44 
FOREST • AND STREAM. 
UvtY 1§, 196,]. 
ble yellow instead of both black and tbe wing more dis- 
tinctly bari-fed with white. Tbe least flycatcher is a trifle 
smaller and its bill is not black. Fortunately they have 
some other distinctions. 'I'he last named may be known 
by its repeatedly jerking out a couple of syllables that 
have been likened to "chebec," and tins word is used as 
one name for the species. The bird throws the accent 
heavily upon the last syllable, and iinparts a metallic clink 
to the utterance wliich is not rendered in the spelling. 
This flycatcher has no prejudice against human neighbors. 
I have" found it building in a sliade tree beside a park 
walk, in a fork of limbs, about twenty feet from the 
ground. The familiar kingbird, or tyrant flycatcher, like- 
ly to be found in any of these fields, is about twice as 
large, and is easily recognized when in flight by the white 
band displayed across the tip of the tail. The great 
crested flycatcher, of similar size, is a bird of the woods, 
and rather rare in this district, it utters a loud whistle, 
somewhat like a quail's, and when seen may be known by 
the pale yellow of its under parts. 
At the foot of the i-apids the river spread itself against 
the higher ground and forced the path up upon a little 
bluff, where it was separated from the water by a fringe 
of trees and saplings interlaced by vines which in summer 
cover all the bank with a luxuriant screen. Now the still 
surface of the river reflected the sky between the leaf- 
less streams. Cutting across lots in a curve of the river 
I came to a pasture conspicuous for a gravel knoll thirtjj 
or forty feet high ; so regularly conical that it is easily 
fancied' to be artificial. Standing in the bend it gave a 
fine outlook upon the river and miles of beautiful slopes 
putting on the fresh buff and green plaid of plowing time. 
Just below, crow-blackbirds and redwings were piping 
among some trees standing in a damp spot. In one of 
these trees were the abandoned diggings of a woodpecker, 
and a pair of white-bellied swallows had taken possession. 
One looked out of the porthole of the nest and the other 
mounted guard close by. These birds are easily identified 
— clear white below, black above, with a blue luster on 
head and neck. On a neighboring tree was another swal- 
low, perching on a dead limb. To the average citizen the 
swallow is a swallow — the long-tailed bird that builds 
under barn eaves and gave a nickname to the dress coat. 
But that is the only long-tailed species; and the sooty 
swift, which the aforementioned citizen would inevitably 
call a swallow, in spite of the ornithologists, is about as 
nearly destitute of tail as any feathered creature. We 
are permitted to call it the chimney swallow on sufferance. 
The bird that I left clinging to the limb was recognized 
by the spot on its otherwise buff breast as the cliff swal- 
low, one of the kind that used to build mud nests under 
the projecting shingles of the barns, this species finishing 
out its structure with a neck like a jug's, while the barn 
swallow was content with a more open cup. Wliere do 
these species live now? It is years since I have seen their 
mud houses sticking like parasites to man's larger build- 
ings. Why did they lose such a characteristic habit of 
life? 
And where do the thronging swifts roost and nest that 
swarm over the village in the evening twilight, "while 
glow the heavens with the last steps of day?" And what 
is this performance of theirs just above the tree tops, 
when they mingle in flight and trace their intersecting arcs 
on the rosy sky? Do they find insects specially plenty 
then and there, or is it all fun, a carnival of flight, a game 
of tag, a show of aerial gymnastics ? Now one darts here 
and there, zigzagging like a bat, then sets its wings rigidly 
curving backward, and by its momentum cleaves the air 
in a symmetrical curve like the stroke of a scimeter. 
They keep it up as long as I can see them, but they must 
stop some time in the evening, and then where do they 
stow themselves? The village cannot offer unused chim- 
neys enough for them. They have been known to crowd 
into hollow trees, and perhaps these find some such shel- 
ter. But where are their nests? They do not build ex- 
clusively in chimneys. I found one in a barn— a slight 
bracket of coarse bits of hay, fastened together and to the 
boarding with the glue which the bird secretes. 
I begin to doubt whether I know the regular dwelling 
places of either kind, but the bank swallows, which I 
can see any day in their season plunging into little bur- 
rows in the face of a sand pit. Their distinguishing mark 
is a band of color across the white breast. Bank aiid 
band are words near enough alike to keep this mark in 
mind in connection with this species. About the same 
sand bank I have seen a kingfisher hovering, and perch- 
ing here and there on neighboring trees, although the 
place is something like a half mile from any fishing water. 
