FOREST AND STREAM. 
i^EPT. 6, 1962. 
tliat snow melts more quickly in the forest than in the 
open is so palpably inconsistent with actual experience 
and simple physics that one might as well claim that 
the construction of an ice house to cover the season's 
supply was unnecessary, since ice would last longer in 
the sun than under cover. 
Though there exist numerous forests in this country 
where the protective function of the woods is not ap- 
parent, in the majority of cases, and in all mountain 
districts without exception, the forest serves both to 
supply useful material and to protect and improve the 
ground, and thereby regulate the surface and under- 
ground drainage. 
The Object of the Resetves and the Character of Their 
FofcstSt 
For the forests of the present reserves it may be said 
that the protective function has been regarded as the 
more important. It is evident, therefore, that efforts 
will be made to maintain and improve these woods in 
order to continue to increase their usefulness in furnish- 
ing material, and still more in performing their protective 
function. This is the object of the forest reserves. The 
main purpose of the reserves is not exclusion, as is still 
so often claimed. They merely provide the means and 
men to give the much-needed care and protection which 
private enterprise at present could not afford and prob- 
ably would be unwilling to furnish for a long time to 
come. 
Scattered over a wide range of country, from the 
British line to Mexico, with climates varying from cold 
to hot, from excessively wet to arid, in altitudes of from 
1,500 to 11.000 feet, the forests of the several reserves 
differ widely. In the Black Hills a line forest of yel- 
low pine covers a broad expanse of high, rolling ground 
and hills, and serves chiefly as a valuable source of tim- 
ber. In the Western. Rainier a dense forest of fine 
conifers on steep alpine ridges keeps the waters from 
carving the mountains into a waste. In the Big Horn 
a growth of pole-size lodgepole pine occupies a rough 
plateau, ranging from' 8,000 to 9,000 feet in altitude, and 
helps to keep the useful streams from going dry. 
Similarly, these woods differ in their present condition. 
The valley of the Skagit in the Washington Reserve, is 
almost an unbroken burn, and large burned-over areas, 
known as "burns," are scattered over the majority of the 
ridges of the east side of this same reserve. Similar 
conditions are met in the Mount Rainier, the Big Horn, 
the Priest River, and other reserves. In some cases 
these old burns have become reclothed with young forest 
trees, in others they are thickets of brush (.species not 
trees), and in others they have changed to grassy pas- 
tures, often WMth little prospect of restocking under the 
conditions now prevailing. In some cases, as in the Big 
Horn Reserve, part of the extensive old laurns are now 
so unmistakably prairie that it is difficult to prove that 
they were ever woods. Generally, however, a search re- 
veals some fragments of stumps, bits of charcoal, etc., 
which show that at some time, at least, these places were 
not altogther prairie, and that a return to a wooded con- 
dition may be looked for. Besides these parks or grassy 
openings and small prairies (probably all due to fire), 
which in the aggregate cover many thousands of acres, 
there are large tracts of forest, such as the yellow pine 
woods of the Black Hills, where the mature timber, in 
keeping with the habits of this kind of pine, no longer 
forms dense stands. Here the ground is but little 
shaded, and a vigorous growth of grass and weeds 
eagerly seizes upon every yard of available soil, and 
thereby often prevents the starting of tree growth. 
In other districts, where high altitudes tend to give an 
alpine character to the land, tree growth naturally be- 
comes more scrubby and broken, and, in regions like 
the Cascades, at the tops of the high ridges are grassy 
parks, covering many thousands of acres more or less 
interrupted by patches of scrub woods. Whether these 
grassy areas were ever entirely clothed with woods, and 
whether, with any reasonable amount of care or protec- 
tion, they can be made to reclothe themselves, is still 
in some cases uncertain. 
In general, then, the forests of the reserves are primar- 
ily protective forests, they differ from reserve to reserve, 
they are all more or less damaged by fires, and in all dry 
localities and at high altitudes they are interrupted by 
grassy areas, the majority of which have long been in 
their present condition, and will probably require a long 
period of time before they are restocked with woods. 
A Tiny Winged Performer. 
