48 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 17, 1903 
sack, then pinned tlie sides over its back, allowing its 
head to protrude from a rip in the cloth, and thus it 
rested naturally. We taok turns carrying it suspended 
around our neck. 
Taking the lamb from the rocks to the grassy slope 
below was rather hazardous, but by assisting each 
other it was accomplished. We were hardly to camp 
when, on looking to the eastward, we saw Billy about 
a mile off, tearing down the mountain-side at break- 
neck speed. The glasses showed that he had another 
lamb in his arms, but from the reckless way he was 
traveling there was doubt if either of them would 
reach timber-line alive. Arriving at camp, we found 
Andrew lying in the shade waiting our return; the 
wretch had left Billy to do the work alone. 
Billy had climbed to the top of the mountain after 
leaving us and saw the ewe and lamb making their 
way along the summit. At long range he shot the old 
sheep, and after a lively chase cornered the lamb in a 
crevice and captured it. It was a beautiful animal, by 
far the oldest and healthiest of the three captured. It 
was so overcome by heat and excitement that for some 
time it took no interest in its surroundings, and when 
placed upon the ground scarcely moved. Regardless 
of noise it soon fell asleep and slept for two hours. 
Both Iambs were perfectly contented; they frequently 
sniffed at each other find seemed much interested in 
what was being done about camp, watching us as inno- 
cently as their name implies. 
I tested the milk from the ewe Billy had killed, and 
found it rich as cream, and as Nestle's prepared food 
seemed more suitable than condensed milk, I decided 
to feed it to the lambs. Mosquitoes being thick, even 
at this high altitude — for we were camped at timber- 
line — a mosquito-proof covering was made, and we 
placed our captives under it. I slept beside the in- 
closure, and was up several times during the night to 
attend to them. 
It was decided that myself and Andrew should take 
the lambs down to the river camp, while Mr. Hicks 
and Billy remained. The younger lamb gained strength 
during the night and looked quite promising, but we 
had greater hope of the other one, it appeared so 
strong and robust. Arranging another carrying sack, 
we put the lambs into them and started for the valley. 
They behaved perfectly en route, but about noon the ' 
puny one showed symptoms of diarrhoea. On reach- 
ing camp, a movable wire cage was made, and during 
the day the lambs were kept in it, but at night I took 
them into the tent, and as soon as they were asleep re- 
moved the cage and carefully covered them with mos- 
quito netting. On awakening one would raise its 
head, look about, and finding its companion beside it, 
and everything quiet, doze off again. At feeding time 
they climbed all over me, and while one was being 
fed the other chewed my ear, or nosed about my face, 
as shown in the illustration. 
Two days later Mr. Hicks and the Indian returned. 
They had seen a lamb, but after a long hot chase it 
escaped. Mr. Hicks was satisfied that the sheep had 
been driven away, and as the lambing season would be 
over before we could reach another sheep country, we 
decided to return to Knik village. 
About this time the smaller lamb became hopelessly 
sick, but the other one maintained its health so won- 
derfully that we felt confident it would live. On the 
afternoon of June s a partition was made in one end 
of the boat in which to keep the lambs during the trip 
back, and we prepared for an early morning start. At 
8 o'clock that night the healtliier lamb became sudden- 
ly and violently sick, and by midnight was past recdv- 
ery. In the morning both lambs died, and an hour 
later we left for Knik, disheartened, but convinced that 
everything possible had been done to make our under- 
taking a success. 
Since the expedition fully demonstrated that it is not 
impossible to capture lambs of the Alaskan white 
sheep, it would seem that the most advisable course to 
pursue would be to transport milch goats to a base 
camp near the locality where the lambs are likelj'' to be 
found, and as soon after their capture as pi-acticablc, 
hurry them to the domesticated goats. In this way it 
is quite probable that a few lambs could be brought 
out of the country alive. 
[The illustrations are from photographs by J. Alden 
Loring, here used by courtesy of the New York Zoolog- 
ical Society.] 
Down the Potomac. 
