184 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March a 1901. 
we had some difficulty in finding a crossing, and when 
we got across the bear was nearing the timber. We 
urged our horses as much as we could, and when we 
were about 50 yards from the bears they got to the 
timber. The old bear turned partly around and growled, 
but we let them go, as the logs were too thick for us to 
run our horses over. 
Another time I was hunting for a berry patch with a 
friend, and we had hitched our horses and were walking 
along talking, when I noticed not more than 100 yards 
ahead a large cinnamon bear, sitting up looking at us. I 
called the attention of my friend, and at the same time 
reaching for my revolver, and when he saw what I was 
going to do he grabbed me and begged me not to shoot, as 
the bear might charge on us. I laughed at him. and soon 
the bear ran and crossed the ridge we were going down. 
I pulled loose from my friend and gave chase after the 
bear with my revolver in my hand, and I kept in sight of 
the bear, and it soon turned up the mountain to the 
right and stopped about too yards away, "it had its feet 
upon a log and afforded one of the best kind of shots. I 
raised the revolver and fired, and over rolled the bear. 
I ran up so that I could finish it if necessarj', but it was 
not. I went back then to see what had become of my 
friend, but I could not find him. Soon he came riding 
his horse and leading mine, and when I told him I had 
Idlled the bear, instead of praising me he gave me a good 
lecture on my rashness, as he called it, and told me that 
some day I would get killed by the bears. We went to the 
bear, and I took the gall, which I sold to the Chinaman in 
Mount Idaho for $5. 
I was once plowing with three mules, one of which 
was noted for his aversion to Indians. Often I have seen 
Old John hold up his big ears and snort long before any 
Indians would put in an appearance. Old John had been 
looking and snorting for quite a while, and finally two 
squaws rode up to the fence and gave me to understand 
that they wanted me to get my rifle and go with them 
over into the cafion a short distance. I drove down to the 
house and, tying up the mules, took the rifle and the two 
dogs and followed the Indians. When I got to the cation 
I saw on the opposite side two more Indians, and from 
their actions I knew there was some kind of an animal at 
the carcass that lay in the canon, not more than 100 yards 
from where I was. The Indians that had come after me 
had stopped; I kept on, and when within less than 30 
yards of the carcass I saw a very large panther jump from 
the carcass and make off up tlie canon. I told the dogs 
to catch it, and in less than 150 yards they treed it. I 
went up within about 20 yards of the tree and whistled, 
and when the panther looked toward me I shot it in the 
eye. When it was dead the women came in and wanted 
I should give it to them. I told them they could have 
the meat, but I wanted the hide, which I agreed to give 
them $2 to dress with the fur on. 
One day while watching some deer feed in little Sheep 
Cailon, I saw a panther .spring on a deer, and I think it 
killed the deer as quick as a cat can kill a rat, and while I 
did not measure the distance it sprang, it certainly was 
more than 40 feet. I went around and crossed the caiion 
and came up to within less than 30 yards of it, while it 
was still eating. I whistled, and when the panther looked 
up I shot it in the head. I could not see where the deer 
had struggled to amount to anything. The panther had 
bitten the deer through the back of the head. It had eaten 
out the back of the neck down into its shoulders. 
The largest panther I think I ever saw was the one 
I killed with my revolver on the Clearwater. The boys 
wanted to go to the house and get my rifle, but I told them 
that I would kill it with the Navy, and I did so, much to 
their pleasure. We weighed it and it tipped the scales 
at 105 pounds. Lew Wilmot. 
Oakmont, Pa., Feb. 24. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
I notice that in your issue of Feb. 23 Mr. Ames cites in- 
stances of dangerous panthers in Vermont, but as having 
been seen in long past times. That suggests to me the 
inqury of how much truth there may be in the old-time 
theory that animals which were bold and ferocious when 
their habitats ' were thinly settled by civilized man be- 
came cowardly when man brought his exterminatory 
processes to bear on them? When we were boys, the 
grizzly, the alligator, the "painter" and the wolf were 
painted as very dangerous beasts, and of later years we 
got the information that they were all cowardly un- 
less wounded or starved, as the result of man's merciless 
warfare on them. Has anybody any facts bearing on this 
question? Getting up plausible theories to explain almost 
anything is as easy as rolling off a wet log in a mill pond, 
and the fewer the facts the easier the theory manufacture. 
