1§0 
in six nests and two of the parent birds by one cat in a 
day. Cats kill for the sake of killing, and destroy more 
birds than they can eat. They take a savage pleasure in 
playing with their prey, and torturing it in the most cruel 
manner. Cats are also more destructive than other atii- 
mals, because so much more abundant. 
A friend who was raising pheasants was obliged to kill 
Over 200 cats in a few years. Game birds suffer much 
from the cat, but the smaller birds suffer more. Cats are 
far more desttudtive to birds than the foxy for they climb 
trees and take the young out of the nests. They easily 
catch young birds which are just learning to fly. They 
frequently catch the adult birds upon the ground when 
they are feeding, or when they are' drinking or bathing. 
The most harmful characteristic of the Cat is its tendency 
to revert to a wild state. 
If a dog loses its master and Cannot find its home it 
seeks to form the acquaintance of a new master; but the 
cat is quite as likely to take to the woods and run wild. 
It then becomes a terror to all living things which it can 
master. Whoever turns out or abandons a cat or a kit- 
ten in the country has much to answer for. Proofs of 
the destructiveness of cats are not wanting. They were 
introduced on Sable Island, off the coast of Nova Scotia, 
about 1880. They ran wild, and, multiplying rapidly, ex- 
terminated the rabbits which had lieen in possession of 
the island for half a century.** 
On Aldabra Island, about 200 miles northwest of 
Madagascar, cats are common. They have decimated the 
birds, having exterminated a flightless rail, an interesting 
bird peculiar to this group of islands. Cats are also 
numerous on Glorioso Island, and, as a consequence, the 
birds on this island are even less common, than on 
Aldabra.f 
Dogs destroy comparatively few birds, but some dogs 
will eat every egg they can find. Some dogs catch and 
kill young and even adult game birds. Dogs, like cats, 
kill other animals for sport. They are not nearly so ex- 
pert at catching birds as cats, but they chase and molest 
birds even where they cannot catch them. 
**“The danger of introducing noxious animals and birds,” Dr. T. 
S. Palmer, Year Book of the United States Department of Agri- 
culture for 1898, pp. 89, 90. 
fProc. U. S. National Museum, XVI., 1894, pp. 762, 764. 
fOkESt ANt) STREAM. 
Robint Sparrow and Worm. 
Sayre, Pa., Aug. 25. — One of the pleasant incidents 
Gonneeted witil a recent brief outing at Ithaca consisted 
of obsefving, just at nightfall, a congregation of robins^ 
old and young, upon a close-mown lawn; I counted 
thirty-five robins with a considerable number of English 
Sparrows keeping them company. The robins hopped 
joyously about the velevty sward, stopping every two or 
three hops and tilting their heads comically to a listening 
attitude, which, upon the development of Certain “ground 
signs,” apparent only to their trained perceptions, was 
instantly followed by a hard thrust of the beak into the 
soil, then a lusty upward pull, with a Wriggling worm of 
substantial girth and length as a customary reward, 
Meanwhile, the marauding sparrows were not inactive, 
and at every least opportunity the sturdy Britishers would 
grapple with the loose end of the captive worms and put 
up the hardest Sort of a struggle for possession. As a 
result of their bulldog tenacity and impudent combative- 
ness, and a strength that appeared enormously out of pro- 
portion to their size, these natives of Johnnie Bull’s fog- 
wrapped isle were more often than not equal partakers 
with the redbreasts of the delectable morsels. My hostess 
informed me that the robins visit the lawn nightly, often 
in companies of fifty, and nearly always accompanied by 
a following of sparrows fighting for a share of the even- 
ing meal, M. Chill. 
Eyes That Shine in the Dark. 
Medlin, N. C., Aug. 5. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
About six years ago I wrote to you, in jest, a little com- 
ment on the old hunger’s saying that there are only two 
large mammals whose eyes will not shine by reflected 
light, namely, man and hog. 
I write now in earnest to report the case of a man 
whose eyes do “shine in the dark” like a cat’s. He is a 
Carolina mountaineer and neighbor of mine, Walt Proc- 
tor by name. His eyes are gray, the irises small, and the, 
pupils more sensitive, I think, than normal. He ha,s. a, 
nervous affection of the eyes, causing him to roll: them 
frequently and blink. His ordinary expression is starmg. 
