44 
FOREST An£> ^'ix^jzlAM. 
Ua^. 26, i^. 
plainly you can see on one side the imprint of the wing- 
tips. The bird flushed directly out of its snow saucer. 
There was no time to get a running start. The fox may 
have been in the air at the same time with the grouse. 
Time and again I have seen in the snow the evidence of 
such a marvelous escape. The fox rarely captures a 
grouse, though he comes so tantalizingly near it that it 
must make him grate his teeth with exasperation. 
Our prowler did not get as near to this bevy of quail 
as he did to the grouse. You see where he began his 
jumps. The quail were standing in a close-packed circle, 
tails in and heads out. That is the way the cunning little 
fellows always sleep, presenting a cordon of watchfulness 
to an intruder who might approach from any direction. 
Their united intuition of danger detected Reynard be- 
fore he was barely in sight by moonlight, and with a 
■whisk and a whirr they were off together like eddying 
dead leaves. 
We fancy there is a dejected look to the fox's trail, as 
it leads us again through the woods with its dot-like foot- 
steps. Here we wind down the bank of a most picturesque 
ravine, with a half-frozen- brook tinkling at the bottom. 
Who but a fox would have guided us to such a charmingly 
wild, remote spot? Just -beyond, the rocky walls ap- 
proach each other, and almost shut the brook in between 
them. There is just room along the left bank for us to 
follow the fox trail up the gorge. We must remember 
this spot next summer — if we can ever find it again with- 
out the fox. 
Higher and higher through the ascending valleys and 
over the spruce-clad ridges the fox trail leads us, till we 
are fairly on the broad shoulder of Saltash Mountain. 
Presently we come out on a bare ridge just below the 
summit, and get a grand, sweeping view of snow-covered 
landscape, bounded by the lordly Adirondacks on the west. 
Here we must let the fox trail cool, while we sit down and 
eat our lunch and drink in the magnificent prospect. 
As we rise to continue our way over the ridge, down 
whose opposite slope the fox trail disappears, a moving 
speck appears against the snow-covered side of a stone 
wall, nearly two miles away in a field at the foot of the 
mountain. The smallest dark-colored object in that vast, 
dazzling expanse of snow is almost startlingly conspicu- 
ous. We bring a field glass to bear upon the speck — and 
behold ! it develops into our wandering fox. He has 
just finished his long hunt, and is pawing the snow from 
a flat rock on top of the wall, where he expects to He 
down and take his mid-day nap in the sun. We take turns 
watching him until he has made his bed, turned about 
five or six times like a dog preparing to lie down in a cold 
spot, and curled himself up with his great bushy tail 
wrapped around him like a blanket. There, at the end of 
his devious trail, we will let him lie, undisturbed, hoping 
that by this time his hungry stomach has been filled, and 
that he will enjoy pleasant dreams until darkness again 
sets him wandering over the white world. 
James Buckham. 
New York Zoological Society. 
The annual meeting of the New York Zoological So- 
ciety was held at the Waldorf-Astoria, in this city, on 
Tuesday, Jan. 9. 
The most important business of the meeting was the 
reading of the report of the executive committee on the 
work of the year, which covered the preparation of the 
Park for occupancy and the receipt and installation of 
the collections so far as obtained. A section of this report 
treats of the action of the Board of Estimate and Ap- 
portionment of New York city in cutting down the ap- 
propriation asked for the maintenance of the Zoological 
Park. On this subject the report reads as follows: 
"The society's estimate for a maintenance fund of 
$60,000 for the year 1899 was granted by the Board of 
Estimate and Apportionment at that rate for a half-year, 
namely, $30,000 for six months. Inasmuch as animals 
began arriving early in the year, for which food and 
keepers had to be supplied, and a large amount of for- 
estry work and gardening became imperatively necessary, 
this fund became exhausted about Nov. i, and dirring 
the months of November and December the park has 
been maintained by the society at a cost of about $8,500. 
"In the summer of 1899 the society applied for $70,- 
000 for maintenance during the year 1900, of which 
sum $10,000 was required for forestry and planting opera- 
tions. The latter item was stricken out, and the main- 
tenance fund as a whole was cut down to $40,000, a sum 
quite inadequate to meet the constantly increasing de- 
mands for food for animals, salaries of curators, keepers 
and other employes, and the maintenance of the vast 
area of the Park in anything like proper condition. Five 
thousand dollars per month is the smallest amount on 
which the park can exist in an acceptable condition. 
