SIO 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tOcl. 14, 1505’. 
Man vs. Nature 
And Other Random Notes. 
“The proper study of mankind is man,” sang the poet 
Pope, and from a worldly point of view this is true 
enough, but we would have expected a larger view from 
a poet. If Pope had said, the proper study of mankind 
is nature, it would have been more worthy of him. But 
then, to be sure, the rhyme would have been lost, and 
that with poets is no trihing matter. With some modern 
ones, indeed, it is all important. (By the way, there ap- 
pears to be no rhyme for nature. Perhaps it is because 
it is unique.) 
However, the study of man— be it said without mis- 
anthropy — is attended with much pain and disillusion- 
ment, while that of nature rarely brings aught but joy 
and satisfaction. It is a pity this is not more generally 
understood. Perhaps not one in e\ery thousand of our 
population ever tries to cultivate an acquaintance with 
nature. To do so they think would be a sign of senti- 
mental weakness, and anyhow “there is no money in it !” 
I was returning a book on ornithology to the library a 
short time ago. “I suppose,” said the young lady at- 
tendant with a slightly ironic smile, “you read this in 
the park ?” 
“Ho,” I answered, “I read it at home, but it trans- 
ported me to the park.” 
“Really? Isn’t the park lovely? I was there last Sun- 
day morning. But it was awful lonesome, somehow. 
"Why is it, I wonder, more people don’t go to it on Sun- 
day morning?” 
I ventured to suggest that perhaps it was because they 
preferred to study the birds and flowers on their neigh- 
bors’ hats at church. At this the young lady cast a look 
of reproach at me, and no doubt privately adjudged me 
a perfect cynic. This reminds me, I was in the park the 
other evening with a friend. Although so late in the sea- 
son the air was almost sultry, and we found it more com- 
fortable to sit down than to walk. Strange to say, there 
was not a katy-did to be heard. I think katy prefers a 
“snappy” atmosphere in which to play her castanets. 
But at all events she has been very quiet this fall, al- 
though last year she made the woods resound. My 
friend and I were discussing this and other kindred 
themes when we saw tw'o boys approach, one with a 
lantern and the other with a tin pail. They left the walk 
presently and bending over the grass began to search 
about. Every now and then the boy with the lantern 
would pick up something and throw it into the pail. 
“What in the world are they gathering?” I said to my 
friend. “It cannot be nuts, for it is too early.” We got 
up and went over to the searchers. 
“What are you gathering, boys ?” I asked, full of 
curiosity. 
“Worms” (or more strictly “woims”), said the chap 
with the lantern. 
And as he said so he yanked a big wriggler out of the 
ground and dumped it into the pail. Then he went mov- 
ing along with his lantern, scrutinizing the ground. 
“How do you see them?” I asked, for I applied my 
eyes in vain. 
“See dat feller — see ’im shine,” quoth the searcher. 
But I declare I could not (which reminded me sadly 
how much sharper eye a boy has than a man)._ 
“How long does it take you to fill the pail?” I inquired 
then. ; . 
“Oh, I don’t know t’ night,” was the answer,^ “but if it 
was rainin’ we’d fill it quick enough, all right.” 
“And the worms,” I said; “do you use them your- 
selves?” . „ 
“No, fadder does; he goes fishin’ for eels off the piers. 
My friend and I were astonished. Here was a method 
of gathering bait that we had never before Hfeard of. It 
appeared to me so vastly more_ scientific than the old 
method of digging that I determined to send an account 
of it to Forest and Stream. 
The leaves are now beginning to turn rapidly, though 
many of them have not fallen, September having been 
remarkably free from wind storms. Anyone who would 
feast his eyes could not do better than visit the Bronx 
woods during one of these golden October days. I think 
those woods offer a greater variety of color_ than any 
around New York. This may be my imagination, but at 
any rate, they are beautiful, and the river which flows 
through them (reminding one here and there of one of 
Cooper’s or Longfellow’s romantic Indian -haunted 
streams) adds not a little to their beauty. Talking of 
leaves, if the visitor is curious after gazing at those on 
the trees he will visit the Botanical Museum and there 
behold their prototypes in stone— fossils, whose age com- 
pared with the leaves on the trees is as a day to a hun- 
dred thousand years. _ 
From the Bronx woods it is but a step to the Zoo, ana 
the temptation to take this is nearly always irresistible. 
