/ 
^08 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[MaSCH 12, 104. 
"Believe the Boss had some decoys out down there." 
"That accounts for it. Couldn't kill anything with that 
old piece of gas pipe.'* 
"Reckon his dog might ketch a cripple or two. ' 
"He needs practice. I'll take him out behind the camp 
in the morning and throw up some bottles for him." 
"He's been throwing up too many bottles already— 
sees 'em double." 
"Say, Mistah Cook, throw them spoonbills out, they 11 
spile our bags. Don't want any trash ducks in this 
camp." 
Everybody took a shot at the Boss, but he "chawed on, 
apparently unruffled, being too good a sportsman to get 
rattled, and too much of a philosopher to lose his temper. 
Finally, as the fire slackened, he surveyed the party 
calmly, and drawled out : "You gentlemen seem to be hav- 
ing a lot of fun, and I'm not disposed to interrupt your 
merriment; but the plain fact is, I haven't been duck 
shooting at all this evening. I have just been celebratmg 
the election of Grover Cleveland." 
The explanation was ample. The Boss was vmdicated, 
and we all joined in singing "Grover, Grover, four years 
more of Grover," a very popular air in the South m those 
days. 
Four months later we had all gathered again at the 
old camp for the final shoot of the season. _ Sprmg was 
coming on apace, and the birds were taking through 
tickets bv the air line for the Hudson Bay country. The 
evening flight was over, and the Reformer was low gun, 
coming in with only a single redhead. We determmed to 
give him a bad quarter of an hour, but we never touched 
him. When he had taken all that was coming to hmi, and 
was serenely full of the good things of the table, he laid 
down his knife and fork and complacently _ inquired : 
"Were you gentlemen speaking of duck shooting, or do 
I mistake? Pardon me if I appear absent-minded to- 
night; I am absorbed, so ^to speak, in contemplation of 
that great historical event." 
"What's he drivin' at?" 
"He's goin' to lie out of- it somehow." 
He resumed pensively: "I hope you had good sport. 
I have not been duck shooting myself. I have spent the 
evening in celebrating, in a proper way, this great 
anniversary." . . , ^ ^, • • 
"Holy Moses ! What are you givin' us ? This am t no 
anniversary." r i i • c 
"I am surprised at your ignorance of the history ot 
our Republic. This is Grover Cleveland's birthday— 
Caldwell, New Jersey, March i8, 1837. Allow me, gentle- 
men, to propose his health, wishing him many happy re- 
turns of the day." 
They couldn't down the Reformer, and you d orto 
heerd 'em yell" as they borrowed the toast of his friend 
Rip, and drank to the health of the stout Jerseyman, 
hoping that he might "Hve long and prosper." 
Noah Drake. 
Texas, 1904. 
The Camp-Fire Club. 
The Camp-Fire Club's last dinner of the season was 
held on Saturday evening, March 6, at the Aldine Asso- 
ciation rooms, III Fifth avenue. 
The guests of the evening were Mr. John Burroughs 
and Edward L. Thorndike, of Columbia University. _ 
The evenins- was divided into three parts by the chair- 
man, President William T. Hornaday. The first part was 
devoted to a very good dinner; the second part to the 
consideration of the intelligence of animals; the third 
part to an experience meeting among the members 
In his introduction of Messrs. Burroughs and Thorn- 
dike, President Hornaday criticised many of the theories 
advanced by the Rev. Wm. J. Long, who had addressed 
the Camp-Fire Club at the February dinner. 
Mr. Thorndike told of his residence of eighteen months 
in a Harlem flat with three monkeys, during which time 
he had discovered the monkey to have a higher degree 
of intelligence than anv other animal. His experiments 
with cats and dogs and chickens had furnished him with 
much interesting data connected with this subject. 
Mr. John Burroughs was peculiarly and delightfully in- 
teresting. Declaring he had come to the camp-fire to talk 
with its members and not to them; he did, however, talk 
to them. As has already been shown in print, Mr. Bur- 
roughs has very little svmpathy for the advanced ideas of 
Mr. Long. He said that he believed he had spent as 
many days in the woods as Mr. Long, from the fact that 
he was many vears older, and that in these many years it 
had been his misfortune not to have the creatures of the 
woods perform their miracles in his presence as they had 
for Mr. Long, citing as an instance the woodcock packing 
mud on its broken leg, and then standing on one foot for 
an hour exposing the plastered member to the sun until 
it became hardened. 