I could not find that it had a nest here, but it makes one 
like the bank swallow's, only larger. With other boys I 
once took the j^oung kingfishers from such a burrow, to 
which our parents ordered us to restore them. These 
big, showy blue and white birds, with their harsh, clatter- 
ing call and their appetite for game fish, hardly deserve 
our tenderest regards. 
Reaching the water's edge at a point where I had 
caught fish myself in other days, it seemed like neg- 
lecting an opportunity to turn away without fishing; 
so I baited hook, threw out line and seated myself 
comfortably on the grass. He who called fishing the 
contemplative man's recreation must have had this 
style in mind; certainly not the soul-absorbing practice 
of fiy-casting or tke busy employment of dredging 
weeds with a trolling spoon. Notliing occurred to in- 
terrupt my enjoyment of the beautiful scene. A bush 
could do this sort of fishing as well as a man. Tying 
the line to a twig, I strolled along the beach, and was 
lucky enough to set eyes on an animal that I had read 
of as the mud puppy, but had never happened to find. 
Swimming languidly near the shore was a lizard-like 
creature, eight or nine inches long, dark brown, with 
darker spots. It settled stupidly among the stones so 
near the edge that I whisked it out upon the ground, 
with a stick for a closer look. It showed an injury that 
perhaps accounted for its lethargy, though I should 
not expect it to be a very lively animal at the best. 
This was the end of the trip. On the way back I had 
a good chance to observe a species of wader that had 
attracted my attention before, but kept themselves too 
far away, always seeing me first and flying off low oyer 
the water with a cry like "weet, weet, weet!" consist- 
ing of a whistled syllable repeated several times at the 
rate of two or three times per second. It was easy to 
guess they were sandpipers, but I wanted to deter- 
mine their species. A low island lay about a gunshot 
out from the bank, and some of these birds were ex- 
ploring its margin after the manner of their kind, oc- 
casionally flying from point to point and piping their 
shrill calls. My chance came when two or three crossed 
to a muddy bit of an islet very near the main shore. 
Remaining motionless, I watched them through my 
glass with great interest. They showed a dark color 
above and white below. While they went peering 
about in the mud or shallow water, among the stones 
and weeds, poking their long bills into any likely 
foraging spot, they kept up a teetering motion, as if 
their bodies were unstably balanced on their slim stilt- 
like legs. They seemed to be birds of neat and gentle 
manners, happy in each others company, and made a 
very pleasing impression. One of them, standing in 
an inch or two of water beside a boulder, where a tiny 
cataract poured round from the other side, made a 
picture such as Audubon liked to draw. Their darker 
color matched their surroundings so that they were 
easily lost to sight, except when standing so as to 
show the white lower parts. When they faced toward 
me I could just see the round, dark spots that cluster 
so thickly on the breast as to blend at a little dis- 
tance, and then I knew them to be the spotted sand- 
piper. Thinking of them as spending their life at the 
water level, or but a few inches above it, and feeding 
on aquatic creatures, I was rather surprised later to 
see one a little further up stream posing in a different 
character, standing on a flat-topped fence post, back 
from the water, catching insects that could be seen fly- 
ing thickly and throwing themselves into his mouth 
with a readiness and frequency that ought to have been 
satisfactory. Soon, however, like many another grasp- 
ing biped, he toppled himself off his base by clutching 
too eagerly. He fluttered to another post, and though 
it was but two or three fence lengths away, did not 
forget to sound the "weet, weet, weet!" which they 
utter on taking flight. Next this bird settled in the 
field, as did another that I saw; but they seemed less 
at home than a pair that sprang from the water's edge 
just after, and flew out till their white feathers were 
lost among the tossing foam crests of the rapids, 
BuisTor, Hill. 
Intist reinove kat and beget ttust. With fear absent, in- 
telligence unfolds and faculties develop. The closer a 
man's relations are to his Maker, the more intelligence 
he can discover in the brutes; and the attitude of brutes 
to man is analogous with man's attitude to the Creator. 
The man or beast who is self-contained and obliquitous 
will never rise above the lower level himself, nor see any- 
thing good or brilliant in the creatures around oi* above 
him. Life is a blank, and the future opaque. If a man 
is to hold dominion over the beasts of the field, they must 
at least have sense enough to be dominated. 
