby of the wind-tuned trees lulled one to 
the quietude of mind necessary for buildling air castles, 
and soon I was day dreaming there by the quiet river. 
I saw without seeing. I was there, and yet knew noth- 
ing of the surroundings — just thinking. 
A big black ant crawfished across a bit of sand, exert- 
ing every energy to drag a dead grasshopper to his 
storehouse. A black wasp nervously opened and closed 
its steely wings, and after inspecting its surroundings 
vanished. 
The midday sun flecked the ground with a network of 
ever moving shadows, weaving in and out, blending 
with the flowers and grasses of the bank. 
"Say, you goin' to snooze all day? Git a hike on yeh 
'n' c'mon. Got to move if we ketch any catties 'safter- 
noon. I got lots o' bait, so less go." 
The boy had broken the spell, and soon we were drift- 
ing lazily, contentedly along behind a row of corked-up 
beer bottles and small jugs that floated in "company 
front" with the current of the prairie river. 
Birds flitted in and out among the trees; an occasional 
squirrel could be seen stretched at length along a gnarled 
oak limb, just soaking himself full of sunshine — or per- 
haps he would be nosing about among the fallen leaves 
on the ground, his tail curled up over his back and 
waving like a great brown plume. 
Turtles basked on the dead snags and plunked off 
into the water as we floated by. Everything was living 
and enjoying life in its own peculiar way, and over all 
was the brilliant blue of the prairie sky, the flood of 
light from the summer sun, and just enough warmth 
to make us too lazy to even talk as we drifted on the 
slow current, following the line of jugs and bottles 
down the western river. 
Suddenly the boy gathered himself together, dipped 
deep with his paddle, and the canoe began to move swift- 
ly toward one of the jugs that was bobbing, spinning 
and plowing through the water in circles, as a heavy 
fish tried vainly to rid himself of the hook. 
"Say, gee! that's a Balaam, sure!" said the boy quiet- 
ly, as we watched the antics of the bobbing jug. 
As we neared it the jug sank, and a few moments later 
reappeared 40ft. away, swirling through the water as the 
fish towed it along. 
"You work her, 'n' I'll git that Balaam," said the boy, 
as he laid his paddle inboard and got ready for action 
when we should get within reach of the jug. 
I handled the canoe, and in a few moments got along- 
side, where the boy got hold of the line and began to 
fight the fish on his own ground. 
Several times the broad tail curved up and threw a 
shower of water over the boy, and several times the boy 
caught his breath and said "Ugh!" but he hung on, and 
in the end pulled the big blue-black catfish over the 
gunwale of the canoe. 
"Good un, ain't he?" said the boy, contentedly, as he 
slipped a string through the fish's gills and hung him 
overboard. 
Soon the jug was rebaited and drifting along with 
its fellows, and behind the line was the black canoe with 
its counterfeit reflected upside down in the quiet stream, 
drifting, drifting with the slow current, while the boy 
and I reclined along the bottom and up against the "lazy 
back" seat, waiting and drifting there in the quiet of the 
summer afternoon. El Comancmo. 
The Chestnut-Sided Warbler. 
BV HERMIT. 
Thursday morning, May 27, 1886, a small bird 
hopped out of the bushes into my dooryard. The bird 
was a fejnale chestnut-sided warbler. She was collecting 
dry grass blades for a nest. 
May 27, 1897 the same little bird was in my dooryard 
engaged as before, collecting nesting material. 
Eleven years had been credited to the past for matt 
and bird. The man had not escaped the weight of the 
added years. Deeper wrinkles and graj^ hair told the 
story, but the little bird, strange to tell, was apparently 
as blithe and young as on that Thursday morning eleven 
years before. 
I provide an abundance of nesting material for all 
birds that frequent my cabin dooryard. The chestnut- 
NEST OF CllESTNLT-SlDED W;>.RBLER. 
sided warbler seemed to appreciate my motive and gave 
me her confidence in return. After tlie first year I could 
sit by her nest from the hour the first straw was laid 
to the day when the young were large enough to take 
wing and she would go on with her domestic affairs 
without fear. 
During eleven years the bird has constructed thirteen 
nests. Two nests were robbed by snakes and were re- 
placed. No two of these nests were alike. All were 
loosely built, and with the exception of the last were 
saddled on the forks of small bushes. The nest of 1897 
was suspended between two shoots of a currant bush 
about 2oin. from the ground. This was a new departure, 
and led me to have a picture made of the nest. There 
was a buncli of currants in the way and the bird fastened 
it to the side of the nest with spiders' web. The cur- 
rants show in the picture, which I inclose with this 
paper. 
The books inform us that the nest of this warbler 
is never pensile, but if the nest in my currant bush was 
not pensile what may we call it? It was fastened at the 
brim to two upright currant stems without support at 
the bottom, as the picture shows. The brim was fash- 
ioned first. It was composed of straws, shreds of cedar 
bark and dry grass blades. The same material was 
fastened to the brim and arranged to cross, thus forming 
the bottom and sides. The tying material used was 
spiders' web and silken threads from some cocoon un- 
known to me. The nest was lined with fine straw and 
horse hail". All the nests previously made by this bird 
contained a liberal amount of plant down on the out- 
side. This last nest was nearly wanting in plant down, 
although a good supply was in the dooryard. 
Several years ago the bird saddled into the fork, of 
a bayberry bush a bunch of cotton nearly as large as 
a base ball, and on this foundation erected a nest. 