Mr. E. H. Fitch, assisted by Geo. Lmklater, a well- 
known Canadian guide, gave a very instructive exhibition 
of the value of the tump line as a means of transport- 
ing heavy loads through the Canadian wilderness. This 
line consists of a heavy wide soft strip that fits across the 
forehead and is attached by either end to the heavy packs 
in such a fashion that the burden falls on the back just 
above the hips. When thus loaded a man, by poising the 
body well forward, may almost entirely relieve the strain 
on his neck. To illustrate the nature of this packing 
device, Mr. Fitch placed four hundred pounds on the 
back of Mr. Linklater, and he walked around among the 
diners with perfect ease; nor was there discoverable on 
Mr. Linklater's forehead a mark of any kind from con- 
tact with the strap. ,^ -,,r , , i . ,j 
The other speakers were Mr. Henry Walsh, who told 
a story of parrot Hfe in British • Honduras ; Mr. L. F. 
■ Brown entertained the members in a most delightful way, 
speaking in a happy vein of some of his many interesting 
fishing and camping experiences, and ending by repeating 
a parody poem on Edgar Allen Poe's Raven. Mr. A. A. 
Anderson told many interesting things of the United 
States Teton forest reserve.. Mr. Ernest Thompson 
Seton spoke on the intelligence of the wolf family, show- 
ing how contact with human beings had . brought out a 
newer intelligence, if not a higher. He instanced the 
ease with which wolves were once poisoned and trapped, 
and the difficulty in doing it now. 
- — ® — - 
No Over-Prodtiction in this Line. 
It was early in April; cinquefoil, dandelions, violets, 
and Mayapples were starring the ground, while overhead 
dogwoods were masses of white blooms, buds on tulip 
poplars fast taking shape, and, in certain sheltered locali- 
ties, buckeyes were giving promise of a scarlet future 
through x\pril and May. 
I had taken a wide circuit, searched carefully for my 
gnat-catcher friend, and given it up with the remark, 
"He's not here, that's sure," and lo ! as I scrambled down 
the steep hillside where by and by pawpaws and Hercules' 
clubs will be overrun by a wealth of wild vines, a turn 
in the path disclosed two little blue-grays flitting about 
among the bare trees with as much at home an air as 
though a month — nay, possibly no more than a week— 
since thej' had not been reveling in orange groves away 
across the great gulf. 
The male, the bluest of his kind, was singing his best, 
the lady listening approvingly and politely, it was clear, 
for she never changed position without saying, "Excuse 
me, my dear, but there is a gnat I must have." Satisfied 
now with the day's "arrivals," I left the ravine, and on 
consulting my record found this, which had seemed late, 
compared favorably with dates for "firsts" in former 
years. 
Something like a week passed, and the bulk of their 
species had gone further north, leaving, however, numer- 
ous pairs to rear families in this part of Arkansas, and 
among them my April 4 friends. 
They chose the end of a branch on a great maple that 
hangs over the drive at the cemetery, and by the iith 
had begun to clasp bits of bark and other mossy stuff 
about it. Not in a helter-skelter manner, you may be 
sure, but with the nicest discrimination as to materials, 
and the workmanship of veterans in the business. Every 
tiny scrap was placed where the structure needed round- 
ing out, and when fastened to their liking, off they would 
go for another installment. 
Not a stone's throw awa}', there was a cross-vine that 
had climbed the chevaux-de-frise trunk of a honey locust, 
and while awaiting the return of the architects from their 
oft-repeated trips after supplies, the at first undefined 
interest in some half-opened buds on this single repre- 
sentative of the Bignonia family that blooms here, settled 
into a conviction that it, too, was watching the nest, and 
the day it was completed would hang out some full blown 
trumpets. Of course it may have been only a coincidence, 
but the very day the finishing touches were given to the 
dainty cup-covered outside with flower-like bits of lichen, 
and felted inside with spider's webs, which the little lady 
had pressed into shape with her soft breast, three 
gorgeous yellow-red blossoms swung gaily out toward 
the maple. Anxiety lest unfriendly eyes discover this 
cradle of hope had been lessening as the leaves grew 
larger, and now it was so nearly hidden, immunity from 
harm seemed sure. 
Alas for such assurance ! The third morning after the 
celebration, the little couple had completely disappeared, 
and nothing remained of the nest save its foundation. 