What little I have known of him warranted me in be- 
lieving that the wildcat is dangerous on half-provocation, 
and he has hung round the fringes of man's settlings 
almost as closely as the rabbit, and reports from Cali- 
fornia at the time that that 18-pound fox terrier out there 
killed that 42-pound wildcat, indicated that he was still 
as dangerous a beast as ever, while the "painter"_ was a 
ridiculous coward. Perhaps it is a matter of individuality 
of breeds. Some may cow under man's warfare and 
some may remain as they originally were. Anyhow, facts 
will be interesting and perhaps valuable. 
W. Wade. 
Editor Forest and Stream; 
I have been very much interested in the articles in 
Forest and Stream about the "Wild Animal Fear" and 
am glad to offer my experience. 
I have been a hunter in the country west of the Mis- 
souri River since 1856, and have killed most of the 
various wild animals found there. I am familiar with 
the case recently cited by you where an old man was 
killed by a deer in Nebraska, and was one of the men 
who found the body. 
I have been in some tight places during my life, but I 
think that I was never in such danger as I once was from 
the unprovoked attack of a white-tailed deer. 
I think it was in the autumn of 1877 that I was hunting 
on the Dismal River in central Nebraska. I had just 
come up over a hill and was looking over the country, 
when, without any warning, a white-tail buck and two 
does came over another hill, more than half a mile away. 
I happened to see them as they topped the hill, and lay 
down in the hope that they would work toward me, but 
as I did so the buck must have seen me, for he left 
the does and came toward me on a run. I was puzzled 
at his actions, and as . he got near me it seemed evident 
that he was going to attack me. When he was within 
roo j^ards I stood up, thinking that the deer would 
stop and T could then shoot him. He did not stop, but 
came directly on, his head held low and hair on his back 
standing up. The wind was bloAving so hard that I 
was afraid to shoot for fear of missing him, and I 
waited until he was within a few jumps of me and then 
fired, and jumped to one side. I was not quick enough, 
for as he passed me he threw out his head and struck me 
on the arm with his antler, giving me so hard a blow 
that the arm was numb, and I could not use it. 
As soon as the deer could stop and turn, he came at 
me again, but just before he reached me he fell dead. 
If I had missed him, I think the chances are that he 
would have killed me. 
This was in the rutting season, and no doubt that was 
the cause of the attack. On the other hand, while at first 
the deer may have taken me for another deer, his error 
must have been corrected when he saw me stand up. 
I think that I .sent an accotint of this incident to Forest 
AND Stream many years ago, but am not certain about 
this. L. H. N. 
MuNROE, Neb. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
It was in the early summer of 18S4 that I was up on 
the mountain back of the ranch, in Wyoming, looking 
for some meat to kill. I had left my horse and was 
hunting on foot near the edge of some timber, when, as I 
passed over a little rise of ground, I saw at the foot of a 
grotip of pine trees a large black mass on the ground. I 
stopped to. look at it, and as I .stood there, the mass sepa- 
rated itself and five bears that had been lying close to- 
gether got on their feet and began to walk around, 
snarling and growling at each other. This had not gone 
on very long before the largest of them saw me and 
started for me at a dead run. I did not know what to 
do, and had very little time to think about it. My horse 
was a long way off and no tree to climb was within reach. 
Only one bear had charged; the other four were still 
walking about the place where they had lain. 
As there was nothing else to do, I stood fast, waiting 
for the bear to come on, and when he had come close 
within 15 or 20 feet of me, I fired, and then turned and 
ran as hard as I could. I heard nothing behind me, and 
after I had run 50 or 60 yards, on looking back I could see 
nothing following. But I kept going at the best gait I 
could keep up, until I reached my horse. 
When I was on his back I felt better. I hunted up my 
companion, who was off to the north, and with him 
went back to the place where the bears had been. I 
could see where the bear that had charged me had fallen 
and the ground grow wet with a great pool of blood that 
he had lost. He had finally got up and gone back to the 
others, and the five had then started off across the moun- 
tains. We followed them without difficulty, for they 
made a broad trail, through open parks, open pine timber 
and across snow drifts, which even then were 40 feet 
deep or more. It was interesting to notice that on some of 
these drifts where the snow was so hard that our horses' 
hoofs did not sink in at all, the footprints of the bear which 
I had shot, and which still bled a little, sank in from 6 to 8 
inches. I guessed he was a big one. 