MiAMiSBURG, O. — One of the most delightful, as well 
as interesting, river excursions that I have taken, was 
a moonlight ride on the Potomac from Washington to 
Norfolk. For several years I had planned such a voyage, 
but for various reasons the trip was always deferred. 
While visiting Washington, the long wished for oppor- 
tunity arrived and I immediately availed myself to it. 
Taking passage on the Newport News at six o'clock 
in the evening I arrived at Norfolk early the next morn- 
ing. Although the night was very cold I enjoyed myself 
very much. The moon, shining from a cloudless sky, 
transformed the river into a veritable river of silver and 
also made objects on either bank appear almost as plainly 
as in daylight. 
To the sportsman, the angler and the student of his- 
tory, this river Avill prove interesting. During the trip 
I saw hundreds of ducks and was told that they were 
becoming more numerous each year. As to historical 
connections I know of no river that surpasses the Poto- 
mac, for on its banks the "father of the country" was 
born and now lies buried ; on its banks the site for the 
nation's capital was chosen over one hundred years ago, 
and in the great and bitter strugrgle of '61 it proved a 
great line of defense for the National troops. After 
leaving the river you enter the Chesapeake, that noted 
resort for duck shooters, and after passing the beautiful 
summer resort of Point Comfort, enter Hampton Roads, 
the scene of the world's greatest naval encounter, and 
then pass into the harbor of Norfolk. 
What an ideal region this section must be for the lover 
of outdoor life. The river furnishes excellent fishing, the 
bay abounds with water fowl, and the Dismal Swamp 
nearby furnishes a splendid field for big-game hunters. 
Clabence Vandiveer, 
The Coyote as a Sttategist* 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I had the pleasure recently to enjoy reading a copy 
of the Forest and Stream, and I was interested in 
nearly all its contents. I wish to introduce to your 
readers some facts about the coyote. It has been the 
subject of some finely pictured and apparently well 
deserved reproach. It occupies in common esteem the 
place of a plunderer and a sneak thief. Its vices, its 
hunger, and its running qualities no one seems to 
question. The hand of every man is against the coy- 
ote. The laws of many States put a price on its head 
or ears. And yet the coyote increases and multiplies. 
The coyote is never fat, yet it lives on the fat of the 
land when it can be got, and if any predatory animal 
can, the coyote can. The traditional wisdom of the 
serpent is foolishness, when compared with that of the 
coyote. I claim that the coyote is a strategist which 
throws all other animals far behind it for cunning in 
pursuit of its prey. I have known it to cut out a 
sheep or a lamb from a band of a thousand sheep and 
kill it, when the sheepherder was within sight, and at 
a distance of two hundred yards from him, and yelling 
at the top of his voice. 
But the- best specimen of the cunning of the coyote 
is illustrated by the way in which it captures young 
pigs from their mother. In this kind of a chase two 
coyotes combine their efforts. One of the two attracts 
the attention of the sow, bites at it, and fights it and 
leads it away from the young pigs. The other coyote 
then snatches up the pig and away it goes with its little 
porker. This instance is well authenticated, and has 
happened more than once in districts where hog rais- 
ing is common. Can any of your readers furnish a 
better instance ;of cunning or strategy on the part of 
any wild animal? Should it not be conceded that the 
coyote is a close observer, and even a pretty close 
reasoner? Is it not entitled to some respect for its 
cunning as a hunter? I, at least, give it some credit. 
A. Meachem. 
Washington. 
' Pfehistotfc Relics "Wanted. 
Andover, Mass., Dec. r8. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass., has recently estab- 
lished a Department of Archseology. My object in writ- 
ing you is to encourage the preservation of stone, bone 
and clay prehistoric art forms. In your section of the 
country are frequently found various "Indian relics." 
These have a direct bearing on the history — or rather 
pre-history — of America, and as such should be pre- 
served in fireproof buildings for the study and edifica- 
tion of present and future generations. 
I am persuaded that there may be persons who have 
found some remains of the ancient Indian tribes, "Mound 
builders," etc., and that, possibly, they would be willing 
to send them to us. We shall be glad to pay express 
charges on any and alh boxes of specimens sent to us, to 
mention the gifts in our report and to give the donors due 
credit in our exhibition cases. 
