124 
FOflfiST AND STREAM. 
ing our guns and rifles in the howdahs, as' the safest place 
for them. (Every sporting howdah is fitted with a rack 
for guns, the butt of each resting in a kind of socket and 
the barrels reclining in a deep groove.) While we 
were eating there was a loud explosion in my friend's 
howdah, and we found that his 60 guinea, double ,50 
bore express rifle had been thrown out of the rack, and 
that one of the hammers was broken off the lock. 
So far as Ave could judge, it appeared that, when fall- 
ing, the firing pin struck against something, so as to 
explode the cartridge, and the violent recoil had knocked 
the hammer, which was at half-cock, against the edge of 
the seat. 
Almost every elephant relieves the monotony of his 
leisure time by some special way of fidgeting. One con- 
stantly jerks his ears; another rocks backward and for- 
ward diagonally between a fore and a hindleg; a third 
raises the trunk above his head and lets it fall between 
his forelegs; but we could not discover what peculiar 
kind of fidgetting had thrown the rifle out of the rack. 
Any other man's rifle would have remained in it. 
The Hindoos, believing as they do in reincarnation, 
account for a man being fortunate, or the reverse, by 
saying that he is being punished or rewarded for the 
good or bad acts which he did in a former life on earth. 
Perhaps this may be the true explanation of that which 
we term "luck." J. J. Meyrick. 
South Devon, England. 
Highways and Byways.— II. 
The trip across the reservation had much more of 
business than of pleasure connected with it; so imme- 
diately upon my return I determined to put a week or 
two of loafing into the year's history. Diamond Canon, 
the stamping ground of the last two years, was the place 
chosen, and a party was at once made up. Unfortunately 
the day before the time fixed for departure the son of my 
companion was thrown from his horse and so seriously 
injured that his father did not dare leave home. This 
left me to do the honors for a party of five ladies. In 
bygone days my wife has insisted upon taking her rod 
and wading wherever I would, but this year she lay on 
her cot under the pines with hectic flush and hacking- 
cough that all too painfully made me realize that the 
mountain outing is not for my pleasure alone. Then 
we had two "schoolmarms" — one an invalid, the other 
the most absolutely helpless creature in camp that it 
has ever been my lot to meet. She could read poetry 
and rave over scenery, but she could not peel potatoes, 
kindle a fire nor make coffee. It was a relief to find 
that the other two young ladies had been raised on a 
ranch, and so far as camping and camp cookery were 
concerned were "up to snuff." So much for the per- 
sonnel. In order to vary the monotony I persuaded my 
friend Leo B. to help me pitch camp and stay with us 
for a couple of days. 
A 6 o'clock start and a 3 o'clock stop! Four o'clock 
found the two tents pitched beside an ice cold spring 
on Little Diamond; the stove set up in a natural bower; 
the teamster in the act of departing, while Leo and I 
ride with him as far as Big Diamond to try the even- 
ing fishing. Candor compels me to acknowledge that 
our first attempt resulted in a dismal failure. No matter 
what flies we tried they were eagerly grabbed by — 
shiners. Leo did succeed in securing a couple of 8in. 
trout, but what were they for such a crowd? However, 
we enjoyed an evening about the roaring camp-fire and 
determined to retrieve out fortunes on the morrow. 
The shadows were yet long as we commenced to 
whip the stream that yesterday had doomed us to dis- 
appointment. The morning brought us no change of 
fortune. - After we had fished for a mile up Big Dia- 
mond a man on horseback rode up to us. I had met 
him here during the two previous summers. He has 
camped on Diamond for thirteeen summers, and had 
never before had such a run of ill luck. He attributed 
the poor fishing to a saw mill at the head of the right- 
hand fork. The proprietor, in spite of a warning last 
year, persisted in dumping his sawdust into the creek. 
Leo and I determined to try the left-hand fork. For 
five miles we rode up the stream, through groves where 
beautiful summer camps were located. All the fisher- 
men complained of existing conditions. 
At the highest camp we tied our horses and started 
abruptly to the left on a narrow trail that led up, up, 
almost to the clouds. The torrent that roared beside 
us looked inviting, but when we tasted of the water there 
was a sulphurous flavor that hinted of proximity to 
Gehenna. After an hour's tramp the odor of sulphur 
filled the air. and we arrived at three large sulphur 
springs almost in the tiptop of the Wasatch. We had 
come to the dividing line between The Basin and Straw- 
berry. Above the sulphur springs the valley opened 
into a great grassy flat, where the brook wandered now 
lazily in the open, now dashed -into dark pools beneath 
the upland willow brush. There were no shiners here, 
iust plain brook trout, and enough of them to make it 
interesting for three short hours, and then we wended 
our way downward with a full creel. How the other 
campers envied us, and how we exaggerated the perils 
of the trail, and how tired and hungry and self-satisfied 
we were when we returned to camp on Little Diamond 
at 10 o'clock in the eveninp-. ever\ one who has had a 
similar day's enjoyment well knows. 
Leo departed the next day, and I was left as guardian 
of an ov erwhelming amount of femininity. I did "ot da^p 
wander far from camp, but almost every evening I would 
walk down to Diamond and secure enough trout for 
Little Diamond did not yield one fish to my efforts. 