At last the bears entered some heavy and low pine 
brush, and there we left them. I confess that for my 
part I was quite willing to let them go. W. H. R. 
Seminole Mountains, Wyoming, 
A Pair of Red-Tailed Hawks. 
While I was living in Farmington, Me,, and while yet 
a schoolboy, there was a pair of red-tailed hawks {Biiteo 
borealis) that nested year after year in a large patch of 
old growth situated on a steep side hill, known to the 
residents thereabouts as Pick Hill. These birds were 
often seen hunting for food in patches of woods and about 
the farm houses for several miles around. 
The farmers, many of them, tried to shoot the birds, be- 
lieving they were trying to catch their poultry. All of 
the depredations of the numerous sharp-shinned hawks 
{Accipiter velox) and Cooper's hawks (Accipiter cooperi) 
that caught a few chickens about the, locality, these red- 
tails got the blame for. 'Tis true they caught an occa- 
sional hare {Lepus americams), as I have sometimes 
found bits of fur and bones of a hare in a patch of woods 
thereabouts, left by these hawks, after making a meal on 
them. 
On two or three occasions I found the remains of a 
Canada ruffed grouse {Bonasa umhelhis togata) which 
they had captured. But at no time have I known of one 
of this pair to catch any one's poultry. Though I have 
often heard the farmers remark that probably those hawks 
had caught a great many hens and chickens, yet none 
had ever seen them take any poultry. Not one word was 
ever remarked about the countless numbers of rodents, 
snakes and frogs and such food that these hawks had 
captured. It was a case similar to "poor dog Tray's" ex- 
perience. They had rid the community of a great many 
injurious rodents, yet not a particle of credit for good did 
they get, but were blamed for the harm done by the 
smaller hawks. 
For several vears they nested in a very tall old-growth 
yellow birch, on the steep side hill, each year returning 
early in April and commencing their nesting about the 
middle of Mav, using the same nest year after year, re- 
fining it annually with a few twigs of green hemlock and 
bits of birch bark. The nest soon became an enormous 
structure, and could be seen for a long distance through 
the woods. They seemed to know the significance of a 
"boy with a gun," and if one approached would keep a 
long distance off. I had no desire to shoot them, so they 
became more accustomed to my frequent visits, and were 
not so shy, yet when any one visited that woods with a 
gun, he rarely got a glimpse of the birds, as they left for 
another patch of woods across the stream, remaining until 
the trespasser upon their domains had wearied of the 
chase and retired. 
No amount of trying to hide could be "worked" upon 
them, as they were very wary and could not be fooled. I 
have watched these birds for hours as they would fly 
leisurely to a dead stub and quietly watch for food. When 
disturbed they uttered a hoarse, prolonged cry, not so 
shrill as the cry of their cousins, the red- shouldered hawks 
(Buteo lineatus) ; a more hoarse, prolonged cry like k-a-i ! 
uttered at intervals of several minutes apart, sounding as 
if they had a "frog in their throat." For hours, too, have 
I watched these birds as they gracefully soared with 
wings outstretched in large circles, going higher and 
higher, with scarcely a movement of the wings, soaring 
aimlessly about with seemingly no other object than the 
pleasure of cutting such aerial circles, far too high up 
to be searching for food. The sensation derived from 
skating and cutting circles on the ice and in riding a wheel 
along a smooth, hard path or boulevard, even the pleasure 
of spinning along with the automobile, cannot, I imagine, 
be compared with the sensation of cutting such circles 
through the air. 
The tree in which these birds had nested for years had 
been too high and large to try to climb, but in June, 1897, 
my cousin and myself repaired to it with climbers, and he 
volunteered to ascend to the nest. After a hard climb he 
succeeded in reaching the fork on which the nest rested, 
but the nest was so tall and broad he had great difficulty 
in getting to a point from which he could see into the 
nest. He found three young hawks covered with down, 
about a week old. These he let down to me in his hat, with 
a string tied to it. I took them home and fed them on 
earth worms and bits of mice and frogs. 
