FOREST AND STREAM. 
even on this little ball of ours, and we don't know, may 
comparatively amount to a cubic mile or more. As Aris- 
totle says: "The intelligence perceives nothing which the 
senses have not transmitted to it." Our senses— our 
means of perception — are still too imperfect. In the 
course of evolution we may learn more, gradually, but the 
old law is true: The more you know on any subject, the 
more you find out you know very little, for new and 
broader horizons open before you in accordance as 
you advance. Julian the Foxhunter. 
^ — ^ — 
Help for the Wild Creatures. 
Riverside Farm, Byron, Illinois, Jan. 31. — Editor 
Forest and Stream: A long run of professional work, 
with its ever-present heart-ache and heart-joy — i. e., sor- 
row for the sorely afflicted ones, sympathy for all and 
joy with thanks to "Ti-ra'-wa" for those on whom he had 
smiled — is behind me. It is a cold, quiet, restful Sunday 
on Riverside Farm. I am just in from a run on the skis 
to the squirrel caches ; there are six of them on the farm ; 
these caches are generally empty salt barrels nailed and 
wired in the forks of a burr-oak tree, with the opening to 
the south, which is partly closed with a well secured 
curtain made from an old gunny sack. The wild ones 
like these caches. This supply of salt is very precious to 
them. It is their great medicine. Wild animals as well 
as tame ones lick the human hand because of the salts 
upon it. Some, like the porcupine, gnaw old boots and 
shoes and tool handles for the same reason. At first 
Sir Sciurus and his mates will cast the corn and walnuts 
out upon the ground and hide them in every nook and 
corner of the woods. If there be a large supply of food 
in the barrel they soon tire and leave it scattered about 
on the ground. They are not long in learning the com- 
fort, convenience, safety, and value to them of the cache, 
after which much of their feeding is done in it. 
A tragedy occurred in one of the caches. A pair of 
isquirrels coming in to feed, found a dumpy, short-tailed 
rodent, the largest of the mouse kind, in the barrel. They 
knocked him about until life was extinct, and then cast 
his body out upon the snow, where it lay, one of the most 
eloquent trespass notices that the writer remembers to 
have seen. This rodent had long been a thorn in the 
side of the squirrels, for he had a large den in the tree 
cache below this one, an old elm. The entrance was 
within four feet of the barrel and his industrious family 
got away with a large portion of the food in the cache; 
too large, the squirrels thought, for they worked hard to 
gain an entrance to the den, stimulated in their efforts 
by hate and appetite, but were not able to effect 'their 
purpose. The rodents had, unfortunately for them, ac- 
quired a great likfng for walnuts, so when only corn was 
put in the old cache, and nuts in the new one on the hill, 
the head of this interesting family of gnawers followed 
the ski tracks up to the cache, with the result mentioned, 
so the sign and circumstance of the ground seemed to 
indicate. s Dr. A, J. Woodcock. 
Some Peculiar Cats. — I. 
Quite a while ago I intimated that I would like to 
write a series of anecdotes about eccentric or unusually 
intelligent animals of my acquaintance, promising to deal 
with facts, not fiction, and to refrain from extravagance. 
Being a close observer of animals, and more sympa- 
thetic toward them than most men who essay a "strenu- 
ous" career, I have, naturally, been favored with expe- 
riences that would seem almost beyond" belief to persons 
who regard "the lower animals" as mere meat, or ser- 
vants, or money producers. 
And (alas for mortal plans!) I had intended to take 
up dogs first, as I am more familiar with them than any 
other (or perhaps all other) animals; but, as I_ would 
be happy to please Von W., who asks for cat stories, and 
whose contributions to Forest and Stream have given 
me much pleasure, I will give at least a few of the cats 
first place. 
Pasht. 
While staying with an uncle in Effingham county, Illi- 
nois, many years ago, where, by the way, the natural 
scenery is very charming, being about half prairie and 
half timber, each in small sections, and often alternated 
with singular regularity, we possessed a small, beautiful 
tortoise-shell cat with the above ugly Egyptian name. 
She was remarkably intelligent, astonishingly un-catlike 
in manner, and withal very lovable. She would stand 
erect on her hind feet on my hand, held as high above 
my head as I could reach, and dig with her fore paws 
into any hole or crevice I asked her to, dog-like, fear- 
lessly, with all confidence in me. Do you think you can 
induce any common cat to do likewise? Try it and see. 
