^^FOREST * AND ^ STREAM? 
848 
away, I have sometimes seen her return to the recently 
laid egg, and. as if not satisfied that all was as it should 
be, she would take the folded leaf, together with the in- 
closed egg, into her mouth and press it getitly to make 
sure it wa^ in a proper and safe position^" ' 
The eggs of the newt are oval in shaiie and trans- 
parent, so that the nucleus of the egg is plainly seen, and 
the development of the germ may be witnessed day by 
day. Fig. ii shows the newly deposited egg enfolded in 
a leaf of a water plant at i, the embryo just beginning 
to take form at 2, the same more developed at 3, and the 
fnibryo still further advanced and showing the branchial 
tufts at 4 a, b, c, d. The continued development is shown 
in Figs. 12, 13, 14 and 15, all of which are greatly en- 
larged. 
In commenting on the difference in the metamorphoses 
of the frogs and tritons, or newts, a correspondent* of a 
scientific journal in summing them up says: 
"Thus, we have in the frog an animal furnished with 
three sets of breathing apparatus, four legs, and a tail 
at different stages of its existence, rst, external gills as a 
tadpole ; 2d, internal gills like a fish ; 3d, lungs adapted 
for breathing air. The gills and tail, no longer needed 
for aquatic existence, are absorbed, not lost; the animal 
steps out of the water a true lung-breathing vertebrate. 
Next come the tritons, with external gills for three months 
instead of three daj^s ; lungs appear, and the four legs 
and tail are retained throughout life. The animal is 
amphibious, living mostly in the water, but dies for want 
of breath if kept there, and prevented from coming to 
the surface to breathe. Next below comes a curious ani- 
mal, the American axolotl {Siredon pisciformis') . shining 
like a huge, black tadpole 12 or 14 inches long, with four 
legs, a tail and a set of external gills, which are retained 
throughout the whole of its existence. For some time 
it was supposed to be merely the tadpole, or larval form of 
some terrestrial animal, but 'I believe it is never known to 
leave the water voluntarily, and breeds freely in this con- 
dition, laying quantities of eggs, which are easily reared. 
Strange to say, although it never breathes by anything but 
gills, it has rudimentary lungs. This tendency to varia- 
tion, and shadowing forth of higher forms, side by side 
with persistent types, is intensely interesting, as forming 
links in Darwin's endless chain of evolution." 
The newts, both the young and those which are fully 
grown, change their skins, occasionallj^ the old one coming 
off like a glove from one's hand; usitally it comes away 
in fragments, although sometimes it peels off in one entire 
piece. Those who have had these little creatures in their 
aquaria have no doubt witnessed this casting of the skin 
and know how interesting a performance it is, particu- 
larly when the skin has got down to the hind legs and 
the newt pulling one foot and then the other out of the 
covering seizes the thin garment in its mouth and swal- 
lows it with two or three gasping gulps. 
*AnonyiTiou.«;. 
Hawk and Crows. 
KiN.STONj N. C, Oct. 20. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
My friend, I. M. Tull, proprietor of Tower Hill Dairy 
Farm, reports a singular incident which he observed 
yesterday. While squirrel himting in the woods of the 
river bottom, he shot and killed a crow, which, in falling 
from the tree top, lodged in a grape vine which festooned 
the tree. It was a long shot, about 200 yards ; and other 
crows near by not being alarmed by the shot, Mr. Tull 
waited quietly where he was for another chance. Very 
soon another crow pitched into the treetop and was also 
killed, falling to the ground. 
In a few minutes a hawk came and seized the dead crow 
in the grape vines, but was followed by a flock of crows 
searching for him. He hid under the wings of the dead 
crow until the other crows left the neighborhood, when 
he emerged from his hiding place, took the dead crow 
in his talons and bore it to a stump about 300 yards away 
and proceeded to make a meal from it. Mr. Tull then 
crept up on the hawk and killed him. 