It was very interesting to watch them try to tear the 
flesh I gave them, and to see them strike angrily at each 
other, often catching each other by the beak, and a gen- 
eral mix up would then follow. They made very interest- 
ing pets, but I was only able to keep them until about 
half-grown. Unlike my old red-shouldered hawks (see 
Forest and Stream, July 28, 1900, page 65) , the old birds 
did not lay another set of eggs after being disturbed, but 
returned the next year and occupied the old nest. 
Once afterward I took their first set, and they re- 
mained about the nest, but made no attempt to rear young. 
They returned the next spring and reoccupied the old 
nest as usual. 
In the fall of '98 the heavy winds blew their tree down, 
and on their return the following spring they built a new 
nest in a tall, leaning birch, a few rods from the old 
site. This did not prove so satisfactory as the old nest, as 
the following spring, instead of relining this nest, they 
built a nest in a large basswood at the extreme end of 
the woods, south of the old site. Here they resumed 
their regular order of household duties. I visited this 
nest the last of May last year and found my old friends 
were still occupying it. But a week later a young fellow by 
a chance shot killed the female, and the male, which was 
perched on a tall tree not far off, flew rapidly off, and 
he was not seen about the place after that, though I made 
several trips to the nest to see if he was to be seen. Sev- 
eral days after the female was shot I climbed to the nest 
and found that the crows had broken the two eggs and 
eaten the contents, leaving the shells in the nest. 
I shall look next spring, as I spend my vacation near 
that locality, to see if the male will return, mated, and 
occupy the same patch of woods that he has become so 
much attached to, or if this is to be the last chapter I 
am able to record of this interesting family of hawks. If 
the woods is deserted by this remaining hawk and none of 
their progeny come to occupy "the old homestead," there 
will be a vacancy there. The winter wrens will sing on as 
usual, the rose-breasted grosbeaks will nest on the hill- 
side and the woods will ring with their beautiful songs. 
The "nightingales of the North" will make the woods re- 
sound with their mellow call on the dark and rainy days. 
The hermit thrush will sing his evening songs, and the 
many other species will make it a charming spot, yet it 
will never again be complete without a pair of red-tailed 
hawks to soar above the treetops and make the early 
morning air ring with their hoarse cries. Their old 
nest, unoccupied, will be appropriated by the gray squir- 
rels, and will soon decay. The heavy snow and the fierce 
wintry winds will soon break down the once happy home 
of my old friends, the Buteos. 
J. Merton Swain. 
Portland, Me., Jan. 22. 
The Labrador Dwck* 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In a book entitled "Exploration de I'lle d'Anticosti," 
by M. Paul Combes, published in Paris in 1896, a state- 
ment is made that the author recently saw the Labrador, 
or pied, duck near that island. 
I do not know that this statement of M. Combes' has 
been seen by American ornithologists — ^I have not seen 
the work myself — but it is one which will interest them. 
It is believed that the Labrador duck is extinct, and 
this belief is expressed in the A. O. U. check list, and is 
shared by American ornithologists generally, though Mr. 
Ridgway (1887) says more cautiously, "Believed now 
to be nearly if not quite extinct." Mr. Wm. Dutcher, who 
has given especial attention to this bird, writes me: "I 
have made every eft'ort to get information regarding the 
Labrador duck in every portion of the northern part of 
this continent, without any success whatever, and I there- 
fore conclude it is extinct." 
In an article published in Nature of Jan. 10, 1901, en- 
titled "Some Animals Exterminated During the Nine- 
teenth Century," R. L. Ydekker speaks of the Labrador 
duck as extinct, adding, "the last known example having 
been killed in 1852." This is an error, as American" 
ornithologists will readily recognize. About the year 
1871 or 1872 I saw more than one of these birds in process 
of being prepared by a taxidermist, for the late George 
A. Boardman. They had been purchased in the New 
York markets. 
While it is rather unsafe to venture a conjecture as to 
what M. Combes' statement really means, the suggestion 
may be hazarded that he mistook ducks of another species 
for C. labradorius. G. B, G, 
Oh ! was ever a man more happy, 
Could ever more gleefully sing. 
Than when buying trout in the market 
And swearing he caught the whole string? 
— Boston Courier. 
Voice— Catching anything? Fisherman— Yes ; malaria, 
