FOREST AND ^STREAM. 
' ' — 
88 
of its absence may be found in the fact that they do not 
live among the whites, as do the Scotch and English half- 
breeds of the boundary. They do not, therefore, notice 
the extent of the prejudice against a crossed race with a 
color entertained by white men everywhere. But it is 
beginning to appear in the nation, especially among the 
Cherokees. And, no doubt, in time it will manifest itself 
in much the same way that it does across the border — 
that is, by a drawing away of the lighter half-breeds from 
ihose of fuller blood. 
It may be said of the French half-breeds that they are 
■probably more fairly representative of the new race as a 
whole than any other of its sections. That race, it will be 
remembered, is a cross between the Indian and the white, 
shares in the characteristics of both peoples from which 
it sprang, yet is wholly repudiated by the one and largely 
so by the other. Remember, too, the conditions and asso- 
ciations with which it has been surrounded since its birth; 
that on the maternal side its ancestry has been largely 
savage and pagan, and that if there is anything in heredity 
its potency cannot be destroyed in a generation. It is not 
surprising, then, that the French half-caste in his occupa- 
tions leans toward those of the Indian rather than the 
white; and that in character he is a composite of the 
peoples from whom he sprang. 
This is not to say that the race is inferior in capacity, 
manly qualities and morals to its forebears. The popular 
notion that it is so is due to the unreasoning prejudice 
against a mixed race with a color, to its present habit of 
life, and to the assumption that any people to be capable 
and manly must be like Americans. But its present habit 
of life is only what might be expected of a people so re- 
cently little removed- and still slowly emerging from semi- 
savagery. And just why we should set up a standard for 
a separate race and insist that the standard shall be our 
own it is not easy to explain. That the Indian half-breed 
is unlike us does not prove his inferiority any more than 
a similar unlikeness proves the inferiority of the Hebrew 
and the Bengalee, who constitute the intellectual 
aristocracy of the human race, 
Certainly the mixture of blood has not resulted in the 
deterioration of the qualities which contribute to manhood. 
Army officers are unstinted in their praise of the courage 
shown by the half-castes during the Civil War; and the 
writer recalls a pleasant conversation in the Southwest 
with a quiet little man, in clothes of the latest fashion, 
but half an Indian, whose dauntless bravery on the battle- 
field once challenged the admiration of the country. _ Nor 
has any conclusive evidence of the intellectual deficiency 
of the new race yet been presented. No one looking at 
the intelligent faces of the half-castes in the Indian Legis- 
latures in The Nation would suspect them of any less 
measure of mental ability than the whites. 
President Diaz of I\Iexico is an Indian half-breed,_ yet 
has shown himself even more competent as an adminis- 
trator than as a soldier, laying broad and deep founda- 
tion of his country's prosperity. A half-Indian provincial 
premier in Canada was at least the equal m ability of his 
fellows, and the half-caste Presidents of Peru and Ecua- 
dor have conducted successful administrations. There 
are half-breeds in nearly all the learned professions, as 
there are in trade ; and we once heard a half-caste j udge 
pronounce decision in an intricate case with much of the 
wisdom of Solomon and all the dignity of Arungzebe. 
With respect to morality, no doubt there are bad half- 
breeds But missionaries everywhere testify that tljey 
can be good men, as do the lives of many half-caste In- 
dian pastors. If we recollect aright, the percentage of 
church membership in The Nation is larger than that of 
the country as a whole ; and the court records charge an 
astonishingly small percentage of crimes to the new race. 
- p. M. Robinson. 
Intelligence of the Wild Things. 
Tiny and the Chickadees, 
BY HERMIT. 
(Continued from Vol. LTX., page 264 ) 
In the series of nature studies, published in Forest 
AND Strk.\m's natural history columns, Tiny was briefly 
introduced to the public. Tiny is a red squirrel, the 
son of Bismarck. The latter was a grizzled old war- 
rior, the hero of many a fierce battle. Why he gave 
the cabin door-yard to Tiny is one of the mysteries 
of squirrel life. He had held it against all squirrels, 
red or gray, for ten years, and now gave it over to 
Tiny to have and to hold, without reserve. 
A return to Bismarck's Hfe history may throw some 
light on this peculiar transaction. 
Bismarck's family, April, 1900, consisted of a wiie 
and four children. Mrs. , Bismarck, at that time, left 
her children to the care of her husband, while she 
made a new nest in which to rear another family. It 
was Bismarck's duty to finish the education of the 
young squirrels and to marry off the daughters, to 
young males of another family, and to locate his sons 
on territory which they would ever after own and 
for which they would fight to the death. 