"At the time the park was established $100,000 was 
named by the society as the annual sum required for 
the maintenance of the park when fully developed. Sixty 
thousand dollars was named as the minimum for the 
first year's maintenance, and this sum was named in the 
agreement between the city and the society. 
"In cutting down the park to $40,000 for a year's 
maintenance, the Board of Estimate has laid upon the 
society an impossible task. The Central Park menagerie 
receives $32,500, and the Aquarium, with but a single 
building and but few employes, has $40,000. From this 
comparison, it is obvious that a park of 261 acres of land 
to be cared for, with fifty permanent employes, six 
entrances and twenty-four buildings and other installa- 
tions for animals, all tenanted, cannot possibly be Tiiain- 
tained for twelve months with as small a sum as $40,000. 
It must be clearly stated to the people of Greater New 
York, who suppose they are maintaining at their ex- 
pense this free institution, that this city has not kept 
its agreement with the society, and that the development 
of the park, even upon an economical basis, is retarded 
for an entire year. It is folly for the society to increase 
the number of animals in the park so long as there is 
not sufficient money with which to feed and care for 
those already there. 
"It has not yet been decided what action shall be 
taken in case no additional sum for maintenance is al- 
lotted from public funds. Through its presideiixt, secre- 
tary and director, this matter has been laid before the 
Mayor, but without any result thus far." 
Cats, Wagons and a Dog. 
Ellenville, N. Y., Jan. 6. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Thinking the inclosed item may be in your line, I send it : 
A family living near one of the bridges in the village has 
three last spring's kittens of average intelligence and cat 
sense, yet those kittens not a year old know more in 
some ways than a man ever learns. Though they may all 
be sitting in the kitchen apparently asleep, they know 
when Lat Vernooy's meat wagon crosses the bridge, even 
though it is not possible for them to see it. Though hun- 
dreds of other wagons pass daily, the kittens pay no 
attention, but when Lat's wagon goes over the bridge 
they spring at once for the door, and a stranger would 
suppose they had fits. They are crazy to get out, and 
run at once for the wagon before it reaches the house. 
He calls regularly and you might say the kittens keep 
track and know the days he is expected, but that is 
not the case, for he sometimes goes past on a day when 
he does not stop and at a different hour from the usual 
time, but those kittens know before he has crossed the 
bridge and their mistress always knows who is passing by 
their frantic efforts to get out. 
The facts as here given are absolutely true, as I know 
by seeing the performance of the kittens. 
W. C. McNally. 
The way in which the kittens distinguish the sound of 
the meat wagon from that of any other vehicle is similar 
to our recognition of the footsteps of human beings. We 
come to know the peculiar step of those with whom we are 
familiar, though if an attempt were made to analyze the 
characteristics which enable us to distinguish between 
the tread of different persons, we should probably be 
unable to give any satisfactory explanation. 
An incident somewhat similar to the one narrated by 
Mr. McNally has come rmder our observation. On a 
farm not far from New York City is a dog, which has 
been greatly pestered by some boys who drive frequently 
past the premises, and have injured his feelings by bow- 
wowing and ki-yi-ing and otherwise insulting him. They 
have made themselves thus decidedly obnoxious to him, 
and he shows his resentment and animosity by rushing 
out at them to tell them as best he can just what he thinks 
of them. For the most part, other passers-by, wagon, 
wheel, or foot, go vtnmolested and unnoticed. But day 
or night, the dog is on the alert for this particular outfit. 
It has been observed that when the offending team ap- 
proaches in the night time, and is as yet a long way off, 
so that the sound of the hoofs and creaking and rattling 
of the wagon can be heard only faintly, the dog in his 
kennel recognizes it, and begins his growling long before 
its immediate approach. Whatever may be the particular 
factor in the sound, whether the beat of the hoof, the 
creak or rattle of the wagon, or the combination of all 
these, the dog's recognition of it is unerring, and- has 
frequently caused comment. 
