Aug. 10, 1901 .J 
FOREST AND STREAM 
108 
leath, fleeing with what strength it had to the last drop 
if the poor thing's blood. 
We threw a string over its horns and towed it back to 
he portage, picking np in passing our floating black ani- 
nal, which proved to be a very large wolverine, carcajo or 
ndian devil, the beast going under all of these names with 
lunters and traders. 
The carcajo, when he loads for deer, goes down to one 
jf their runways, or on a road leading to a salt lick. He 
ilimbs a tree and gets out on some branch overhanging the 
rack. Here he Battens himself out and waits. Yes, he is 
( record waiter. He can give points to even the girl who 
A waiting and watching. 
Time is no object to him : his inwards may be shriveling 
jp for want of food, but there he remains. Once he has 
aken up that position nothing but a deer will make him 
ihow the least sign of life. He is to all intents a part of 
he tree limb, and the knowledge that all things "come to 
lim who waits" is strongly fixed in his devil brain. 
The deer passes, he drops on to him like a rock. Should 
le strike too far back, his cruel claws grip his way up 
oward the neck, and there he settles himself, a fixture, and 
;uts away at the large veins till the poor deer bleeds to 
leath. 
As soon as the deer feels this foreign weight on his 
)ack and the cruel teeth cutting into him, he at once runs 
nto and through the thickest part of the forest trying to 
rub the incubus off his back. But the carcajo has the 
tenacity of the bulldog, and his own skin would be 
ripped and lacerated before he would let go his hold. 
The deer, realizing this mad rush through the bush is 
useless, makes for the nearest water in the hope that this 
will rid him of his enemy. But vain hope, the wolverine 
is there to stop, and only opens his jaws when the deer 
s dead, or, as in ray instance, through fear for his per- 
sonal safety. 
Our beaver hunt was spoilt for that night, so we moved 
back on the trail and camped. There we passed our 
time drying the deer's meat and skinning the Indian devil. 
Martin Hunter. 
Some Musings. 
Mk. Samuel.s' delightful article in Forest and Stream 
of July 20 struck a keynote in my memory and awakened 
a chord which, after three score j^ears, vibrates as full 
as ever it did since my early life (and which was strung 
in my he.'irt by my mother), and after all these long years 
as vividly as at the beginning, when she trained my young 
mind in the first steps of wisdom. For she awakened 
a habit of inquiry in it, which has never since been dor- 
mant, but has been the keynote of my life. We don't 
think half enough of our mothers, we men who think 
ourselves the lords of cr&ation and everything in and out 
of it. For forty years I have been studying this matter 
of maternal influence in the animal, as to ourselves and 
our domestic creatures, before I dared venture to put 
my ideas in print, but I have done so recently and I am 
gratified to know that scientific men, so far, all acquiesce 
in my belief, that the mother is the most influential parent 
of the twoj^ that she receives the vital influence, only, 
from the father; but the growth and character of the 
progeny are due to her solely, as the parent of the living 
germ which grows within her, is nurtured by her, and 
thus receives the impress of her character. What great 
man has not acknowledged the influence of his mother 
on the formation, the development of his character and 
disposition! History carries down with it the memory 
of the mother in regard to all our great men, and so 
it is all through animal life. For we are animajs first 
and last, as to natural organic functions, and the brain's 
of course are the most important of all these. And when 
in my old age I think of any successes made in my life, 
the thought of the ability to have succeeded turns back 
to my mother's lessons, admonitions and instructions, 
on which all acquisitions since have been founded. And 
a spirit of inquiry was thus early awakened in my life 
which since has been the guiding principle to me. And 
thus, wh^n I see or read any information in which the 
fullest particulars are not given, I hark back to the time 
when my youiig mind was never satisfied until I had 
got the whole story. So when I read that interesting 
article referred to, I felt impelled to supply what in my 
early life would have been the first inquiry. 
As to chewing the cud by a ruminating animal, the 
explanation does not come up to my methods of telling 
a story, for it lacks the how is it all done. We are told 
what is done, but how it is is the main gist of the mat- 
ter to me, and doubtless to many of your readers not 
well versed in animal physiology; and I hope our friend, 
the writer of that article, will not think I am putting a 
finger in his pie if I explain this from the point of view 
of a student of anatomy. The food, he truly says, is re- 
ceived into the first stomach, and passes into the second, 
and finally into the fourth, where it is digested. This 
is only the tantalizing point to my mind, for we want to 
know how this is done; the machinery of the stomach 
of a ruminant, in fact, by which this work .is per- 
formed. 