When sitting in a dark room I have seen his eyes flare 
as a lamp approached, precisely as the eyes of a deer pr 
a cat will shine under such ciroumstanees, 
HOMcp Kippart. 
(Sift. 2, 1905. 
gThe Real Old Florida Mosqoitc. 
The yacht Mystery, Capt. Charles Meloy, with Engt 
neer W. J. Krome^ and others of the Florida East Coas 
Railway extension operations aboard, returned to por' 
yesterday afternoon from the lower coast where the! 
have been for the past week or ten days. The Mysterj 
came directly through from West Key with the exCep 
tion of a few stops yesterday at the various Camps o:‘ 
Key Largo and Long Key. j 
In speaking of the trip Captain Meloy said that til: 
mosquitoes were so bad that they dared not go ashob 
at any of the camps, but had to anchor in the strear 
while boats from the shore came out to them. The' 
burned ten pounds of insect powder on the trip up, an 
had to keep the boat closed and screened to keep out th,| 
pests, that literally filled the air. j 
The men at the camps are protected as much as pos.| 
sible with screen and '.smudges, huge fires and smokes be| 
ing burned all the time in order that the men can pursu| 
their- work of grading. Old settlers announce withbni 
hesitation that the mosquitoes are the wmrst this yea.l 
that they have ever been, and they predict that there wil 
be no relief unil the fall hurricanes set in. — Miami (F!a,'| 
Metropolis, Aug. ig. ' ' [ 
Cabia Blanco. .d 
Rome, Ga., Aug. 21. — Editor Fqf,est and Stream: wa ' 
with deepest regret that I reafji m.' your last number 0 
the death of Cabia Blanco, l.'had learned to search op 
his contributions and read- them ' first, knowing that ■ t 
would find them both., inte.resting and instructive'.. 
Some twenty yeays later .than the time of his; narrative, 
it was my g.p'qd- fortiinL'tq' spencji sqyeral' years in tlj 
West, a Ip.ger,, part, of , thjs, tipie.'was.- s,pep't{ aynong the veti* 
scenes of- his storips, and- that lact has mad'e them doublij 
interesting to me. I kng,w enough of the times and coub 
try, of,' which, he, wrote, to, say that his description of tL 
■\yeat, its people and their life, was most true. I sir'i 
cerely hope that Fqrest AND Stream has a reserve sbhl 
of his wrjtinp, which they will continue to publish-^ ‘ 
With h§st wishes for the continued success o.f^ ygd i 
Spiehd'id paper. J. W. FIfvbvEyy.,f 
[We have several unpublished manuscrip.tg^ qf/ Cab' 
Blanco’s, which we shall print in forthcombig, nuaVbers 
A Day with the Pheasants. 
Tom and I have always been close friends. Referring 
to this not long ago, Tom, who is a stenographer in the 
office of a cement company, said that our friendship was 
“cemented.” 
For many years we have hunted together, and we never 
failed to have a good time. We are no game hogs noi; 
pot hunters, therefore we are not chagrined when dur 
hunting coats do not bulge out with a,n abundance of 
game. Since we understand each other almost to perfec- 
tion, and know full well wliat constitutes true sportsman- 
ship, we can feel satisfied if a day’s hunting riets 110 m,orq 
than- a single bird, of rabbit, or squirrel. 
' Long before the season opened last fall both Tom 
and 1 were taken with the gunning fever. There was 
ilOthirtg but think hunting, talk hunting, and write hunt- 
ing. ’ The days seerried to pass by exceedingly slow. But 
lastly, the woods ' began to take on their autumn robes 
and looked, as if there had been poured upon them from 
large pitchers great quantities of richest hues. The gray 
autumnal haze rested along the hills, and ever and anon 
could be heard the distant but clear call of the Bob 
White. One morning frost was on the “punkin,” the 
corn and the grass. Our hunting blood began to course 
faster through our veins, and fancy and imagination run- 
ning riot held before our mental eyes scenes galore of 
stubble, heath and forest where the quail would run, the 
rabbit bound and the pheasant drum on an old log. 