Editor Forest and Str&am: 
One cold afternoon I was attracted by a crowd of boys 
and girls witnessing the strange antics of the oddest little 
feathered creature in creation. He was like a tiny wren 
in size and had a remarkably full breast covered with 
thick whitish down, the wings and back smooth and rather 
dark, and the feathers were tipped with white. The tail 
was square shaped. This tiny chit was apparently totally 
oblivious of the fact that he was the center of attraction 
of a throng, numbering more than 100, including many 
staid married people. The little joker would begin his 
search for food in the crevices of the trunk of a large 
tree, going around and upward at a tremendous pace for 
one of his ounces, or rather pennyweights, for he was a 
rare jewel. He seemed powerless to descend except in 
qne way. After ascending to the small limbs he would 
flit downward like a ball to his old place on the trunk 
about two feet from the ground. It made no difference 
to him that little lads and lassies were forming in inter- 
ested groups about that tree, and he would even select his 
position right within grasping distance of several young 
and nervous hands. My companion and I spent fully fif- 
teen minutes watching the antics of that "dear little ball 
of down and feathers,' as she called it. I counted no fewer 
than six ascents anxi return flights to the bottom of the 
same tree. The bird had a short needle-like bill and 
often seemed to find food as he hopped up the tree. It was 
nearly dark when we left, but the amusing pigmy actor 
was still holding forth to a full house. 
Our thought was: "Will any of the boys hurt that 
little atom of bird life, and where will he go this cold 
night?" We trusted the boys. Often since that day have 
we passed that tree on the edge of the walk east of the 
lower meadow and looked anxiously around for oUr 
comical mite. May he and the partner of his joys be 
now safe in some congenial haven ! Ignorance has its dis- 
advantages, and will some kind ornithologist or you, Mr. 
Editor, now tell us the name of that bird? 
Peter Flint. 
New York Gjtv. 
[A pretty sight and a good lesson in ornithology to the 
onlookers. Though the description of the bird tells little, 
we imagine from its actions that the bird was a nut- 
hatch, or possibly a brown creeper.] 
Dick and Gil 
Two Florida Pets. 
About two years ago Forest and Stream published 
a paper entitled "Florida Pet Cranes." The history of 
these same birds in the interim may interest present 
readers. 
The press copied so largely from Forest and Stream 
at this time as to give the birds a real debut into the 
printed world. Many Florida tourists, on seeing the 
birds, would say, "Yes, we read of these cranes in so and 
so — our home paper." 
Into every life some shadow must fall, and even the 
happy and much loved and innocent Dick met life's 
changes in an accident, that in its pathetic following 
touched the human heart— bringing tears many times. 
The accident resulted in a broken leg. The bird, most 
imposing and picturesque, was a favorite with every- 
body, his intelligence and affectionate nature appealed 
to all, and when a fluttering was heard in the yard- and 
we found the pet floundering, our sorrow cou.d better 
be imagined than written. 
The bird was carried in his master's arms 10 the doc- 
tor, where he had to wait an hour for the physician's 
return, the bird resting in the arms like a sick child the 
while.' The leg was set — the bird turning his head to 
watch proceedings and seeming ftiUy to understand what- 
was being done for him, giving a "chirp, chirp" as the 
work proceeded and as his name was. called with ca- 
ressing tone. 
For a day or two the leg seemed to do well and greal 
hcpe was ours, when the setting gave way and Dick 
commenced to suffer. How his intelligence shone forth 
during all the long days of suffering that followed, for 
we felt every effort must be made to save the leg, and 
daily Dick was tortured with doctoring through mis- 
taken kindness. Next he was swung, with the hope that 
the bone would knit. His eyes, so clear and brilliant 
in health, grew dull, and he would look at us with such 
a wistful longing as if asking to be helped. 
It was touchingly pathetic to note his devotion. Show- 
ing pain and sick with the fever in his leg, which was 
reduced to little more than bones, he would raise his 
head on hearing his master come home, and in his weak 
voice greet him with his old-time welcome, a long, 
gurgling note of greeting. 
Then came the day when the doctor announced that 
nothing could save the bird but cutting the leg off a few 
inches above the foot. Dick had grown so in our affec- 
tions, his love for human society had endeared him so 
and his utter trustfulness during the long weary days 
we had nursed him made this ordeal hard and touching 
as if the bird were human. Dick bore the ordeal as 
though he understood. Then came days of nursing till 
the healing was over. Then he commenced to improve 
and his appetite became a prodigious thing. All day 
long and the last thing at night he was fed dainty bits, 
and he was ahvays hungry. When we would approach 
he would seem almost to talk, and begin to peck at the 
ground as if saying, "put my dinner here." 
