Aug. 6, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
in 
finger told me that I had hooked and lost a heavy fish, 
Why is it that in fishing the largest and finest in the pond 
is the one which always escapes? After it is all over, 
your mildly insinuating friends merely shake their heads 
and smile sadly as you relate the story in all its pathetic 
details. But truly, is it not perfectly rational and reason- 
able—strictly in accordance with the theory of natural 
selection and the survival of the fittest— that the strongest 
remain free to perpetuate their race? What pleasure 
would there be in angling if anglers were not searchers, 
at the same time; always persistently seeking a larger 
record, a few more inches, another_ ounce, a new and bet- 
ter story to relate around the evening camp-fire. 
/That fish certainly weighed five pounds, and who 
knows but perhaps he "might have tipped the scales at 
eight? But, after all, the lost big fish— the one that gets 
away — is the very fish which lends the charm to angling. 
T reeled in my line, for it was dark, unlooped the flies, and 
behold, the barb of the little ibis was gone. 
The nomenclature of Newfoundland inland waters is 
simple, indeed, and easily understood. Their names im- 
ply neither subtle distinctions in their derivations or vivid 
imaginations for their conceptions. They are names, 
almost harshly practical in their significance, and 
strangely lacking both in poetic fancy or idealic senti- 
mentalism. Where are the Spirit and Echo and Placid 
Lakes, the Mirror Ponds and Roaring Brooks, written so 
often on the pages of our State maps? Beautiful in their 
conception, it is true, but often either quite inappropriate 
or totally lacking in any historical, significance. Every 
brook roars during freshet time, and each pond in the 
woods is placid or mirror-like according to the caprices 
of the winds. A hurricane creates many Devil's Lakes ; 
a high cliff christens hundreds of Echo Ponds ;' while 
during the quiet hush of the midnight hour, every lake in 
the world is a Spirit Lake. 
But in Newfoundland the name of each body of water 
has a true story of its own to tell. Thus we learn with 
interest the harrowing tale of, Dead Man's Pond, or the 
story of Stag or Wolf, White Bear or Hungry Grove 
Lakes. Sandy Lakes are common; so . .are. Burnt or 
Island Ponds, while Bear Brooks are frequent through- 
out the interior. Red Indian Lake has its history written 
in letters of blood, and the tragic romance of Squaw 
Pond is a sad tradition of the ancient Beothiks — those 
strange, mysterious people who have vanished. 
Some eight miles from camp was situated a little sheet 
of water completely surrounded by thick spruce forest. 
It was not very much to look at, to be sure, but to Jim 
it seemed the finest lake in Newfoundland; for it was 
there, back in the early seventies, that he had trapped 
a single black fox with a pelt worth a fortune of $90 
at St. Johns. That occasion was one of the crowning 
events of the old man's life, and no wonder that the spot 
was still cherished in his memory under the appropriate 
title of Fox Pond. 
Early one morning we sat watching on the shore of 
Fox Pond. Up at the other end a three-year-old stag 
was busily engaged trampling the bushes as he proudly 
rubbed a pair of insignificant antlers among the alders. 
Over in the shallow water a fine adult otter was catching 
a breakfast of trout ; and it was his glossy black pelt and 
the prospect of securing it that particularly interested me. 
He was about three hundred yards away, but his every 
motion was observed through the glass as we lay hidden 
behind a clump of bushes. A small moving object 
three hundred yards away makes a very uncertain mark 
for anyone who is not an expert with the rifle, and I 
wisely decided to watch and wait, hoping that the otter 
might decide to take a little excursion in our direction. 
Jim asked permission to "tole 'im up 'andier," but I had 
little faith in "toling" or "bawling," as it is sometimes 
called in Newfoundland, for only a few days before the 
guide had tried it on a stag, with a result that the latter 
quickly departed in the opposite direction for parts un- 
known. Whether the otter was fishing or merely enjoy- 
ing a morning frolic,T could not determine, even by the 
aid of a glass, for he kept plunging above the surface 
. porpoise-like, often . remaining below for two or three 
minutes. . So I finally told my companion to go ahead and 
venture a "tole" or so for luck; and he replied by utter- 
ing a low coughing bark in his throat, something between 
a grunt and a blat. , Never have I witnessed a more suc- 
cessful attempt to . decoy an animal. The effect of that 
single "tole" on the otter was magical, for immediately 
changing his course, he headed down the pond in our 
direction, leaving a broad wake of ripples behind. 