Tiny was not half so big as his only brother. Per- 
haps that was the reason why Bismarck favored him 
and brought him to the door-yard. It was an unusual 
act, for Bismarck insisted that his sons should remain 
on the territory upon which he had located them. 
When Tiny had acquired full possession he proved 
to be a "chip of the old block." His motto, "No tres- 
pass," was impartially enforced. He raced his brother, 
sisters, father, mother, as well as strangers, out of the 
door-yard, and fiercely attacked any squirrel that did 
not depart after the first warning. It was laughable 
to see Bismarck, the grizzled old warrior, run as if 
for life when caught trespassing by Tiny. When Tiny 
approaches through the treetops and finds a squirrel 
in the door-yard, he stops and sounds his war cry. 
This cry is long drawn out and is something like the 
buzzing of an old wooden clock when running down 
and striking the hours. After this warning he makes 
a rush for the interloper, and if he catches Iiim the fur 
flies. 
Tiny had a lively experience with a wharf rat. The 
rat was a monster. What caused him to take to the 
woods is a mystery. Probably he was a rat Christo- 
pher Columbus, and had started out to discover a new 
world. 
When he found my door-yard he seemed satisfied. 
From a rat's standpoint it proved to be "A land flow- 
ing with milk and honey." 
Wheat, corn, meat, bird seeds, with no bloodthirsty 
human being to make life miserable, After two days 
of feasting the big fellow disappeared to appear again 
three days later with a mate. Doubtless the sly old 
THE HERMITAGE IN JANUARY. 
Photo by Richard B. Mackintosh. 
rogue thought that he was able to support a family on 
the fortune he had discovered in the woods. 
I trapped the small rat, but found the big one too 
crafty to enter a trap. 
At first the rat did his foraging in the night time, so 
Tiny had no chance to make his acquaintance. Later 
he became bold enough to feed in the day time, which, 
in the end, brought him in contact with Tiny. I was 
talking to some visitors from one of the big sum- 
mer hotels, telling them the history of the rat, while 
he was eating from a loaf of bread in the dooryard, 
when I heard Tiny's war cry. ^ told my visitors to 
look out for a hot time. Tiny ran out on a limb about 
six feet above the rat and told him in vigorous squir- 
rel language that he was a thief and a robber. The 
h:ermit and the chickadee. 
Photo by Richard B. Mackintosh, 
rat looked up, wondering what the angry little ani- 
mal could be, that was talking in an unknown tongue, 
and pounding the pine limb with his hind feet. It 
never entered his head to be afraid of such an insig- 
nificant foe. Tiny ran down the tree trunk, landing 
on the ground not four feet from the rat. The latter 
stood on his hind feet and squealed a warning. 
A lady visitor urged me to drive the rat away. "Rats 
are great fighters," said she, "the poor little squirrel 
will be kiUed." I offered to bet on the squirrel, but 
before she could answer the fight was on. Tiny caught 
the rat by the neck. For a few seconds all that could 
be seen was something brown whirling in a cloud of 
pine needles. The rat soon found that his little foe 
was a cyclonic fighter, and he made desperate efforts 
to escape. He dragged Tiny to a stone wall, leaving 
a trail of blood behind. When he entered the wall 
Tiny let go and returned to the bread and coolly pro- 
ceeded to eat his dinner, none the worse for his fierce 
battle. 
The rat did not return. He either died from the 
effects of Tiny's savage bites, or, if he survived, left 
in disgust. 
Tiny was not always full of fight. He formed a 
friendship for a young towhee bunting after a singular 
encounter. The bunting was eating from a loaf of 
bread, which was staked down in the dooryard , when 
Tmy appeared. The squirrel thought that the bird 
would run away, but instead, the latter set its wings 
and lowered its head in preparation for battle. Tiny 
was astonished. He sat up, folded his forepaws on 
his breast, and looked on the gamy little bunting with 
wide-eyed wonder. The bunting soon turned to the 
bread. Tiny brought his forepaws down hard on the 
ground, evidently to frighten the bird. Again the 
plucky little bunting set its wings and lowered its 
head. Again Tiny sat up and looked the little fellow 
over. This time there was a comical expression on 
the face of the squirrel that said as plain as words could 
tel] that he appreciated the situation. That he admired 
the pluck of the bunting was evident by his action. He 
crept quietly to the opposite side of the loaf of bread 
and allowed the bunting to eat unmolested. After this 
the two would eat together whenever they chanced to 
be in the dooryard at the same time. 
