358 
FOREST AND STREAM 
August, .1921 
BEAVER FOR ADIRONDACKS 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
T HE article on the restocking of the 
Adirondacks with beaver, printed in 
your April number, is a gratifying rec- 
ord for all outdoor people. Yet I wish 
Mr. Peck had given a little more de- 
tail as to where the Adirondack beaver 
actually came from. 
It is my recollection that the authori- 
ties of New York State appealed to the 
Interior Department to furnish them 
beaver from the Yellowstone Park to 
be used in restocking the Adirondacks 
and that the officials of the Yellowstone 
Park secured the services of T. Elwood 
Hofer, better known to old-timers as 
Billy Hofer — to capture these beaver. 
Mr. Hofer captured twenty or more 
beaver which were duly brought East 
and turned out at different points in 
the Adirondacks. I should have guessed 
that accounts of all this were printed 
in Forest and Stream soon after the 
planting of the beaver took place, 
which Mr. Peck says was fifteen or six- 
teen years ago. I feel very sure that 
the whole matter was recorded at the 
time; but it ought to be mentioned 
again in anything written about the 
return of the beaver to the Adiron- 
dacks, because men’s memories are 
short and details are so easily forgot- 
ten. Even Mr. Peck, in talking about the 
turning out of the beaver in 1905, says 
merely “a few pairs were turned loose.” 
Some day a wild life historian will 
wish to secure all the information he 
can about these events; and those who 
know anything about them ought to try 
to put them down in detail. 
Yo. 
HUNTING WITH THE ILONGOTS 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
T HE Ilongot tribe lives on the head- 
waters of the Cagayan de Isabela, 
the Nile of the Philippines. Next to 
the pigmies, commonly known as Negi- 
tos, this tribe has proven the most re- 
fiactory to civilization. The distinc- 
tion of the Ilongot warrior is that in- 
stead of taking the head of his fallen 
victim, he eats his heart. 
Enamo, chief of the Ilongots, had 
invited me for a hunt. I had had con- 
siderable experience in the jungle; 
therefor I did not hesitate to accept 
the invitation. 
Before the hunt started, I accom- 
panied Enamo down the river in a 
dugout. He inspected all the pools 
known to be infested by crocodiles. An- 
chored near the bank of each pool we 
found a raft made of eight bamboos 
about twelve feet long, and a howling 
deg tied to a tree on the bank about 
a hundred feet away. 
LETTERS, 
QUESTIONS 
AND ANSWER, 
Enamo explained to me that these 
precautions were necessary to save 
the quarry should it take to the water 
to escape the dogs. If the pursued 
deer should attempt to reach the water 
the tethered, howling dog would turn 
him, if not too closely pressed. In case 
the animal should break through the 
howling cordon, gaining the pool where 
it would be caught by the waiting croc- 
odile, the raft was ready to receive the 
hunters who would rescue the deer by 
prodding the crocodile with pole and 
lance. 
After we had visited the six big 
pools, we left the dugout to take to 
the jungle. The hunters with the dogs 
had been sent ahead to the crest of 
the mountain range skirting the river. 
We walked several miles up a creek, 
crossed a divide into another where 
our party waited. 
The pack of mangy dogs was un- 
leased. Before we had gone a quarter 
of a mile a deer started straight down 
the creek for the river. Neither the 
dogs nor the deer appeared to be in 
a hurry; they seemed to know what 
was going to happen. The dogs ran 
and barked. When they tired they 
stopped to lap water or to drop upon 
their haunches to emit an exceptionally 
vicious and bloodcurdling howl. The 
deer ambled along, increasing his speed 
whenever an exceptionally ambitious 
dog snapped near his heels. I was able 
to keep up with both the hunters and 
the hunted until we came in sight of 
the river. The deer gave a sudden 
spurt and was lost in the jungle. 
When we came to the river we found 
the dogs howling angrily from the bank 
about fifty feet from where the deer, 
with hindquarters submerged wildly 
thrashed the water with his front feet. 
A crocodile was trying to pull him un- 
der. One of the hunters carrying a 
lance leaped upon the raft while a sec- 
ond followed to steer with a long pole. 
The man with the pole manoeuvred the 
raft so as to avoid the thrashing hoofs 
and to permit his companion to thrust 
the crocodile from the rear. Once in 
oosition, the lance was thrust viciously, 
three or four times, into the water. 
The unseen crocodile released the deer 
to be killed before it could regain the 
bank. Neither the men on the raft 
nor the onlookers caught even a glimpse 
of the crocodile down in the depths. 
While a fire was being kindled, the 
carcass was opened. The liver and en- 
trails were cut up to be roasted on 
sticks or thrown into the flames. After 
the meal, Enamo ordered the carcass 
cut up and divided, without removing 
the skin. I had previously refused a 
portion, protesting that Americans 
considered venison “taboo.” 
It was now almost noon, the hunt- 
ers were fatigued — so was I- — all bleed- 
ing profusely from wounds made by 
leeches picked up in the damp forest. 
After we had returned to camp I asked 
Enamo why he had made no effort to 
kill the crocodile. After a moment of 
astonishment he asked me how I could 
expect a man to kill his grandparents. 
He held crocodiles sacred, a belief com- 
mon to most Orientals of the tropics. 
Geo. B. Bowers, California. 
THE CALL 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
H OW many of us in the towns 
and cities of New England know 
anything of the life that is lived only 
a couple of hundred miles away, up in 
the isolated districts of Maine. How 
few know anything about the life of the 
lumber jack, the trapper, the guide, or 
the fire warden. Little do we realize 
how closely these people are connected 
with our comfort and safety. 
When women go shopping to choose 
a new fur, how few of them dream of 
the tedious trapper’s trail, the crude 
trap, the bewhiskered trapper who car- 
ries Mr. Mink to his rough log camp. 
There the skin is stretched on rough 
sticks until spring, and the trapper 
bundles up his winter’s catch of furs, 
tramps many weary miles out to a set- 
tlement, where he looks upon one of his 
fellow men for the first time perhaps 
since earlv fall. 
When the sky in summer turns yel- 
low, and the pungent smell of smoke 
is everywhere, how few of us know of 
the worries of the fire warden who 
watches from his lonely tower day and 
night lest the fires get a foothold _n his 
section and race on to the homes of 
man, destroying our valuable reserves, 
sweeping homes and even whole towns 
away. 
If you are living entirely apart from 
these things; are wrapped up in your 
business until you have no time to think 
of a day off; if you do not know the 
taste of a trout fried on a stick; do 
not know of the sleep to be had on a 
spruce-filled bunk, it is high time you 
packed up a small bag and landed 
yourself into the woods way up in 
Maine and let the darkness of night 
settle down around you alone, by your 
self-made camp, your only companion a 