For there is always something new or something to be 
learned in the Zoo. The last time I was there, as I stood 
before the big flying cage, I was the witness of a striking 
scene. 
It was the feeding hour, and a basin of fish scraps had 
been placed for the cranes. A couple of these were re- 
galing themselves when along comes a little jungle cock 
{Callus bandiva) and his mistyess. He was evidently 
moved by a desire to sample what was in the basin, for 
without a word of warning, so to speak, he made a drive 
at the larger of the two cranes. The big bird showed 
resentment, turning around savagely, but the midget 
“rooster” shot out his head, ruffed his neck feathers 
and valiantly stood his ground. Then ensued a remark- 
able fight. The crane tried to spear his antagonist with 
his formidable bill, but the other was too quick, dodging, 
skillfully, and before the crane could recover for another^ 
drive the bantam had sprung at him, hitting him vicious-' 
ly in the breast with his spurs. The end came in a 
minute. The crane set up a pitiful squawking and then 
incontinently turned and fled. The victor, after sampling 
the contents of the dish (needless to say the other crane 
made no objection), and not finding them to his taste 
went strutting about until he came to where the condor 
was making his evening meal. Without a moment’s hesi- 
tation he marched right under the monarch’s nose, 
pecked at the raw meat, and then disdainfully marched 
off. Like Captain Kedgick, I could only “stand and ad- 
mire” at this unexampled pluck and impudence. 
Among the interesting new arrivals in the bird house 
are some bleeding heart pigeons. One cannot gaze at 
the coloration which has given this bird its name with- 
out receiving a painful shock. But how to account for 
the coloration? It is too absolutely like a real wound — 
a terrible dagger wound — to be merely fortuitous. There 
must be some strange history of evolution back of it, and 
while speculating vainly on this we feel vaguely as if we 
were in the shadow of some ancient tragedy so cruel 
that it will not down. Francis Moonan. 
New York, October, 1905. 
The Biography of a Bear. — IV, 
I BELIEVE some sage scribe has written to the effect 
that man likes mystification, amusement and consolation 
rather than instruction. If it is not so written I would 
have it here set down. Mankind will read and ponder 
over such books as the Bible, Milton, Bunyan and 
Swedenborg, and so on, while he will shy at the solid 
wisdom more directly applied by Darwin, Voltaire, 
Robert G. Ingersoll, the encyclopedias and Mark Twain. 
No; man is not fond of wdsdom unless it be such as 
he can use to temporary advantage in commercial and 
social transactions. If he really was honorably disposed 
toward the pallid goddess he would break away from 
towns and cities and avoid the politic convocations of 
his elders and approved good masters. Without his lik- 
ing for the mysterious and the humorous, his favorite 
hobbies — church, state and social travesties would dis- 
appear. Probably he would become only semi-gregarious 
and scatter like deer and bears. It is true, these animals 
sometimes convene, but they establish no permanent 
places of congestion. Their only science is that of living. 
They have no sense of humor until they come in colli- 
sion with mankind and become perverted. 
These humorous capers of man are threatening 
him. They have caused trouble in the past. His 
very gregariousness and continuity is fatal to his 
prolonged existence. Already his counsellors intimate 
chl( roform as an admirable quietus for those reaching 
maturity, or comparative maturity — a ready means for 
curding rebellious blood and infected tissue. Concen- 
trated energy, reacting upon itself in a kind of friction 
and erosion, in such popular refuges as Paris, London 
and New York, shakes the fabric of imaginary human 
supremacy until the world totters. This is a condition of 
affairs that I am not wholly responsible for. I would 
not admit it if I was. If I did I cannot see that it would 
be of any advantage to speak of, for some capitalist 
would get a patent over my caveat before I could get 
shares on the market. It wouldn’t pay. 
