78 
feed upon a long white moss which 
they dig up with their hoofs when the 
ground is covered with snow. We 
camped in the midst of an unbroken 
wilderness nearly a hundred miles from 
any human habitation. 
Although it was early October there 
was about a foot of snow, and the 
weather very cold. 
The second night was bright moon- 
light; not a breath of air stirring and 
the silence was so intense that it 
seemed weird and oppressive, bringing 
a feeling of terrible loneliness. 
Some time during the night our 
whole camp was suddenly aroused by 
cries that apparently came from quite 
a distance; such wails of agony I had 
never before heard and I hope never 
to hear again. No child lost in that 
dense wilderness could have so pathet- 
ically expressed its misery. Those cries 
have haunted me ever since. 
We were horror stricken to hear that 
rapidly repeated wail of some poor 
creature calling to God in its dire dis- 
tress. 
Our men turned out to investigate. 
I asked to have some one go at once 
and release the poor thing, whatever 
it might be; and two of the men start- 
ed out. On their return they reported 
that a hare had been caught by one of 
its fore feet in a snare that had been 
set the day before, and that this was 
a full quarter of a mile from the camp. 
The men had evidently “released” the 
creature — with a club ! — as we saw a 
Great Northern hare hanging in front 
of the camp next morning. 
The men also reported that as they 
reached the scene of the struegle a 
large Canada lynx quietly sneaked 
away. Those cries meant a dinner for 
him. Man is indeed cruel, but nature 
is far more so. 
John Fottler, Boston, Mass 
CAN YOU BEAT IT? 
C AN you imagine a man interested 
enough in fish to help stock a pond 
and then never walk half a mile to 
catch any of them? This is one of ' 
the best examples of pure philan- 
thropy I ever saw or learned about. 
About a mile inland from the summer 
resort of Grove Beach is a pond perhaps 
half a mile in length made by damming 
the Minunketesuck River. At the dam 
are the remains of an old mill where, 
fifty years ago, all the farmers used to 
bring their grain to be made into meal 
and flour. As a matter of fact grind- 
ing was done at the old mill until 
about twenty-five years ago. 
The pond and river below the dam 
are pretty well stocked with perch and 
pickerel and this is largely due to the 
fact that a number of small fish were 
placed in the pond by a man who is 
now well along on the down hill side 
of the trail, that leads to the long 
home. 
He is just the common type of man 
who has lived all his life on a small 
farm and very rarely has gone twenty- 
five miles from it, and whose life has 
been bounded and shaped by very nar- 
row confines and few interests or ac- 
tivities. 
One day a man, who is perhaps the 
OREST AND STREAM 
best fisherman in that locality, met the 
older resident who stopped him and in- 
quired as to what sort of a hook and 
line he needed to catch the fish in the 
pond and river. After getting the de- 
sired information he told him that 
thirty-eight years before he and an- 
other man had gone to a neighboring 
pond three miles away on two different 
occasions and had taken a number of 
small fish and brought them to this 
pond, called Chapman’s Mill Pond, and 
had released them in the water; and 
from that time until the day on which 
he purchased the fishing tackle he had 
not made an attempt to take any of the 
fish which his labors away back so 
many years before had made possible. 
E. G. Ruby, Connecticut. 
THE RIO PECOS 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
T HE Rio Pecos — River of Joy — flows 
south from its source in the North- 
ern part of New Mexico, and in its 
meanderings is cradled in the arms of 
beautiful mountains that lift towering 
peaks to kiss the cloud isles of sunlight; 
it is nursed in the lap of verdant plains 
making of it a most beautiful river of 
clear crystal water, as cold as the North 
Star in winter, and teeming with leap- 
ing life when warmed by the suns of 
summer. 
This beautiful stream is the mecca 
of all men who love the split bamboo, 
enameled line, and gut leader. If you 
are one of the ardent son’s of Saint 
Izaak, and love to wander among pleas- 
ant hills under beautiful skies of azure 
blue, and to be fanned by pleasant 
breezes at an altitude of eight thousand 
feet, then go to the Rio Pecos — the 
stream of many rapids and dark pools. 