The simple facts are these: The food is hastily swal- 
lowed, as described by Mr. Samuels, and goes into the 
rumen or large sac, which has a capacity of several bush- 
els. Connected with the rumen is the reticulum, com- 
monly called the honeycomb on account of its cellular 
lining, and this is a mere adjunct of the rumen, and ap- 
pears to serve the purpose mostly of a reservoir of water 
by wiiich the food is moistened and reduced to a fine 
pulp between the leaves of the next compartment, called 
the omasum or maniplies: so called because of the 
numerous leaves with vvhich it is furnished, and between 
which the food is ground and macerated into a soft, 
semi-fluid pulp. From this the food passes into the aboma- 
sum, or true digestive stomach, in which it is partly dis- 
soh ed by the gastric fluid here secreted. 
Now let us go back to the food hastil-y swallowed by 
a ruminating animal. . Right at the junction of the three 
first divisions is a curious bit of machinery, called the 
esophageal groove. This is a small sac or tube, a few 
inches in length, which connects the first and second 
divisions of the stomach with the third. This groove 
has a slit in it, through which the hastily eaten food — 
moistened by the water in the reticulum — is forced by 
a contraction of the stomach, easily visible when the cow 
is ruminating, into this small canal; and by a process 
of regurgitation is carried to the mouth. This small 
quantity of food is the cud — supposed by a majority of 
feeders of animals to be some functional substance which 
may be lost, and then must be supplied to the animal. 
But it is simply a wad of food, forced, as described, into 
the mouth, where it is chewed at leisure, and with evi- 
dent comfort and pleasure by the healthy animal, and, 
being reduced to a semi-fluid condition, is swallowed and 
goes into the omasum, or maniplies, on account 
of its numerous leaves between which it is macerated^ 
into a fluid which then goes into the fourth part of the 
stomach, where it is mixed with the gastric fluid, the 
solvent of the food, and then becomes nutriment, com- 
pletely, when acted on by the bile in the duodenum. But 
the \vhite curd mentioned by Mr. Samuels is not formed 
until the food is finally dissolved and decomposed in the 
bowels, where, by absorption by an infinite number of 
minute vessels, called the lacteal vessels, of the nutri- 
ment, it passes into the great lacteal vein, which runs 
up the backbone, conspicuously, and is poured into the 
heart. There it mixes with the blood, which is forced 
iuto the lungs, through which it passes and is oxygen- 
ized by the air, and then goes into the heart again (a 
special part of it) from which it is forced by the heart's 
contractions into the great arteries, and thence to the 
small ones, and so on until it reaches those minute blood 
vessels, the capillaries, which connect the arteries with 
the veins, and then, having given up to the body the 
^'ital nutriment b)^ which the animal is supported, the 
devitalized blood goes back again to the heart, and gets 
a fresh .supplj' of nutriment; and so on from birth to 
death, at every pulsation, this nourishment is carried to 
every part of the body, and so supports the animal heat 
and repairs the waste of vital action and motion. Now 
all this is of vast interest, and I think these facts should 
be taught in the schools, if only that farmers and feeders 
of animals may get to the deeply interesting facts in this 
connection ; and every young person might learn what 
an important matter it is to all of us to know how we 
five, and have our being, through the food we eat. 
I was going to tell you something about ravens, and 
our rainbow trout, and other things, of which I have 
had the extreme pleasure of talking with your Mr. Hal- 
lock, of whom to say 1 have at last met and swapped 
stories with him is one of the most pleasant occurrences of 
my life. But it is too serious a matter for me to. crowd 
into the tail end of this letter, and is reserved for another 
opportunity. Henry Stewart. 
Highlands, N. C. 
hni^ ^ttd ^un. 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stkeam. 
Ojai Valley Notes. 