For several years Tom and I had taken our hunting 
trips to a somewhat wild section about twenty-five milea 
north of here, where relatives of mine reside. The jilace 
has been always alluring to us, and, although we never 
secured much game there, we always came away with 
something, and with minds made up to go there again. 
So of course last fall we decided to visit the “old camp- 
ing ground,” as Tom delights to call it. The long looked 
for day finally arrived. With full hunting paraphernalia 
I repaired to Tom’s house, and we prepared everything 
for the great “shoot” on the morrow. We counted our 
shells and jokingly remarked what this or that shell 
would bring down. Guns were examined to see that they 
were all right, so if we would miss we could not lay the 
blame on the weapons. We turned in at ii o’clock for a 
few hours’ sleep, and promptly at 2 the alarm clock, not 
a foot away from my head, began drumming away for 
dear life. Sleepy as I was, at first impulse I felt like 
knocking it over, but I quickly realized that it meant us 
good and did just what it was expected to do. 
When I nudged Tom in the ribs with my elbow he evi- 
dently thought, in his half-awakeness, that I had spied 
game, for he sleepily said : “Did you find him ?” 
While I fed the horse Tom prepared lunch. That hav- 
ing been disposed of we loaded our guns, coats and shells 
on the buggy, hitched up and were off. The early morn- 
ing air was brisk and bracing. The frost sparkled in the 
bright silvery moonlight that lit up hill and vale. Sev- 
eral times rabbits bounded across the road, and we were 
almost tempted to get our guns out. 
We had to cross a high mountain, and when we came 
to the foot of it Tom and I alighted to lighten the load 
for old “Doll.” As we trudged along Tom said: “Kill- 
deer (Tom always calls me that, though I never shot a 
deer) do you remember that song we used to sing years 
ago, ‘When Up the Mountain Climbing?’ ” J s,ai;d: I 
and there in the stillness of the bright m,opn;bgbt pighL 
with the wide valley lying peacefufly a.t guf fget,, T'P-Ih 
I burst forth in song. The fluet that taps guj op ibp 
night air, that leaped ftfom c^a^ to pregipiG-e, pnfl that 
echoed and re-echoe^ from mountain (g yafley, would 
have graced many a stage. 
We traveled about gjgltt miles on the other side of the 
mountaip and by dawn had reached our destination. The 
horse lyas put away, and we were taken to a steaming 
breakfast, for which the long ride in the brisk morning 
air had given us good appetites. When breakfast was 
over it did not take us long to don our hunting togs and 
shoulder our guns. We had no dogs, since neither of us 
owned any, and to shoot over a strange dog does not 
work well. 
We made our way to a stubble field behind the bam, 
and when we came to the end of it a big rabbit jumped up 
not more than ten yards ahead of us. He took but three, 
or four bounds before Tom laid him low. As I pickedj 
him up, I made a remark that proved true afterwards. 
“Let us look him well over, it might be the only- gpe. \ye. 
get.” We worked out a number gf fields without fjndr 
ing anything, and came to, a little, wgofls. 'Vye hpardi tbiC. 
bark of a squirrel, and as I sneaked around to locatg ift, 
I almost stepped on a rabbit. As. it ran away I gntptted 
a shell at him but missed. I sa.w the squirrelj, shat at it, 
and thought I saw it drop. But it disappeared on the 
other side of the trunk, and I have not seen it to this day. 
We trudged a.ll the rest of the morning without seeing 
fur or feather. We returned to our host’s for a sumptu- 
ous dinner of buckwheat cakes and fresh sausages. Talk 
about your meals at Delmonico’s.' This dinner of ours 
beats those all hollow; While we held an impromptu 
smoker and related our morning’s work our host told us 
of a wood of young pines where we might possibly find 
pheasants. We heeded the suggestion and went there. 
As we crossed an old log bridge over a small creek there 
suddenly darted out from under the bridge a pheasant 
whose whir-r-r as it sailed up the valley I can hear yet 
to this day. 
After half an hour’s tramping we came to the pine 
woods. As we entered we saw several grapevines, and 
concluded, on examination, that it was a feeding place for 
pheasants. We kindly thought the birds might not be far 
away, and while we stood there planning what course to 
take, a pheasant whirred out from a small pine. We both 
fired, somewhat alternately. Tom had the last shot and 
the bird dropped. It was a nice pheasant, so plump and 
so beautifully marked. “Almost a pity to shoot it,” re- 
marked Tom, as he let it drop into his pgckH. 
