FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Ian. 21, 1905. 
medical profession, have any surgical skill, with the 
means at hand we can all give some relief to an unfor- 
tunate comrade. In case of a wound on a limbj the 
bleeding may be stopped by ligating the limb above the 
wound with the suspender. Then make a compress of 
several thicknesses of the bandage, apply this to the 
wound, and bind it on with the rest of the bandage. In 
case of a wound on the head or body, the ligature, of 
course, cannot be used, but the use of compress and 
bandage is the same. 
Fractures are not uncommon in the woods, and many 
a man has been made to suffer untold agonies by being 
transported over long distances with the broken ends 
of a bone abrading one another. Now, while few have 
the skill to set bones properly, anyone can bind sticks 
(boards are better if available) on the broken member, 
and thus save unnecessary motion in the fracture. Bind 
on several splints, at least one on every available side of 
the limb, putting, in the absence of cotton, a padding of 
grass between limb and splints. 
A compound fracture, where the ends of the bone come 
through the skin, is an ugly thing to handle; but, after 
all, we have here only a wound and a fracture together. 
Put a compress on the wound, bind it up, and then put 
splints on as if for a simple fracture. 
A sprain only needs to be bandaged so that the joint is 
braced. In case you cannot tell whether there is a sprain 
or fracture, as is often the case with the wrist and ankles, 
put splints on as for a fracture. 
The bandage I have described is large enough to make 
any of these dressings. Of course these hints are only 
meant to give temporary relief during the time the patient 
is being moved out of the woods. As soon as possible he 
should be turned over to a skilled surgeon. 
Snake bites nearly always occur on a limb, usually on 
the leg. In case of snake bite, ligate the limb above the 
wound to keep the poison from getting into the general 
circulation, open the wound with a knife so that it will 
bleed freely. If possible, let the patient suck the wound; 
or if he cannot get at it, let someone else suck it. In 
case no one has the nerve to do this, a bottle heated and 
placed with the neck over the wound will cup it. In any 
case keep your ligature tight around the limb until you 
think that the poison is out. Lewis H. Rose. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Mr. Kennedy's article on the "Camp Doctor and His 
Kit" reminds me that this last year was the first occasion 
I have had to use the one I have carried camping for 
several seasons — a small pocket affair supplied with 
various remedies for both internal disorders and external 
injuries, to which I added the solution of permanganate 
of potash and hypodermic syringe so necessary in a 
snake-infested region such as we have been accustomed 
to camp in. 
One afternoon in the latter part of June, Dave and 
Maury Patterson and myself started in a light Dayton on 
a 30-mile drive back into the Alleghanies to explore an 
unused road over Bear Guard Mountain, with the pur- 
pose of ascertaining if it was practicable to reach a certain 
stretch of river with our full camp equipment. As was 
necessary in a region so sparsely settled, we carried with 
us a light miner's tent and camp outfit. 
The first night we camped in an open glade on Furnace 
Run, making a record of pitching camp, feeding horses 
and getting supper in an hour by the watch. I have read 
many descriptions of the camp and camp-fire by the gifted 
contributors to your paper, that in the reading brings to 
my mind's eye this one night; why it should stand out 
more prominently than others I do not know. Was it 
the environment of mighty mountains, the open glade 
surrounded by unbroken forest, with no noise save the 
sound of running water in the brook, the eerie hoot of an 
owl in the timber, or the occasional scream of a wildcat ? 
I have camped under such circumstances many times be- 
fore and have camped since, yet that one night remains. 
I am drifting from a medicine kit to take that exploring 
trip again. I am sure any of us would rather take one 
than the other. 
On the next day our horses in passing a mountaineer's 
cabin shied at the body of a copperhead. The owner of 
the cabin came out and told us of the narrow escape he 
had had a few minutes before when drawing water from 
his spring, where the reptile lay coiled, striking at him, 
and barely missing his hand. Here was almost an oppor- 
tunity missed for experimenting with our snake-bite reme- 
dies and calling into service the Camp Doctor. It would 
have been infinitely more pleasant to have experimented 
on this subject, had he been bitten, than to have to make 
the first essay on one's self. 
