Oct. i, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
288 
From Ducks to Polish Girls. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
When my copy of the paper came to-day, I looked to 
see whether it had been finally determined yet whether 
the ducks can smell or not. I think they can ; if they 
cannot, there is nothing the matter with their sight. They 
can see all right, as witness the care they take in keeping 
away from our blinds. There is one bird that I cannot 
be convinced can smell — the wild turkey. I have crawled 
up almost on top of him when he was feeding, with the 
wind blowing right from me to him. • I had learned 
enough to keep out of his sight ; there was no danger of 
his smelling me. I would not crawl up on a duck that 
v/ay, though, and would not try to do it. 
Often, when helping to build a blind for, the benefit 
of the ducks, I think of one I helped to build away back 
in the sixties, down in Virginia, and I have to laugh 
at it. The blind was meant to conceal a battery of 6- 
inch guns for the benefit of the Confederates, not ducks. 
In theory the Confederates were supposed to march up 
a road and run on top of this blind, then fall over it. In 
practice they did nothing of the kind, but halting their 
own battery a mile away, began to throw shells at us. 
They threw them too high, and while they were getting 
the range, we got our battery out of that, then put it 
where it should have been put in the first place. This 
was Easton's battery of the regular artillery. He had 
lost the most of his men in the fighting before Richmond, 
and we volunteer infantry took his battery to see if we 
could work it. We could, and kept it in action all day at 
the battle of Malvern Hill, refusing to be relieved when 
the other batteries were. We kept a six-mule team busy 
all day hauling up ammunition for us, and when the fuss 
was all over, General Fitz John Porter sent his staff offi- 
cer to compliment us. "Tell the General," our lieutenant 
(a regular himself) told him, "that this battery has been 
kept in action to-day by a lot of volunteers." 
"Well, they had no business being in the volunteers," 
the staff officer replied. Then turning to us, he said : 
"You men should go to the regulars." More than one 
of us took his advice and afterward went to the regulars. 
I got a letter a few days ago from a man who had lately 
been on an outing with two small boys, his son and 
nephew. While in camp the boys went after berries and 
found poison ivy — or what we call poison ivy — the 
botanists tell us that it is not an ivy at all. He had a 
terrible time getting his boys to a doctor. He did not 
need any doctor had he known, as he does now, that he 
had at least one antidote right in camp. Bathing the 
poisoned place in a strong solution of salt and water 
would have stopped all smarting right away. The cure 
would come later. Or bicarbonate of soda used instead 
of salt would have done still better. I have 
used the bicarbonate of soda dry, and have found 
it to work all right. Another one is what we 
call the lobelia (I do not know its botanical name; we 
boys used to call it wild tobacco, for the leaves when 
chewed have a slight taste of tobacco). The leaves are. 
boiled and the poisoned place bathed in the water. Plan- 
tain leaves, which may be found almost anywhere, are 
another cure. Bruise the leaves, then bind them on. 
Some persons seem to be immune to ivy poison. It has 
never hurt me, and I destroy it wherever I find it. I use 
care when doing it, taking the least possible risk; but I 
have had men tell me that the ivy would poison them 
if they only passed where it grew and did not touch it. 
That, I think, is a notion, though. The poison is in a 
gum on the outside of the leaf. It must touch the skin 
to poison it. 
Another weed I never fail to destroy when I find it 
growing, unless there is too much of it, is what farmers 
call jimson weed. Jamestown, weed, or stronium, is its 
proper name. A small green pear-shaped fruit grows on 
it in the late summer. Two of these, if eaten, will kill 
a child as surely as a dose of arsenic would. Very few 
of our boys would try to eat them ; the children of for- 
eigners often do. I know of several cases where this 
pear has killed Polish children; and in one case I took 
some of these pears from two small boys just in time to 
prevent their killing themselves with them. 
Children try to eat curious things at times. Last 
summer I found a party of half-grown Polish girls in 
among some sumach bushes, trying to eat the hard, brown 
berries that grow on them. I told the girls that these 
were poison. I know, of course, that they contain nothing 
except tannin, but they were never meant to be eaten. 
Cabia Blanco. 
Ducks on Currituck Sound. 
Currituck, Sept. 19. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Just as last year at this time, blue-winged teal are here 
in countless thousands. With the exception of last 
season, we have never seen anything like it before, and 
we old hunters do not understand it. I remember once, 
on August 9, 1870, shooting ten blue-wings and sixteen 
sprigs ; but since that time until last season, the blue- 
wings seemed to be scarce. Unfortunately, our season to 
shoot over decoys does not open until November 1, and 
the blue-wings all leave about October 15. We do not 
see them in the spring. 
Sprigs and black ducks began to arrive this season 
on August 20, ten days sooner than last season. There 
are also thousands of them here, which is unusual. Our 
yellow-leg shooting has been the best we have had in 
many years, and they are still abundant. 1 was out three 
days last week, and bagged 135, 122 and 70 respectively. 
Strange to say, I have not seen a golden plover this 
season, and there are very few black-breasts, while last 
season I shot large numbers of them — more than in 
many years before. 
