404 
FOREST AND. STREAM. 
(May 23, igo3. 
was released, seized it with a growl and played with it 
before killing it. 
Mr. Burroughs' observation that young chickens 
understand the various maternal cries Hermit pro- 
nounces an error. Now, the behavior of newly hatched 
chickens has been the subject (.f much experimental 
investigation. In common with all young birds they 
evidently come into the worlil with a remarkable 
amount of inherited knowledge. Chicks hooded imme- 
diately upon emergence from the shell, and then, after 
the lapse of two days, given an opportunity for the 
first time to exercise their visual power, were observed 
at the end of two or three minutes, to follow move- 
ments of crawling insects with precision, and in a few 
mmutes more to peck at minute objects with an in- 
stinctive perception of distance. Placed upon a carpet 
the chick, as a rule, remained quiescent, put upon 
gravel, it forthwith began to scratch, the material 
evidently acting as a stimulus to the dormant instinct. 
An unhooded chick, upon hearing the maternal cluck, 
at once ran to the hen, leaping over and dodging ob- 
stacles as though habituated to arduous locomotion. 
As a rule, it may be said that maternal example 
awakens sleeping impulses, as did the gravel with 
the chick alluded to. Chicks covered by a hen walk 
twice as soon as those incubated, ducklings swim and 
birdlings sing sooner with parental encouragement. 
Hermit seems to believe with Mr. Long that an ani- 
mal's failure or success in the battle of life depends 
upon its maternal training, a very pretty theory and one 
attractive to sentimentalists, but void of due founda- 
tion. No instruction is given, in the proper sense of 
the term. Not as the human mother at the cradle, does 
the mother bird sing to her nestlings; she is moved 
by no conscious interest in her offspring's future. Of 
such charmers, but, nevertheless, seducers of the pub- 
lic, as Maeterlinck. Seton and Long, it may be said 
that were they to profit by the works of Lloyd Mor- 
gan, Groos, Romanes and other students of animal in- 
stincts, their writings, while perhaps less remunerative 
to themselves, could be of greater value to the world. 
A. H. GOURAUD. 
The Intelligence of thelWild I Things. 
Editor Forest and Stream: . 
I HAVE read with much interest the papers m Forest 
AND Stream on the above subject, and as I venture to 
dissent from some of the conclusions which the writer 
Hermit arrives at in his article in that paper of April 
iS last, I trust to your courtesy to allow me to express 
He argues against the assertion of Mr. Burroughs that 
"the young of all wild creatures do instinctively what 
their parents do and did." He supports this by a series 
of assertions that old birds teach their young ones to 
fly, and animals their young to walk, and presumes, I 
think, when he asserts that without such instruction they 
could neither iiy nor walk; but he does not attempt to 
prove that without that instruction they could do neither, 
for that is the correct alternative of the argument. 
Granted that imitation being so strong in all living crea- 
tures, it is only natural that they should strive to do what 
their parents are doing before their eyes; but I submit 
that the j'oung of all from man downward, wul, if left 
to themselves, instinctively make use of the modes of 
progression with which they are blessed. A bird taken 
from the nest, as I have often done, and caged before it 
can fly, will, when matured, if allowed liberty in a room, 
fly about it as gaily as an old one ; and to my loss, occa- 
sionally, if the window is left open, fly through it as 
straight and strong as either of its parents. Animals 
born in a perfect condition— the calf or the lamb— wahc 
without teaching from the moment they are dropped. 
Children, though too often encouraged by an overfond 
mother to stand and walk before their legs are strong 
enough to bear them, would undoubtedly find their legs, 
as the saying is, as soon as nature gives them strength, 
from crawling to standing upright and walking without 
assistance. , , , - 1 • 
With regard to the action of the dove in pushing its 
fully fledged young ones off the dove cot: this is not, I 
take it in order to make them use their wmgs, but be- 
cause the old ones are about to breed again, and are 
jealous of the presence of the older brood. 
Again, is not Hermit altogether begging the question 
when he says that "wildfowl bred on our northern lakes 
will not go south without old birds to lead the way." 
What proof, may I ask, has he that that is so .'' I ven- 
ture to think the wonderful instinct which induces birds 
to migrate would not be found wanting in those birds to 
do so because they had no leaders to show them the way. 
