Marc» t, 1902.1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
out on the flat I saw the bulls and turned toward them, 
and when near the coulee they were feeding in I saw 
my partner rise up out of the sagebrush, stagger a few 
steps toward the cabin, and then fall. t I hurried over to 
where he had disappeared and found him lying face down 
ra the brush, three arrows sticking in his back. He had 
fainted. I called the nien, and sending one of them for 
the doctor at Camp Cook, had the rest help me get Nat. 
to the cabin. I pulled out two of the arrows, but the 
third one, which had struck him in the lower part of the 
back, and was pressing against the lower part of the 
abdomen, I dared not touch. In a little while Nat. re- 
covered from his faint, and after drinking a glass of 
whisky and water, seemed his old cheerful self again. 
He had found the bulls, he said, and was going around 
behind them to drive them in, when five Indians rose 
up out of the sage brush only a few yards behind him 
and fired five " arrows into his back. He got hold of the 
upper ones and pulled them out, and then looked around 
for a club or a rock with which to defend himself. But 
there was nothing of the kind in sight, and then the pain 
became so acute that he grew dizzy, reeled and fell. The 
Indians started off toward the hills, but after going a 
short distance one of them turned back, drawing his 
knife, evidently with the intention of taking his scalp. 
But Nat's hat had fallen off, exposing his partially bald 
head, and when the Indian saw the fringe of thin locks 
he turned and hurried to rejoin his companions. 
"The doctor came after a while and extracted the re- 
maining arrow. 'Poor fellow,' he said, T fear you're 
done for,' and leaving a little medicine of some kind to 
ease the pain, he went away. 
" 'Of course I'm done for,' Nat. told me. 'I knew that 
as soon as I was shot. But cheer up, old boy, and don't 
take it so hard; it can't be helped, and we've just got to 
make the best of it. Yes, I know I ought to have taken 
my rifle; if I had they would never have molested me. 
Well, old pard, give me your hand and let me go to sleep; 
if I never wake, good-bye and good luck.' 
"Those were the last words he ever spoke. He dozed 
away into a deep sleep, from that into a stupor, quietly 
areathed his last soon after midnight, and I lost the best 
friend I ever had. I felt so badly about it that I couldn't 
bear to stay there any longer, and leaving everything in 
charge of one of the men, took the first boat for Fort 
Benton." 
Reluctantly giving up our search for the grave, we re- 
turned to the boat, and in fifteen or twenty minutes came . 
to the mouth of the Judith, where our friend, Wm. 
Norris, has a large ranch, ferry and general store. We 
had not met since the buffalo days, and of course began 
to talk of old times at once. Norris waters several hun- 
dred acres of land back from the river with a ditch from 
the Judith, and some immense stacks of alfalfa showed 
what irrigation will do in this dry region. Beside hay, 
he has. succeeded every year in raising field corn, toma- 
toes, tobacco, melons and sweet potatoes, to say nothing 
of the commoner vegetables. Looking over the place 
and talking of other days, the time passed all too quickly, 
and 'twas sundown before we knew it; so leaving the 
Good Shield tied to the ferryboat, we camped where we 
were, ajid were well cared for. 
Lewis and Clarke named this stream the Judith, after 
some Virginia girl they knew. The Blackfeet call it 
O-to-kwi-tuk-tai — Yellow River, on account of the 
quantities of yellow "paint" or ochre which is found near 
its source. The large flat here at its mouth .and the Sage 
Creek flat opposite, were favorite camping places with 
them, good trails leading out to the plains north and 
south, and the wide flats affording ample room to graze 
their herds in sight of their lodges. It was here that 
the "Stevens" treaty of 1855 took place between _ the 
Government and the Blackfeet, Crows and Assinaboines. 
Stevens brought with him a steamboat load of presents 
for the red men; among other things sacks of coffee, 
beans, rice and bacon. The Indians prized the sacks, but 
they had no use for their contents, so they dumped the 
food out on the ground and went on their way rejoicing. 
It is over this treaty that the Indians have since been 
so angry, especially since the disappearance of the buf- 
falo. They claim that they merely gave the white men 
permission to make roads and travel through their coun- 
try, and that the vast territory lying between the Mis- 
souri and Yellowstone Rivers still belongs to them. 
They certainly have a good claim to it; where is the law- 
yer who will take their case upon a conditional fee? 