Those who expect to visit Currituck for duck shoot- 
ing may feel sure of good bags. Our waters are filled 
with an abundance of the best duck food, and the ducks 
are being protected. I may say to the young duck 
shooters along the line, whether "ducks do smell," 
that when shooting black ducks, teal, sprigs or any of the 
marsh ducks, they will kill more birds if they . place 
their decoys so the ducks will not have to come to them, 
directly to the leeward. We always try at Currituck to 
select a point pointing east or west, if the wind is north 
or south ; and pointing north or south if the wind is 
east or west. This gives the shooter a broadside shot, 
which enables him to' kill his birds dead and helps him 
to double them. If there is a gentleman who wants to 
know for certain if "ducks can smell," and will visit 
me at Currituck, I'll prove it to him. I except canvas- 
backs, redheads, blackheads, and all ducks that dive for 
their food. More Anon. 
^ * * The current number of Game Laws in Brief gives 
laws of all States and Provinces. Price 25 cents. - 
mm 
A Well Larded 'Coon. 
From the Log of Camp Nessmuk. 
The fishing was rather good that summer we had the 
experience with the 'coon. Emerson and George had 
been up Kettle Creek on their famous first day's fish, 
when they were in duty bound to "catch more fish, more 
pounds, more inches, than any other two in camp," for, 
forsooth, was not this the burden of their_ boast from 
year's end to year's end; and was it not distinctly bad 
form, in their eyes, to slip up Kettle Creek before they 
had exercised their loudly proclaimed prerogative? 
Howbeit, they did not always make good, but on this 
occasion they succeeded. The other came straying in, 
•leg-weary, but with trout in their creels to be duly ad- 
mired. Is this not half the pleasure in catching 'em? 
The supper dole, cooked as only "Pap" can cook trout, 
had been most generous befitting a lucky first day, and 
there remained a goodly portion for the morrow's break- 
fast. These were placed in the "spring-house," a bucket 
sunk deep in the icy waters of an old "tail race" that 
emptied into the near-by 'Sock, hard by the camp, for 
cold storage. 
Supper over, Pap gathered up his tackle; dish-washing 
at Camp Nessmuk never falls to the lot of a recognized 
fisherman, and announced to Pard, his inseparable 
shadow when on fishing bent, that they would have a try 
at the big ones in the cold water at the mouth of Dry 
Run, some half mile up the 'Sock, which they had lo- 
cated earlier in the day on one of their many trips up 
and down the "big creek." No matter what his luck, 
Pap consistently refused the lure of the smaller streams, 
sticking closer than a brother to his beloved 'Sock. _ Near 
about nine by the camp clock, they returned ; Pap in the 
lead, with that strong, steady , lope of his, Pard on a dog- 
trot some half dozen yards behind, as usual. Truly a 
picturesque pair as they step out of the gloom into the 
light of the great "Nessmuk fire" blazing before the 
tent. Pap, long, lank and tireless, in homely gray; Pard 
short, wiry, and full of nervous energy, with trousers 
stuffed into gaudy golf stockings . gartered above the 
knees with bits of fishing-line, a broad rattlesnake belt 
encircling his waist, a loosely knotted bandana around 
his throat, a pair of glasses perched above a brown Van- 
dyke beard, and the whole topped with a big white som- 
brero, the crown wound round and round with a tangled 
confusion of leaders and flies. 
"Any luck?" en chorus from those gathered round the 
fire. 
"Of course. What do you take us for?" from Pap. 
"Aren't we the recognized meat purveyors of Camp 
Nessmuk?" by Pard, who seldom or never catches any 
when fishing with Pap. 
Then Pap modestly produces three goodly 'Sock trout, 
and tells how they would not take the fly, though he tried 
'em on one and all, from his favorite coachman to a 
white-miller; but fisherman means resoupcefulman, as 1 
have, elsewhere recorded, and Pap, who was the duly 
constituted meat-getter as well as mentor of Camp Ness- 
muk, was prepared for just such contingencies, and 
forthwith baited a 3-hook leader with worms aplenty, 
leading it so as to sink it to the bottom. In the deepen- 
ing twilight this usually proved effective, when all else 
failed with the big fellows which lay moodily in the cold 
waters at the mouths of the smaller streams, awaiting 
the uncertain June rise upon which to ascend the colder 
stream for the torrid dog days. 
His catch — beauties above 12 inches, were added to the 
bunch in the "spring-house." 
As we view it, one of the drawbacks to Pap's mentor- 
ship of camp, is an irresistible impulse to rise betimes 
in the morning. Just as one is becoming comfortably 
adjusted to the inequalities of his balsamy bed, Pap is 
heard wrestling with the ground-built stove, and by six 
o'clock it is, "Breakfast — everybody wash." 
George always considers this last clause a personal 
matter, somewhat in the nature of a reflection, as he 
tardily and sleepily appears upon the scene. 
Upon this particular Tuesday morning, when Pap re- 
paired to the spring-house for the breakfast trout, he 
found an empty bucket. We were rudely awakened with 
the startling intelligence that someone or something had 
gone through our larder and lifted the trout. 
We had eggs for breakfast. 
But 'twas a mystery who got those trout. 