In a former treatise on the "Super-sense of Animals," 
which was printed in the Forest and Stream some 
twenty years ago, I referred to the homing instinct which 
is inherent in many animals, especially dogs, cats, bees, 
and pigeons, and has always been a puzzle to psycholo- 
gists. And has not man often had to depend on this 
super-sense of his dog or horse to extricate him out of a 
dilemma when he has lost his way, or been enveloped by 
darkness, or hemmed in by fire, flood, or blizzard ? "Thou, 
O Lord, shalt save both man and beast" is the divine 
apostrophe (Ps. 36:7). Does not this forecast contain an 
implication that men and animals are nearly enough on 
the same intellectual plane to be included in the same 
category and involved in the same ultimate fate? That 
there is an innate intelligence in the animals which will 
make them as fit companions for man in the "new earth" 
as they are in the one existant? Charles Hallock. 
Man and the Brute. 
In discussing animal intelligence I fear your contribu- 
tors do not all go back to first principles. They do not 
recognize the relationship which exists between men and 
animals according to the divine plan of creation : any 
more, perhaps, than many recognize or admit the relation- 
ship which obtains between themselves and their Maker. 
The basis of all is love, trust, confidence. 
The more we cultivate the acquaintance of animals tlie 
inore their brute instinct seems to expand into a reason- 
ing faculty. They at least learn to deliberate before they 
act, and to study causes and consequences. They read 
the purport of the eye, and are quick to discern the mean- 
ing of signs and sounds, and articulate words, often 
evincing a capacity equal to human. All animals have a 
limited vocabulary of their own. Men and animals by 
intercourse learn each other's language. If the brutes are 
silent it does not follow that they do not understand. 
Words, or the number used, are not the measure of intel- 
ligence, brute or human. There are other media of ex- 
pression or perception. Deficiency in parts of speech is 
compensated by the possession of occult faculties which 
biologists endeavor in vain to explain. So it is not within 
the scope of man to declare the limit of animal intelli- 
gence. 
Few farmers attempt to make the acquaintance of their 
live stock: any more than the slave driver makes the ac- 
quaintance of his human serfs. If these inferior beings 
have any brains or sensibilities above their daily tasks, 
they never have opportunity or encouragement to display 
them. Their masters never draw them out, and the un- 
fortunates are afraid to utter. Some farmers never speak 
softly to their live stock, never caress them, never catch 
a reciprocal glance of the eye, never open their mouths to 
them except in. curses or commands! The cattle of such 
men are wild ; the horses are vicious, the cows don't give 
down their milk; the cats flee in terror, and the hens 
flinch when the feed is thrown to them. This is because 
of man's delegated sovereignty. Fear and an innate sense 
of inferiority smother their intellect and its manifesta- 
tions.. 
Whenever we happen upon an intelligent dog or an in- 
telligent dog with a cheerful mien, we will discover that 
he has a kind master. We will discover that he not only 
has the habit of caressing and talking kindly to him, but 
as he gets more and better acquainted, of expressing his 
passing thoughts aloud, of asking advice, and imparting 
his confidence, just, for example, as a negro talks to a 
mule. That is better than muttering to one's self, as many 
are apt to do. And in course of time the animal actually 
learns the purport of many words, and is eager to 
respond. "Cap!" I heard his mistress say to the terrier 
under the table, "take that bone out into the yard." This 
order, given without manual sign or inflection of voice. 
"Cap ! go up stairs and lie down !" "Cap 1 get up into that 
chair and stay there until I tell you to get down !" And 
thai; dog can hardly be made to get down until he receives 
the mistress* order. 
Surely crude instinct plays a very insignificant part in 
tliis little melodrama! 
Observe how much pains animal trainers take to ingra- 
tiate themselves into the good will of their pupils ! Not 
to startle them by coming on them uiiwares, as the dunce 
of a boy does to his big sister; or to speik harshly to- 
them unless they err; always (o win them by love and a 
Iim,ip of sugar! 
Now, love is the basis of all intercourse between men 
and ,animals, men and their neighbors, and men and their 
Maker. Show me a man who is kind to animals and 1 
will .show you a good neighbor. Show me a man who' 
treats his neighbor as he would like (o be treated, and I 
will show you a follower of the divine Master. 
One trait about animals is that thej' seem incapable of 
more than one idea at a time. No anirnal coidd emulate 
Paul Morphy, who played twenty games of chess simul- 
taneously. Fear is dominant as a means of self-preserva- 
tion. This makes them wild. In order to tame them we 
Mammals of Mt. Katahdin, Me* 
BY B. H. DUTCHEE. 