No doubt the migration of birds is one of those mysteries 
of nature quite beyond the power of men to dogmatize 
about and I look upon it as an unwarrantable assertion 
to make that it is not inborn in those birds that practice 
it given to them by their Almighty Creator. _ 
'Then, with regard to the question of birds being taught 
by their parents to sing, or make any other noise similar 
to that of their parents: here again Hermit bebeves in 
the necessity of instruction. Now, though undoubtedly 
the young copy their parents, I contend that without 
assistance we see every day evidence of the fact that such 
teaching is unnecessary. Witness the caged bird which 
has never heard a note, but who will, on arriving at 
maturity, sing with ease the natural song of its species. 
Chickens reared in an incubator, though removed miles 
from any other fowls, will likewise, when old enough, 
and the breeding season begins, if cockrels, crow, and if 
pullets, cackle and cluck exactly like the parents they 
have never seen. . . , . , 
Hermit also contends that birds are not taught by 
nature irrespective of their parents to select the food most 
suitable for them: surely one sees this contradicted con- 
tinually. • -11 -r • - 4. f 
Cage birds that feed on grain will, if given a variety of 
seed invariably choose that which is most suitable to 
them though I admit confinement generates a morbid 
taste' for a seed that is detrimental to them. Soft bill 
birds could never be persuaded to touch grain, but readily 
take to insects or chopped meat, though they are tempted 
to eat moist mixtures of a kind that raay, if given in 
excess, be injutious. This all goes to pfove that caged 
birds do not find any difficulty in sustaining their life by 
food which only nature has taught them is good for 
them. Poultry also without parental instruction will, if 
given latitude in the variety of food placed before them, 
select that which is best for them, until again the morbid 
taste created by domestication induces them to indulge too 
freely, if tempted, in what is deleterious to them. 
I do not, as will be seen, deny that the example of 
parents has a great effect on their offspring, but I ven- 
ture to support the theory that, especially if the environ- 
ments are the same,' young birds and animals will in- 
variably exhibit, when fully grown, all the habits and 
idiosyncrasies of their species, irrespective of parental in- 
slruction. F. C. Blunt, Colonel. 
RvDE, Isle of Wight, May 4. 
Pranks of Wood Rats. 
Kettle Falls, Wash. — In the make up of the wood rat 
the mischievousness of the monkey is united with the in- 
dustry of the beaver; and both are guided by a perversity 
which would land him in an idiot asylum save that the in- 
mates would prove entirely too orderly and systematic 
in their every day life to suit him even a little bit. 
Once he has taken possession of an empty cabin, do not 
turn in there to stop over night for the sake of avoiding 
a thunder storm; for, unless you succeed in shining the 
little wretch's eyes and blowing him into sausage, you 
have got a job on hand which will last the night long. 
Sleep is out of the question, as he delights in raising a 
racket in comparison with which an Irish wake would 
prove seductive harmony. 
Visiting the empty cabin of a miner, I found that the 
cook stove had been left with the end door of the stove 
swung wide, and the griddles and crosspiece of the top 
removed; and while the whole interior of the stove was 
filled with the nest of a wood rat, the inside of the nest 
being lined with moss, the nest was continued up on top 
of the stove, piled with every imaginable kind of trash 
which the little brute could drag into position, until the 
whole affair on top of the stove looked like the rush 
house of a muskrat. 
In the woodhouse adjoining the kitchen of my old 
home at Valley, a wood rat once came to preempt the 
whole affair, and for some days he remained so cunningly 
hidden in the daytime that I was unable to rout him from 
his retreat. Turning himself loose at night, he made 
things lively in general. Burrowing beneath the sill or 
lower log of the cabin and coming out under the floor of 
a closet, he then gnawed a hole through the floor, when 
he proceeded to utilize the closet for general purposes. 