This makes an interesting little yarn; in my estimation, 
more so by reason of the fact that the narrator is trust- 
worthy. Tar Heel. 
All communications intended for Forest and Stee.4m should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., and 
not to any individual connected with the paper. 
Seaboard Air Line. — VL 
Report to November, t90K 
Kow had the season returned, when tlve nights grow colder and 
longer. 
And the retreating sun the sign of the scorpion enters. 
Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound, 
Desolate Northern bays to- the shores of tropical islands. 
— Longfellow. 
A FEW nights since, about 10:30 P. M., while the moon- 
light was drawing clear-cut shadows of the trees and 
shrubbery upon the grass, as it lay glistening under the 
heavy dew, I heard the signal Honk! Honk — "down 
brakes" — from a party of Canadas coming down at top 
speed through the northern skies. Honk! Honk! My, 
how they were coming along. I had to stop to hear them, 
for I could not, of course, see them. But why signal 
"down brakes" ? Why slacken speed ? Wait ; I'll tell you 
presently. Now, I essay to give them a passing welcome, 
Ar-ronk! Ar-ronk! — ^liow it made my bronchial tubes 
ache, so unfamiliar has the language become to me of 
late. Mortifying silence was the result of my first hail. 
I knew they were almost overhead; my sense of their 
speed and direction told me that, but not even the soft 
W-ish! W-ish! of those great wings that annihilate 
space, and were even now driving them so swiftly on, came 
to me. Once more I hailed. Maybe it was a something 
of appeal in this second effort that compelled recognition 
— indepd, 1 did feel a bit badly over the deadly quiet that 
reigned above — for suddenly a ringing chorus made reply, 
1-Ionk ! Honk ! A-ronk I Honk ! Aronk ! as though 
they said, "Why! Why! there's the old man again, boys." 
You had better believe I talked with them after that, till 
they were beyond the reach of my voice, and then wished 
I had a megaphone to prolong the conversation. Wild 
geese are sociable creatures when they learn to know 
you; many a friendly chat I've held with the decoys in 
their coop just outside the cabin door on stormy nights 
speitt on Champlain. They always grow restless and 
loquacious on stormy nights. To many their varying in- 
tonation conveys no meaning, but once learn to know 
thein as some do. and you will soon find they Avill talk 
to you, and tell you thiligs. "Old fool," did I hear you 
say? Well, as I have the last word, I will tell you if you 
think so, don't say so, for you really don't know whereof 
you speak. Hark ! Honk ! Honk ! far to soutli'ard "down 
brakes" again. Now I'll tell you I've a notion those fel- 
lows intend to pass the night in Gravesend Bay, hence 
that signal. Sure enough ! A day or so afterward an old 
bavman shouted as I passed, "Oh, say ! I heard a gang of 
geese come in the other night 'bout 10 o'clock ; they left 
ag'in 'fore daylight" — ^my friends, evidently. I meant to 
start right in on my Seaboard Air Line report, but as you 
see, I've taken you off on a veritable wild goose chase 
instead. Now I will get right down to subject matter and 
try to stay there. 
Autumn travel has been very heavy all through these 
beauteoits, rich-colored days. The lithe, feather-clad 
forms have been darting through the sunshine in throngs 
on their Avay south. Owing to prevailing high winds the 
flight by day has been at a lower level than usual, and it 
was interesting to see many of the small fellows hesitate 
at the open spaces — where they were sure to feel the full 
power of the blast— before crossing. When they did 
try it, it took a quick eye to distinguish them from falling 
leaves at times, so rudely were they driven by the buffet- 
ing winds. The variety in travel was much as usual, both 
as to numbers and species, with the exception of the 
flickers (C. amatus). 
It was like old times to see them come bounditig and 
clipping along in such numbers, and toi hear their slogan 
thrill on the crisp, morning air. When their flight is on 
with us, a northwest wind over night will bring them in 
hordes next morning. If the breeze is moderate and 
steady, the flight is close along the shore line. If the 
breeze is heavy and steady, the flight is further inland. 
