FOREST AND STREAM. 
Uvm 1964. 
and would end long before the opening of the caribou 
season, but he was literally armed to the teeth with 
cameras of the heavy ordnance type, and with all neces- 
sary photographic paraphernalia. His primary purpose 
was to make pictures — true pictures of wild animals as 
they live — but most of all to press the button on a fresh- 
run salmon leaping in the air as he felt the first prick of 
the hook. 
Early on the morning of June 29, our ship, the Bruce, 
steamed into the little harbor at Port au Basques. For 
an hour a black, rugged coast had been in sight, and far 
back in the interior blue hills, indistinct through the 
morning mist, still showed patches of snow. The first 
view of the island is illustrative of the whole, for truly it 
is a desolate expanse; not, however, altogether unpleas- 
ing to a sportsman's gaze. No sound of clanging trolleys 
or busy streets jar the nerves as he approaches. Merely 
a wharf, some quiet little cottages to the left, and a few 
terns and herring gulls circling overhead, welcome his 
arrival to that rock-bound coast. It is a land which pos- 
sesses charms all its own, charms strange and peculiar, 
of melancholy dreariness and desolation. Vast stretches 
cf bare hills and barrens always produce fascinations 
strangely haunting to the memory of a traveler; even 
more so, perhaps, than do the grander scenic effects of 
mountain or forest. Such are the subtle enchantments 
which recall the hardy adventurer, hunter or explorer to 
travel once again the treeless tundras of the Arctic zone, 
and once more to feel the breath of the snowy wastes. 
That same spell was cast over Charles Darwin when 
writing in "The Voyage of the Beagle," he confessed 
that of all lands the one which haunted him most, and 
which constantly grew upon his fancy, was the unin- 
habitable Patagonian wilderness — a country of fog and 
perpetual dampness, treeless, sterile, wild and melan- 
choly. Yet .in Newfoundland a traveler may find many 
thousands of square miles fully as desolate and forlorn 
as any in the wilderness of Patagonia. 
On arriving at the pier an inevitable visit to the 
Custom House is necessary. Here licenses are procured 
for shooting caribou, while the salmon fisherman goes 
free. Just a word concerning these licenses. Last year 
the fee was $100 for three stags, a ridiculous figure, and 
an imposition upon visiting sportsmen. Few could afford, 
and many would not pay, such an exorbitant price for the 
comparatively tame sport of shooting caribou. As a 
result, the season of 1902 proved very unsatisfactory, 
not only to the half destitute guides, but even more so 
to the revenues of the Game Commission, while sports- 
men sought elsewhere for their game. 'Tis a poor policy 
to drive the latter to other hunting grounds; for truly 
they are geese that lay golden eggs for Newfoundland. 
Other alternatives are found in the well stocked forests 
of Maine, Ontario, Quebec and New Brunswick, and ex- 
cellent alternatives they were, the latter offering moose, 
caribou and deer for a $30 license fee. 
The legislation of 1901 was even more inadequate than 
that of 1902, but instead of adopting the prohibitive 
policy of the latter against non-residents, it went to the 
other extreme, and permitted one man to slaughter seven 
of the animals by paying the price — $80. 
This year, however (1903), the license is much better 
adapted to the purses of visitors, as well as to the game 
resources of the country; for anyone who could afford a 
trip to the island would hardly obiect to a fee of $50, 
entitling the holder to kill not more than three stags. 
No licenses whatever, not even $5 per rod, are re- 
quired by the anglers who take thousands of salmon 
and trout every season from the rivers of the west coast 
alone. Adequate protection for the streams is just as 
potent a factor in game preservation as protection for 
the caribou. It is true that the Government does make 
an attempt to patrol the rivers with wardens, but they are 
too few and under paid; and I have good evidence to 
show that last season several of the pools on one stream 
at least were netted by the residents. A license fee of 
$10 per rod would never become a burden, while at the 
same time it would insure to the Government sufficient 
revenue to stop this barbarous practice of setting nets 
inside tidewater. 
After our baggage was examined, and a deposit on 
rifles, rods and cameras paid to the customs officer, to 
be returned in the autumn, our provisions were assessed 
and a duty of about 20 per cent, charged. It is a poor 
plan to carry provisions all the way to Newfoundland, 
as it necessitates the bother of an extra trunk, and the 
charge on over-weighted baggage made by the railroads, 
coupled with the revenue asked by the customs, amount 
to more than the difference between New York and St. 
John's prices. A much better method for the sportsman 
to pursue is to write ahead to his guide weeks before- 
hand, and inclose an itemized list of the provisions to 
be purchased. Do not allow him to buy from the meagre 
and expensive store of a local dealer, but order every- 
thing sent direct from St. John's. 
Wm. Arthur Babson. 
[to be continued.] 
Not Nof cfenskjold. 
Editor Forest and Stream: - 
Your well informed correspondent, Mr. Cabot, has cor- 
rectly named the head of the Lena River party which 
perished in the ice of Siberia. My association of explorer 
Nordenskj old's name with that ill-fated outfit was a 
pure inadvertence — carelessness, if you please — and Mr. 