A Rabbit with '*Horns.'' 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have shot rabbits (occasionally) for more than thirty- 
five years and thought I knew about all there was to 
know about them, but yesterday I shot what to me was 
a great curiositj' — a rabbit with horns, like an antelope. 
It was a common cottontail, and the horn (one of them 
had been shed) was i>'2 inches long. It was a formation 
of hair exactly like the first growth of a young buck 
antelope's horns. All the gentlemen with whom I had 
been hunting said they had seen them before, and led 
me to believe it was quite common. Yet, with twice the 
the experience of either, I had never seen nor heard of 
the like before. 
I have been making inquiries, -aitd have learned that 
the horns are a common occurrence in this country. 
They are claimed by some to be the result of disease, and 
are formed by some exudation from the place where there 
has been a sore. Though growing mostly on the head, 
they are as apt to be on the jaw as otherwheres. 
This theoiy of disease is, I think, the correct one. 
The rabbit I shot had one horn just where a deer has 
theirs, and another had fallen oft' frpm the other side. 
When the gentleman who retrieved the rabbit brought it 
to me remarked that it was a buck, and showed the horn 
I thought it a hoax, and I afterward destroyed the 
growth in examining it. The fact that it was a hairy 
formation and its position puzzled me. It did not occur 
to me that, being attached to the skin only, it was thereby 
dissimilar to antelope or deer horns. 
Rabbits are the only game in this country where they 
are so plenty that they are a nuisance. One can have 
fine sport hunting- them with a .22cal. rifle (about the 
only arm used on them here). It takes snappy work to 
get a jackrabbit with a rifle, as he bobs over the prairie 
at 25 feet per bob. I got one in mid-air the other day 
just 12 feet from where he started and 12 from 
where he landed. He landed on his back, tail in front 
of his ears. The story of his misfortunes was printed on 
the snow by rabbit and bullet. E. P. Jacques. 
Elmo, KLan. 
[We believe that such "horns" are not very uncom- 
mon on rabbits in the West, though we do not know that 
similar excrescences occur on rabbits in the South or 
East. From the description it would seem probable 
that they are dernial outgrowths, and are perhaps par- 
alleled by the extra horns which antelope sometimes 
carry, and which possess no bony core, but are merely 
attached to the skin. Further observations and above 
all specimens of the horns attached to the completed 
skin are desired.] 
New York Legislature. 
The Assembly Committee on Fisheries and Game is 
made up of Messrs. Axtell, of Delaware; Hallock, of Suf- 
folk; Davis, of New Y^'ork; Doughty, of Queens and 
Nassau; Beede, of Essex; Johnson, of Clinton; Irwin, of 
Washington; MarSon, of Oneida; Dusinbery, of Sullivan; 
Maher, of New York; O'Connell, of New York; Hol- 
stein, of Kings; Siems, of Kings. 
mtii^ md ^nm 
Moose Calling. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
1 have read in the public press, within a few days, a dis- 
patch from Montreal stating that measures wei;e to be 
taken by men interested in the preservation of big game 
in New Brunswick to further insure the enforcement ot 
the laws. For this purpose a meeting has been cafled of 
a number of persons sympathizing with that object, to be 
held at the Windsor Hotel, Montreal, on or about 
Feb. 12. I hunted in the Tobique region last autumn. 
One matter came then, as it has before, to my attention, 
and if sportsmen are to meet in February to discuss the 
preservation of game, it should, in my opinion, be given 
careful consideration. I refer to the practice of moose 
calling, to which I think there are grave objections. In 
the first place — and this is a matter in which it seems to 
me that it would be of general interest to hear the views 
of others of your readers — men who have hunted big 
game in various parts of the country — it is not to ray 
mind' a sportsmanlike thing to do. Here opinions may 
differ, but I think the matter ought to be deliberately con- 
sidered in its various aspects and acted upon accordingly. 
First of all let us hear in Forest and Stream how other 
hunters regard the matter. The chief objections, it seems 
to me, against the practice, from the sportsman's point of 
view, are that it takes advantage of the sexual call to lure 
an otherwise keen and wary beast into a situation where, 
on the one hand, he is practically unguarded and helpless, 
and, on the other, into a situation where very trivial skill 
is required on the part of the sportsman, so called, to 
bring down his game. The hunter catches him at almost 
as great a disadvantage as that in which the deer is caught 
when hounded into a lake and shot from a canoe. We 
all know in how high esteem we hold the man who does 
that thing, and the man who shoots bears in a trap. This 
is practically trapping the moose. As well set a moose 
snare. For that also it may be pleaded that it requires 
skill, yet we shall hardly find one to defend the practice. 