, All these weeks Dick stood on one foot, night and 
day. How his strength held out was then and is yet 
a question. Gradually the limb healed, and he was 
able to place it on the ground and thus get some rest. 
During all his sickness he held his sovereignty over 
the yard. Neither dog, chickens nor Gill, the other 
crane, learned that Dick was helpless. While he ate 
bis eye was intent on the invader, and his long bill 
would give them a punch, when they wotild retire to 
other parts. But Dick is well — his new feathers came 
last fall, his crest is brilliant crimson, and his eye clear 
and bright. He gets over the yard, showing little lame- 
ness as he walks on the short leg; takes his bath, plumes 
himself, and is happy. On approach of his owner, 
though it be ten times a day, he takes his old corner 
in the yard and carols a loud welcome. 
One peculiar feature with reference to the greeting 
of the birds to their master, is that when he is cer- 
tainly a quarter of a mile from home and in no possible 
view, they both grow interested, move about, - station 
themselves at the corner where they meet him and com- 
mence a series of short gurgling calls. When the car- 
riage is in view the calls grow louder, until when once 
in the yard they throw back their heads, and the greet- 
ing culminates in one long, clangorous, trumpeting call. 
One thing in which Dick fails, and it is touching to 
w-itness his feeble attempt, is in his old-time glory of 
dancing. Alas ! like an old race horse vanquished by old 
age or lameness, he must give it up. Gill dances for 
two, now. At the coitimand of his owner, "Dance Gill, 
dance Gill." he begins with head erect and haughty step 
■ — then he bows, circles and jumps up and down with as 
much ease and lightness as if he were all feathers, then 
with curtsies and wings outspread he approaches his 
owner, bows and circles, and with a "hip, hip hurrah" 
from his master, swirls with open wings around the 
yard and back to bow and circle and dance again. Fre- 
quently, if he is not noticed, he invites attention by 
riishing up, bowing and prodding, picking up sticks, 
throwng them in the air and hopping up and down as 
if on a spiral wire. 
The crane in its wild state is a most shy and wary 
bird, but under domestication is as gentle and trusting 
as a dog. Gill, for some cause, is very much afraid of 
a cow, but loves the pony, following her step by step 
as she grazes in the lot. Often in the evening Gill 
follows his owner as he takes the horse to the pasture. 
a block away, but if a neighbor's cow by chance is re- 
turning home, Gill seeks the protection of his owner 
and stays close by till the cow is out of range. 
During the tourist season Dick and Gill adorn many 
a kodak series. Visitors come by and stately Gill walks 
majestically up to the fence and begins a series of inves- 
tigations, picking at umbrella, cane or finger ring on my 
lady's hand. His picture is taken and the visitor goes 
off correspondingly happy. 
It is great sport to watch the setter dog and Gill as 
they chase the buzzards that often alight in the chicken 
yard for scraps thrown to the hens. It might be likened 
to a game of tennis if we were to allow the buzzards 
to represent the balls. Gill with open wings rushes at 
the buzzards on his side of the fence, when the hungry 
vulture rises and alights on the other side of the di- 
vision fence. Then the dog attacks him and he goes 
back with the hope of getting another morsel, when 
Gill rushes at him again. If the buzzard alights on the 
fence both dog and bird rush at him. When, occasion- 
ally, a whole flock of these buzzards drop down among 
the chickens and the effort is too much for Gill to keep 
them moving, Chipco, the dog, leaps the fence and as- 
sists in putting to flight the intruders. 
The jay birds fly down to pick up corn, but Gill al- 
lowing nothing to come into the yard, drives them away, 
when in their pique they will sit on a limb above and 
call down in jaybird language all sorts of vilifications 
on Gill, who, evidently understanding bird language, 
clatters back in his strong crane notes, sometimes threat- - 
ening to distract those who have to listen. When this 
controversy gets at its height the chickens feel some- 
thing is wrong and commence to cackle, the dog then 
wakes from his doze and goes to investigate; the pony 
pricks her ears and whinnies in half alarm, till at last 
the mistress, disgusted with the clatter, proceeds to re- 
buke Gill and thus stop the quarrel. 