Wm. Arthur Babson. 
In Camp at Flathead Lake. 
The Sixth Annual Session of the University of Mon- 
tana Biological Station has just opened at Flathead Lake. 
This station, which is under the direction of Prof. Mor- 
ton J. Elrod, has already made a name for itself by its 
work here, and will this year continue to provide oppor- 
tunity for investigation of the biology of the lake and 
mountain region, and for instruction in botany, zoology, 
entomology, nature study, and photography. The. work 
proposed' to be done is broad and the instruction is 
adapted to students of the University and of high schools, 
to teachers in schools, as well as to beginners in natural 
history and investigators of experience. The location 
is a very beautiful one, and the equipment quite complete, 
for most of the implements needed for the work — includ- 
ing books— can be had on .the ground, being supplied by 
the University. Those who require guns or field glasses 
or cameras or plates must bring them. 
Rare opportunities for investigation and study exist in 
this beautiful;, region. The waters of the lake and the 
near-by rivers abound in life; near at hand are high 
mountains covered with forests, and reacting up nearly 
or quite to the snow line. Excursions of great interest 
may be made, and among those promised for the season 
of 1904 are a trip to Swan Lake, spending the night at 
the lake; a trip to Rost Lake at the base of the Kootenay 
Mountain ; an ascent of McDougall peak to an altitude of 
7,725 feet, and a trip around Flathead Lake. 
The post-office address of the station is Big Fork, 
Mont., and it may be reached by the Great Northern 
Railroad at Kalispell, or by the Northern Pacific at 
Selish. Stages from these points connect with steamers 
on the lake. 
A sojourn, long or short, at this station offers very 
great attractions, and as the region is so easy of access, 
wc cannot doubt that it will be yisitg(4ffliife* l year and in 
succeeding years by many people, not only from Mon- 
tana, but from more distant points. 
Here is an abstract of a capital bit of outdoor gospel 
preached by the Bulletin of the University of Montana, 
which is worth laying to heart in Montana as elsewhere. 
It has a special reference to this Biological Station: 
"Change is rest. To take a day off and go a-fishing 
often gives new lease of life. The tingle of the nerves 
when the gamy fish tugs at the line causes us to forget 
care and to be thoroughly alive. One of the attractions of 
the place is its natural advantages so as to induce outdoor 
exercise and study. The lake and rivers make rowing a 
good pastime. The photographer has a field of wondrous 
richness and varied interest. A fine sand beach makes 
bathing a delight, and it is indulged in. Unless the lake 
is stirred by winds, the water is warm. The hills and 
forests afford quiet retreats for study or strolls. The 
hills and roads give glimpses of scenery of rare beauty. 
At the proper season hunting is good. Deer are seen each 
year a few rods from the laboratory. Grouse and pheas- 
ants abound in the hills. In season duck shooting is fine. 
A day's tramp will take one to the home of the Rocky 
Mountain goat. In a day one may penetrate a pathless 
forest or stand on craggy heights, where the view pre- 
sents the jagged Rockies, the back bone of the continent." 
— $ — 
Do Birds Smell? 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
A few observations in reply to my friend Charles 
Cristadoro, on the prolific subject of the smelling 
faculty of ducks. There seems to be no room to doubt 
that bears, and all other quadrupeds among the feres 
naturce, have very keen olfactories, upon which most 
of them depend mainly for security from the attacks 
of their enemies. But as to ducks, and in fact all 
other feathered bipeds, that is another question. 
The instances cited by Mr. Cristadoro, and others, 
that a certain class of hunters set out their decoys with 
reference to the direction of the wind, having in view 
the supposed semelling powers of the ducks, proves 
no more than does the custom of negroes and other 
ignorant fishermen, of spitting on the hook, or per- 
fuming it by an application of asafetida, with the idea 
that fish are thereby attracted. Such testimony but 
emphasizes the fact that the numerous fallacies con- 
cerning the affairs of everyday life that have survived 
from a very remote period in the history of the human 
race, still enthral the human mind of to-day in large 
measure, and exert a powerful influence in human 
affairs. Such fallacies are not confined to the mental 
habit of the very ignorant neither, as witness the gen- 
eral prejudice among all classes, against the number 
13, and against Friday among the days of the week, 
< along with a further long list of vain imaginings 
among the children of men, showing the amazing 
tenacity of the sentimental impressions implanted in 
the human mind in .the infant period of race history, 
which still hold their place in defiance alike of reason 
and experience. 
