Forest and Stream 
A Weekly Journal of the Rod and Gun. 
Copyright, 1901, by Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 
Term-s, $4 A Year. 10 Cts. a Copv. I 
Six Months, $2. f 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MAY 4, 1901. 
j VOL. LVI.— No. 18. 
( No. 846 Broadway, New Yor 
^The Forest and Stream is the recognized medium of entertain- 
ment, instruction and information between American sportsmen. 
The editors invite communications on the subjects to which its 
pages are devoted. Anonymous communications will not be re- 
garded. While it is intended to give wide latitude in discussion 
of current topics, the editors are not responsible for the views of 
correspondents. 
1 Subscriptions may begin at any time. Terms: For single 
copies, $4 per year, $2 for six months. For club rates and ftill 
particulars respecting subscriptions, see prospectus on page iii. 
THE AWAKENING OF THE MARSH. 
Silence still broods over the marsh. Under the depress- 
ing chill of heavy fog, the sluggish waterways respond 
slowly to the quickening pulses of the spring. The air 
lacks resonance; none of the quick flying echoes we heard 
last autumn are now abroad. Every sound seems but a dull 
jolt, at once choked, as it were, into stillness. Yet nature 
is at work. We know that her artists are busy over all 
the sweep of the marshland. Hidden under the low-hang- 
ing fog, they are blocking out with delicate touch the 
teirder green of reed and rush, and all the varying growths 
tliat will greet our delighted eyes a few weeks hence 
T\'hen they throb with living color in the sunlight that is 
.'urely coming. 
Soon there is a day when the winds are still, the air 
warmer.' Under some imseen impulse the enshrouding 
fog in deadly quiet, begins to heave and writhe. Slowly 
it drifts away toward the northeast, where it packs in 
masses along the horizon. Then we know that the south 
wiml is the magic that disperses the mists, for we feel 
its gentle caress as it breathes about us. Shadows chase 
across the levels, as the clouds recede, till at last — sun- 
shine ! The now distant fog banks ^re dazzling to look 
upon ; there is snap and glitter to the waters so lately 
sluggish and dead. Life is renewed. After many days 
the marsh has awakened. 
Debris of broken reeds, twigs and odds and ends of 
small wreckage from winter storms, set afloat by the 
swelling tides, are rafted hither and yon wherever the 
waters flow, now circling aimlessly about some little 
pool, changing course with every puff of wandering 
breezes till left by the subsiding flood to dot the meadows 
with irregular patches of dun, in pleasing contrast with 
the fresh green of the springing reeds and grass. 
Soon there, comes a soft, dark night, mysterious with 
curious sound of bird noises, and morning finds the recent 
solitude peopled with returned families of meadow hen 
and willet. From dawn to dusk the echoes are busy with 
cackle and call, and the sunlight is reflected prettily from 
hundreds of white-barred wings as the willet touches 
them above his head for an instant after alighting. 
Beneath the cover of the patches of stranded debris the 
birds make clever little runways leading to and from their 
nests so called ; though the shallow depression "which 
serves to hold their eggs hardly deserves the name. With 
the laying of the eggs, the always hungry crow, buzzard, 
grackle, the wandering pigs and. alas, even man himself, 
sally forth to gather them. Over all the marshland the 
destruction goes on, yet somehow the meadow hen and 
willet seem numerous as ever each returning season. 
Now perchanc'e for a day or two an easterly storm may 
rage. Then once more a soft balmy night shuts in, with 
all its suggestion of mystery. Hung low in the south- 
west a thin crescent moon gleams white against the sky. 
Phe-oo-e ! a marvelously clear, far-reaching call comes 
from the zenith to the sleeping marsh folk below. It 
startles the prowling fox, who answers with a questioning 
Yap! Yap! Phe-oo-e! musical — wild arid free as the 
creature that utters it — this voice in the darkness rings 
out its challenge, telling us that a plover is on his way 
north ; a blackbreast, the avmit courier of hurrying hosts 
far in the inky void behind. Presently we hear them 
coming; soon the vanguard is overhead. They do not 
make a silent advance; the darkness is musical with many 
voices as they pass. 