With some difficulty we reached the point we were 
after, and as we had tackle with us, put in that afternoon 
and the next morning fishing. Capon River is an ideal 
fishing stream, abounding in small-mouth black bass, and 
combining all the delightful environment usually met with 
on a trout stream with the pleasure of taking the larger 
and equally game black bass. 
At last we are homeward bound, intending to make a 
through trip, driving all night,_ for time is limited. Dusk 
catches us still in the mountains, miles away from any 
habitation. Suddenly the silence is broken with screech ! 
screech ! screech ! "What's that ?" "A hot box," answers 
Dave, and he makes the negro livery helper who was 
responsible the butt of some very strong language. To 
jack up the wagon with a sapling, to knock off the nut 
with a chisel and hatchet (for the wrench would not 
budge it) was the work of a few moments. To carry 
water and cool off the hub and spindle but a few more. 
Where's the axle grease? That rascally boy failed to 
put It m. Any lard or butter ? The remains of our pro- 
visions had been given away. We were up against a long 
tramp for grease, or could rig up our wagon sledge 
fashion and walk. In any event a long tramp. But we 
reckoned without our Camp Doctor, who very unprofes- 
sionally waved his kit above his head and produced there- 
from a small tube of carbolized vaseline, which greased 
the wheel, saved us many a foot-sore mile of tramping, 
and sent us on our homeward way rejoicing. 
H. Hardy. 
New York:, Jan. 13— Editor Forest and Stream: In 
your issue of January 14, Dr. Robert T. Morris gives a 
brief list of what the camper's medicine chest should con- 
tain. I cannot altogether agree with the wisdom of the 
doctor's choice. 
He omits quinine from his list, which even in a health- 
iul northern country may be most useful, especially if 
any of the party has ever suffered from a severe attack of 
malaria, as the change of air often brings on a recurrence 
of the attacks. 
For the hypodermatic syringe, which is more or less of 
a luxury, and in inexperienced hands perhaps dangerous, 
i would substitute a bottle of antiseptic tablets to be dis- 
solved in t'-i boiled water which is to be used for washing 
open wouiitk-.. 
Toothache has to my knowledge spoiled many a camp- 
ing trip, and as a remedy I carry a small bottle of laud- 
num to be used locally. As regards toothache, I have 
found the guides much more liable to develop a severe 
case than the sportsmen, owing to the former's absolute 
neglect of his teeth. 
Bandages and dressings the doctor evidently regards as 
too bulky to be carried with one ; but, as it is almost certain 
tor some one to get cut or torn on a long, rough trip, 
and as it takes some time to make bandages from old 
clothes, to say nothing of cleansing them,! regard a man 
as very reckless who neglects to take along a small supply 
packed in a water-tight tin. 
As most of us wear nothing but woolens in camp, I fail 
to see how any decent bandage could be made at all; but 
of course the doctor knows more about this than I do. 
Ordinary white court plaster would answer in some 
ways better than rubber plaster, as if the former be 
placed over an open wound the fluids will drain out 
through it, while foreign substances are fairly well ex- 
cluded by it. 
The medicine chest with these changes would weigh 
but a few more ounces than the one Doctor Morris sug- 
gests, and would be found, I believe, more practical. 
J. E. BULKLEY. 
Some Bird Names, 
{Continued from Vol. LXIII ^ page 550.) 
We now come to the shrikes or "shriekers." The more 
popular name "butcher bird" arose from the bird's prac- 
tice of sticking up upon thorns and in crotches his surplus 
prey, as a butcher hangs up meat; but the European 
notion and name "nine killer," based upon the belief that 
just nine of these victims are destroyed daily, never took 
root in American nomenclature. The southern and 
western variety is called "loggerhead" — a word which 
means having a head like a log, i. e., a blockhead or dolt. 
I do not know how it came to be applied in this case. 
