May 7, i0(J4.j 
skin you will feel it on your left forefinger, and can 
avoid cutting too deep. 
Now, turn the bird around end for end ; that is to say, 
if, when you began, it lay with its tail toward you, now 
turn it so that it lies with its head toward you. Or, if 
v/hen you started the head was to your left, turn if around 
so that the head points to the right, and perform on the 
other side of the bird precisely the operations that you 
did before. When you have completed them, both the 
legs are cut off. -Now, taking the bird in your left hand, 
place it on the end of its breast, with the back toward you 
and so that the. tail sticks straight up in the air. Bend 
the tail over toward your body, introduce the point of 
your knife under the tail bone, that is to say, just in 
front of what would be the pope's nose in a turkey, and 
placing your thumb on the bone, cut through it. Do this 
carefully, and above all, do not put your knife in deep 
enough to cut the skin on top of the tail, and do not be 
so violent in cutting through this bone as to permit your 
sharp knife to cut your thumb. For this cut the scissors 
may be used, but even with them you must be careful not 
to cut the skin over the tail. 
Now push down the tail and its attached skin, and you 
will see that it will begin to slip easily from the almost 
fleshless bones of the back. You should hold the tail 
bone between thumb and forefinger of right hand and push 
the skin down the back with the left. 
Beware of pulling the skin under any circumstances. 
In working it down over the back either use your thumb 
nail or the handle of your scalpel, and do not work in 
one place only, but push the skin down evenly all around 
the back and sides. You will find that it will go very 
easily, and before you know it the tail bone and 
the thighs will be free from the skin. It is 
easy to keep working the skin down until the 
neck near the body and the wings are free. 
The wing bones having been broken, the wings 
are attached to the breast only by some strings of muscle, 
which are to be cut through. Then, holding the bird's 
body in your left hand, grasp the inside of the skin on 
both sides of the breast between the right thumb and fore- 
finger, press the two flaps of the skin together, and hold- 
ing them firmly, move the hand down toward the head, 
and you will see that the skin will strip smoothly and 
easily from the breast, and your whole bird skin, turned 
inside out, will be hanging to the body by the bird's neck. 
Still remembering not to pull on the skin in any way, 
put your right thumb and fingers close around the bird's 
neck bone, and gently shove the skin down toward the 
head. It will slip along, and finally turn over the head, 
just as a glove finger turns inside out, until presently you 
Condemned to Death* 
My doctor had just left me. He had been with me 
ffor two hours. He had examined me thoroughly and 
scientifically. He had tried to be kind. He wanted to 
iget away without telling me, but I had cornered him, 
and demanded to know how I was and what was the 
matter with me. I had fainted in my office and been 
carried to my rooms the day before. Finally he told 
me, in the kindest way possible, that I Itad not over a 
month to live. I asked him why, and what was the 
matter of me. He said, "You have burnt yourself out. 
You have overworked. You could have saved yourself 
if you had quit a year or six months ago, or even three 
months ago, but you are almost gone, and have one 
kind of consumption." I asked if there was no hope. 
"None," says he, "the days of miracles are past." We 
had been close friends, the Doc. and I, and I saw tears 
in his eyes. He took me by the hand, looked me long 
in the eye, and then went away silently. 
I lay on my couch dazed. Where were my great 
financial ambitions now? What would my prospective 
millions be worth to me now, if I had them? Suppose 
that I had lived on ten, twenty or thirty years more, and 
piled on to the ample fortune that I already had, and 
was then facing what I was now? What would it all 
be worth to me? Nothing. I would then regret that 
I had not taken some pleasure in life, and that I had not 
taken time to bring round me a home and more friends. 
Then my thoughts ran on, and I saw that I had already 
made just as bad a mistake, although the figures were 
not quite so large. Here I am, thirty-eight years old, 
with no family and no relatives to speak of; wealthy, 
respected, and well known in the business world, and 
condemned to die. I would give it all to exchange 
places with a strong, healthy working man, that goes 
home to his family at night satisfied with his life. Well, 
I can soon get ready to go. An hour with my lawyer 
to-morrow, a few papers to sign, a few friends to see, 
and I will drop out, and a few days later I will be for- 
gotten. Then I drop away and sleep. 
I dream, and again I am a boy at play on my father's 
farm. I am in the forest, silence is around me; even 
the birds are still. How sweet the air, and how beau- 
tiful the colors. This is surely rest, and such satisfying 
rest. I breathe in the fragrance, and sleep on. Some 
one speaks and I awake. It is the doctor. His kitid 
Jieart has called him back to me. He tries to look 
POftfiST^ AND STREAM; 
will see the back of the bird's head, and the skin will 
hr.ng to the carcass only by Certain attachments about the 
head. 