Our craft is anchored close to the meadow bank and 
from its deck we hear the smooth, soft rush of wings, as 
bunch after bunch of migrants plunge to the meadows 
around us. All night long they pour into the marsh, and 
morning finds them still arriving, while thousands speck 
the blue sky above with hurrying forms as they push 
steadily northward oh the favoring breeze. 
The marsh, its long slumber ended, is full of excite- 
ment for the next fortnight, and when these whirling 
myriads of feathered people again sail away north under 
the stars, it will once more settle down to its summer 
routine with the meadow hen a-nd willet for company. 
"PICTURES FROM FOREST AND STREAM." 
Thirty-two of the full-page pictures printed from time 
to time as illustration supplements to Forest and Stream 
have been selected for publication in book form under the 
above title. A preliminary announcement of this has 
already been sent out, and the response has been such as 
to indicate that the projected volume will be given cordial 
welcome. 
The scope of the collection is fairly comprehensive; the 
subjects include the reproductions of Audubon's bird por- 
traits ; big-game pictures by Rungilis, field scenes by 
Osthaus, hunting pictures by Deming, shooting and fish- 
ing pictures by Davison, and yachting scenes, one of 
which is the supplement of to-day. Every care will be 
taken to insure for the volume the highest artistic excel- 
lence, and to make it in paper, presswork and binding a 
creditable contribution to the literature of the field. A 
list of the plates will be found on another page. 
THE TIME OF BIRDS. 
Hear ye ! Hear ye ! Hear ye ! Fathers and mothers, 
big brothers and sisters and all small children. The great 
wave of bird migration is on. Husbands, tell your wives 
about it ; mothers, tell your little children to look out for 
the passing birds ; big brothers and sisters, polish up your 
opera glasses, and for the next ten days spend all the 
time you can abroad in the open air, watching for the 
tiny travelers which in the same way will not be seen 
for another year. True it is that when the fields have 
grown dry and bare, and the parched plants along the 
dusty highway begin to shrivel with the first frosts of 
autumn, these wanderers will return, but they will do it 
stealthily, in part by night, and most of them will be 
clad in a garb far more modest than the gala dress of 
spring. 
Many of the birds have long been here, The robins 
came a month ago, telling us that the time was at hand.^ 
With puffed out red breasts and bills straw colored, except 
at the very tip, they hopped boldly about on the changing 
grass, and whistled defiantly at one another and had 
their mimic battles. Then came the mating and the 
building of the nests-; the blue eggs appeared— and many 
a one was washed out of its shelter and broken in the 
rains of the past few weeks. Many others of our more 
hardy birds are with us. The redheaded woodpecker 
drums persistently on the dead limb far tq) in the oak 
tree, while the flicker sitting crosswise on a branch un- 
tiringly utters his monotonous song. 
But now, during the next ten days, will come the 
horde of more delicate and more beautiful birds, some of 
which will spend the summer with us, while others will 
pass on to more northern climes, -where in the deep pine 
and hemlock woods they will rear broods- that will make 
up a part of the noiseless throng of autumn migrants. 
To-morrow morning, then, if it be fair, take your field 
glasses and some friend who knows the birds, or, if you 
have no such friend, the bird book which you should 
have purchased long ago, and go out into the fields. In 
the bushes and along the fences and hedgerows, in the 
apple trees in the orchard or hovering amid the topmost 
branches of giant oak or chestnut, are a multitude of 
friends whom you should know, and whom once know- 
ing you will welcome year after year with joy and glad- 
ness. At the end of each twig an opening bud is offering 
sweet food to tiny insects, and among the twigs, attracted 
by these insects, are the warblers and flycatchers and 
vireos that you wish to see. > 
There are many of them, and of many kinds. Black- 
capped and brown-vested and green-coated, they dart 
hither and thither, never for a moment keeping quiet, and 
puzzling the novice by their swift movements and ever- 
changing combinations of color. Yet each species has its 
own peculiar ways, and if interest and patience in the 
novel sight do not fail, before long the observer will be 
able to pick out one from another, and from the manner 
in which a bird moves along a' branch or darts from its 
perch in pursuit of a flying insect, or balances itself as 
it stretches out for one almost beyond its reach, he will 
be able to identify approximately the birds of one group 
and another. 
