Dec. io, 1904.]! 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
493 
our bucket, yet we slept warm. By daylight we were 
up, the camp fire was snapping, the kettle steaming, 
and breakfast eaten by sunrise; boiled potatoes, pork 
sausage, barberry jelly, bread and butter, coffee. 
The dishes are washed and everything stored away 
in the tent, for it looks like rain or snow. Then we 
start, the dog more anxious than we. Swamp, brush, 
alders, spruce, fallen logs, rocks, blackberry briers— 
what obstacle does not the hunter surmount in his 
eagerness to shed the blood of the affrighted remnant 
of the game birds of the woods and fields. Enough 
we saw, but none we shot, save a poor lone rabbit, 
which committed itself to the open by force of a dog 
on one side and one of the hunters on another. After 
six hours of weary trudging through the brush, we re- 
turn to camp, unlimber our guns at the wagon, the 
while bemoaning our luck, when a partridge gives two 
preliminary twitters and bounds out of the yellow birch 
tree on which the tent pole rests. A partridge actually 
at rest, eating birch buds! We could have killed it 
had we seen it sitting there. Clearly, this is no place 
for us, we must move. 
After dinner we load up and move through Plainfield 
Center, about four miles, to our originally selected spot. 
Deep in the spruces, where no wind blows, the ground 
dry with spruce needles, on a knoll, whence water would 
run quickly in case of rain, a little brook just far 
enough off to sing softly at night, and a trout in the 
hole where you dip your water, such the spot. At 
dusk we arrive. Two partridges, gone to roost in the 
spruces, fly as we come, and a rabbit scurries off into 
the denser woods. 
The noise of the camp making is over, supper eaten, 
and stillness comes over the forest. The stove is fired 
by green yellow birch, a good burner, probably best 
of all woods green, though white and black birch and 
hickory burn nearly as readily green. Nearby people 
come to see how comfortable one can be in a tent in 
November. They were not cold, though the night was 
very frosty outside. The second night we had other 
visitors and a long spell at high five. 
Here we try the white rabbits, going to the 
spruce woods around Plainfield Pond. It wants 
a good dog for this work, one that is very 
active in search and slow on the trail. Rare 
traits are these in combination. An active dog is apt 
to be too quick on the trail, and overrun the scent. 
Then he has to take too much time in making circles 
around the places where he left the scent. The best 
sport is had with two dogs, one a vigorous brush 
beater, to get up the rabbit, and the other slow on the 
trail. The white rabbit does not live in holes, as the 
small brown rabbit does, and never goes into a hole 
unless wounded. He sleeps in the daytime under a 
bush, or fallen tree-top, or in thick laurel. To get 
the rabbit running, your dog must first find him, and 
this is the longest part of the hunt. When started, the 
rabbit will run off perhaps a half-mile, but always 
comes back near where he started. The impatient 
hunter tries to keep up with the hound, whose baying 
is a delightful sound as it sifts back through the long 
woods. The patient waiter, though chilled in body and 
cold of feet, stays where the pursuit began, and then 
doesn't always get a shot. The talking of companions 
will turn the rabbit from his course, as it will a flying 
partridge. Keep still, get in certain runways, if you 
know them, and from ten to forty rods ahead of the 
hound will come the rabbit, and it's a quick shot you 
get at best. If the leaves are dry, the dog will be slow 
on the trail, but if the leaves are damp or there is a 
moist snow the rabbit is pretty certain of a long chase 
unless the hunter interferes. There is no other sport 
equal to running white rabbits with a good hound. 
Partridge shooting requires more skill, and a dog of 
finer qualities to hold the bird to a point, but the bird 
dog never barks. There is no music. The sympa- 
thetic reader may be inclined to pity the poor rabbit, 
so relentlessly pursued by the hound, but, however 
much or little the noise of the dog and the fact of 
pursuit may prey on the rabbit's nerves, the speed of 
the chase is no tax on the rabbit's strength, because 
the rabbit frequently leaps at right angles from his 
course and throws the dog off the scent long enough to 
give the rabbit plenty of rest. 
White rabbits are not as plentiful as formerly, and 
it is probably not because they are killed by hunters. 
They seem to migrate. They leave a section where 
they have long been numerous and are unknown there 
for a number of years, then they come back. It is said 
that they will not live in the same region with the 
brown rabbit, just as the gray squirrels are driven away 
by red squirrels. 