Each day's flight consists of two sections, the first about 
daylight, the second at between 8 and 9:30 A. M. If the 
breeze be steady as above, the birds pass along ; there are 
but few left-overs for next day, but if the wind dies 
awaj', they scatter about the country for a few days, till 
the next favoring breeze bears them awa}^. There are 
always two flights of these birds each autumn, that are 
markedly in excess of numbers as compared with their 
general flight. At times these occur within a few days of 
each other, again 'a week or two may intervene. What 
times some boys I used to know once had with wild 
pigeons and flickers hereabouts, in years gone hy. The 
breezy, red sunrise in a carefully built blind, the swaying 
pole, the Wicker! Wicker! Wicker! as bird after bird 
alighted, then the proud feeling that came when one had 
mastered the art of stopping the bounding creature in 
full flight — it was no easy shot I can tell you, by the way. 
But I will not continue, lest some one take me to task 
for past transgressions. I learned the folly of indis- 
criminate slaitghter early in life, and have always believed 
and worked for proper protection, though in those days 
we never heard the word as applied to birds. I know the 
foolishness of it all now. but somehow do you kirow we 
used to have awful bright sunrises then. The bean- 
shooter, a weapon never used against birds in my younger 
days, is now causing a very high death rate among them. 
When a flight of birds is on, and a diminishing wind 
scatters them as described above, you will find boys, aye, 
and full-grown men, prowling along the hedgerows, or 
squatted under the dogwoods, busily engaged in noise- 
lessly,potting the feeding migrants. Buckshot is used as 
ammunition, and it is wonderful how expert some of these 
beggars are, in knocking down their victims, or innocently 
pulverizing some chestnut burr when you appear unex- 
pectedly and questioningly on the scene. 
On Sept. 28, when Columbia was outside, busy with 
Shamrock, there came a time when both yachts, close 
hauled, were standing to the east almost abreast, and but 
a short space apart. Away they sped over the crinkling 
waters, under the bluest of skies, a great billow of white 
cloud floating high above them, when. Whirr ! a huge 
flock of white-winged coots flashed by under the cloud, 
and apparently just above the topsails of the yachts. 
That, to me, was the finishing touch to a beautiful marine 
picture. In short, there is always something doing on the 
Seaboard Air Line, and I trust that these chronicles it has 
been my privilege to make for a few seasons past will 
bear fruit in pleasure to some, wlio may be prompted to 
look and see for themselves what is passing almost at 
their own doors. Wilmot Townsend. 
The Fall of the Leaf. 
One of the most interesting of the structural changes 
in the twigs of trees during the year is that which pre- 
cedes and causes the fall of the leaf. The phenomenon 
which annually strips our deciduous trees is no more an 
indication of death and decay to the tree than is the 
annual shedding of its hair by an animal or of its skin by 
a snake. It is rather a result of development and a sign 
of life. The leaf which dies and falls is not an in- 
dividual, but only an organ that has a temporary function 
to perform, and is got rid of when it has performed that 
function. When a leaf dies and does not fall, it may be 
assumed that the twig to which it is attached is itself 
dead, and that the death of the leaf is the consequence of 
the death of the twig. Every careful observer of trees 
must have noticed that twigs which have been injured 
or broken when in full leaf, and which remain hanging to 
the tree, retain their dead leaves permanently, and that 
it even requires the exercise of some force to detach such 
leaves from their twigs. It is well known that boughs 
and twigs gathered while in leaf do not lose their leaves, 
however' long they may be kept after they are dead. To 
make the fall of the leaf an emblem of decay and death is 
of the nattire of a bltmder due to ignorance. 