Tiny did not allow other buntings near his food, 
and I thought he would forget his bird friend when 
the buntings returned in the spring migration, but not 
so. He knew his friend at once and chuckled some 
kind of a greeting, while the bunting said something 
in bird language that seemed to my ears to express 
joy. 
The red squirrel is quick witted and full of resources. 
If new and unusual conditions confront him he is equal 
to the occasion. I have had proof of this hundreds 
of times. 
I will relate one instance: I feed hemp seed to the 
birds. The red squirrels and chipmunks are fond of 
the seed, and unless I stand guard, will manage to get 
the lion's share. The chipmunks stuff their pouched 
cheeks and would carry away a bushel every day if it 
was fed to them. 
When Tiny is present no squirrel or chipmunk dares 
to meddle with the food. He does not molest the 
birds, and I really think that he knows that the seeds 
belong to them. 
Last fall I placed a wire netting over a shallow box, 
so the birds could pick out seeds, while the squirrels 
could not get their noses through the mesh. The chip- 
munks were puzzled, and one after another gave up 
m disgust, to fall back on bread and corn. When Tiny 
found the box he got mad all through. He crowded 
his nose against the wire netting, biting savagely 
meanwhile. I laughed, and Tiny instantly stopped his 
efforts and looked in my direction. All at once he 
got the idea into his head that I had blocked his game 
and had caused the trouble. In three bounds he landed 
on the trunk of a pine tree, and running to a limb just 
over my head, he told me in wicked squirrel language 
just what he thought of me. In his anger he pounded 
the limb with his hind feet, stopping now and then to 
charge down the tree trunk, as if he were about to at- 
tack me. 
After ten minutes of this hot work he became quiet, 
except a sob, which he uttered from time to time. 
Finding that I would not help him, he returned to the 
box. He tried the wire a short time, then sat up and 
folded his paws across his breast and fell into a brown 
study. Like a flash he came out of his trance, grasped 
the box and turned it completely over, then he began 
to eat, saying something to me, while he jerked his 
tail in a defiant manner. After this, whenever he 
found seed in the box he quickly turned them out. For 
a week or more I allowed him to have his way. I 
wanted my visitors to see how cute the little scamp 
could be on a pinch. Later I drove stakes across the 
box to hold it down. I returned one day to find that 
Tiny had managed to dig a hole beneath the box and 
had gnawed through the bottom. I tried another 
scheme for the purpose of testing the intelligence of 
the squirrel. I stretched a cord between two trees 
and half way suspended a box, open at the top. Tiny 
saw the birds eating from the box, and he quickly 
understood that it was another device of mine to out- 
wit him. He ran up one of the trees and tried the 
limbs that hung over the box. He soon found a slen- 
der limb that would bend under his weight and let him 
into the box. After he had used this highway several 
days I cut the limb away. When Tiny found a fresh 
stub instead of a limb he understood what it meant. 
Fie knew that I was the guilty one, and he sv/ore at 
me, if a squirrel can swear, for twenty minutes. His 
next move was to investigate the line where it was at- 
tached to the trees. He thought he could reach the 
box over the Hne and started out. When about a foot 
from the tree the line turned and Tiny jumped to the 
ground. He tried this three times and met with fail- 
ure. The fourth time, when the line turned, he clung 
to it and made his way to the box, hand over hand. 
I thought he deserved a reward for his continued effort 
and intelligence, so since then I allow him to eat 
from the box whenever he feels like it. 
Tiny made a cosey nest in November of moss, leaves 
and grass. It was in the top of a pine tree that hangs 
over the cabin door yard. Some wretch shot this nest 
to pieces when I was absent. I returned to find empty 
shells in the door-yard and fragments of the nest hang- 
iiig to the tree. Tiny made another nest in a nearby 
pine, and lives in it at this time. The past two winters 
Tiny made his nest in my summer house. Why he did 
not occupy the house this winter is a mystery. Per- 
haps he heard me say that I should take down this 
house and put it into a new log cabin that I had in 
contemplation. 
Tiny is a widower and childless. His wife and chil- 
dren were shot to death by the gunners that swarm 
through the magnolia woods. 
I think Bismarck is dead. In cold weather he made 
it a practice to sly up to the cabin, just at dusk, for 
a doughnut or a bit of bread. For some time I have 
missed him. I went to his nest to find it shot to 
pieces. Still further away I found Mrs. Bismarck's 
nest in ruins, and silence reigned in that part of the 
woods. 
Tiny is now an orphan, a widower and is also child- 
less. Fie occupies in squirrel life the same relative 
position that the hermit occupies in human life. Tiny's 