All these axes, pipes, spear heads, clay vessels and 
"strange stones," should be carefully preserved some- 
v,diere, where they may be of service to the public and to 
science. Archseology— technically followed^ — ^is a new 
science in the United States and it is more important than 
the average reader imagines, for these "stone relics" have 
a direct bearing on the antiquity of man. 
I shall be glad to correspond with persons who have 
"relics" in their possession. 
Warren K. Moorehead, Curator. 
imq^ ^itg mid 0mu 
— ^ — 
The Reindeef^s Antlefs, 
Sir: According to all tradition, Santa Claus drives a 
pair of reindeer. European artists generally picture 
him with reindeer. American artists generally picture 
him with wapiti or with nondescript members of the 
deer family. This would indicate a fundamental lack 
of artistic sense in our artists. Reindeer are common 
in all of the northern parts of America, from Maine to 
Oregon, and their antlers are, n^xt to those of the red 
deer, the most common head trophies on our walls. 
Consequently, there would seem to be no good excuse 
for the failure of our artists to give us reproductions 
of the beautiful curves, palmations, and brow antlers 
that are so distinctive of the genus Tarandus, and that 
are so well known to every big-game hunter. On look- 
ing over a number of American magazines and papers 
to-day, I fail to find Santa Claus with reindeer except- 
ing in one instance, while all of the European artists 
took the trouble to be correct in their choice of ant- 
lers. I noticed at the grocery also that a brand of pre- 
served goods was labeled "Reindeer- Brand," and the 
label carried the picture of the head of a wapiti. This 
carelessness amounts almost to an offence, and must 
make a disagreeable impression upon thousands who 
possess even ordinary fondness for accuracy in mat- 
ters artistic. Will some artist explain?— Robert T. 
Morris in N. Y. Evening Post. 
[The Linnean Society of New York. 
A regular meeting of the society will be held at the 
American Museum of Natural History, Seventy-seventh 
street and Eighth avenue, on Tuesday evening, January 
27, at 8 o'clock. C. William Beebe, "Some Notes on the 
Psychology of Birds;" L. B. Bi.shop, "Some Apparently 
Undescribed Eggs of North American Birds," Avith pre- 
sentation of specimens. 
A German correspondent in the Canton Tessin \vrites 
that the Swiss police do not dare to enforce the law 
against shooting birds, because their own lives would 
thereby become endangered at the hands of Italian hun- 
ters who are little better than brigands. The song birds 
are openly sold in the markets in bunches of twelve to 
fifteen for thirty cents a bunch. 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them m Forest and Stkeah. 
All communications intended for Fosest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., New 
York, And not to any individual connected ^.t^ 
In Wisconsin Deer Woods. 
When George Hedrick, Chas. Bender and the writer 
stepped off the train at the little station of Sayner, 
Wisconsin, at 1:30 P. M., on Saturday, Nov. 8, 1902, 
we found nothing as we had left it five years ago. 
Where the big buck tore his way through the brush, 
crossed the railroad and landed in Plumb Lake, which 
he swam in his escape from the hounds and rifle balls 
of Mr._ Saltsic and his friends, we found a desolate 
waste in the south, some small empty buildings, a 
meadown of a couple of acres, then more down timber 
and desolation down to the edge of beautiful Plumb 
Lake. When camped on Plumb Creek five years ago 
John Bishop and I had a bushel of sport after rabbits 
among the tall "shintangle" in the heavy pine woods 
on the east side of the creek, near the railroad. It was 
a pretty good test of marksmanship we thought to get 
these fellows with our Winchester rifles, as they dodged 
through this natural cover. But the cover is a thing 
of the past, and in its place is a small farm. Plumb 
Lake is there, but the forest, especially the pine, is 
about all gone. The change was so marked that when 
I got back to the station from looking over the old 
camp site, I told George and Charley that we would 
better camp where we were until we found a location 
to suit us. I made a trip to the lake a half mile away 
for a pail of water, and the boys opened our stove and 
grub boxes, set the stove up east of the station build- 
ings, got wood and were ready to boil the kettle by 
the time I got back. After a good warming up within 
and without, we fell to speculating on our next step, 
and finally decided that about the only place for us 
was out on Big St. Germain Lake, or somewhere in 
that direction. The summer hotel and the lumber 
carnps seemed to be filHng up with hunters, and our 
desire was to get away from the maddening throng. 