It was now up to us to hustle for meat. Eight hollow, 
hungry souls cannot be sustained on air, even though 
it be filled with the life-giving ozone, about which we 
brag so freely and know so little. We just must have 
trout; everybody to the streams. By supper-getting time 
we had reassembled with trout in the pan and a break- 
fast in sight. 
That evening it was long after dark when Pap, Pard, 
and Fred returned from the late fishing up at the mouth 
of Dry Run with four large ones — a 14-incher among 
them. 
Next morning when Pap began his breakfast prepara- 
tions, he discovered the lid off the bucket, and the four 
large trout missing ; the others were, apparently, intact. 
The mystery deepened. 
During the day, Pap discovered a track in the muddy 
bank of the tail race, just below the spring house. An 
examination disclosed that it was a 'coon track. It 
needed no Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together 
to surmise the culprit. 
That night we prepared for our nocturnal visitor. It 
was near midnight when Pap, who always slept with an 
• ear and an eye to the front, heard a scratching down at 
the spring-house. He reconnoitered, but the 'coon, scent- 
ing danger, beat a hasty retreat down the race. Some 
time later he returned and again awakened Pap, who 
roused Pard, and they hastily planned their campaign. 
Pap got the gun — a small Flobert — and Pard armed him- 
self with the hatchet, thinking- of bears, no doubt. As 
they were sallying forth, I awoke, grasped the situation, 
and picked up- the lantern, dimly burning. The 'coon 
-was busy, but when Pap blazed away at him, he cut for 
the brush lickety-split. In the -morning the trout were 
none the less for the adventure. 
A 'coon is nothing if not persistent, and he does dearly 
love fish. I've seen veritable paths worn along the edge 
of the water where the 'coons nightly raced up and down 
on fishing bent. They likely did not disdain the half- 
grown tadpoles that fairly made black the shallows along 
shore. We were hardly in bed the following night until 
he was back at his old trick, and one and aH jumped 
out of bed to enjoy the fun. Pard picked up a club, I 
took the lantern, and the assault was on. But the 'coon 
was too intent on the work in hand to pay the slightest 
attention to what we might be up to, and Pard boldly ap- 
■ preached and got in several vicious licks— mostly on the 
bucket — before his 'coonship beat even a reluctant -re- 
treat, and then Only so far as the bushes on the opposite 
bank. 
Some time during the night he returned, and, baffled 
in getting at the trout, clawed the lid off the lard bucket 
and generously helped himself to Peter's prime leaf-lard. 
That he had put his foot into it, was quite evident next 
morning, when someone remarked, "Wherever he is, he's 
a well larded 'coon, anyhow." 
William Walters Champion. 
Fish and Fishing. 
Some of the Food of Fishes. 
Among the visiting American anglers whom I had 
the pleasure of meeting in Quebec last week, were Dr. 
Robert T. Morris, of New York, the talented author 
of Hopkins' Pond and Other Stories," and his friend, 
Mr. Glenn Ford McKinney. When one calls to mind 
the pleasures afforded by the reading in Forest and 
Stream, of the majority of. the sketches comprising the 
doctor's attractive little book, it is scarcely possible 
to avoid a feeling of regret that our old friend should 
be so tied down by professional engagements as to be 
unable to contribute as frequently as he did a decade 
or more ago, to the columns of contemporary sport- 
ing literature, from his rich and varied store of ex- 
periences, and from the result of his careful observations 
m forest, lake and stream. 
When the doctor and his friend called in on me last 
week, they were just out of the woods, having spent 
some time m fishing and exploring upon the limits of 
the 1 ourilli Fish and Game Club. The doctor and Mr 
McKinney are both very much interested in the stock- 
ing of barren waters with fish and in the subject of 
food for fishes. Where some of the best trout fishing is 
now to be had on the Tourilli tract, Dr. Morris found 
that the lakes were well supplied with ephemera There 
are some lakes, notably . Lake Crapaud, on the Tourilli 
limits, which a few years ago contained no fish at all 
-and which have been most successfully stocked by the 
club. -Not so many years ago a number of small trout 
were planted in Lake Crapaud. The water was so thick 
with minute insect- life at the time, that it was scarcely 
possible to lift a glass of it, even out of the middle of 
the lake, that was fit. t'o drink. Microscopic entomos- 
traca, such as the daphnia and syclops, literally swarmed 
m it. As trout multiplied, which they did . very rapidly 
the water was speedily cleared of "much of this minute in- 
sect life, notwithstanding the almost miraculous rapidity 
with which the various entomostraca increase. There 
is little doubt, judging from a recent, reference to some 
notes which I made during my last visit to Lake 
Crapaud, that though the entire water of the lake is 
not now thick with tha entomostraca as it was before 
there were trout in it, yet . there is still much of this 
iood for the fish on the mud and on the foliage of the 
water plants, as well as of ephemera. And; the trout 
have so well thriven upon it that specimens- over six 
pounds m weight have been taken out of the lake and 
they are certainly some of the most brilliantly colored 
nsh that can be seen anywhere. 
There are still many opportunities for successful fish 
cultural operations on portions of the Tourilli tract, as 