Now, the moose is one of the keenest beasts that range 
east of the Rocky Mountains, and since we, at this end 
of the century, are so fortunate as to find the animal at 
our very doors, Ave should be using good judgment, it 
seems to me, to follow the chase honorably, to play the 
game fairly, so far as he is involved. If we can outwit 
him in legitimate stalking, by the contest of keenness 
against keenness, of hunter's craft against beast's instinct 
and wariness, all well and good — -he is our legitimate 
quarry. Opportunities in abundance occur to kill moose 
without calling, in fair and square stalking and canoe 
hunting, without taking so grossly unfair an advantage of 
him as in a situation where all of the skill required is on 
the part of the guide, and where the merest beginner can 
secure his head if he can manage to kill or more or less 
cripple a beast the size of a cow, or larger, at a range of 
from 20 to 50 paces. 
There is another consideration that should be kept in 
view: A good moose head is a justly coveted trophy and 
one that should stand for something. It is a souvenir of 
the hunt which should not be allowed to fall to a man 
unless he has earned it, if such a calamity can be averted 
by warning on the jjart of the sportsman and foresight on 
the part of those who frame the laws. As it is to-day, a 
man without any experience or hunting, with no exertion, 
or skill, or woodcraft, with slight mastery of the rifle, can 
hire an Indian to paddle him to a likely place, can hire 
him to call the moose to within thirty or forty paces, and 
then, in one out of two or three attempts, manage to 
get his moose down, no account being taken of those 
beasts which he wounds and which go off in the woods to 
die. They are shot in the night, which makes the per- 
centage of those which are wounded and which escape 
necessarily large. Unless a sportsman can contribute 
some of the skill himself that is to bring him so noble a 
trophy as a moose head, it seems to me that it ought not 
to be made easy for him to secure it. It is cheapening the 
rewards of the chase; it is practically making moose ant- 
lers of no value apart from their commercial worth as 
hat racks and decorations for billiard saloons. So far as 
being a legitimate source of pride to the man who has 
secured them, he might as well have hired the guide to 
kill the moose for him also, or have stayed at home and 
bought the antlers outright. In other words, it may 
fairly be questioned whether it is sport at all for a full 
grown man to hire some one else to do it all for him — to 
exercise all the skill involved — his only contribution being 
to hit an object the size of a bull moose at 20 or 30 paces 
distance, once out of two or three times' or half a dozen 
times' trial. It is not a square deal to the moose. If by 
sneaking along the streams and ponds he can outwit the 
moose — he and his guide — or regularly stalk him in the 
woods or on the barrens, that is one thing; but to imitate 
the call of the female and so lure him to an ignominious 
death, so far as his relation to the moose is concerned, is 
not an honorable proceeding on the part of the sports- 
man. I do not wish to cast any reflection whatever upon 
men who have shot moose in this way. It is the practice 
of the region in which they hunt and has the sanction of 
the guides and of the community; but it is time that 
sportsmen took a more enlightened view. In the inter- 
ests of clean sport no trophy should be allowed to fall 
to a man unless he is entitled to it. No man can be rec- 
nized as victor in any athletic contest — at football, rowing, 
sparring, yachting, cricket or baseball — unless he is an 
expert, and wins by the exercise of his own skill and en- 
durance. It would safely be within the bounds of truth 
to say that the majority of men who kill moose in New 
Brunswick are not experts; in many cases they have not 
the determination or endurance which would enable them 
to become such. The guide does it all for them. They 
take their ease in a canoe or at the edge of the forest, until 
he bids them exercise their proud prerogative of woods- 
man and hunter, and then blaze away, hit or miss. These 
men are not entitled to have moose heads at all. Let them 
qualify first by hard work in the woods, and by the 
acquisition of reasonable familiarity with the hunter's 
art. Moose hunting is an art and should lie considered 
such. So far as the rules of the chase can be adapted to 
insure failure "to the incapacitated and incompetent, it is 