It is a wise provision of nature that the food of the 
browsing animals, rabbit, deer, partridge, should be 
richer in winter than in summer, and in summer richer 
than the grasses on which foraging animals, cattle and 
horses live. Common grasses contain about 4^ per 
cent, of protein, and the tender ends of brush about 
7 per cent, in summer. In winter the brush is much 
richer in nutrition than in summer, for trees are busy 
all summer storing up in their buds starch and sugar 
and fat, that they may make a rapid growth when the 
first warm days of another growing season come again, 
and be ready to blossom, fruit and seed, that the great 
work of reproduction may be weir done. 
On our rabbit hunt our dog followed the trail of two 
deer, -the tracks of which we ourselves could see in the 
frosted grass. Speaking of deer, one came close to our 
tent one night, then running away, with much. crashing 
of dead branches. There is room up there;' on Hamp- 
shire's highest hills for deer. Miles and miles of 
wooded hills and pastures growing up to brush, with 
lessening habitations of man, is the aspect. ' -Mixed with 
the baying of our hounds came the puff of a.: steam saw- 
mill, working up the spruce into barrel staves, the 
beech and maple into chair stock, the ash into scythe 
handles and wagon material. 
We were back home from the rabbit hunt at I o'clock, 
and took time for an elaborate meal of boiled beef, 
put in the kettle the night before, and kept simmering 
well into the night Nothing like, beef when you are 
using up muscular tissue behind a dog. It fills the need 
of the tired hunter better than any othet food, and 
smacks more of the aboriginal menu than anything 
else procurable. When the Indian surcharges his 
frame with a meat dinner he lies down and sleeps. 
That was what we did, and when we woke and stumbled 
out of the tent, there sat a partridge, not twenty feet 
from the camp-fire, and no gun ready for her. We cut 
the branches from the spruces down to the dipping 
place in the brook, and a beautiful walk it was, over 
the soft dead needles and dry moss. We examined the 
trout in the brook, now in their brightest colors, ready 
for the mating, which comes Nov. 16, with hardly a 
day's fail. The fins of the trout were bordered with a 
wide stripe of white, and a lesser stripe of scarlet, and 
the scarlet and white spots on the sides were more 
pronounced than in summer. In a pond, nearby, where 
there are thousands of trout in summer, there were 
few now, and these were at the head of it in the cur- 
rent, lying over freshly cleaned gravel, whereon they 
were to drop their spawn. It's a great work, this re- 
production, and from the tadpole up, only shirked by 
man. 
Say, look at that queer looking stump over across 
the pond! Sticks up from a clear space beneath the 
spruces. Looks like a bottle, with a long neck, and the 
neck twisted a little sideways. Great Caesar! can it be 
a partridge? Quick, the gun! 
Alas, too late! A couple of hops, a couple of 
"peeps," "peeps," a spread of wings, and off she goes; 
another chance missed. 
The next day we would hunt partridge. We would 
get up early, get a quick meal, and be off by sunrise. 
There was a dim light in the east when we turned out. 
What a glorious thrill to fell the zest of life return, 
as you grope to the brook for a wash in the icy water, 
and appetite strong for a lantern-light breakfast. Buck- 
wheat griddle cakes? Yes, just the thing for a strenu- 
ous day and easy had. Pour in a little syrup to make 
them brown good, flop them in the air by a deft turn 
of the wrist (takes a strong nerve to risk a delicious, 
big, brown slap-jack on this aerial toss), and serve hot, 
with sausage. Who couldn't shoot partridges on such 
a meal! 
When we came to, it was 10 o'clock. Maybe it was 
the griddle cakes, or maybe the sausage, or maybe 
getting up so early. At any rate, we had slept over 
three hours after breakfast. But no matter, the birds 
are near; we haven't far to walk. We found that the 
partridges were eating beechnuts, but that they feed 
under beech trees which were not a great ways from 
the spruces, to give them shelter. We noticed that they 
started to fly with a spruce between us and them. That 
is education, a full college course, with a post-graduate 
added. In the story books they always shoot a lot of 
game, on great hunting trips like this of ours, and so 
we fashion this story. 
When we were off in the woods one day we received 
a call from Charles Hallock, the founder of Forest and 
Stream, and author of many books. We found his 
card and several magazines on our bed. Mr. Hallock 
spends his summers at Mr. Gurney's, in Plainfield, and 
the winters in various places in the South. Strange, 
that the first sporting book I ever read, and one of the 
best ever written, was largely about this very stream 
we heard singing in the night, Mill Brook, Plainfield. 