Next follows the great cone-billed family — finches, spar- 
rows, buntings and the like — of which the United States 
alone possesses almost 200 varieties. These birds are 
plentiful and familiar with men the world over, and their 
names go back to the primitive days of all languages. 
"Finch" is said to be "of unknown history," but I hope 
to throw some light upon the word. In his "Book of the 
Beginnings," Gerald Massey has this to say in defense of 
his derivation of it from phcenix: "The phoenix in each 
shape, whether of the dog, the ape, (Ben, Aan, Fan or 
An), or the various birds, was a type of return and 
periodic renewal. We have all these forms of the phoenix 
in the British Isles. The benen is represented by name 
in the Irish bunnan, a crane or heron ; the Gaelic punnan, 
a bittern; the fineun (Gaelic), a buzzard; the finniog, an 
Irish name for the royston crow ; and the faing, a raven. 
Therefore I claim the finch as a phoenix." 
The reader may accept this theory or not as he pleases. 
I myself believe "finch" to be an altered rendering^ of 
the sharp clinking notes uttered by these active little 
birds. The editor of the English adaptation of Bech- 
stein's "Chamber Birds," says that in its migration the 
chaffinch — 
"As brisk, as merry and as loved a bird, 
As any'in the fields and woodlands heard, 
"calls yack! yack! In the expression of joy, fink! fink! 
When excited by anger, a rapid fink ! fink ! fink I" Pink, 
Spink, twink, and flinch are names commonly heard in 
Great Britain. Any one of these might make the softer 
and more lasting word "finch." The fact that its nest, 
which is carefully concealed, is a dome-shaped, muff-like 
affair, entered through an obscure opening at the side, has 
put this bird into the phalHcal category _ of Mediseyal 
Europe, whence comes the Italian name pincione (allied 
to picus), which was originally a sound-word, and from 
which a trifling and customary change would make 
"finch." I have devoted so much space to what seems to 
me a very plain case, only because others have neglected, 
or professed themselves baffled by, the word. 
Our American representatives, the goldfinch (yellow 
color), housefinch (CaHfornia), and so forth, are obvious; 
as also are the names of the allied forms — grosbeak, cross- 
Jjill, redpoll and longspur, the last on account of its in- 
ordinately long hind toe, for it has no spur, properly 
speaking. Linnet is the diminutive of the obsolete linoce, 
and is often applied to our black-winged yellowbird, but 
it belongs properly in this country only to the Arctic 
JEgiothus, which visits us in winter; the word indicates 
a fondness for flax seed. 
The origin of "bunting" is said by the dictionaries to be 
unknown. It is certainly an ancient denomination. In 
1300 Wright wrote in his "Lyrick" — 
"Ich wold Ich were a threstelcok, 
A bounting or a lavercok." 
In Sussex "bunt" is a name for a kind of small fagots, 
and the brush-heaps are the favorite resort of this kind 
of sparrow, so that "the bird of the fagots" would be 
a proper enough and easily suggested name, like "bram- 
bling" (i. e., bramblebird) for a brother species. The 
Scotch vary the word into "buntlin," which is not far 
from bantling. Now bantling is only another form of 
bairnling, or little child; and the cradle song, 
"Bye, baby bunting, 
Father's gon' a-hunting," 
shows that such a change has in fact been made, and sug- 
gests how the pretty and familiar bird of every lane and 
field may have got its name out of affectionate regard. 
Best of all, however, I like the following explanation 
which came into my mind quite unprompted, but which I 
am pleased to find given as probable in the Hurrays' 
learned dictionary: Among country people, even now, a 
short-tailed, stocky chicken is called a "bunt," and has 
been from time immemorial. The buntings are round and 
plump compared with most other small song lairds, and 
"buntlin" or "bunting" (a diminutive of "bunt") I be- 
lieve to have been given in reference to this appearance. 
One of the British Provincial names of the common Eng- 
lish species is bunting-lark. 
"Sparrow" can be traced back to the earliest English, 
and literally means "a flutterer," from its jerky flight. 