Appekunny. 
The Old Boathouse. 
Ovid, N. Y., Feb. 18. — Editor Forest and Stream: While 
I sit by the cozy fireside, letting the February gales work 
off their rage outside, the memory and the picture of an 
old friend keeps itself to mind. 
This old friend, my first boathouse, stands under the 
sheltering boughs of a weeping willow which, with its 
long, slender branches, sometimes dips into the cool water 
of the lake below. It is a homely little structure, some- 
what longer than wide, with two doors, entirely out of 
proportion, opening to the west. A little point on the left 
shelters with its kindly sides the tree and building from 
the frequent fury of the south wind. 
The se rnber willow and the dark, gloomy hemlocks on 
the high bank behind give one the impression that to this 
quiet, secluded spot that disturbing element — man — had 
never come. Yet a bright red padlock on those wide 
doors and the marks of feet in the clean black sand at the 
water's edge quickly dispel any such idea. Yes, those 
doors are often opened on pleasant September and Oc- 
tober days, for a good bass ground lies just north along 
those rocks. 
Scoop away the sand under the doors and peer inside. 
Resting on its rollers lies a trim-built skiff, its subdued 
coloring in perfect harmony with its present environ- 
ment, and well adapted for the work for which it was 
designed. 
This takes up the greater part of the floor space, though 
in one corner, as if on duty, rests a small anchor, its 
tiny flukes digging into the earth, while a tangle of rope, 
bait cans and a cushion lie near. 
On the cross pieces above are two long-shanked spears, 
whose wicked barbs tell of their cruel use. In the corner 
beneath is a pile of fat pine knots, inseparable companions 
of the spears above. In the end facing the lake is a 
small sliding window some six inches square, fastened 
securely by a large hook. Empty shells beneath give the 
clue to its use. The quiet little cove in front is a favorite 
feeding ground of the timid wildfowl, and from that 
window they have seen many a fatal flash. 
Such is the spot and the building around which pleasant 
memories cling, while I wait for opportunity to enjoy 
thern again. B. E. Birge. 
The Browsing Habit of Game. 
Very probably a majority of those persons who make 
the pursuit of four-footed game animals, small and great, 
in the forests, ever think of the manner in which these 
quite often large beasts feed. The moose, for instance, 
lives in the deepest woods, where ordinary pasture does 
not exist; indeed, the buffaloes which swarmed over the 
Western plains found a large part of their living, not on 
the grass, but on the shrubbery along the streams, and 
at times in the occasional forests. Now, what is there in 
what we call browse which supports these animals — the 
rabbit, deer, elk, moose, and the few buffalo remaining, 
which now harbor in the deep recesses of the forests? 
Grass, we know, will supply nutriment to all herbivorous 
animals, and the common thought — I do not say belief — 
for this, I venture to assume, is not a matter of thought 
ever considered, that somehow or other these animals 
do find grass enough to live on and survive the winters 
as well as the summers by some method of digging for 
the herbage under the deep snow. 
The fact is that the excessively nutritious character of 
the so-called browse of the woods is not a matter of 
common knowledge among sportsmen, and, indeed, some 
of the writers in, the special so-called agricultural journals 
even show their unfitness for their occupation by com- 
plete ignorance of the nutritive value of what is com- 
monly called browse, but is more distinctly referred to by 
scientific writers and authors on feeding farm animals as 
leaves and twigs of trees. Just now there is one of those 
occasional revivals of public interest in goats, which 
have occurred several times to my knowledge, and one 
of the most enticing temptations offered to those persons 
who are always seeking something new, for the general 
adoption of the goat as a competitor of the sheep, is that 
this hardy cousin of the sheep will gain a luxurious and 
costless living by keeping the fence rows clear of the 
quite common brush which disfigures the average farm 
fences. This, however, is only the naked truth as regards 
this frisky, athletic quadruped, whose favorite roosting 
place is— if possible — on the barn roof, if it is denied the 
extra privilege of making his nightly refuge on the roof 
of the kitchen. And, as the goat is a feeder on the twigs 
and leayes of small shrubs and trees, so is the sheep; and 
we all know how the mule will enjoy himself and get fat 
during his summer holiday on the brush and saplings of 
the wood lot, and even the cow lightens the heart of the 
farm wife by increasing the quantity of milk, but still 
more that of the butter, when it is turned — as a last re- 
source and forlorn hope to escape starvation in the bare, 
dried up meadow — into the last winter's clearing, and 
fills herself with the sprouts from the new-made stumps. 