I left Tom, and by a circuitous way reached the farther 
end of the woods. I looked carefully on every pine tree 
expecting to see a pheasant somewhere. Suddenly one 
flew out of a small spruce right at my feet. I sent the 
right barrel after if but missed. As the bird circled and 
crossed an opening of an old wagon road I gave the 
pheasant the left barrel and it came down. The report 
of my shooting had started another bird, which' flew 
through the woods toward Tom and close enough to him 
that he shot it on the first try. I wriggled around under 
the low pines for almost an hour without seeing any 
more game. Everything was quiet in Tom’s direction. I 
sat down on the soft pine needles which covered the 
gr-gund fg fb© depth of half an inch, eondluded 
mi rest. I drew my bird fror ^ pocket and w| 
V-gve-iing in my luck when I he-^y^ again r il 
far away. I looked in the dire^^^^^o.^, of the sound and s:|| 
a bird alight hardly fifteen yL.^a a^way. 1 rose, craned if 
neck every which way tg_ a good look at the hi’’ 
when off it flew. Up 'ffiy gun, and hang, bang, ( 
bird was mine, Toroj^wa^ ijiow making his way towal 
me, and started two. hir 4 a out of a pine. He brought 0 
of them down, an,4i 1] nursed the other as it flew past n 
We sat down and; started to rehearse our adventur 
We had five jiheasants, a,U big, plump birds. Pipes w« i) 
lit and the-, smoke, from,; them encircled our heads. \ .j 
drank in t)^e fragrance of the sweet pine odors, and gai 1 
ered in^ nature as our hearts desired. Thus we sat theii 
for pernaps. half an ho.trr, till the cool shadows began :1 
fad dyer, the valley and hillside. ^ 
“We.ll, old boy,” said Tom, as he slapped me on t|i 
knee, ‘'I guess we have to be going.” I nodded ass.®-!- 
anfli^ as. I scrambled to my feet I noticed Tom’s. t._l 
striaighf figure standing aside of me, rigid, and hia^ g’ 
slowly coming up to his shoulder. His big blaak-; eyr. 
werg bcwwig. I stepped behind him, and peepjed' o\'^'-' 
hijs gun. Way off, probably eighty yards, there was j 
pheasant sitting on a tall pine. “To far, Tam,” I wh 
pered. But he made no answer. The ©ext moment 1 
fired, and the bird dropped. We ram up and: found:'? 
dead. A single pellet of No. 4 shot had' entered the.' bin'H 
head and killed it. :rl 
We started back through an old wagon road. ‘V't' 
noticed a grapevine some fifteen yards in from the pa J 
and we said simultaneously, “There might be a pheasan, i 
We approached slowly and carefully, and saw two pheai^ 
ants sitting on the vine picking off the grapes. I was ’j( 
take the one on the right and Tom the other one. I ' 
counted up to two when off flew the pheasants. Tonq' 
went to the right and mine took a bee-line away frcil 
ns. Tom dropped his with the second barrel, and I 111 
mine but did not kill it. We hustled in the direetiiji 
where we thought we saw it come down, but had lo hu'( 
about twenty minutes before we found it, when I kill'fid.'" 
It was growing dusk and we hurried back to the Hous 
Our host had fed our horse, and a supper awaited us. ( 
course we were too hungry to say “no” to that. Half 
hour later we were on our way home, with hunting fev 
somewhat abated, and wishing many returns of such; 
happy day. George Franklin Kunkel. 
It Will Interest Them, 
To Each Reader; 
If you find in the Forest and Stream news or discussions 
intere.st. your friends and acquaintances who are fond of out-do 
life will probably also enjoy reading it. If you think of any wi 
would do so, and care to send them coin cards, which, when t 
turned with a nominal sum. will entitle them to one short-tir 
“trial trip,” we shall be glad to send you, without cost, co^ 
cards for such distribution, upon receiving from you a post 
card request. Or, the following blank may be sent: 
Forest and Stream Publishing Co., 
346 Broadway, New York. 
Please send me Forest and Stream Co- 
Cards to distribute to friends. 
Name 
Address 
SUte. 
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(M\] 
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