It was with a feeling of absolute r rn ttm -m 1' t 
I 
its 
left my rod resting against the tent and my gun in 
j case and devoted the morning hours 10 Hie fauna of 
the uo-countrv. Even thousrh kite in Tulv, many soecies 
of birds were just nesting, and at dawn "and vesper twi- 
light the songs of thrushes and warblers blended with the 
music of the stream. 
Close by our camp a dead willow bent over the 
stream. In its forks a. thrush (resembling an olive- 
breasted thrush) had fashioned its delicate nest. What 
place could be more secure? A dense canopy of green 
iVom a stately box elder screened the home from preying 
hawks, owls and magpies; the nodding branch above the 
riffle rendered safe from hungry rodents and cunning 
snakes. Here the mother laid four beautifully speckled 
eggs. Day after day we would sit and watch her. At 
first she was worried at our presence, but after a while 
she became better acquainted and would allow us to ap- 
proach within 5ft. of her. In fact, I think she rather 
expected a daily visit. Early one morning a fisherman 
passed by. He had worked hard for the two trout that 
were in his possession. I did not covet them. He had 
as much right to use birch pole and angle worms as I. 
had to split-bamboo and grizzly-king. He came to 
the overhanging willow. It barred his way. The mother 
thrush flew up with a piteous little cry. That nest was 
safe trom everything bin r -in. J-i c saw it- ? w u ' t fi • 
speckled eggs almost ready to burst with the pent-up 
life within ; saw and for an instant the divine struggled 
with the brute; then with an oath he dashed the 
branch from his path. The nest tipped. On the rocks 
below four broken egg shells shimmered for a moment 
as the sunlight came through a fretwork of green, and 
then the silvery waters carried them away, and the re- 
cording angel jotted down one more tragedy. 
Days rolled by. About our tents little pouched rats 
threw up their mounds, and as we caught them with 
simple nooses and fed them the weeds that they relished 
they became as tame as kittens. Even the squirrels lost 
alkfear of us, and I have almost come to the conclusion 
that for the highest enjoyment in the woods rod and 
gun should be left at home. A week in camp and then 
a messenger with an imperative summons to another 
port'"" of the State. So ended the vacation of '98. 
Shoshone. 
Provo, Utah, July 25. 
in\ul Jffistorg. 
Bird Nesting with a Camera. 
Pro-tiding there be water of some kind near at hand, 
the red-winged blackbird is not hard to please when he 
comes to select a nesting site. A tussock of grass in the 
middle of a swamp will answer his purpose very nicely, 
and he will build his nest in the center of it. A clump of 
reeds rising from the water of a pond will afford him an 
excellent site in which to swing his hammock, but a wild 
rose bush growing in the moist earth along the bank of 
a river will suit him just as well. 
If I wish to photograph a red-wing's nest, it is to some 
such place, as I have described that I take my camera. 
NEST OF RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD. 
Photo by Ernest Harold Baynes. 
If I have any special reason for keeping my feet dry I 
wear rubber boots, as a good look at the home of this 
bird generally means more or less wading. 
I was out on a little photographing expedition the 
other day, along the bank of the Noroton River, near 
Stamford, Conn. Just above the dam over which the 
river flows to join the waters of Long Island 
Sound there is a large pond, into which a long 
narrow promontory runs from the north. This 
neck of land is composed of soft, rich ground, and 
is covered with a heavy growth of bushes. Beneath them 
is a carpet of skunk cabbage and hellebore, and along 
the margin in the early spring there are brilliant patches 
of marsh marigold. It was to this place I came in 
search of the nest I wished to photograph. On the 
mainland, not far from the promontory^ was a tall tree, 
and on the topmost twig a reg-winged blackbird swung 
in the wind. At short intervals he uttered a joyous call 
of "kong-quer-ree," which was doubtless a signal to 
his mate. The phrase is translated by Mr. F. M. Chap- 
man as meaning "all's well." As I approached, . his 
confident announcement was changed to a suspicious 
"chut, chuck," and then he launched himself into the air 
with a shrill and prolonged cry of alarm. As he did so 
his wings were spread, and he showed the brilliant 
crimson epaulettes from which he takes his name. Cross- 
ing over to the promontory, I pushed my way through 
the dense growth, pulling my camera and tripod along 
behind me. 
I had not gone far when there was a flutter of bird's 
wings on my left, and the next moment the hen red- 
wing, a plain streaked bird, hung poised in the air above 
me. There, in a wild rose bush, and perhaps 4ft. from the 
ground, hung the nest, and in it were four beautiful blue 
eggs curiously streaked and spotted with black. 
First of all I cut away with a jackknite several branches 
[Aue. n, 1898. 
which overhung the nest, and let in a flood of sunlight. 