It must be remembered that this cannot be done with 
all birds; for ducks, woodpeckers, and some other birds, 
have the head too large — or the neck too small — to be 
turned inside out in this way. Mention will be maie of 
this later. 
The two most obvious attachments of the skin to the 
skull are now the ear membranes, which run back into the 
ear cavities on either side of the back of the skull. These 
iTi-ust not be cut, but should be seized between the thumb 
and finger nails, close to the skull, and pulled gently out. 
They may tear, but if the work is done carefully they will 
not tear much. Whm both are loosened, the skin will 
slip down a very short -distance, to catch again at the eyes. 
The removal of these is somewhat more difficult, for 
care must be taken not to cut the eyelids, and not to cut 
into the eye, which is full of moisture that if broken 
will run out through the bill and may ruin the skin. 
Fither with your forceps or with your finger nails, lift 
the skin away from the skull, and cutting close to the 
skull, directing the edge of your knife forward, you will 
soon cut through the tissue which unites the eyelid and 
the eye, and after you have done this it is easy to continue 
cutting this tissue, and to avoid touching either of the 
delicate parts. Do the same thing on the other side, and 
then push the skin down to the bill. Then take the 
handle of your scalpel and thrust it into the eye socket, 
just in front of the eye, and scoop the eye out. It will 
come easily, and no great force need be exerted. The 
sime thing is to be done on the other side. Then, with 
the blade of your knife, cut the neck off close to the skull ; 
or, if the bird is small, cut away the back and under part 
of the skull, without, however, interfering with the jaw 
bones. If properly done enough of the skull will be 
t^ken away to permit you to introduce into the brain 
cavity either the handle of your scalpel, or a flattened 
stick, with which all the brain must be removed. If 
there is much flesh about the jaws, or the roof of the 
mouth, remove it by taking your scissors and cutting out 
a triangular slice of bone parallel with the jaws. The 
point of the scissors should be introduced just within the 
mandible at the back, and a cut made parallel with the 
mandible, and reaching forward to below the eye. A 
similar cut on the other side will meet the first one, and 
the wedge of bone with its adhering flesh can be lifted 
out. Your skin is now free from the body, and needs 
cnly to be cleaned, poisoned and turned back again. 
Amateur. 
[to be continued.] 
cheery, and says, "Well, old man, how do you feel 
now?" "Wait," I reply. Then, as I came out from my 
sleep and my dream and to myself, it seemed that I 
could still smell the fresh grass and green leaves. I 
sighed, "I feel better since I went to the woods." He 
glanced at ,me and smiled. "So you have dreamed," 
said he. "No," I replied, "I really went." We were 
both silent for some time, then a new resolution took 
hold of me. "Doc," I says, "if I have got to die I 
am going to die in the woods, and the farther back in 
the woods the better I shall like it, and I want to be 
buried right where I die." His reply was, "If you had 
done that three months ago you would have had a 
chance to live." So it was fixed. My lawyers came. I 
signed a -will, naming some far away cousins and some, 
no doubt, good charities, of which I knew nothing. 
Deeds were signed and a telegram sent to a long, gaunt 
man that I had hunted with in the north, and he came, 
and he and I started on a long trip. We finally stopped, 
and high mountains were all around us. A buckboard 
and team with driver were there, arid we drove for sev- 
eral hours through gorges, over hills and in beautiful 
valleys, where all was green and the sparkling water 
laughed in the bright sunshine. Then we stopped at a 
rude but beautiful log house. A big man with a great 
beard came out, and a gentle, kind-faced lady took me 
by the hand and said, "Welcome," and I was at home. 
Then began my first real life. My long Yankee 
friend, whom I will call Joe, took me in hand. We 
walked out early, and Joe would not let me sit down 
till I told him I was tired. Then more walks. Later 
on he took along a trout rod, and I fished for trout. 
And such trout as these were. Joe had a faculty of 
ke eping me interested in something; he never seemed 
to give me time to think of myself. One week went by, 
and I had riot had time to think much about dying. 