Cabot was right in his surmise that the error was a 
lapsus penncB. Nevertheless, I rejoice to perceive the 
alacrity with which your anonymous contributor, D. _T. 
A., hastens to defend the reputation of his Scandinavian 
kinsman, whose Arctic experiences would have kept him 
from such a plight, no doubt. Charles Hallock. 
Trails of the Pathfinders. 
Loup Fork, Neb., June 15. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
I am reading with constantly increasing interest the 
"Trails of the Pathfinders," which you are now 
publishing. . 
I crossed the Missouri River m 1856, and therefore 
feel that I know something about old-time conditions; 
but the patience, persistence, and pluck of these early 
explorers make the struggles of we modern pioneers 
look "like thirty cents," Plainsman. 
The Woodcoek^s Evolutions. 
Boston.— Editor Forest and Stream: The inclosed 
account of the singular doings of a woodcock are from 
a private letter from a friend. I hope you may think 
them worth reproducing, illustration and all, in Forest 
AND Stream, and that this may stimulate other 
observers to contribute observations of a similar sort and 
explanations. 
I remember that some years ago there was much dis- 
cussion in your columns of the way in which the wood- 
cock makes its peculiar note, some believing it to be true 
vocalization, and others that it was made by the wings. 
Was. the qiiestion ever settled, and if so, which way? 
Was not the performance witnessed by my friend a dis- 
play connected with the mating period, and -the note of 
the bird — however made — the same probably referred to 
in Emerson's poem, "Wood Notes," as "The woodcock's 
evening hymn," which was put in the category of phe- 
nomena seen or heard by only the most loving and per- 
sistent lovers of nature? C. H. Ames. 
Mr. Ames' correspondent writes : 
"I am going to slip in a rough sketch of the perform- 
ances of a woodcock that I saw last fall. The ground 
was the southern slope of a small island once wooded, 
but there were only a few stumps and an occasional bush 
left;; the ground at the lower edge marshy; time, after 
dark, or after sunset, anyway. The bird would strut and 
run ;along for perhaps fifty feet and then start to ri.-:e 
out over the marsh. After rising at less than an angle 
of 45 degrees until he (or she) had attained a height of 
say 50 feet, he began to circle, constantly rising (see 
say 50 feet, he began to circle, constantly rising (see 
artist's sketch), until he seemed to be 200 feet high, and 
then returned in almost the same way. The performance 
v/as repeated at least three times. When rising in circles 
he seemed to give at intervals a cry or call which I can- 
not describe, but thought it was made by its wings. No 
other bird of the same species was near that I could see, 
and wondered if he was doing it for his own amuse- 
ment or mine. 
"I know very little of the habits of this bird, and have 
killed very few of them, as my marksmanship is none 
of the best, and I have always found them in wet and 
brushy ground. Ask some old nimrod what this one was 
doing, and what he was doing it for. 
"I forgot to say that the first flight or rising was 
against a slight south wind." 
[We have never seen a performance of this kind by the 
woodcock in autumn, and should be glad to learn whether 
any of our readers have done so. It seems possible that 
it may be an autumnal imitation of the woodcock's spring 
mating flight and song, and so analogous to the autumnal 
drumming of the ruffed grouse, which is so frequently 
heard. Can any observer throw light on the ques- 
tio? The writers who many years ago were arguing as to 
whether the woodcock's whistle was made by voice or 
wings, remained, we think, quite unconvinced by the 
reasons advanced pro and con by their opponents.] 
White Beats. 
MoRGANTOWN, W. Va., June 18. — Editor Forest nnd 
Stream: In reading Chapter X. of "Trails of the 1 'nth- 
finders," I was much puzzled by the statement that wiiile 
Captain Lewis was in the neighborhood of the Gieat 
Falls on the Missouri River, "they were much annoysd 
by the white bears." What kind of bears were they ? 
Emerson Carnev. 
[In No. IX. of "Trails of the Pathfinders"— For f.st 
and Stream, June 4, page 458, second column, second 
paragraph — it is explained that what the explorer? called 
v/hite bears are grizzly bears. This name, given, no 
doubt, from the very pale color of the grizzly, as coni- 
I)ared with the black bear, which was the only bear that 
these explorers knew, had a certain currency for a num- 
ber of years, and will be found in the older b-joks on 
natural history.] 
. The C©QtraI Park Lakes. 
. New York June 14.— The lakes in Central Park, and 
similar small bodies of fresh water elsewhere, add a 
most attractive element to the beauties of the landscape 
Lhey possess three particularly undesirable features In 
the summer time the confervse form an unsightly scum 
on the surface, other algae make the water "muddy," and 
the odor from these water plants is disagreeable to every-- 
one excepting the small boys and the ducks, unless it be 
that the latter are above mentioning it. 