There is a reason for all things, and this for the cir- 
cumstances mentioned is this simple fact: This growth 
from the sprouts, and the young herbage of the woods 
otherwise, is more than twice as nutritious as the best 
pasture grass, not even excepting the famed blue grass 
meadows of Kentucky and adjacent States. This know- 
ledge we owe to the German agricultural chemists, who 
followed Liebig — one of the fathers of agricultural 
chemistry — and others who worked in this line with him, 
and the best known agricultural author, Wolff, whose 
work is the standard in regard to the character of the 
foods of herbivorous animals. Wolff's tables have never 
been questioned, and more modern agricultural chemists 
have verified his figures, so that they are now the basis 
of the science and practice of feeding animals. The fol- 
lowing figures are quoted from Wolff's tables of the com- 
position of the various food substances consumed by 
domestic animals. It is only reasonable that a German 
chemist should include the browse of woods in his list, 
for the German forests swarm with sheep and cattle, fed 
and fattened on the undergrowth. Indeed, we know 
something of it ourselves. For our grandfathers, who 
cleared off the forests to make our now millions of farm 
homes, were in the habit of going into the woods to cut 
down a few trees — I well remember it myself — and the 
basswood was the first chosen for its value in this respect, 
and how, by this provision, the cows gave milk the whole 
winter, kept in good shape, and reared the calves and 
came into the summer pasture unwillingly; breaking the 
fences even to get back into the woods again. Then 
I first learned the use of the pokes used to prevent the 
cows from jumping the fences to get back to the pre- 
ferred browse. But let us have the figures. 
Ky. blue 
grass. 
Composition of Leaves and Twigs: Per cent. 
Protein (flesh formers) IS. 6 9.80 
Carbo-hydrates (fat and heat formers) 05.61 44.96 
Of course, this average has extremes, and while some 
kinds of browse will be less valuable than the figures 
given, yet some will be worth more. The pines seem to 
be eaten with as much avidity as the other kinds, as far 
as I have taken notice; the basswood, soft maple, poplar, 
and all the oaks are eaten with more avidity than other 
kinds. Sheep in the spring seem to take to the pines, 
and this choice is probably wise for the peculiar nature 
of the resiniferous trees is decidedly healthful to the 
sheep, as an antidote to its very -numerous internal para- 
sites. 
As to the nutritiousness of this forest feeding, I can 
give one special example. When in the northern penin- 
sula of Michigan, near the Wisconsin border, and not 
far from the thousand-lake district of Wisconsin, the In- 
dians brought into our village, soon after the first snow, 
a lot of deer, which they had trapped in one of their 
V-shaped runways. There were 132 deer in the lot, small 
and great, from the yearlings up to the big buck I pur- 
chased for a dollar which weighed over three hundred 
pounds. These deer were as fat as any fatted sheep I 
ever saw. My big buck had clear fat on his back an inch 
and a half thick, and they fed and were fattened in the 
dense woods of the neighborhood, mostly made up of all 
the hard woods. 
All this goes to show the value of the forest ranges to 
the sheep, cattle and horse feeders, and at the same time 
these figures should go to raise the estimate of the value 
of forest reserves, especially when brought under scien 
tific culture and care. In fact, my observation and ex- 
perience in these dense Southern forests go to show that 
under the right scientific management the mere feeding 
of cattle, sheep and horses should bring in to the park 
management— -if the present proposed enterprise should 
be carried through in the Appalachian mountain region- 
such an income in this direction as will pay a good inter- 
est on the investment made by the United States Govern- 
ment. Henry Stewart. 
Hi OH LANDS, N. C. 
Deer as Depredators. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I feel disposed to write a few words respecting some 
statements by Robert O. Morris in the article quoted in 
the last issue of the Forest and Stream. He seems 
to be quite ignorant of the habits of deer where they 
are found in farming sections. 