Another week, and I could feel myself stronger. With 
my hand I felt the muscles of my legs and shouted, 
"Joe, I am not going to die." A broad grin spread 
over his face, and he said, "I've knowed thet fer a 
week." Could it be true? Joe urged care and going 
slow, and we went slow, but each day increased our 
walks, and finally a rifle was added to the trout rod, 
and then came life in earnest. A deer was shot. As I 
gained in strength, higher up the mountain we went, 
and an elk dropped before my rifle; and I realized that 
I was a well man again, and far stronger than I had 
ever been before. But what a change had come over 
A New Dtjsfey GtouEC* 
In Vol. XX. of the Bulletin of the American Mu5!eum 
of Natural History, Mr. Frank M. Chapman, Assistant 
Curator of Birds and Mammals in the Museum, describes 
a new grouse from California. This is a hitherto un- 
noticed form of the dusky or blue grouse, to which Mr. 
Chapman has given the name of Dendraga^iis obscurus 
Sterrce; the blue grouse of the Sierra or high mountains. 
The new form differs from the sooty grouse in being much 
paler above, but with heavier cross markings of brown and 
gray above, in the practical absence of neck tufts, whiter 
throat and paler under parts. Its range is given as Cali- 
fornia, in the forested portions of the Transition and 
Boreal zones, east of the humid coast belt and south 
from the Sierra to Mt. Pinos, north to Fort Klamath, 
Ore. 
Mr. Chapman has made an extensive comparison of this 
new form with the older ones, and concludes that 
allbough the Sierra grouse more nearly resembles o&5CMn<.y 
than it does fuliginosus, it apparently has been derived 
from the latter rather than from the former. In other 
V\'ords, it represents the southern extension of the north- 
west coast form and not a westward extension of the 
Rocky Mountain form. 
What Bifd is This ? 
^ Kalamazoo, Mich., April 29,.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: I notice a query in your Natural History col- 
umns by F. M., "What Bird is This?" 
We have the greater and least bitterns in large num- 
bers in this neighborhood. In the .spring— their breeding 
season— they make the peculiar noise F. M. speaks of. 
They can be heard a great distance, and the cry sounds 
like a person throwing rocks in the water very rapidly. 
Some of m.y neighbors call them pile drivers. I have 
never been able to see them when they go through this 
performance. A. R. 
What is the E^g? 
^ Brooklyn, N. Y., April 2g.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
The egg mentioned by J. L. Davison in this week's issue 
would seem to be that of the English starling. 
No end of these birds have wintered in New York city 
1-or several years, and while I was not aware that the 
starling's range had extended so far as Lockport, it is 
not improbable that a few birds have wandered that far. 
Like its fellow winter resident, the English sparrow, 
the starling seems to be getting into the habit of breeding 
early and often. H. S. A. 
me. I had no desire for the old life. In fact, I had a 
dread of a thought of the city. The forest had saved 
me, and I belonged to the forest and the mountains. 
Thie waterfalls called me, the rocky streams talked with 
me, and the green earth welcomed me to my proper 
home. 
Out on the plain where two rivers meet there is a 
ranch. It is mine and Joe's. He has a cottage there, 
and cares for the cowboys and me. In his home he has 
a prim New England wife, and two fine boys toddle 
round his knee. We are happy. There is not a stronger 
man or better rifle shot for miles around. I weigh 190 
pounds. 
Last fall I sent for Doc. and he came. I met him 
at the train on a wild bronco. I tried to shake his 
arm off, and shook till he plead for mercy. I offered 
him a bronco to ride home, but he looked the bronco 
over, and begged so hard that I let him ride in the 
buckboard, while I rode along and showed him how a 
"corpse" could ride. 
Mrs. Joe is calling us to supper, so I will say 
L- : , . So Long. , 
"Lyons bones have no marrow in them, and are so hard 
that they will strike fire. Their neck is made of one stiff 
bone, without any vertebras. They have five claws on the 
hinder foot, and the balls of their eyes are black. Lyons 
eat but once in two days, and drink in like manner. 
Formerly in England a Lyon could tell noble blood from 
base. There is a variety of Lyon with human faces. As 
for the rest, the taile of a Lyon is very long, which they 
shake oftentnnes, and by beating their sides therewith 
tliey provoke themselves to fight. The nether part of this 
taile is full of haire and gristles, and some are of opinion 
that there is therein a little sting wherewhhal the Lyon 
pricketh itselfe."— Four Footed Beastes, 1607. 
"The camel hath a manifold belly, either because he 
hath a great body, or, because he eats Thorny and Woody 
substances. God hath provided for the concoction. Pud- 
dle water is sweet to him, nor will he drink of river water, 
till he hath troubled it with his foot. He lives a hundred 
years, unless the Ayre agree not with him. When they 
are on a journey they do not whip them forward; but they 
sing to them, whereby they run so fast that men can 
hardly follow them." — Four Footed Beastes, 1607. 