The^ worst feature, however, is the fact that small stag- 
nant bodies of fresh water are breeding grounds of the 
protozoa of malaria, and of mosquitoes of many species 
among them the anopheles, which adds the danger of 
malaria to the annoyance caused by its sting and its sing 
^1 have a suggestion to make. About 10 per cent of the 
meas that I have on various subjects prove to possess 
something of practical value, and when this is worked out 
u is usually discovered that someone else has thought of 
the same thing, so if anyone is inclined to jump on me 
m the present instance, let him spare the exertion, if the 
day IS hot, and remember that he is only mauling some- 
one who IS sufficiently humble by nature, and more so by 
training. In ponds with small inflow and small outflow 
It would not be very expensive to make the water salt 
It would not be difficult to maintain the saltness at the 
density of ocean water, and if one wished to have water 
plants and fish in the ponds, the animal and vegetable life 
ot the sea could be readily enough introduced.' 
Mosquitoes, protozoa of malaria, and unsightly algse 
v/ou;d be absent from salt ponds. ■ 
The cheapest way to make ponds salt would be to 
dump in common chloride of sodium, at intervals vary- 
ing with the amount of fresh water inflow, and the salt 
following the laws of diffusion would be disseminated 
evenly by the water currents made by the wind. 
If one wished to have marine life in the ponds it 
would be necessary to use the sea salts that are obtained 
by evaporation of sea water, and that are not expensive 
It the crude product is to be used. The minute animal 
and vegetable life of the sea necessary for maintaining 
higher forms could be introduced by pouring in a few 
gallons of selected sea water. Robert T. Morris 
Sunday with the B.rds. 
Wymore, Nebraska, June i2.~Editor Forest and 
Stream: This is Sunday, and I have had nothing to do 
but sit out under the elms in the shade, and read 
-boREST AND Stream, and watch, and listen to the birds. 
The swing holds four of us, the garden seat two, and 
the cot the sick one. The weather is perfect, one of 
those perfect, days in June, just warm enough to be 
pleasant; there is no wind, and nothing to make a 
noise. The green grass carpets the whole lawn, and 
the foliage on the trees is dense and beautiful. The 
birds seem unusually happy, not singing as they did 
a few weeks ago, in their courting - days, but very 
happy, very busy, really hard at work. There is an old 
mother robin with a baby robin following her. The 
baby is as big as the mother, but seems to depend on 
her for all his earthly comforts, and she seems to give 
him every worm she digs up, and what an appetite he 
has; will he never get filled up? And there is an old 
mother brown thrush, with a baby thrush following her, 
and now she is in a cherry tree, and the baby is in 
another with cherries all around him, and yet he seems 
as helpless as the shipwrecked sailor, floating on a 
spar with 
"Water, water everywhere. 
Nor any drop to drink." 
The old thrush picks a cherry from her tree and flies 
to the ground with it, where she picks it to pieces 
and caries the pieces to the baby in the other tree, and' 
feeds him, and repeats this operation time and time 
again, until you are alarmed for fear he will die from 
indigestion; but it may be that there is no danger, be- 
cause she mixes a worm with his cherries every once 
in a while, and it does not seem to make any difference 
to him whether he has his meat or his dessert first; 
everything is grub that comes to his mill, and he is 
not particular about having it in courses. 
But watch that old thrush. Has the spirit of Captain 
Kidd, the pirate, come back to earth, and entered into 
that thrush? Now look, just as that old robin has 
dug, and dug, and dug, until she has a big worm just 
ready to pull out, the old thrush runs up and takes it 
away from her and gives it to her own baby. The 
robin looks big enough to thresh any brown thrush, 
but she does not seem to have any confidence in herself, 
and would rather be robbed than to fight. Well, I 
have seen people just like her; but more of them like 
the thrush. How human it all looks? 
And there come three blackbirds, with their bronze 
heaas and necks, sometimes green, and sometimes blue, 
and how stately they walk; none of your hopping, 
skipping and jumping, but a ladylike and graceful 
walk; and one of them turns just before he alights upon 
the ground, and alights with his tail pointing in the 
direction he had been flying, and struts along as though 
he were going to walk back and fly over the course 
again— just like the old clown in the circus when he 
had tried to turn a flip-flop and failed. There is a 
flicker, either a widower or an old bachelor, with no- 
body dependent upon him; at least, he seems to eat 
all he finds, and never thinks of laying up a thing for 
a rainy day, and he's just like folks, too. 
And over yonder, all by themselves, are some cat- 
birds, as busy as bees, and never seeming to eat a bite 
themselves, but carrying everything they find to the 
nests in the orchard. They must have large families, 
or else they are laying up enough to do them all week. 
I have known folks that always got a workety speli 
on Sunday, and fooled around the rest of the week. 
But how queenly they stand, and how neat they look! 
You can tell that they can sing, just by looking at them", 
and they seem so exclusive, you don't see them running 
around with woodpeckers and blue-jays, and I believe 
they belong to the Four Hundred. But they are saucy 
and strenuous, and I would hate awfully to be married 
to a woman like that; she would do all the housework 