Minnie Moore- Willson. 
KiSSIMMEE, Fla. 
Wild Animals of the North. 
From Richardson's "Fauna Boreali-Americana; or the Zoology of 
the Northern Parts of British America." 
Some Smaller Mammals. 
The American hare, or white rabbit, as is well known, 
is the winter food of many of the Northern Indians. 
They are not killed in the fur countries in great numbers 
in the summer, because at that time the natives can pro- 
cure abundance of water fowl and game of other kinds. 
"In winter, however," says Dr. Richardson, "they are 
more sought after, and in the Hare Indian country, on the 
banks of the Mackenzie, where larger animals are scarce 
during that season, they constitute the chief food of the 
natives. They are principally taken in snares set in the 
paths that they make through the snow, and fixed to a 
pole which springs up when the noose is drawn, care 
being taken to obstruct their passage on one side of the 
noose by a small hedge of branches. To prevent them 
from cutting the snare instead of endeavoring to pass 
through it, it is occasionally rubbed with a little of 
their own dung. The Hare Indians, when they come to a 
place where the hare tracks are numerous, begin their 
operations by beating a circular path in the snow, so as 
to inclose a pretty large clump of wood, knowing that 
the hares will not readily cross such a path. They next 
bar the ways by little hedges, in the gaps of which they 
set snares, and then they enter the circle and beat among 
the bushes with their dogs to drive the hares into the 
nooses. On the success of this operation the supper of a 
whole horde often depends, as, with the usual improvi- 
dence attendant on a hunter's life, these Indians seldom 
keep any stock of provision by them. Unless when dis- 
turbed, the American hare rarely runs about during the 
day. It has numerous enemies, such as wolves, foxes, 
wolverines, martins, ermines, snowy owls and various 
hawks; but the Canada lynx is the animal which per- 
haps most exclusively feeds upon it. It has been re- 
marked that lynxes are numerous only when there are 
plenty of hares in the neighborhood. * * * In some 
parts of the fur countries the natives line their dresses 
with hare skins, and the Hare Indians sometimes tear the 
skins with the fur into strips, and plait them into a kind 
of cloth. They resort to this expedient, however, only 
from the scarcity of deerskins and moose leather, which 
form closer and better dresses." 
Larger than the varying hare is the polar hare, whose 
range is still further to the northward. It is common 
on the Barren Groimds at the northern extremity of the 
American continent. Dr. Richardson says that: "The 
polar hare is not a very shy animal, and on -the approach 
of a hunter it merely runs to a little distance and sits 
down, repeating this tnaneuver as often as its pursuer 
comes nearly within gunshot, until it is thoroughly scared 
by his perseverance, when it makes off. It is not diffi- 
cult to get within bowshot olit by walking round it, and 
gradually contracting the circle — a method much prac- 
ticed by the Indians. In the late boat voyage along the 
northern coast, we landed in a roclcy islet, off Cape Parry, 
which, though not above three hundred yards in diameter, 
v.'as tenanted by a solitary Alpine hare. The whole party 
went in pursuit of this poor animal; but it availed itself 
ss' skillfully of the shelter of the rocks, and retreated with 
so much cunning and activity from stone to stone, that 
none of us could obtain a shot at it, although it never was 
able to conceal itself from our search for more than a 
minute or two at a time. 
"The winter fur of the polar hare is of a snow-white 
color to the roots, and is more dense, and of a finer 
quality than that of the American hare. It bears a close 
resemblance to sw^andown." 
Few hunters among the higher peaks of the mountains 
of the West have failed to hear the squeaking cry of the 
little chief hare, although many who have heard that 
cry have failed to see the animal that produced it. They 
sit at the mouth of the burrow, and call ; but it is almost 
impossible to distinguish them from the rocks about them. 
Nevertheless, if one sits quiet for a long enough time 
he may sometimes see the little fellows run from hole 
to hole among the rocks, and may get a good notion of its 
appearance. The little chief hare is closely related to the 
true hares, but is at once distinguished from them by 
its small ears, which present no resemblance to those of 
what we commonly call the rabbits. 
i 