If you would catch some of the spirit of the woods, 
read this book of Hallock's, "The Fishing Tourist." 
Another day after the rabbits, and we must go home. 
We hated to go. Man started in the woods, why not 
continue there? But no, we must go back and build 
higher this mighty structure of civilization, which eats 
up those at work in the top stories a little bit faster 
than they can walk into the ground floor. 
The last hunt is over, the last night under the spruces, 
the wagon is packed, the horse is headed for home, the 
cold, gray clouds promise snow; but we know that we 
can camp out in winter with as much delight as in leafy 
June. C. H. Gere. 
Growth of Moss on Trees* 
Frora the Literary Digest. 
It is often said that expert woodsmen are able to ascer- 
tain the points of the compass in a forest by noting the 
growth of moss on the trees, the usual statement being 
that it is thickest on the north side. This was hardly 
borne out by an investigation made about two years ago 
by Henry Kraemer, of Philadelphia, who< found that in 
his vicinity moss grew on all sides of the trees except 
the south, the predominating direction being the east. 
In a later investigation by a French botanist, M. Leon 
Bedel, it appears that no dependence at all can be placed 
on the moss as a guide to the points of the compass. The 
determining factor seems to be ability to hold moisture 
for the sustenance of the parasitic growth. M. Bedel, 
in an article in the Revue Scientifique, describes his 
observations. Alluding first to Kraemer's data, he says : 
"It may be seen that the parasitic growth is not thickest 
on the north side, but rather on the east. Looking a little 
closer, we find that M. Kraemer has proved a fact of con- 
siderable importance — that the moss, which does not care 
for publicity, tends to cling, by preference, to the parts of 
the trunk that are inclined from the vertical, * * * 
especially on those that form an acute angle with the 
ground. In any case, on a given trunk, the favorite 
habitat of mosses and other parasites, he says, is the side 
that 'receives and holds' the greater proportion of mois- 
ture. Here there is some vagueness, since the side that 
receives the most moisture is that exposed to the wind, 
while that which retains the most is the sheltered side. 
And we should also distinguish between isolated trees 
and trees in a wood or forest." 
To clear up these points, observations have been made 
during the past two or three years in the neighborhood of 
Dozule, France, by the author, who believes that he has 
established the following facts: (1) Exposure has only 
a slight influence on the fixation of mosses, and it is im- 
possible to lay down a rule in the matter. (2) Mosses 
usually grow on the upper, rather than the lower, side of 
inclined trees. (3) They are more abundant on cracked 
and furrowed than on smooth trunks, and also on knots 
and lumps. (4) Moss prefers horizontal to vertical 
branches, and grows thickly in bifurcations. (5) The 
direction of the wind seems to have no influence on the 
fixation of mosf. 
The key to this whole matter appears to the author to 
lie in the question of moisture. He says : 
"The fixation of moss on trees is governed by the de- 
gree of moisture retained. Mosses grow preferably on 
the parts of the tree that hold most water. This law 
is true for isolated trees as well as for groups. Even 
when grouped trees have not one face more exposed than 
others to moisture, they have one that holds more of it; 
fhat is to say, there is always one face more or less in- 
clined, or more cracked, or rougher, on which the water, 
from the leaves or branches stays longer. 
"It is especially the quantity of water retained and not 
that received that influences the growth of the moss. Of 
two trees situated side by side, one with a smooth and the 
other with a rough trunk, the former will have no moss 
and the other will be covered, because the water easily 
runs off the one, while on the other it is held by the 
irregularities of surface. 
"The retention of moisture explains why the upper part 
of horizontal branches is mossy, while the under side is 
not. The water, owing to gravity, strives to reach the 
earth in a vertical course. It does not remain on the 
lower side of the branch, because it can fall thence 
directly to the ground without meeting any obstacle, while 
on the upper side the branch itself opposes a direct fall. 
The water has to run around the branch to reach the 
lower side, and the roughnesses of the bark retard and 
retain it. * * * It is the same in the case of an in- 
clined trunk. * * * 
"To sum up : Mosses grow preferably on the parts of 
the tree that retain most moisture. They are thus more 
abundant * * * on rough or cracked parts; on the 
upper side of a branch or inclined trunk; on knots or 
bosses ; at the fork of branches ; at the base of the trunk. 