Something in the line of carpentry called the jack plane 
into use, and the resulting shavings were piled in the 
corner of the woodshed for kindling. The following night 
was a busy one for the rat, and happening to go into the 
closet next morning I found a pair of my shoes that 
were lying on the floor — and were the only things on the 
closet floor — literally crammed full of shavings, each and 
every one of which had been drawn singly through the 
tunnel and up through the floor. Evidently there had 
been no thought of nest-making, as the closet afforded no 
hiding place whatever, and the shoes were some distance 
apart. His work had been very painstaking and neat, 
and not a scrap of a shaving had been left on the floor, 
while the shoes were tightly packed to the ends of the 
toes. A trap was then set for him in the closet near his 
entrance hole, which he somehow managed to spring 
with his head, leaving only the bristles or long hairs of 
one side of his upper lip fast in its jaws. This appeared 
to satisfy his curiosity fully, and he left for parts un- 
known. 
Nineteen years ago a party of my neighbors went on a 
prospecting trip into the mountains east of the Pend 
d'Oreille River, and journeying along the bank of the 
stream as the noon hour approached, they camped for din- 
ner near the log cabin of a placer miner, whom they could 
see at his work on the river bank a short distance away. 
Dinner was cooked and they had just began their meal 
when the miner arrived on the scene, bade them good 
morning and passing on to the cabin unlocked the padlock 
of the door and vanished inside. But a few minutes 
elapsed when he reappeared, bareheaded, with pale face 
and eyes that blazed with wrath, and rushing up in front 
of the seated group he presented a .50 caliber needle gun 
at full cock and announced that the first man who moved 
in his seat would be shot dead. 
One of the group, Mr. R. B. Lane, was a good talker, 
and he quietly and coolly asked the infuriated miner to 
raise the muzzle of his gun and tell them what was 
wanted. 
"Oh, if I only knew which one of you blankety blanked 
scoundrels it was there'd be no foolin' about it !" cried the 
miner. "And now I don't want a bit of nonsense or I'll 
kill some of ye right where ye set." 
"Look here, my friend," said Lane, "listen to me a 
moment before you do something you may have to re- 
gret. We don't know what you mean, and now I ask you 
to quiet down and tell us what you want." 
"I want my buckskin bag of gold dust that some of ye's 
got. Ye needn't try to deny it, for it was there when I 
went to work this mornin' and there's been nobody along 
since but you fellers ; and I want ye to hand it out with- 
out a word." 
"Well, my friend," said Lane, "just as good looking 
men as you or I have been mistaken before to-day; and 
now I ask you to be very sure you are right before you 
attempt anything rash. Please go back into your cabin 
and make a careful and thorough search so you wdl 
know to a dead certainty whether your gold is really 
gone." 
The calm, dispassionate tone of the speaker had its 
effect, and the half crazy miner, after a moment's hesita- 
tion, turned and reentered the cabin. 
Some twenty minutes elapsed when he again reappeared 
— without his gun — and Lane said that of all the 
humiliated men he ever saw, and of all the abject apolo- 
gies to which he ever listened, they had now the most 
perfect examples. 
Asking the whole party into his cabin he showed them 
where in the side wall of the cabin he had a block of 
"chinking" — one of the billets of wood used to stop the 
cracks between the logs— which he could pull loose; and 
where behind it he had a plade In whidi to hide the gold 
sack, and as the cabin had been built in an excavation 
in the river bank, this part of the wall was below the 
surface of the ground, forming a cunning hiding place 
for his gold. On his first entrance into the cabin. he had 
felt for his treasure, and the bag was gone. Then followed 
the scene which had destroyed the appetites of the 
prospectors. 
Returning for his second search he discovereil that 
the hole continued along the log beyond his reach. Tear- 
ing the remaining blocks of chinking loose, bit by bit, 
he followed along to the back wall of the cabin, when he 
felt and drew forth his precious sack, unbroken, but with 
the teeth marks of an avaricious wood rat plainly legible 
in the folded top of the sack. 
Pranks and trickery of this kind soon teach the pioneer 
that when one of these pests appears there is but one 
thing to do — make war, and war to a finish; for a pair 
of spectacles, the family Bible, a stick of stove wood, a 
bottle of peppermint, clothes-pins, iron wedges, socks, or 
broom handles — everything is fish that comes to his net^ 
aud his industry is yet unmeasured. 
Omn Belknap. 
Food Birds of the Eskimos. 
From the "Proceedings of the Linnsean Society." 
BY J. D. FIGGINS. 
Possibly at no other place on the globe are birds so 
extensively used for food and clothing as they are in 
North Greenland. A portion of this bleak and barren 
coast is inhabited by a small tribe of Eskimo, commonly 
known as the Arctic Highlanders, consisting of about 25a 
individuals, and divided into seven or eight settlements. 