Although a cat is considered a climbing creature, and a 
dog the reverse, the cat is much more afraid of a fall. 
It is far easier to teach a dog to trust to artificial support, 
or to submit to an unnatural position. _ 
A yet more remarkable trait of this cat was that I 
could "sic" her after a hog or other small animal pre- 
cisely as a boy "sics" a dog! Of course she was not very 
formidable at a dog's tactics, but she would promptly 
and cheerfully pretend to give chase, even closing in on 
the enemy, and dodging about with well-known canine 
stratagems (sometimes apparently in earnest, especially 
if I followed and assisted by striking at the intruder) ; 
and, when compelled to retreat— which frequently hap- 
pened — she did so gracefully and in good order — a very 
striking contrast with the frenzied, pell-mell, scratch-and- 
tumble escape of the average frightened pussy. It is very 
difficult to point out anything to a cat, or to cause it to 
notice anything at a distance. I have known many a 
child to fly into a rage because he (or, more probably, 
she) could neither coax nor compel the favorite pussy to 
look at the moon, or any other object of interest out of 
immediate reach. I think our Pasht learned to look at 
and pursue objects from close compainionship with a 
yery active and restless little dog, who had been allowed 
to consider himself "the whole thing" in that household. 
At last (after the manner of the usual female cat) she 
became a mother; but, unlike the ordinary cat, instead of 
trying to conceal her offspring, she came to us and told 
us about them — at least she tried to tell us, and we under- 
stood, which amounts to about the same thing — and con- 
ducted us to their nest, or, rather, a hen's nest, in a bar- 
rel, which had been peacefully appropriated. It was not 
a case of robbery or confiscation, for the hen had aban- 
doned it of her own will. I don't believe I ever saw 
tiriier kittens. They were but little bigger than mice; I 
think a coffee cup would have comfortably held the three. 
She seemed amazingly proud of the ugly, sightless little 
strangers, purring loudly, wallowing about them joyfully, 
then_ looking up at us with dancing eyes. And when 
cousin Kate reached down and fondled them in her quiet, 
womanly way, Pasht became hysterically happy, and 
plainly showed that she was much flattered. 
Soon afterward— before they opened their eyes — Kate 
and I started out to visit a neighbor's house, where there 
was to be "a singing" — an old style country entertainment 
that preceded the musicale of to-day — when we were ar- 
rested by the cat, who behaved very strangely indeed. 
She came running after us, moaning piteously (the 
sounds were very human), real tears in her eyes, ran 
ahead of us, pushed back at us, pulled at our clothing, 
plainly saying,_ "Corne back! Come back, please!" and 
would not desist until we consented to do so, when she 
guided us as quickly as possible back to the old log house 
containing the barrel. _ On the way she kept looking back 
anxiously, as if fearing we might not understand, or 
might turn away again. With a woman's quick appre- 
hension, Kate exclaimed: "I'll just warrant that wicked 
old torn cat that's been prowling around here has come 
and killed her kittens ! Poor Pasht ! Poor Pasht !" 
And 5he was right. Not only had the monster killed 
them, but evidently he had committed cannibalism, for 
in a few moments the heartbroken mother found a gory 
half of one of her darlings near by under a rose bush, 
and brought it and laid it at our feet, looking up into our 
eyes with a heart-melting expression I can never forget. 
Only once since have I seen anything like it on a feline 
face — and that face belonged to a kitten of hers, too — the 
sole survivor of a second litter. I was sitting in a rock- 
ing chair, and the little fellow was teasing me by catching 
one of the rockers and trying to prevent the motion of 
the chair. He was about the size of a rat, a bright yellow 
(I never liked yellow cats till I made his acquaintance), 
with the most beautiful blue eyes I ever beheld in any- 
thing less than human! I was reading, but I'm always 
v/atchful and careful when children— human or animal — 
are about me, and no one could have convinced me that 
I was soon to cause that playful and innocent creature 
unnecessary pain. But at last, when I thought he wf-s 
going away, "tilted back" with a relieved feeling, think- 
ing, "Now I'll get to rock a little." I like to be almost 
constantly in motion, and sometimes think quite seriously 
of contriving a rocking bed; would surely do so if I 
lived in a water mill, where the motive power would cost 
nothing. However, the tricky little scamp suddenly 
turned and thrust one tiny pink fore toe under the rocker 
just in time to get it badly mashed (but not entirely 
crushed, for I stopped the backward movement by a 
mighty effort before the full weight even of the chair 
struck it). Doubtless the pain was greater than a burn. 