NoRDHOFF, Cal. — Southern California, at nearly any 
time of the year, offers sport for the lover of gun and 
rod. In summer the snap shot may steady his aim on 
individual doves flying about the stubble and find shoot- 
ing them no mean test of his skill, or, with larger ambi- 
tion, go to the cations for deer, perhaps to meet there a 
surviving member of the grizzly family, bent mightily on 
persisting in his survival; and in winter this same gun 
will have for his delectation wild pigeons in the forests, 
ducks wherever water abounds, or that supreme of all 
game, the great American quail, which here are found 
wherever there is cover. The angler may catch trout 
through the hot months, and sea monsters almost any 
time of the year. 
Excepting the use of pump guns, the deer hunting is 
done here in the most primitive way. Hounds are seldom 
employed. The sportsman still-hunts the likely canons, 
those with either water or acorns, and shoots from the 
slope opposite the quarry, should it attempt to climb up 
the mountain, tactics that bring the whole action into 
view, often to keep it there for a time, rather an ex- 
hilarating denouement to my mind, though to that of your 
readers it may have lost this quality because so familiar. 
The man who makes these drives, his way closed in with 
burning walls, as he climbs over loose rock and boulders 
his thirst often terrible, deserves a delightful finish to his 
toil, and he usually has it. I am afraid, though, that my 
preference is for the chase on the level, baying of hounds, 
a single shot — ^the only one. But the hunting here in the 
mountains is more primitive. 
In my rather limited experience I have never known 
deer to be tamer than they are in this country. This is 
probably because the does, which are here protected by 
law at all seasons, acquire a fearless disposition toward 
man, a confidence that has caused unfortunate stags to 
approach within civilization, on several occasions almost 
to enter town, as some one remarked, "as if to inquire 
for a letter." An acquaintance who lives within half a 
mile o^ the post office told me of a recent case. A fine 
stag, doubtless from the nearest hill, was observed one 
morning as he came across back fields, leaping barbed 
fences readily, his pace an easy lope, till he landed among 
the milch cows in the home lot, where shooting him 
later seemed almost murder. Through the spring I have 
never had to search long for signs where deer had been 
budding the fruit orchards near town. As a matter of 
principle, no one should try this during the close season 
if he carry a gun; it is much wiser to forswear all chance 
of being tempted. 
Shooting at doves, which is permitted here after July 
15, is considered by some of the inhabitants, especially by 
the small boy, as being not only exciting, but legitimate, 
and for a while I concurred in this belief, but discovery as 
late as August of several nests of fledglings along the 
foothills and elsewhere convinced me that an error had 
been made by somebody. Though to my mind the com- 
mon dove had seemed almost a game bird, now in stunmer 
it is allowed to fly its course, a privilege it had formerly 
taken without my consent. The band-tailed pigeons ar- 
rive here throuorh October. Because of their stupidity 
the shooting they aflford is mere slaughter. They resemble 
the Antwerp type, and are nearly as large. Several 
specimens weighed a pound apiece and measured 27 
inches across, thus exceeding the spread of our passenger 
variety by 4 inches. 
The manner in which I obtained ray first band-tailed 
specimens showed the unwariness of these creatures. One 
hot October day I had assumed a high seat on a summit, 
from which the live oaks of Camp Comfort and miles_ of 
creek road were visible. A flash of steel-gray disappearing 
into the foliage beneath was at first surmised to be a 
dove, then a pigeon. Immediately I fell down several 
hundred yards of bluff, accompanied by large drifts of 
detached shale; but the pigeons, three, only flushed to a 
sycamore top a short distance down stream. Shooting 
at them afterward and bringing down a brace was brutal. 
Both individuals had iridescent hackles and otherwise 
resembled the blue type of our tame variety. The 
chopped-off tail gave a decidedly pigeon look. Yellow 
back, yellow tarsus and absence of wing bar were, so far 
as I had observed, peculiar to this local forester. Lack 
of fear would result in extermination but for the flocks 
inhabiting inaccessible country. I could not deny at home 
that I had shot a pair of tame pigeons — ^very tame. 
Ducks come into the Ojai Valley during wet win- 
ters. Ponds offer fine shooting at such times. So far I 
have seen none of it, because we have had successively 
what are termed only dry years. As the weather has 
been more favorable this fall, a few ponds have formed, 
but as yet have grown little feed. The flocks are around, 
though, for recently we found a teal impaled on a barbed 
fence. During the hard storm a few days previous to our 
discovery, flights may have been plentiful. But why had 
the victim avoided the open air to hit a fence? 