Through force of circumstances these natives are strietly 
carnivorous, and a large supply of meat is required, not 
only for their personal use, but for their numerous packs 
of sledge dogs. Seals and walruses are the animals most 
hunted in order to obtain food, but they are not to be 
depended upon entirely, as it is impossible in some years 
to secure the necessary numbers. Caribou are not com- 
mon, and are very hard to obtain. Narwhals are taken 
during the early spring, but usually in very limited num- 
bers, and they make only a slight change in the usual 
bill of fare. Whenever there is a shortage of seals and 
walruses — and this occurs often — the natives depend 
almost entirely upon birds. Seals and walruses often 
desert a locality for a year or two, and to be prepared for 
this the natives locate their villages as near bird rookeries 
as possible, regardless of unfavorable conditions. The 
stupidity of the birds renders them an easy prey for the 
hunters, whose methods of capture are very simple. As 
soon as the birds arrive in the spring the harvest begins, 
and ceases only when an abundance of other game is 
assured. 
^yhile at Cape York during the summer of 1896, I was 
invited by a party of native hunters to accompany them 
on an expedition to the great rookery of dovekies (Alle 
die) near that place, and being greatly interested I gladly 
accepted their invitation. It was a strictly business affair 
with them, and they requested me to leave my gun be- 
hind and take along a net, which, of course, I did. A 
half hour's row brought us to the foot of a high cliff, the 
base of which was piled to the height of about two hun- 
dred feet with boulders, detached from it by the action 
of the elements. This mass of loose and treacherous rock 
— entering the water at an angle of about 45 degrees — 
was the breeding ground of the dovekies, and here they 
were to be captured. 
These birds deposit their eggs well down in the crevices 
among the smaller stones, and at the time of my visit 
the young birds were nearly ready to leave the nests. A 
curious subdued murmur, made by the plaintive call of the 
young birds, formed a kind of background of sound for 
the louder notes of the adults, whose incessant chatter 
gave abundant proof of the countless thousands breeding 
at the rookery. Climbing to an altitude of about one 
hundred and fifty feet we reached the flight zone of the 
dovekies, where there was a continuous movement of 
large flocks, whose sole employment appeared to be flying 
round and round in circles which extended from within 
a few feet of the cliff to well out over the water. Conse- 
quently to come within striking distance of the birds, it 
was only necessary, to watch a flock, and while they were 
away on their circuit, to take a position screened from be- 
hind a large rock in their line of flight. 
A curiously constructed net is used at present for cap- 
turing the birds. It consists of a hoop about two feet in 
diameter across which a net, slightly bagging, is con- 
structed. The hoop is secured at the end of a light pole 
about ten feet in length, and when in use the nets remind 
one very much of lawn-tennis racquets on a large scale, 
being swept forward with similar strokes. The hunter 
places the net on the rocks in the opposite direction from 
which the birds are expected, and on their approach raises 
it to meet them with considerable force, which stuns or 
entangles them in its meshes. The net is quickly drawn 
to the hunter and the victims secured. A firm, quick 
pressure under the wings usually causes almost instant 
death, but to make their capture doubly sure, the wings 
are crossed on the back, which prevents flight in case they 
survive the deadly pressure. Again the net is placed in 
position ready for a new strike. The escaping birds of 
the flock invariably dart aside in unison when the strike 
is made, but they apparently forget all danger by the time 
they have again completed their circuit, for they repeat 
the movement time and time again until their diminished 
numbers make the casting of the net a. labor that is prac- 
tically without result. A new flock is then selected, and 
the work continued until a sufficient number of birds is 
secured. 
Before the advent of the white man, from whom 
materials for net making are obtained, a more primitive 
method was employed, namely, throwing stones, and it is 
still carried on by the younger generation with consider- 
able success. Dovekies display great curiosity, and if the 
hunter sits quietly in full view, he will soon have an 
audience of thern near him, all bent on occupying one 
rock, regardless of its size, or of their numbers. A com- 
pact flock of birds soon results, and a well directed stone 
thrown into their midst does great execution, Stonea 
may be thrown a number of times at the same flock be- 
fore they decide to adjourn. I experimented with both 