However, when the bear, Dick, Enochs and myself 
awoke and got out of the foxtail hay in Blodgett’s barn, 
about noon, we w^ere comparatively miserable. The 
place was almost ready to catch fire from the sun, which 
blazed away at Basin Hollow as though that little cup in 
the bald hills was its favorite focus. ' Hot, dry, dusty, 
full of “stickers” from the hay, and hungry, we were 
almost annoyed, surely irritated. Even Jack was out 
of line, and sat looking at us with an expression of dis- 
appointment. I at once took off his collar and chain and 
let him loose while we prepared some breakfast, details 
of which I kindly omit. 
When Jack was released he went on a tour of inspec- 
tion about that old barn. After a little we heard a good 
deal of commotion and other distui'bances. From some- 
where about Jack had ousted about a thousand hogs, a 
flock of several hundred tame turkeys, some horses, cat- 
tle and probably other things. I failed here to get a 
record for my phonographic purposes, and my apparatus 
for collecting moving pictures had not yet arrived. This 
was a loss to the public — if not an irreparable loss it is 
only because the public is unimaginative and entirely 
ignorant of things of which it has no. knowledge. 
A large assortment of the hogs, after circling the barn 
and making infernal noises, all headed in toward center 
and commenced a series of porcine evolutions that were 
absolutely enervatingv They were mainly old sows and 
pigs and boars, and if they were not the wild article, the 
degree of domesticity they had reached was not con- 
spicuous. For variety of noise and terrifying poses of 
ferocity perhaps no congregation of animals on earth 
could compare with them, except in the jungles of Wall 
Street. Mixed in with them was a horde of turkeys, 
mostly gobblers, wearing their whiskers rather low down 
■for tenderness, either anatomic or otherwise. Beyond, 
and all gathering to the common center, which was us, 
came bellowing cattle of all degrees of size and tempera- 
ment, nursing up their fury for whatever they should 
find in our vicinity. From all over Basin Hollow things 
like these were to be seen coming our way, squealing, 
bellowing, twisting their tails and tossing hoofs, heads 
and horns. The undulating field was alive with them. 
Jack had never before found any hogs, turkeys or cat- 
tie of the range brand. In the first moments of his dis- 
iT cDvery he was delighted and curious. In a few moments 
he was affrighted, and only acting curiously. _ At the 
charge of about sixty-six old sows and a swarming host 
,Mof hogs of other gender and caliber, turkeys gobbling, 
® and cattle coming rapidly to the fore, he began a retreat 
ffthat was notable for its close application of tactics that 
lead to exclusion, where there is any. vHis notion of 
safety, under the circumstances, after being flanked and 
forced to dance the Highland fling around the wagon, 
was to come to us, bringing the army of the enemy upon 
our works. Our outer ramparts and defenses were in a 
ruinous state of neglect, and we found it expedient to 
get up high, as high up as possible, with a unanimity that 
was distinctly noticeable — if not spontaneous. After 
some desperate reverses we severally, and by different 
methods, succeeded in reaching the summit of the haj% 
but _ it was so flimsy and unstable, not nearly as high 
as it had seemed — that we reached for the beams and 
rafters of the barn as offering more positive fixity and 
elevation. 
In the art gymnastic Jack was pre-eminent. He went 
up an upright pole, grasped a dangling rope and 
swarmed up that to a tie beam in about two instants and 
a fraction. Getting to that perch he sat up on it with 
dignity and complacency, while he watched our slower 
but anxious efforts. He seemed to be puzzled as to what 
we were trying to do, and as to why we didn’t do it. 
Although the places of vantage we at last attained were 
not luxurious we were not as particular as common. We 
didn’t get up for comfort exclusively, more for altitude, 
and we had a much better and safer chance to appreciate 
the entertainment offered us by a circus, full of variety. 
^^fter a little Enochs, who “was the most ponderous 
member of our acrobatical contingent, shifting about 
astride a square timber at a considerable elevation, a 
perch that was not as easy as a rounder one (like the 
beam I had), said: 
“Say, Dick, can you reach me my rifle?” 
“Not from here,” replied Dick, apprehensively. 