Yet what did that kitten do ? Did he give vent to a hate- 
ful, angry squall *in the natural cat style? Not little 
Blue Eye. Instead, he uttered a low, plaintive moan, 
swiftly removed his paw, put it to his mouth, then hob- 
bled away on three legs. Round and round the room 
he went thus, moaning and holding high the injured 
toe; and every time he came near the chair he sat dov/n 
for a second, held that paw up toward me, and glanced 
sadly at me through his tears, while sobbing and moan- 
ing like a human child, and seeming to say: "Just look 
at my poor hurt finger!" 
But whenever I tried to take him up to console him 
with pitying caresses, he would jerk away again, as if 
saying: "I know you mean well, but you couldn't handle 
me without making the hurt worse! O, I just can't bear 
it!" and make another tour of the room. This he did 
many times ere consenting to be taken into_ my lap; but 
at last when I caught him up and very delicately exam- 
ined his wound, he, baby-like, appeared somewhat com- 
forted, and gazed intently and gratefully into my eyes, 
the "pearly drops" still in his. I know there^ are cynical 
hard-hearted, "too scientific" beings who will laugh at 
this, and accuse me of being sentimental rather than ac- 
curate; but I note gladly that kindness and sympathy to- 
ward dumb brutes is one of the principal and most pleas- 
ing features of Forest and Stream ; and if the editors, 
contributors, and most of its readers should be generous 
enough to take my little story seriously, I can well afford 
to let the other fellows "smile in an amused and superior 
way." 
But enough of the pathetic feline. I will now intro- 
duce one of the comical kind. His name was 
Yellow Tom, 
No, I have no romantic tale to spin of this cat (he 
had a remarkable tail of his own, though, and was quite 
a spinner, too). I shall confine my pen mainly to a 
description of his character and habits, which were cer- 
tainly odd. 
First, although he was destructive to wild birds, we 
allowed a pet meadowlark to associate with him freely, 
day and night, in the house and out, and he never harmed 
it once, nor tried to. It lived but one summer, finally 
dying of convulsions induced by eating too many dead 
flies (the said flies having been poisoned by tobacco). 
We generally tried to keep the lark in at night, but it 
preferred to roost on the ground out of doors, as it was 
a very early riser. Having one wing clipped, to keep it 
from flying too far away, it seems all the more incredible 
that a bird-catching cat should have allowed it to go 
about so long. He even allowed it to drink milk with 
him out of his own private pan ; and sometimes he had to 
wait until it was satisfied first,_ for it would frequently 
peck and pinch his nose, and drive him back (which im- 
pudence he'd never have allowed from any of his cat 
acquaintances) ! He did not resent the bird's arrogance, 
only looked disgusted, much like an indulgent grand- 
father with a spoiled child. If he was cruelly torturing 
a rabbit, I bad only to catch him by the tail suddenly and 
jerk him off the ground above it to immediately put an 
end to its misery— for he would reach down, seeming to 
stretch to twice llis usual length, snatch it up, and tear it 
to bits with terrible ferocity; all the time hanging by his 
tail ! _ At other times he did not show anger when I lifted 
him in that manner. Most cats instantly fly into insane 
fury if lifted by the tail. 
_ He had the queerest appetite. He ate fruit— especially 
ripe tomatoes — corn on the cob (green or ripe), raw po- 
tatoes, soft candy, and the richest cakes and pies — sour 
pies as well as sweet ones ! He liked the sourest butter- 
milk, and drank strong black coffee, with or without 
sugar! But I drew the line there, and did not allow him 
to become a tobacco fiend ! 
One day, having neglected to give him his breakfast, 
I was sitting in the back yard, facing the old log build- 
ing mentioned in the other cat story, when, suddenly 
looking up, as if something special had caught the corner 
of my eye, I seemed to see a miracle. It was a stalk of 
ripe corn, bearing two small ears, moving slowly, horizon- 
tally, about a foot above the ground, butt-foremost! I 
should have said that the big end had already disappeared 
around the corner of the log house before my eye fairly 
caught the wonderful vision; but I plainly saw the latter 
half of the stalk, and at least one of the ears, ere the 
house hid them. Of course I sprang up and quickly fol- 
lowed ; when lo ! the mystery was explained, though 'twas 
still a wonder ! That cat had one end of the stalk in his 
mouth; or, to be more particular, he had it about a third 
of its length from the butt, then it ran aslant across his 
back, the main weight being a little to his rear, and \v. 
this manner he had carried it from the near-by shock 1 
T watched him drop the stalk in a convenient place, rip 
open the shucks from one of the ears, after the manner 
of a squirrel, and left him feasting when I went to call 
my uncle and cousin to witness. 