The Uriited States has a host of varied sparrows, but 
none with remarkable local names except, perhaps, the 
-Zonotrichia albicolUs, or white-throated species. This 
sings so sweetly in its Canadian summer home as to be 
called "nightingale" in Quebec. In Labrador it is simply 
"chip bird," and in Nova Scotia "poor-Kennedy-bird." 
Prof. S. Matthew Jones says this commemorates the story 
of a man named Kennedy who was lost in the forest and 
heard the bird repeating this condolence. In the White 
Mountains everybody knows it as "Peabody bird." It is 
especially numerous in the Peabody Glen, where all the 
guide books call attention to it as one of the local attrac- 
tions, and whence, I believe, comes the popular name; 
but certainly its quavering notes might make those sylla- 
bles — "p-e-a-body-body" — and certainly did so to the ear 
of Starr King, who more than once alludes to the bird in 
this way in his "White Hills." Our familiar "chippy" 
is the "hairbird" of New England, because there horse- 
hair is now the principal material in its nest, which is a 
familiar object in every village garden. "Rosignol," the 
French-Canadian name of the song sparrow (and also the 
Louisiana Creole's name for the mockingbird), is a modi- 
fication of rosignor—LovA of the Rose— the Spanish name 
of the nightingale; and is given in each case not only 
m reference to the fine melody, but to the fact that both 
birds frequently tune up at night. 
"Chewink," "joree," "towhee," and so forth, are sound- 
names of the exclamatory pipilos; while "cardinal" (the 
scarlet Virginia redbird), "indigobird," "lazuli finch," etc., 
are suggested by the brilliant coats. 
Among icterine birds, the "bobolink" is noticeable for a 
great many local names; part, like "summerseeble" and 
bobolink" (fancifully expanded by Bryant into Robert 
o' Lincoln), derived from its song; another set, like 
reedbird" and "ricebird," testifying to haunts and food; 
a third, such as skunk-blackbird, describing its parti- 
colored dress; and a fourth, "ortolan" (West Indies), 
referring to the toothsome quality of its flesh. Ortolan 
IS a term often and always misapplied in this country. It 
properly belongs to an European finch highly esteemed in 
Italy for eating, and comes from the Latin hortus, a 
garden. "Oriole" also comes from the Latin, through the 
French, and refers to the prevailing golden yellow in the 
plumage of the family. Our Baltimore oriole, or "Balti- 
more bird," was so named by Linnaeus out of compliment 
to Lord Baltimore because the first specimen came to the 
naturalist from Maryland and bore in its plumage the 
heraldic colors, orange and black, of his Lordship's family 
•Hangnest," "hangbird" and "firebird" are synonyms 
which explain themselves. "Crackle" is another Latin 
name for the birds of the jay sort (which our grackles 
are not), and was undoubtedly a sound- word at the start 
The raven in many American Indian vocabularies has 
names directly imitated from its hoarse cry, such as the 
Creek kah-kee; but I believe our English word is from a 
root meaning to rob or "raven," in allusion to its nest- 
plundering habit. "Rook"— an English species— may or 
may not be thus acounted for, but it is a coincidence that 
to rook m thieves' jargon is to cheat, or to steal by 
cunning, but this may very likely refer to the bird 
Crow, on the contrary, as already mentioned, is a sound- 
word expressing the croak of its kind; just as "jay" 
drawlingly uttered, gives the cry of that bird, though ety- 
mologists seem to show conclusively that the word really 
means "gay," and combines in its sense both the gaudy- 
plumage and lively disposition characteristic of the race 
Whiskey- Jack," one of the many aliases of our northern 
and inquisitive Canada jay, is said to be a corruption of 
an Indian word imskashon. "Magpie" has a double name • 
the latter half, pie, which is generic (Latin pica) seems 
to come from the same root as several other bird'names 
the original sense of which was probably "the chirper'' 
This gave rise in Latin to the verb pip ere, and in Greek to 
J'^ir'\- A Margaret, and is given 
to the bird for the same reason, or no reason that the 
street sparrow is called "Jim" in London. One of tb« 