But, to get back to ducks. There appears to be but 
little direct testimony of a scientific character, upon 
the question of the smelling faculty, or the lack of it, 
among the feathered class with beaks or bills. It 
may, however, be of interest to note what John 
James Audubon says on the subject. In describing the 
turkey buzzard, he says: "The olfactory nerve has 
been ascertained in the mammalia to be the instru- 
ment of smell; but, in the class of birds, experiments 
and observations are wanting to determine its precise 
function, although analogy would lead us to suppose 
' it to be the same in them. So inaccurate have ob- 
servers been in this matter, that some of them have 
mistaken the large branch of the fifth pair, which tra- 
verses the nasal cavity, for the olfactory nerve. The 
experiments instituted upon vultures show that not 
only are they not led to their prey by the sense of 
smell, but also that they are not made sensible by it 
of the presence of. food when in their immediate prox- 
imity. Yet if the olfactory nerve be really the nerve 
of smell, and if a large expansion of the nasal mem- 
brane be indicative of an extension of the faculty, one 
would necessarily infer that vultures must possess it 
in a high degree. On the other hand, however, the 
organ and the nerve being found to be equally devel- 
oped in birds such as geese and gallinaceous species, 
which have never been suspected of being guided by 
smell when searching for food, it would seem to fol- 
low that the precise function of this nerve and the 
nasal cavities has not yet been determined in birds. 
That the nasal passages must be subservient to_ some 
other purpose than that of respiration merely, is evi- 
dent from their complexity, but what that purpose is 
remains to be determined by accurate observations 
and experiments." 
Might not this be a simple case of organs once 
active in this class of, the animal kingdom that have 
. become atrophied by lack of exercise? 
Audubon further quotes his friend Townsend in rela- 
tion to the California vulture, as follows : "The Califor- 
nia vulture inhabits the region of the Columbia River to 
the distance of 500 miles from its mouth, and is most 
abundant in spring, at which season it feeds on the 
dead salmon that are thrown upon the shore in great 
numbers. It is also often met with near the Indian 
villages, being attracted by the offal of the fish thrown 
around the habitations. It associates with Cathartes 
aura, but is easily distinguished from that species in 
flight, both by its greater size and the more abrupt 
curvature of its wing/ The Indians, whose observations 
may generally be depended upon, say that it ascertains 
the presence of food solely 'by the power of vision, 
thus corroborating your own remarks on the vulture 
tribe generally. On the upper waters of the Columbia 
the fish, intended for winter store, are usually de- 
posited in huts made of the branches of trees interlaced. 
I have frequently seen the ravens attempt to effect a 
lodgment in these deposits, but have never known the 
vulture to be engaged in this way, although these birds ■ 
were numerous in the immediate vicinity:" 
If any species of birds do possess the sense of smell, 
suggestion points more forcefully to the carrion 
feeders than any other, as having special need of this 
faculty. But the testimony of scientific observers is 
directly to the contrary of such assumption. 
Of all the birds we are familiar with, none are sus- 
pected of exercising smelling powers save only the 
wild ducks; and some of your commentators even at- 
tempt to differentiate between them, restricting the 
smelling faculty to some one species, which carries 
a strong suggestion of the same kind of imaginative 
fallacy as that which sends all the jay birds to the 
infernal regions every Friday. 
Certainly no hunter ever takes account of smelling 
powers in the wild turkey, that wariest of all birds, 
nor indeed of any other among the numerous category 
of game birds, save only this very exceptional ascrip- 
tive of such power to certain of the duck species 
which, as before remarked, savors much of human 
fallacy. Coahoma. 
Hummingbirds. 
St. Augustine, July 20.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
When you appeared in our old city a few weeks ago, you 
seemed to be interested in the result of some experiments 
I was trying with a pair of old hummingbirds which re- 
fused to be tamed. When the old birds appear in the 
spring I ignore them, and they leave; but last spring I 
unwittingly fed them, and finding such accommodating 
quarters they refused to leave, the result being that when 
the young birds (which are easily tamed) appear the 
old tyrants drive them off. 