I then cut two. long, straight poles and slung them up 
horizontally, a few inches apart, and almost directly over 
the nest. I made them as firm as I could by tying them 
to the bushes with cords, and by bracing, them from 
below with stakes, which I cut with my knife. I placed 
the camera on the poles with the nozzle pointing down 
between them at the nest, and then made a trip to the 
mainland for a large flat stone. Fortunately there was an 
old decayed tree stump close to the rose bush, and 
by placing my stone upon it and climbing to the top I 
was in a position from which I could just manage to 
focus the camera. I was using a very slow plate, so I 
gave it a short time exposure with full sunlight, and 
obtained the picture from which was taken the illustra- 
tion given herewith. 
Ernest Harold Baynes. 
The Great Carolina Wren. 
( T, ludoviciaims.) 
This summer of 1898 has proven an unusual season in 
an ornithological way with me, inasmuch as I have 
chronicled the appearance of the Jiuropean starling* 
here, and have renewed with much pleasure my old 
acquaintanceship with the Carolina wren. 
I have at last succeeded in establishing a degree of 
intimacy with this bird that quite delights me. 
We have had an unusual number of feathered friends 
with us this year, both local and transient, who -have 
gladdened our few remaining woods and groves with 
song, and among them came this shy, alert, superb song- 
ster. 
An occasional visitor, his advent in years gone by has 
always stirred me to unwonted effort in the endeavor 
to establish a familiar footing between us, but often as I 
have tried the result up to the present has been fruitless. 
Some three weeks since I heard his unique call in the 
misty twilight of early dawn. The bird was far away, but 
his clear inimitable tones drifted to me through the open 
window like an elfin melody. A heavy, steamy fog 
shrouded the outside world, it was a silent dawn but 
for the soft purr of the dripping leaves; still nothing 
seemed to depress the cheery far-away little voice that 
weaved itself with my dreams, 
A day or two of careful work convinced me that his 
favorite haunt was in the garden among the bean poles. 
And here, with opera glass in hand, I posted myself one 
morning about 11 o'clock to await his arrival. All the 
morning I had heard him on his range gradually working 
my way, but the supply of insects must have been 
abundant, for he was half an hour overdue. 
I was on the watch for him, but even so he took me 
by surprise. 1 
" Mosquitoes wer'e bleeding me most viciously as I 
stood among the vines, but realizing that the "flirt" of 
a handkerchief would put an end to my investigations, I 
had just taken the somewhat risky chance of lighting a 
cigar. 
As I flipped the burned match away, there came the 
dart of a little body, a flutter of tiny wings, and within 
8ft. of me, on a swaying tendril, set aswing by the im- 
pact of his tiny* feet, was my rusty-coated little friend. 
His eyes were Upon me, and the quick, nervous flip 
of his expressive tail seemed to bode a sudden termina- 
tion of the interview. Here was a fix! If I stopped 
smoking the mosquitoes would drive me out, if I con- 
tinued the wren would be off to a certainty. However, 
I decided to chance it and puffed slowly on. For per- 
haps two minutes he eyed me, shifting his position up 
and down his tumbling perch, with sudden, jerky mo- 
tions. 
Presently he skipped to the tip of a pole some 2ft. 
nearer, again peering curiously down at me. 
No need for my glass here, so save for an irregular 
puffing of my cigar I stood motionless. 
Suddenly, to my great delight, he seemed to lose afl 
sense of fear, and quickly fluffed himself into a little ball 
of ruddy, brown feathers, up went his graceful little head 
and that wondrous voice of his set me all aglow. The 
.sting of mosquito bites vanished on the instant, and again 
after the lapse of years I felt that thrill that comes to 
all bird lovers in the fascination of their first ornitholo- 
gical studies. 
I have toughened up somewhat during life, but for that 
moment I was a lad again. 
God bless my little friend for it. 
Oh, how he sang to me! I cannot describe it. For 
twenty years I had waited for this opportunity to listen 
and enjoy his musical ecstacy with him, but never before 
had he gratified my wish. 
He made a lengthy toilet there on the tip of the pole, 
pausing every few moments to fling a ripple of song into 
the air, then in a flash he was in a nearby apple tree, pok- 
ing about for insects. I saw him take a white moth from 
a crevice in the bark and next instant he had a small, 
green worm from the under side of a leaf, he clung vireo- 
like upside down as he ate it. Every second or two 
the old garden rang to the music of his call. 
Something seemed to interest him in an old knothole 
he discovered, for again and again he would make a 
quick run along the limb and look in there, only to 
back away with a queer little chatter. 
After a half-hour of restless fidgeting about, he seemed 
to have exhausted the subject of the apple tree and away 
he rippled to the woods close by. The soul of the 
garden seemed to go with him. Curious as to what 
could have attracted him in the knothole, I investigated 
and found a fat, comfortable looking old tree toad 
squatted blinking just inside the opening. 
This bird is not a common visitor with us. I have 
seen perhaps a dozen in the last twenty years; never 
having found the nest, I cannot say they breed here. 
Their usual call bears a striking resemblance to that of 
the Virginia cardinal, differing in that it is not quite so 
prolonged. 
Extremely restless, continually on the move as it 
reaches for food, its action is much like that of the 
vireos in the curious positions it assumes. 
All the individuals I have observed seem to have had 
* See Forest and Stream, July 30, 1898, 
e 