But as yet we had no idea of what we might run into. 
Mr. Sayner came to the station for a wagon load of 
baled hay, and we had a talk with him, and an under- 
standing that he would haul us out when we finally 
decided where we wished to go and was ready. He un- 
locked the larger building, tumbled several bundles of 
hay inside, and we also tumbled. We got the key, ad- 
justed the bales of hay into foundations for two beds, 
carried our trunks inside, got out our bedding, made 
a fire in the stove, and were comfortable for the niglit. 
We would have been content to continue to bunk right 
there, but there were difliculties to be encountered. 
The mass of down timber, brush, briers and old stubs 
on both sides of the railroad was sufficient cover for 
deer, and they frequently crossed the railroad, but there 
was no water, and we had no right to the use of the 
station house, except as passengers. 
After a good night's rest and breakfast, Charley and 
I started to explore the country some four miles south 
on the north of Big St. Germain Lake. There is a 
pretty good wagon road from Sayner to this lake, and 
on around the east end of it, fetching up, I am advised, 
at Eagle River on the N. W. R. W., 30 miles from 
Sayner. We found more or less deer sign all the way 
for about 3 miles, and when we reached Lost Creek 
crossed it on a dam, then followed the road along a 
sandy ridge to within a fourth of a mile of Big St. 
Germain. We agreed that we had no desire for a bet- 
ter camping site than the one we dropped on to, where 
there is a drinking hole at the edge of Lost Creek 50 
yards from the road. The wagon road was cut up with 
deer tracks, and we concluded that by squatting down 
there in the dusk of that Sabbath evening, remaining 
quiet and attending to business, we could get our legal 
quota of deer very near camp. So we hurried back 
and waited for Mr. Sayner, whom we met going to 
meet a man from Eagle River. Mr. S. promised to be 
home by noon, but he was disappointed in not meet- 
ing his man, who was to come half-way with some 
heavy harness. When he arrived home cold and 
hungry, he had to change his harness from his small 
team to his heavy horses, grease his wagon, and hitch 
up, so that it was near 2 P. M. when he drove up to 
the station for us. We loaded our five pieces of bag- 
gage, and a bale of»hay for our bed. Hedrick got on 
to balance the load, and Bender and I hoofed it. That 
made about 12 miles walking for Bender and me, but 
we got there, and had our tent up, boxes and trunks 
inside and beds made before dark. We had sold both 
of our last camp outfits, and this one belonged to a 
friend. The tent had never been used in cold weather 
and had no hole for a stove pipe, so we got supper 
and breakfast on the stove set up outside the tent. We 
enjoyed this first night, although the air in the tent 
was a little raw, for we were tired and had an abund- 
ance of bedding. Our tent faced the creek, which here 
runs in a southeasterly direction, and was about 30 
feet distant. 
This Lost Creek was so nanied because it does not 
seem to know where it is going. It would be difficult 
to picture an imaginary creek whose turnings and 
windings were more absurd. Its source and mouth 
are Lost Lake and Big St. Germain Lake respectively. 
They are not over one and a half miles apart, but this 
erratic stream, albeit it has a swift current, must flow 
6 to 8 miles, mostly through marsh land and bordered 
with tamarack and other swamp brush, and does not 
go far out of its general course, either. These swamps 
furnish excellent hiding for deer, rabbits and grouse. 
Monday morning Nov. 10, was the first day of the 
open season, and found us up and doing. The air was 
chilly, and we spent the morning near camp. When 
I came in George and Charley had the stove up in the 
tent, on a sand platform, held in place by a frame of 
small logs. They had also driven four stakes into the 
ground across the end of the tent from the stove, 
sawed them off on a level, and nailed on to them for a 
tab^e <3(00x we h^d picked up at the station. 