Whatever the reason for its destruction, the doer of the 
deed took from the world's stock of beauty and good 
cheer a portion that can never be replaced. 
About the same time a peach tree at our porch door 
had been chosen as the prospective birthplace of a family 
of chipping sparrows. The nest was well hidden, and 
madame was just ready to reap the reward for her 
patience, when something evil transpired here, too, that 
left only the frayed and dilapidated beginnings of a 
home. No one could tell how it happened, and, worse 
still, none knew how to prevent a recurrence of the same 
tragic ending of high hopes, should the pair decide to re- 
build in the tree. 
Not far from the peach stands a young maple, whose 
branches were so laden with leaves that fear for the 
safety of its slender stem during a violent spring storm 
led its owner to cut some of the heaviest away. To the 
first that fell was, unhappily, suspended the beautifully 
constructed nest of an orchard oriole. The hope that 
such homes would be made in our trees had been at last 
realized, and this was the end. With the patient labor of 
days the marvelously artistic home had been made, and 
there it lay on the ground with its three tiny eggs stilL 
unbroken, but not all our love for the poor little things, 
nor knowledge of bird ways, would enable us to make up 
for the wrong done them, nor the pleasure and profit a 
family of that kind would have been to the neighborhood. 
Knowing that birds love mulberries simplifies migra- 
tion studies somewhat, and this year, because the crop 
was abundant just here, and less so possibly elsewhere, 
copious notes were made by keeping close to some one 
of a Moms rubra family that stands in my "north ravine." 
Interest in the coming and going of resident birds neyer 
flags, though of constant recurrence, all through the ripe 
berry season; but when, on a bright morning in early 
May, a number of Wilson thrushes and four scarlet tana- 
gers were found in their company, something more than 
the usual pleasurable emotions were mine. Familiar with 
both in their summer haunts, only once heretofore had 
this branch of the tanager family been represented at my 
station, and that a single visitor for a day. Now they re- 
mained a full week, and not only was their peculiar 
"chip-chirr-r-r" often repeated, but spring song rehearsals 
were overheard on two or three occasions. It was while 
waiting expectantly for one of these that a nest of a wood 
thrush, with Madame at home, was discovered. The lo- 
cation was so favorable for study that I resolved to know 
all there was to be learned about raising thrush families, 
and paid daily visits to her tree. Ten consecutive morn- 
ings she was snug in the nest, and the gentleman often 
heard singing — as only a wood thrush can — then she was 
absent ; and hours of watching thereafter proved the house 
was abandoned. What had caused its desertion at that 
most interesting of all moments could not be known, for 
the limb upon which it was resting swung just out of 
reach of the handle of my umbrella, and no other means 
of bringing it down were at hand. All to be said for a 
certainty is that a home had been carefully built, a little 
creature full of life and fond of freedom had remained 
perfectly quiet for days, and now, when she was to be 
repaid for it all, the hand of a greedy egg-collector, or 
the beak of a hungry enemy in feathers, had stolen the 
tiny cells, broken them open, and murdered the angelic 
musicians imprisoned within. Of the fate of the mother 
thrush I was not sure, but that no other nest was built 
in the neighborhood there remains not the shadow of 
doubt. 
vSome time before a neighbor telephoned, "What do you 
think ! A redbird has a nest in that magnolia at the end 
of our gallery, and the lady was the more composed of the 
two when I parted the branches and surprised her this 
morning." Eggs were reported, and then came days of 
quiet for the bird and anxiety for my friend, followed 
at length by this message: "I'm in despair! Not a 
vestige of the nest we have guarded so jealously is left, 
and the poor little couple look so disappointed and for- 
lorn that they make me perfectly miserable. What about 
our bird law? Oh, yes, I know it's hopeless, for I 
haven't the least idea whom to accuse. Wish I did, I'd 
go over to Little Rock this minute and enter complaint 
before Judge Trieber, for he says the birds belong to the 
State, and if to the State, then whoever took that nest 
from my very door took my personal property, and they 
should be punished accordingly." 
After the middle of June we were in the Traverse Bay 
land, where scarlet tanagers, Wilson and hermit thrushes 
are as common as pewees, vireos, juncoes, and song spar- 
rows ; where purple finches, white-throated sparrows, an.l 
even rare winter wrens are to be heard singing; and 
robins and house wrens build in our porches. But here, 
as elsewhere, the kinds of misfortune are so numerous, 
and so impossible to guard against, that if, for some un- 
explainable reason, first broods did not fare better than 
later ones, the supply of tenants for our beautiful woods 
would soon be exhausted. 