It may be remarked here that the leaves of all living 
trees fall sooner or later, and that the only difference 
between evergreen and what are known as deciduous 
trees is that, in the former case, the leaves remain on 
the tree more than one season, while in the latter case 
they fall at the end of their first and only season. Some 
evergreens retain their leaves two, some three, and some 
many seasons. Hence, though an evergreen is never with- 
out leaves, it loses every year a season's leaves. We 
owe to the microscope the discovery of the structural 
change which involves the natural fall of the leaf. When 
the leaf is first produced, it is an integral portion of the 
stem. There is a continuity, not only between the more 
delicate cellular structure of the stem and the leaf, but 
also between the fibro-vascular tissue of the two. Bundles 
or strings of this latter tissue pass out of the stem into 
the veins of the leaf, and when they are matured they 
possess a strength comparable to that of threads. It needs 
the exercise of some force to break a leaf from a twig in 
the summer time. If at that time a twig is gathered, it 
dies with the thread-like fibers connecting it with its 
leaves still intact, and the leaves die with the twig without 
detaching themselves from it. The leaves of the victor's 
laurel crown remain a part of the crown as long as the 
crown exists, whereas, had the laurel twigs not been 
plucked, the leaves would have fallen from thein in the 
course of two or three seasons. 
What the plant has to do in order to get rid of its leaves 
when they are no longer needed is to sever both the cellu- 
lar tissue and the bundles of fibers that tie them to their 
twigs. As these bundles of fibers are also the channels 
through which much of the sap and of the various vege- 
table products pass into and out of the leaf, and as the 
cutting of the fibers is accompanied by a similar stoppage 
of absorption through the cellular tissue, it follows that 
the process necessarily starves and kills the leaf. [The 
beauty of autumn color in the foliage of trees and shrubs 
depends on this process, and similar results follow "ring- 
ing," or partial injury to the branches. — Ed.] One of 
the first stages of the process is the formation of a thin 
layer of cork cells between the base of the leaf stalk and 
the stem of the twig. At first this layer simply affects the 
soft, cellular tisstie and leaves the vascular fibers intact. 
Cork cells are thin-walled, but impervious to water. An- 
other stage in the process is the formation, outside of the 
layer of cork cells, of a layer of cells which gradually 
break away from each other and become merely round 
bodies lying side by side instead of forming a continuous 
tissue. The slightest force, perhaps the 'shrinkage of the 
leaf-stalk on account of the diminution of the supply of 
sap. will now break off the leaf. 
But the fall of the leaf leaves a healed wound on the 
stem of the twig. Were all the leaf-cicatrices on a tree 
left unhealed, the tree would suffer seriously. But the 
broken ends of the vessels wither, and the cork layer al- 
ready formed closes over them, covering the cicatrice with 
a coating of impervious cells sufficiently thick to prevent 
the passage of sap from within, and to protect the newly 
exposed parts from the frost and other injurious influ- 
ences without. This protective process, subsequent to the 
exposure of the cicatrice, is not altogether peculiar to 
the phenomenon of the fall of the leaf; some similar 
process occurs after cinj accidental injury. What is 
special to the fall of the leaf is the anticipatory formation 
of an initial cork, layer and of a dividing layer of dis- 
integrating cells. This part of the process is somewhat 
analogous to the growth of a new skin on the snake pre- 
vious to the casting oft' of the old one. — London Field. 
Mote Grouse in Town, 
S.A.YRE. Pa. — Mrs. Harding, of Chemung street, Waver- 
ly. N. Y., returned last Aveek from a visit to find the 60- 
inch front window of the family residence broken and the 
premise's invaded by an unexpected guest. Investigation 
disclosed a ruffed grouse reposing on the parlor carpet, 
dead, awaiting the eye of the cook and the simmer of the 
kettle, 
A year or two ago a grouse flew through an open win- 
dow of a residence located in this same neighborhood, 
passed through an open bedroom door and was later 
caught alive under the bed. 
Should these manifestations of wild life continue to 
disturb the pulse beats of Wa.yerly society it is expected 
that a number of Sayre sportsmen will purchase Waverly 
and the adjacent wilderness _4nd convert it into a vast 
game preserve, from which' politics and polecats will 
be rigidly excluded, M. Chill, 