The old birds that I was feeding at the time of your 
visit I paid no attention to further than to refill the bottle 
with sugar water (not honey) ; but a few days after that 
they were feeding from my hand. But that is about as 
far as I can get with old birds. When I get them familiar 
enough, I carry a very small bottle in my pocket, and I 
only consider them tame when they'll come to me any- 
where. To thoroughly tame them an early training is 
necessary. 
A few years after my first appearance in this breathing 
world I was attacked by the all-absorbing hummingbird 
craze,- and it has never left me since; with the natural 
result that what is known about them I know, and what 
I don't know about them others do — or think they do. 
There is probably no member of the feathered tribe, 
from the dodo to the goose, that has been so thoroughly 
written up as the hummingbird, and probably not one 
that has been honored by so much nonsense. Ornitholo- 
gists have left no stone unturned in pursuit of knowledge 
pertaining to them. 
An enthusiast set himself at work to settle the one dis- 
puted question as to whether ruby-throat is, or is not, a 
devoted husband, in which case the verdict was against 
him; but I believe the point is not considered settled yet, 
though this man had a nest watched during every hour of 
daylight from the time of incubation till the young left 
the nest. 
If I had Collected all the articles I have met with dur- 
ing a few years past that were intended for the enlighten- 
ing of the public on the hummingbird question, I could 
make up a goodly sized volume, many parts of which for 
absurd incongruities would rival Artemus Ward. The old 
idea that hummingbirds live exclusively on flower sweets 
is usually taken as their text, but I have scarcely ever 
seen an atom that was new. 
The insect question has been settled years ago. It is 
a prime absurdity to suppose that they go to flowers for 
insects, for they can get them anywhere; but they must 
go to flowers for their principal food. I have been ac- 
quainted with many ornithologists — Gould among the 
number — and I have fed and tamed hummingsbirds for 
more than fifty years, so I think myself capable of speak- 
ing with authority as to a hummingbird's bill of fare. I 
keep a "free lunch" for them all the time, and have to 
refill the bottle twice a day. 
To entice them to. the bottle, of course, a flower is 
needed at first, but they can soon be trained to dispense 
with that. The little gluttons will eat almost their weight 
in sugar water in a day, and it's quite an important busi- 
ness to keep a bottle filled for three or four of them. But 
I don't attend to the insect? part of their bill of fare. 
I am somewhat puzzled as to why so many people are 
so anxious to enlighten the world about things of which 
. they are totally ignorant, but I can understand an ambi- 
tious young lady who is anxious to see herself in print 
taking up a fairy-like subject which she supposes involves 
some mystery. Then I can imagine her getting lost and 
appealing to her imagination to help her out by supply- 
ing a lot of inconceivable nonsense — as has been the case 
with several articles that I have seen. Didymus. 
Pasha's Home Coming;. 
Pittsburg, Pa. — We had Pasha, an Arabian stallion, 
with which I had succeeded in escaping from Sedan after 
being taken prisoner in the battle of 1870, for a couple 
of years, when my father set out to spend a few days with 
his brother in the hill country beyond Oudenaarde, on the 
right bank of the river Scheldt. Father was very fond of 
Pasha, and prided himself on his horsemanship, and the 
two together made a beautiful _ picture. Every spring 
father got homesick for his native hills, and would go 
and spend a few days in the place where he was born 
and raised, and where his people had lived for genera- 
tions. One beautiful May morning he started, his destina- 
tion being a little over thirty miles, crossing the Scheldt 
at the walled town of Oudenaarde. The following morn- 
ing, when I went in the orchard, what was my astonish- 
ment to see Pasha, without saddle or bridle, coming to- 
ward me, and rubbing his nose against my face. An hour 
later we received a telegram from father asking if we had 
seen anything of Pasha. I wired back he was home, safe 
and sound. 
That was the last we heard of it until father came home 
in his brother's buggy, with Pasha's saddle and bridle 
stowed inside. The old gentleman was somewhat morti- 
fied, and at first eluded all inquiries about what had 
happened, but after a while he could resist mother's teas- 
ing no longer, and here is his story: 