A little house had been put up in the porch before leav- 
ing the previous year, and a family of wrens left it the 
day we arrived. House-cleaning was begun almost im- 
mediately by the brown lady, then new sticks were carried 
in, the husband singing blithely meanwhile, whether from 
the spruce which enabled him to oversee the worker, or 
on his frequent trips after food for his ever-hungry 
babies. Silence on the part of the singer for a whole day 
made us fear a tragedy had occurred, and it required no 
investigation to decide the cause when the poor house- 
wife's body was found with a grub too large to be swal- 
lowed, and too hairy to be ejected, once she had made 
the attempt. Examining the nest, five as sure promises 
for the early appearance of "the season's best vocalists'- 
as ever were given by trustworthy impressario, were 
found snuggled amidst twigs and tiny rootlets, but of 
course the widower could not be expected to raise two 
families alone, so the house was "to let" the rest of the 
season. 
Where the carriage drive joins our avenue stood an 
unoccupied cottage that was, on account of some events 
transpiring just under its roof, an object of interest to 
many. In a snug corner, a robin built her nest, and as 
long as the curiosity of her neighbors remained passive, 
all went well. However, a day came when it became 
aggressively active on someone's part, for on Madame 
R's return from a flying visit to some near-by service 
berries, the shells of the three eggs left in the" nest lay 
on the sidewalk below. Happily such treatment did not 
prevent her from going over into the underbrush skirting 
the bluff to repeat her housekeeping experiment, and 
here, where a tall dead pine gave Mr. R. unobstructed 
view of all about him, it is hoped marauders were over- 
taken before harm was done. 
The other event came through Mrs. Jennie's deciding 
the deserted nest to be as good a place to rear wren babies 
as they were likely to find so late in the year. It required 
some argument to induce Mr. Jennie to consent to the 
venture, but at length he was persuaded and enough fur- 
niture to change a robin's house into one suitable for 
their tiny progeny was moved in, and they settled down 
to the business in hand. We saw them come and go 
often, heard his song always, and in good time five little 
wobbly heads were seen in the nest. Numberless skir- 
mishes with Billy, the chipmunk, and the more to be 
dreaded squirrels were undertaken in their behalf, and 
with success, it appeared, for in an incredibly short time 
they had outgrown their quarters and left us altogether. 
Report from an eye witness said the journey into rasp- 
berry land was safely accomplished, and that now forays 
for food were being made with the upturned roots of a 
tree as a starting point, and we were content. 
Days before the robins were, driven from the corner, the 
nest of a chestnut-sided warbler and another I was proud to 
identify as a black-throated blue warbler's, were discovered 
and daily visits paid until the young ones in the first 
v/ere three days old and the other pair had three eggs. 
One who knew birds, but not that family, begged to go 
with me that morning, and I had just finished assuring 
her they must not be expected — though real warbler 
babies — ^to look very different from the ugliest sparrow at 
that time of life, as we tiptoed up to the nests. There 
they were, one in a tangle of blackberry vines, the other 
in a very small fir tree, both empty, and not a trace of 
their owners to be found anywhere. 
We were talking of these accidents with a friend late 
in the summer, and were sorry to know results were the 
same in her field, though brought about by different 
causes. In some "of her stories boys were to blame; in 
others, the squirrels and cats, but the ill that discouraged 
most — because impossible to prevent — was the drowning 
of .whole broods of chickadees and chipping sparrows 
during cold rains in June. And this peculiarly unfor- 
tunate weather condition was found by later reports to 
have been general and serious enough to affect many 
families of birds. 
In Bird Lore for September-October, Mr. Lord, of 
Rockland, Mass., told of the alarming death rate among 
martins and barn swallows from cold and starvation ; 
Mr. Hales, of Ridgewood, N. J., of the almost entire ab- 
sence of barn swallows in a neighborhood that had 
boasted numbers of families heretofore; Mrs. Horton, of 
Verm.ont, described the drowning and starving of a 
colony of martins and a family of black-and-white warb- 
lers ; Mr. Jacobs, of Pennsylvania, gave a detailed ac- 
count of the ills that befell his many families of martins ; 
and on another page Mr. Brewster pictured the terrible 
havoc made at some bank swallows' nests by an entirely 
different agent — a mink. 