While returning from a walk several weeks ago to a 
likely pond four miles down the grade road, I climbed a 
hill to spend on the large mesa up there a few such hours 
as had been familiar to me when the hunting was over 
Maryland covers. The grass and rough growth of the 
hill top had been full of cottontail rabbits; now all the 
land up there except a brushy corner had been plowed. 
There must have been at least eighty acres of open and 
ten of cover. A random shot fired while I was beating the 
first thicket started rabbits in all directions, and after- 
ward a kick into any of the lilac clusters started another 
panicky fugitive. I brought two home. They seemed 
very small, and had diminutive cottontails, though both 
were evidently matured specimens. Their flesh, being 
flavored with wild sage, was delicious. Beagles would 
have made that hUl top resound with tonguing. 
Newspapers — what are they? A short time ago Ranger 
Herbert, in patrolling the mountain fifteen or twenty 
miles from here, saw a bear disappearing into a caiion. 
After dismounting he shot five times before he discovered 
that it was old Club Foot, the grizzly. It was a mistake 
to shoot. The pony proved to be a fast runner. When 
Ranger Herbert ventured up that way nearly a week after- 
ward he found the bear dead and brought the feet home 
as souvenirs. Missing toes from one of these identified 
the grizzly. But now the Los Angeles Times discredits 
the kill by declaring that old Club Foot, who has been 
killed so often and so variously, will not mind the late 
unpleasantness, but will soon be stealing calves or colts 
again somewhere between San Diego and the north end of 
this State, which, to say the least, is an unneighborly way 
of putting it. 
During the winter, out of doors in this land of sun- 
shine, with bracing air, fine scenery and the song of birds 
to delight one, is very captivating to the senses of man. 
Did you ever hear the Western lark (Sturnella neglecta) , 
the California type of the meadow variety ? Since the rain 
our valley has been full of these birds. Their notes 
are as various as those of an expert fife player. As 
musicians they are far superior to the Eastern kind. No 
two individuals sound just alike. The extreme to which 
they carry their ecstasies at times is hysterical. I always 
pause to listen when I happen upon a field of these wild 
Wagnerians. ■ IL R. Steiger. 
Massachusetts Partridgfes. 
Boston, Aug. 5. — Game reports are excellent in this 
State. Already the law prohibiting the sale of partridges 
and 'quail at all seasons is showing its beneficent effects. 
A gentleman living in Essex county, a careful observer 
of game, and a lover of hunting, tells me that there are 
20 partridges in the woods in his section where there was 
one last year. This increase he attributes entirely to the 
non-sale law, which went into effect last year. He says 
that one man, living near him, a desultory worker at 
his trade, has always made a practice of gunning almost 
every day as soon as the law was off on partridges and 
quail— gunning for the market. He would send in to 
market from one to a dozen birds almost every day, under 
the old law. Last year he stuck to his bench, gunning 
but one day that my informant is aware of, and killing 
but three partridges, against many dozens on other sea- 
sons. Mr. C. H. Tarbox has a story equally good from 
the section of Byfield. Both partridges and quail are 
\musually abundant, the effect, he believes, of the birds 
not being all killed for market last year. He has a flock 
of 13 young partridges not far from his buildings, that 
he has watched from the eggs forward. On Sunday 
mornings, his dog, who first showed his master where 
the nest was, by pointing the old bird on the eggs, wdl 
come, and through signs, understood by his master, sug- 
gest that they go down and see the birds. They go out, 
and the dog comes to a point half a dozen times, perhaps, 
and then wonders why his master does not shoot. He 
never went nearer the old bird on the nest than to come 
to a good point, and has never offered to flush her on 
the young. Speciai.. 
Bay Birds at Barne^at. 
Bayville, N. J., Aug. 3.— There are plenty of bay birds 
about the inlet, curlew and wdlet having been go mg south 
for the past month. I saw a large bunch of black duck 
and about thirty wood duck yesterday on the Double 
Trouble ponds. Lots of weakfish bitmg. Herb. 
The Foa«ST ahd St»xam is pot to press each week on Tue«d^ 
Correspondence intended for pubUcation should reach us at the 
latest by Monday and aa much earlier aa practicable. 