“What do you want to do with it ?” I questioned. 
“Do with it ! Do ? I want to do that bear up there. 
I’ll spoil that grin of his!” 
Under the conditions prevalent at that time, and com- 
ing from Enochs, this declaration was rather cheerful. 
Dick laughed until it was, with difficulty that he clung to 
salvation. From the open sides and ends of the barn we 
had a fairly good view' of the main features of the per- 
formance going on in the arena below and around us. 
Cattle, hogs, turkeys and our owm horses were now 
doing indescribable evolutions and creating a resounding 
uproar. The hills echoed it back with remarkable 
phonetic variety of tone and distortion. My saddle horse, 
Billy, seemed to be a star performer, and after kicking 
a few hogs with a talent that was praiseworthy, he was 
prancing about in alternate charge and retreat with a 
formidable steer. Animals had gathered from all quar- 
ters of the field until I think we had a round-up of about 
all of Mr. Blodgett’s live stock, together with all those 
astray in the vicinity from neighboring ranches. 
Perhaps no animal so arouses and terrifies hogs, cat- 
tle, horses and mules as does a bear. In this instance 
the entire animal population of the range had rushed 
with common impulse to the barn, when the hogs and 
turkeys sounded the alarm, but as some of them began 
to .scent bear they showed symptoms of dismay. Hogs 
began to collect their forces into separate clans, and old 
sows with their squealing litters could be seen breaking 
ranks. Soon, the pigs in advance, with the old . ones cov- 
ering the retreat, they began to scurry away from there 
with a haste that increased as they gained distance. We 
could see them making black lines over the yellow hills 
for more than a mile, and they were still reaching out far 
beyond. The cattle retired more slowly, but by the time 
we saw fit to get down into the barnyard they had de- 
parted, the herd headed by an old bull that had decided 
to go away somewhere. I do not believe the barn was 
ever after as popular with hogs of that generation as it 
had been, and doubtless the cattle viewed it for some 
time with suspicion. Whatever had become of the tur- 
keys was a problem. When we thought to look for them 
they had entirely disappeared. 
As we descended from the elevated places Enochs be- 
came tangled with a projecting nail, and in an endeavor 
to> clear for action he dropped from his beam a little pre- 
maturely, leaving a portion of his shirt aloft — a white 
flag of truce. In his descent he went head first into the 
hay like a harpoon — a rather thick one. When he came 
to surface I offered consolation by saying gently, “Who 
am I ! Whah am I ? W’y, this place is no mo’ fit for a 
deepo’ in spite of—” etc. Although he was no student of 
Shakespeare he exclaimed with passable energy : 
“Tho’ it be not now, yet it will come.” 
“What will?” 
“R-r-r-retribution ! And I feel as though I will have a 
good deal to to with it. That bear ’ll hear something 
drap. Look at him 1” 
Jack wasn’t doing a thing out of the way, but was 
solemnly climbing into the wagon and then stood waiting 
for us to move on. After taking a series of observations 
from the corners of the barn, trees and fence posts he had 
decided that he wanted a change of scene. He was tired 
of’ the monotony there, where there had been no dis- 
turbance for some moments. 
When we stopped at Blodgett’s house he asked us in- 
quisitively what the matter had been over at the barn. 
He had seen or heard commotion there, although it was 
a mile away. We evaded details. I merely said: 
“You have a fine lot of hogs, Mr. Blodgett. About a 
thousand of them isn’t there?” 
“No, oh my, no; only about a hundred and fifty.” 
“A lot of fine turkeys, too.” 
“Yes. My wife says they flew clear over to Sharons’ 
a while ago. Don’t know what scared them. They must 
have flown a mile and a half or further.” 
Even if I did know the cause of the turkey flight, I re- 
flected that I was not sure of it, so I saw no policy in re- 
calling Mr. Blodgett’s attention to him. After customary 
parley we set out upon our way to higher ground. The 
road shimmered like a steam boiler with radiating waves' 
of heat. Grasshoppers and locusts buzzed in our ears 
their everlasting accompaniment to blistering tempera- 