Speaking of deer, he says "he regrets to see a dis- 
position on the part of some farmers to prejudice people 
against this interesting and valuable animal, and some of 
the most ridiculous charges against it are made and 
published. One man claims his seckel pears to have been 
eaten by deer," etc. And the farmer is doubtless right 
in his claim. Deer will eat any kind of fruit they can get 
at. They are especially fond of apples, and have often 
been seen eating them. Throughout the winter they visit 
apple orchards and paw up the frozen apples on the 
ground through the snow. In the fall an old apple 
orchard is one of the best places to find deer. They 
will rear on their hindfeet and shake the fruit from the 
limbs. The supposition that a man could not tell the 
depredations of deer from the toothmarks of a red squir- 
rel is almost too silly to merit notice. Again, this writer 
says : "Another man said that deer had eaten up a field 
of cabbages," and confidently remarks, "This is very un- 
likely. It would be contrary to their usual habits for deer 
to eat this vegetable. Neither pears nor cabbages," he 
further infirms us, "are the favorite food of deer." 
What wisdom is here displayed! The simple fact is 
(which can be proven over and over again up here in 
Vermont) deer eat, not only "pears and cabbages," but 
turnips, beets, peas, beans, oats, wheat, corn, buckwheat 
and about everything that grows in a farmer's field and 
garden, and will stay by such fodder until it is all eaten 
up. 
I do not write at random. I live in a deer country, 
and know what I am talking about. Many instances of 
their destruction of gardens, oat fields and corn fields, so 
that the ground had to be replanted or resown, are too 
well known to be possibly denied, and abundant proof 
could be furnished of this fact. If anybody up here were 
told that deer would not eat and destroy vegetables like 
rabbits and worse, the informer would be laughed at, and 
with good reason. 
Farmers as a whole desire the preservation of the 
beautiful deer; at the same time it is next to impossible 
for a farmer to get damages from the State for the de- 
struction of his oat field, which has occurred in more than 
one instance. . The "natural habits" of the deer do not 
stand in the way of their eating about everything under 
the heaven in the fruit and vegetable line that grows up 
here in Vermont, as many a farmer will testify. One 
man had to replant a field of beans three times. Another 
had a field of beets eaten to the ground. They eat carrots 
and all kinds of garden stuff unless it be potato tops. The 
amount of damage done the farmers may not aggregate a 
great deal, but it is enough to cause considerable com- 
plaint in certain sections of our State, and would not 
exist without some grounds for it. Ten or a dozen deer in 
an oat or corn field or a pear orchard do not improve it. 
Deer are very innocent animals, but they are not saints 
or angels. 
Mr. Morris is evidently a devotee of science, but he is 
uninformed when he seeks to set up his learned opin- 
ion about what deer will and will not eat — if they get a 
chance — against what occurs or an actual fact in places 
where there are gardens and corn fields and pear or- 
chards and cabbages. W. A. Remele. 
Bkidcewater, Vt. 
An Adirondack Panther. 
A panther appeared on Adirondack Mountain Reserve 
territory in the town of Keene last week, chasing a deer 
down the Ausable Lake road. The deer ran in the 
road, broken out for ice drawing at present, a distance 
of nearly a mile, and did not leave the road until near 
the Adirondack Mountain Reserve toll gate, which is 
just south of St. Hubert's Inn at Keene Heights, then 
crossed the Ausable River and made for the spur of 
Wolf J aw Mountain on the west. The panther's track 
was on the side of the road, in deep snow, and was 
parallel to the deer's track for about three-fourths of a 
mile. Several persons, among them J. W. Otis, game 
warden for the Adirondack Mountain Reserve, saw the 
tracks of the two animals and, judging from the won- 
derfully long jumps made by the pursuer and pursued, it 
must have been a race of "life or death" for the deer 
Owing to the fact that the deer was somewhat tame, 
having enjoyed the protection of the reserve, and not 
afraid to run in a road made by man, its life no doubt 
was saved. — Elizabethtown Post. 
When Primate Marcus G. Beresford was first appointed to an 
Irish hying he proceeded to tramp over the glebe lands with his 
dog and gun; on his return he met a sour Presbyterian, tenant of 
some of the lands, who accosted him thus: "We never read your 
reverence, that apostles went shooting this way with their' doers 
and their guns. Ah! very true, my friend," replied the rector 
with a humorous twinkle in his eye, ,r but, you know, they were so 
busy with their fishing, and they could not attend to more than 
one thing at a time."— Shooting Times, 