"We may say that 'moss draws moss.' When moss 
has grown on a tree it is itself a powerful factor in the 
retention of moisture; and new moss, either of the same 
or a different species, develops and thus increases the ex- 
tent of the green covering." 
In North Carolina* 
Raleigh, North Carolina. — A party of Raleigh sports- 
men is back from a jolly good hunt in eastern North 
Carolina. They left here Sunday, November 13, snow 
then falling, and went to Croatan in Craven county, near 
the junction of the Neuse and Trent rivers, prepared for 
a week's hunt for any and all game, principally ducks 
and geese. In the party were J. D. Bowen, conductor on 
the Seaboard Air Line; W. R. Sherman, J. J. Bowen, 
manager of the Southern Express office here, and his two 
sons. They arrived there about 6 o'clock Monday after- 
noon, found no* one to meet them, owing to failure to get 
a letter giving time of arrival. They got a couple of carts 
to haul the luggage out to camp, seven miles distant. 
When they arrived at the "camp" they found an old de- 
serted log house which had been used by fishermen as a 
dwelling. The whole party got busy, gathered fuel, made 
a fire, the weather being very cold, after which they un- 
packed the luggage, got out the cooking utensils and had 
supper at about 11 o'clock. During all this time the geese 
were constantly passing back and forth over and above 
the camp, honking so loudly that the party could hardly 
hear themselves talk. They went to bed full of happy 
anticipations of the next day's sport. 
At 4 o'clock the next morning they got up and had 
breakfast, and just as day began to dawn they left camp, 
each man going in an opposite direction, of course all bent 
on making the largest bag for the day. They assembled 
again in the afternoon at 6 o'clock, when they had dinner, 
and then made showdown of the first day's work, which 
was something like twenty ducks, all mallards. They did 
not hunt deer the first day, though they are plentiful in 
that locality, but devoted some time to them later on. 
They spent five days at Croatan, the range of hunting ex- 
tending something like ten miles in practically every direc- 
tion, both on water and land. They hunted mainly in 
the creeks, where the'niallards were feeding, these being 
all tidal streams, quite narrow, deep and tortuous. There 
is wild rice,_ grass seed and roots. No wild celery was 
seen, this being the food so dear to the canvasbacks, and 
which is also greatly relished by all other kinds of ducks, 
though all of the latter except the canvasback and red- 
head are too lazy to dive in deep water after it. The 
natives in that part of the country call these other ducks 
the "lazy ducks." The hard-working canvasbacks and 
redheads dive in water as deep as 12 feet and pull up the 
roots of the celery. Much of the stuff floats to the sur- 
face and then the other ducks, the lazy fellows, get in 
their work. What they leave floats to the shore and is in 
the shape of wrack. 
As a result of the five days at Croatan the party got 
three deer, forty mallards, nine squirrels, three geese, and 
a bald eagle. They devoted some of the time to fishing 
with a seine 250 yards long, owned by one of the boatmen, 
and caught about 200 pounds of trout, jack, Welshman 
(or "chub," really large-mouth black bass), and mullet, 
the latter fish _ being very fat and highly prized by all 
North Carolinians when fresh, and by the coast people 
both fresh and when cured. Along the back of the mullet 
lie two streaks of fat, which are often cut out and put 
aside in kits and used as lard. The coast people like the 
mullet because it is so fat that it will "cook itself." 
All that part of North Carolina is a paradise for the 
hunter and the fisherman, the real sportsman, either on 
land or water. People up north know a lot about Curri- 
tuck Sound, which is the head-center of canvasback shoot- 
ing in the world, but they don't know what a game 
treasure-house a vast deal of North Carolina is. The real 
sportsman is welcomed here — not the pot-hunter or the 
shooter for market. These get the chilly hand, the icy 
heart, the stony stare. • All land in North Carolina is 
posted by a general law, and in many of the counties the 
written consent of land-owners is necessary. The gentle- 
man sportsman coming to North Carolina will have no 
trouble, but let the other classes beware. There is no 
room for them here. ' -• 
One of the interesting natives at Croatan is Uncle John 
Pittman. He is 80 years old, but the spryness and vitality 
of the North Carolinians is shown by the fact that the old 
fellow put in two whole days deer hunting with the party. 
In his time he has killed great numbers of deer, and the 
love of the sport has never left Him for a minute, He 