"Yellow Tom" finally sickened and was considered in- 
curable. He would lie in one's path and refuse to move, 
even if trodden on; nothing could startle him or attract 
his slightest attention; yet he lived on, and on, and on, 
for weeks. One day Kate dropped a sprig of catnip near 
his nose. The effect was magical. First he sniffed at it, 
then wallowed over it, and even tried to stand on his 
head. From that day he rapidly improved. 
L. R. Morphew. 
Aekansas. 
Squirrel and Cat Foster Mother. 
It is not generally understood that there is any close 
familiarity between cats and squirrels, and therefore the 
following story will be a surprise to some naturalists. 
A few days after arrival at our summer cottage at the 
beach, my youngest boy Harry discovered a squirrel's 
nest in a spruce grove near the cottage, in which were 
four squirrels probably five or six days old. Harry 
brought one of them to the cottage, and asked me if he 
could not keep it. I told him I thought it was too young 
to leave its mother. At the same time we had a cat with 
two young kittens about three days old, and I ' suggested 
that he might put the squirrel in the basket with the kit- 
tens, and perhaps the cat would take care of it. This he 
did, the cat making no objection. As the squirrel was 
two or three days older than the kittens it was stronger 
and master of the situation. Whether a cat's milk is 
richer than a squirrel's or there was a larger supply I 
do not know, but the young one with the kittens grew 
more rapidly and his tail fattened out days before those 
of his little brothers with their mother in the grove. 
After a few weeks the old cat took a great deal more 
interest in the squirrel than in her kittens. She would 
play with it by the hour. There was no inside finish to 
the walls of the cottage, and the rough posts were ex- 
posed. When pressed in play by the cat the squirrel 
would run up the posts, and the cat would attempt to 
follow, and seemed puzzled and annoyed to think she 
could not climb the posts. 
Another thing that worried the cat was that the squir- 
rel would not allow her to carry it by the scruff of the 
neck as she did the kittens. She made many attempts, but 
the squirrel always made such a row that she had to de- 
sist. In their play if the cat attempted to box its ears, 
the squirrel would fasten itself to her paw, and the cat 
would have to lift its whole weight. 
After it was full grown it would spend the day in the 
grove with its fellow squirrels, but would invariably re- 
turn at night and sleep with the cat and kittens. 
Although it often played with the kittens, they did not 
always enjoy it, as the squirrel was very rough, and had 
a fashion of jumping with outstretched claws on their 
back. It would eat out of our hands, and had no more 
fear of any of the household than the kittens. We also 
had a collie dog of which neither the cat nor squirrel had 
the slightest fear. He would sit close beside their basket 
and watch them for half an hour at a time. Canada. 
Protection of Animals from Cold. 
The extraordinary and perfect protection of animals, 
more especially those of smaller size, from the effects 
of extreme cold, always commands my admiration. The 
fact seems to be ignored by poets, naturalists, and by 
practical men. When Keats wrote, in the "Eve of St. 
St. Agnes," "* * * Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, 
for all his feathers, was a-cold. The hare limp'd 
trembling through the frozen grass. And silent was the 
flock in woolly fold," it was certainly not as a naturalist. 
The owl, with all its feathers, was not a-cold. The 
smallest birds— robins and wrens, less than an ounce 
in weight — maintain their extraordinary temperature, 
higher than that of the human body, in conse- 
quence of the absolute perfection of their covering. 
It is true they die in the winter at times, but this is 
from want of food, not from the temperature; 
even those parts of their structure which are exposed, 
such as the feet, do not suffer from the cold. Their 
nervous organization is adapted to their life, and I have 
often wondered at seeing a robin perched on a heat con- 
ducting metal bar, such as an iron railing, when it 
might have selected a twig, which has much less power 
of carrying away the warmth of the feet. In nothing 
is the perfection of nature demonstrated more strongly 
than in this fact that a wren weighing less than an 