This is the time of the birds' greatest abundance, and 
those who wish to study the passers by should do it now. 
Teachers should take out their classes into the open air 
and study this broad page of the book of nature. Above 
all, parents should see that this spring their children are 
introduced to the passing birds. 
Happy are they who live in the country and have, with- 
in easy reach, this page unblotted by great edifices of brick 
and stone and mortar. Let them make the most of this 
beautiful season. But even those less happy — who dwell 
in the cities — can either get out into the country for a 
day, or by going into one of the large parks can there 
see some of the busy wanderers. The day has come for a 
widespread appreciation of the importance of learning 
something of nature, and now for a few days there is the 
opportunity to study her directly and not through the 
medium of books. 
Go forth, then, to field and copse and woodland ; take 
the children with you and make the most of your brief 
opportunity. 
SNAP SHOTS. 
We have often urged the establishment by the individual 
States of game parks on the plan of the Yellowstone Na- 
tional Park, where the game might have a permanent 
refuge for breeding and stocking the adjacent country. 
It will be recalled that Mr. Willard G. Van Name, of 
Connecticut, has suggested that the National Government 
should set apart such reservations for the migratory 
species. Just now the scheme of public game preserves 
promises to have recognition in the Legislature of Mr. 
Van Name's own State. The Fish and Game Committee 
has reported with approval a bill to empower the Fish and 
Game Commission to establish preserves by leasing tracts 
of from fifty to three hundred acres for terms of twenty- 
five or fifty years. The land thus set apart may be used 
by the owner for other purposes. The value of such 
small game preserves has been demonstrated again and 
again by the posting of farms and other private holdings, 
from which as a source of supply the surrounding terri- 
tory has been stocked. We trust that the Connecticut 
plan of public reservations may be put into operation and 
that the system may be extended to other States. 
The Forest and Stream has more than once discussed 
the question as to how women should ride a horse, and 
expressed its opinion that the correct way is riding astride. 
Gradually the view which we have held seems to be gain- 
ing ground. In Boston and in other cities more and more 
women are riding astride, and it is said that the practice 
is gaining ground in England, where already some women 
ride to hounds in the novel and reasonable method. It 
is quite possible that the day may not be distant when 
there will be a revolution of public opinion on this sub- 
ject. It is well remembered that when the bicycle first 
became popular, women for a long time held back from 
riding it, very much on the same grounds that now are 
urged against riding horseback astride, yet after a time 
they yielded, and almost at once women were seen riding 
bicycles as frequently as men. Safety, comfort and grace 
are the three principal things to be gained by a change in 
women's custom in this respect. ' 
Work on a large scale is soon to begin on the roads in 
the Yellowstone National Park. The work will be in 
charge of Col. Chittenden, of the LT. S. Corps of Engi- 
neers, who has previously been stationed in the Park 
on the same duty and is extremely familiar with it. Col. 
Chittenden's interest in the Park is very great, and he 
is well known as the author of an admirable history of it. 
It is stated that the system of roadway when completed 
wiir include 390 miles, of which 162 miles are now in use. 
The system will Consist of a belt line or circuit of the 
Park, to pass through all the important centers of interest, 
approaches by which the belt line may be reached from the 
boundaries of the Park, and cross roads, side roads and 
trails, connecting different roads or giving access to special ~ 
individual objects. The length of the belt line, including 
some of the cross roads, will be over 150 miles, while the 
total length of the approaches, entering from the north, 
east, south and west, will be 132 miles. Of these about 
100 miles is in the Park and tl^ remainder outside of thf 
Park in the forest reserve, 