From tlie Proceedings of the Biological Society of Washington. 
In the summer of 1902 I spent from July 10 to Septem- 
ber 5 in an attempt to determine the mammalian fauna, 
and in general the^ faunal zones of Mt. Katahdin in north 
central Maine. This mountain was chosen because, as 
far as I know, no mammal work had ever been done in 
its vicinity, and because of its height and isolated posi- 
tion. 
The old idea of Katahdin, printed even in geographies, 
was that of an extinct volcano, an assumption very ex- 
cusable in those whose views of the mountain were from 
a distance, for the "basins" or heads of the old glacial 
valleys on the eastern side, with their wide encircling 
walls on the north and south, give the appearance of a 
great crater blown out on one side. A closer examina- 
tion reveals the fact that the mountain is in reality a 
granite_ ridge of very irregular outline with its major 
axis lying north and south, flanked by precipitous but- 
tresses, the glacial retaining walls, that project out to the 
east, west, and north, and drop rapidly away in slopes 
of high dcgTcc on face and point. On the east, north, and 
west are a number of smaller ridges, timber-covered, 
nestling under the shelter of the greater mountain, and 
separated from it by valleys and basins. These minor 
ridges, Hunter Mountain, Traveler Mountain and the 
Four Brothers, vary from about 2,000 feet to 3,000 feet in 
height. Katahdin itself reaches 5,200 feet. 
The rainfall is so great on the mountain top that its 
entire surface is moist at all times, and there are at least 
four perennial seepage springs on the tableland. Two of 
these are in the fir scrub, which has been cleared for a 
short_ distance around them by the gathering of animals 
to drink in times gone by. The water does not flow out 
on the surface, but is found subterraneously in little de- 
pressions among moss-covered rocks. 
Trapping was done at various localities from the base 
camp, at the union of the Wissataquoick and East Branch 
Penobscot rivers, at 450 feet, to the tableland, at 4,500 
feet. The following thirty-six species of mammals are 
recorded from Mt. Katahdin. 
Woodland Caribou. — The caribou is an animal of the 
past in the Katahdin region. To-day all that remains 
is its bones in the porcupine dens. From accounts re- 
ceived, there have been two migrations of caribou from 
northern Maine within the memory of inhabitants now 
living. The last of these occurred about six years ago. 
Unfortunately the awakening of public sentiment in re- 
gard to the importance of game preservation did not take 
place while the animals were still abundant, and their 
absence now can in part at least be attributed to wanton 
destruction. 
Moose. — The recent protective legislation has, in the 
opinion of the natives, resulted in allowing a very con- 
siderable 'increase in the numbers of moose. Judging 
by the sign observed, they are comparatively abundant on 
the base of and near the mountain. They range up to 
timber line in favorable localities. Man is practically the 
moose's sole destructor, and if the killing in defiance of 
law that takes place to feed the lumber camps were pre- 
vented, there would be a still greater increase. It is 
very difiicult to secure evidence against these malefactors. 
The lumber camps are so isolated that all the persons in 
them, and in their vicinity, are to a certain extent bene- 
ficiaries directly or indirectly, from the fresh meat 
secured, and are hence particeps criminis. The danger 
of detection in a camp of sixty men, where one animal 
can be entirely consumed in a short time, is very small, 
and evidence is not easily obtained. 
Northern Virginia Deer. — Deer are really abundant 
in the Katahdin region. It was not unusual to see as 
many as five in the course of an afternoon's walk. They 
sometimes prove a nuisance by destroying uiifenced 
gardens. One was seen near Chimney Pond, at an alti- 
tude of about 3,000 feet. They are not common at this 
altitude, however. In spite of the illegal hunting that 
takes place they appear to be on the increase. 
Southeastern Red Squirrel. — Red squirrels are 
abundant throughput the region, extending even to the 
treeless tableland of the mountain, where I saw one at 
close range August 28. Another was seen by one of our 
cooks in the same locality. At Chimney Pond camp, alti- 
tude 3,000 feet, they were abundant. 
Northeastern Chipmunk.— Chipmunks were common 
on the hardwood ridges of the low ground, but I saw 
none at the higher elevations where the deciduous trees 
were not so abundant. 
One specimen taken at 500 feet altitude is typical 
lysteri. 
WooDCHucK. — Fairly common on the lowlands. 
Canadian Flying Squirrel. — A living specimen was 
kept in the lower camp. These squirrels are common on 