I have records of four nests, including the last— the 
one in the currant bush. This 1897 nest was 3^in. in 
diameter by 2in. in depth inside, and zV^m. outside. The 
foundation was laid May 27, and the nest was completed 
June 3. It was then deserted for three days. The first 
egg was deposited June 6, and thereafter one each day 
until the 9th, when four eggs made up the set. The 
fourth egg was pure white; the other three were white 
with a ring of reddish brown blotches around the larger 
end. 
After the fourth egg was laid the bird remained on the 
nest nights, but during the daytime for three days spent 
the niost of the time gadding about. June 20 I found 
one bird out of the shell and the next day all were out 
The young birds are not fed until they are one day old. 
They are not great feeders like young robins, and the 
mother bird has an easy task to provide food. The 
birds grow rapidly. At first the mother can cover her 
brood while half hid below the brim of the nest, but 
before the young birds leave the nest she must stand 
with a foot on each side of the brim. 
July 2 the young birds were induced to leave the nest. 
On that day the mother bird did not feed the young 
birds, and I think they must have been downright 
hungry. Later she tempted them with a plump insect, 
while the male fluttered about with cries of encourage- 
ment. Soon one hopped out of the nest on to a twig 
and was quickly fed. The others took the hint, and all 
were soon out of the nest. Most birds pursue the same 
method, and it reminds one of teaching baby how to 
walk. 
• My little friend has had two mates since we became 
acquainted. She was made a widow by a prowling cat 
during the summer of 1896. The next spring she re- 
turned with a second husband. This newcomer re- 
sented any familiarity on my part. He seemed to think 
that I was too inquisitive, and made a great fuss every 
time he found me near the nest. Frequently my little 
friend would fly at him and drive him away. She tried 
to make him understand that I was a welcome guest, 
but he never took kindly to" my presence. In return 
I thought him most ungrateful, for I had killed one cat 
and two snakes to protect his family. 
My little friend holds my dooryard and immediate 
vicinity against all other chestnut-sided warblers. _ If 
some other bird of the same species starts a nest the little 
squatter tyrant drives the interloper away. She claims 
sway over a circle about 200ft. in diameter, with my 
cabin for a center. Catbirds, towhee buntings and oven 
birds and two ruffed grouse have nested on this claim, 
but for eleven years no chestnut-sided warbler has suc- 
ceeded in pre-empting the claim. 
The chestnut-sided warbler is so conspicuously marked 
that a mere tyro in bird study cannot mistake it for any 
other member of the warbler family. The bright yellow 
crown, pure white under parts and chestnut sides of the 
old birds are marks not to be mistaken. The young 
birds are yellowish green above and silky white below. 
An amusing thing happened here some years ago over 
a bird of this species. A lady caller, a summer resident, 
asked me for the name of a bird which often visited 
a tree over her sitting room window. She claimed that 
the bird was pure white with red wings. I could not 
make her understand that there was no such bird m 
New England. "Seeing is believing," she claimed, and 
I was invited to investigate for myself. "Vyhile looking 
from the sitting room window I saw the bird above my 
head on a twig. Sure enough he was a white bird with 
red wings. It was a chestnut-sided warbler. From a 
distance the effect was enough like a white bird with 
red wings to deceive any one not well acquainted with 
bird life. Looking up to the bird the chestnut sides re- 
sembled red wings. 
I sent the lady into an upper room, where she could 
look down on her white bird, and she soon returned, 
and laughingly said, "I always knew that there wpre 
two sides to a story, and now I have just learned that 
there are two sides to a bird." 
"Ways of Rabbits. 
I WOULD like some one versed in the habits of rabbits 
to give the readers of your valuable paper information 
as to their intelligence and peculiarities. My daughter 
has a great fondness for animals of every description, 
and among her collection has a black cat about a year 
old, and a rabbit probably about the same age. These 
two have struck up a strong friendship and romp about 
the house, chasing one another like kittens. The rabbit 
is gray and white and quite large. He has very strong 
prejudices against certain things, such as the fire shovel, 
which he will take in his mouth and put away from him 
when it is in his way. He apparently reasons like a dog 
or cat about things, and shows great intelligence. When 
he hears the bell ring for meals he hurries to the dming 
room, and if the door is closed scratches against it to 
be let in. I used when a boy to have the pink-eyed white 
rabbit as a pet, but it has always been my impression that 
they were stupid animals, principally interested in de- 
vouring all the green things in the garden. It would be 
a pleasure to know something about these creatures, 
and I hope this may strike the eye of an expert in such 
matters. C. 
New Partridges from Mexico, 
The interesting work done by Mr. E. W. Nelson and 
his companion in Mexico is sufficiently well known, and 
the great amount of valuable material which he has 
brought back is familiar to all scientific men. Among 
this material are many species of birds new to science, 
and some of these Mr. Nelson is now describing in the 
Proceedings of the Biological Society of Washington. 
One of these papers of especial interest to sportsmen is 
a revision of the Dactylortyx, a group of partridges curi- 
ously mixed by earlier writers, the name of one species 
having been ascribed to figures which now prove to be- 
long to another. Various authors have written about 
the species of this genus, but with material so limited 
that their efforts merely made the confusion worse. Mr. 
Nelson, however, with a more ample series of speci- 
mens describes three species and one subspecies of this 
genus, two of the species being new. These are D. 
chiapensis, collected near San Cristobal, Chiapas, Mexico, 
and D. devius, from San Sebastian, Jalisco, Mexico. 
The Linnaean Society of New York. 
Regular meetings of the society Avill be held in the 
American Museum of Natural History on Tuesday even- 
ings, April 12 and 26, at 8 o'clock. April 12, Frank 
M. Chapman, "Notes on Birds Observed during a Re- 
cent Trip to Florida;" April 26, programme to be an- 
nounced on the special notice sent to members. 
Walter W. Granger, Sec'y. 