The little town of Cowles, New Mexico, 
will welcome you and give you shelter. 
From there you can fish many streams. 
Jack creek and the Mora, and far up 
the mountainside there nestles a small 
lake, like a diamond in its setting, sur- 
rounded by tall pines and stately firs, 
that will yield many rainbow trout in 
season. From these streams no fisher- 
man should go away empty handed, for 
the creel may be easily filled in a few 
hours. 
The writer has often stood high on 
some boulder overlooking one of these 
deep, dark pools and watched dozens of 
these brown beauties lying quiet and 
still, gathering strength from the warm 
sunlight for the great battle to come, 
while below in the rapids they wait 
only for the gray or brown hackle to 
fall quietly on the water; and when it 
does fall a scintillating streak gleams 
in the sunlight; a short arm stroke and 
you hook him and the battle is on. 
Go with me down this beautiful 
stream some cool morning in August, 
when every chord of yo'&r being is at- 
tuned for the work. You can then live 
as only man can live who sees the 
handiwork of the Great Creator in all 
the beauties of nature. His surround- 
ings are such, in that far away quiet- 
ness, that his thoughts become pure and 
his soul at peace with all mankind. 
When the evening shadows have gath- 
ered, and the whippoorwill is heard on 
the hill, then, with his pipe and his 
February, 1921 
friends he can recount the days’ work, 
and call it good. 
The fishing grounds are easily reached 
by way of Glorieta, New Mexico, a 
small station on the A. T. and S. F. 
Railway; then by stage to Cowles, New 
Mexico, which is about twenty-eight 
miles inland. Care should be taken 
when employing a driver to see that 
you are not overcharged. The usual 
charge is from fifteen to eighteen dol- 
lars for auto for one or more; trunks 
extra. If more is asked one slvould seek 
service elsewhere. The stage from 
Cowles will meet the train when notice 
is given. A note to the postmaster is 
all that is necessary, stating number of 
passengers. 
In the words of Thaddeus Norris: 
“Thou who readest these lines perhaps 
you never caught a trout. If so, thou 
knowest not for what life was intended. 
Thou art a vain, insignificant mortal- 
pursuing shadows ! Ambition lures 
thee, fame dazzles, wealth leads thee 
on, panting! Thou art chasing spec- 
tres, goblins, that satisfy not. If thou 
hast not caught a trout, this world is 
to thee, as yet, a blank; existence is a 
dream. Go and weep!” 
J. E. Story, Texas. 
DUCKS AND WEATHER 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
I WANT to tell you of a curious ex- 
perience I had recently. While out 
with my Chesapeake Bay dog looking 
for ducks I came across a large slough 
that was literally black with Mallards. 
As it was early in the day I thought 
that if I quietly put them up I might 
have some splendid shooting. 
As I walked to the edge the ducks 
along the bank rose but settled near 
the other side. I went along the bank 
with scores of mallards within range 
but only old ones rose and none left 
the slough. My Chesapeake dog rushed 
onto the ice, making a great noise as 
he broke through the ice and ap- 
proached to within a rod of the raft 
of ducks but not one of them flew away. 
As they did not move he stood and 
looked at them and then turned back. 
Do you suppose he mistook them for 
decoys? 
As I walked along the bank I waved 
my arms and eventually picked up a 
stone and threw it along the ice among 
the ducks. A few got up and flew away 
but soon joined the main raft which 
was nearer the opposite bank. Besides 
the main raft there were two smaller 
ones and one small flock. 
A very heavy snow storm, with the 
largest snow flakes I ever saw, came on 
suddenly and I had to start for home. 
I wonder if the ducks could have sensed 
that a storm was coming and therefore 
decided to remain where they were. 
W. W. Lindley, Sask, Canada. 
A S this department of our paper 
forms a sort of clearing house for 
the interchange of ideas among sports- 
men we are always glad to hear from 
any of our readers who have had un- 
usual outdoor experiences or who may 
wish to express their ideas on subjects 
of interest to outdoorsmen . — [Editors.] 
