Feb. 20, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
289 
No sooner did we begin collecting the meat 
than the Canada jays found it out. They came 
in pairs, until there were many of them about 
the cabin. It seems the especial prerogative of 
the entire jay tribe to be saucy and the Canada 
bird becomes actually impudent. He is the most 
bare-faced robber on earth. Later that winter, 
when the meat was frozen solid, these birds did 
not scruple to dart into the shed and make away 
with pieces that were being cut from the hams 
with an axe. Whenever my husband went to 
chop the meat one perched on the ridge pole. 
With head on one side, the bird would watch 
until a scrap of meat fell, when it would dart 
down, seize it and fly swiftly away. His place 
was taken by another, who in turn gave place 
to yet another. I think they really kept account 
of their turns as children do in play. It was 
hardly play for them, 
though; it was stern 
reality with a starvation 
annex. 
The Snow God was 
good to us that winter. 
He did not arrive until 
we had everything ar¬ 
ranged. Then, one morn¬ 
ing, we awoke to find 
that he had been there 
in the night. The earth 
was covered, the great 
old trees weighted with 
a heavy fall of snow. It 
came unheralded. Not 
even a sigh of wind be¬ 
tokened its arrival. It 
was still snowing when 
we arose. To us, who 
were unaccustomed to a 
life such as this, the scene 
was just a little gloomy. 
Without a human dwell¬ 
ing to break the 
monotony, the landscape 
looked forlorn and the 
trees assumed a hundred 
fantastic forms. They 
impersonated all the 
ghosts and goblins of every nursery tale that 
I had ever heard or read. 
The traps now were to be set and baited. As 
soon as daylight came my husband set out on 
his task. He was to be away all day and per¬ 
haps far into the night. I watched him bind 
on his heavy arctics over German socks, helped 
him tuck the yarn muffler inside his Mackinaw 
jacket, saw him sling his bundle of traps and 
bag of bait over his shoulder and tramp away 
into the forest. As he faded from sight I could 
not repress a slight shudder, nor could I refrain 
from watching all day at the little window for 
him to return. He carried no weapon save a 
stout short-handled axe. This was swung to 
his belt and it was really a formidable weapon 
in case of need. Mr. Roberts had advised him 
not to carry arms when on his trap trail, and 
experience proved the advice good. 
Dusk came and still my husband did not come 
and I grew frantic with anxiety. Then dark 
closed down and the old trees looked more 
ghostly than ever. The stillness of these higher 
mountains in the winter is something terrible. 
It is so intense that it is audible. I do not know 
whether or not you can understand what I mean. 
I would have given words for even the stamping 
of our exiled wood rat. Just before I was ready 
to start out in search of him he came blunder¬ 
ing through the snow. He had had a hard day, 
but was happy and—hungry. How glad it made 
me to see him eat. The traps were all set and 
we remained up late that night planning the 
winter’s work. 
I must now beg permission to tell incidents 
as they come to me without regard to their se¬ 
quence. There was, of course, much of same¬ 
ness about out life in the Bitter Roots that win¬ 
ter and only now and then things happened to 
relieve that sameness. One that occurs to me 
was the visit of a mountain lion. My husband 
came in one evening from the trail and said 
that a mountain lion had been over the trail in 
advance of him. At one time the footprints 
OFF FOR A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 
From a photograph by Clarence L. l^arker. 
were so recent that small particles of snow were 
yet falling down from the edges, showing that 
the animal had only just passed. I knew less 
of these animals then than I now do, so this 
information gave me much concern. It was 
growing dusk when my husband came in, and 
it soon grew quite dark. The moon was at the 
full, though, and before bed time the forest was 
nearly as light as daj^ We were reading be¬ 
fore the fire when there came the most terrible 
scream from out the forest depths. There was 
a minute of silence; then it came again, nearer 
than before. One did not need to be told that 
the animal was a mountain lion. No other 
creature could produce such a sound. The next 
time it came the sound was so near that the 
cabin actually trembled with the vibration. My 
husband seized his rifle and stepped to the door. 
Before opening it, however, he told me to ex¬ 
tinguish the light, and stepping lightly out into 
the shed in front, he peered into the woods. It 
was very light, but at the same time very diffi¬ 
cult to see the tawny body of our nocturnal 
caller. I could not stand the suspense of wait¬ 
ing and followed my husband. Together we 
stood within the shadow of the shed roof and 
watched, straining our eyes into the forest. The 
great cat must have scented us, for all was 
silence. After several minutes—hours it seemed 
to me—we heard the sound of tearing bark; the 
animal was climbing a tree. We watched there 
until we were chilled, but he did not reappear. 
No sooner had we returned to the cabin than 
he once more gave vent to his horrible scream. 
That was the last we heard of him that night. 
The next day was one on which my husband 
did not need to visit the traps. He remained in 
and about the house all day. When the evening 
shadows began to fall he took the remnant of 
a quarter of venison and nailed it to the trunk 
of a tree a hundred yards or more from the 
house, but in plain view from the shed. I have 
heard it stated that mountain lions will not eat 
any food except that killed by themselves, but 
if that be the rule, this 
one proved it by being 
the exception. It grew 
dark, and before the 
moon rose we heard 
him coming over the 
hill on the opposite side 
of the little lake. He 
crossed the lake on the 
ice screaming at in¬ 
tervals as he did the 
night previous. As he 
neared the house he 
became suspicious and 
circled round it several 
times. 
All this required time, 
and by the time he had 
finally decided to risk the 
bait the moon was shin¬ 
ing over the treetops, 
lighting up the scene. 
We were watching as be¬ 
fore, but with our eyes 
fastened upon the bait 
nailed to the tree. Pres¬ 
ently we saw a lithe body 
creep into the moon¬ 
light, his entire length 
stretched along the snow. 
Cautiously he crept forward, his tail working 
nervously like a cat’s when she is expecting a 
mouse, his head turning from side to side, but 
mostly watching the cabin. All was still about 
the place, for we had put out all lights and were 
ourselves standing like statues. Now he was 
almost upon the bait, and with a snarl he seemed 
to throw caution to the winds and sprang upon 
the meat as though it were yet alive. As he 
hung upon the side of the tree, my husband 
quickly aimed and fired. There came a snarl 
of rage and pain as the creature felt the impact 
of the missile, then he sprang from the tree and 
into the shadow of the timber. We could hear 
him as he made off through the woods, whim¬ 
pering and snarling. 
Fortunately, it did not snow that night. Early 
next morning we went to the tree where the 
bait had been placed, found the tracks leading 
away from it, and noted the blood stains on the 
snow. My husband insisted upon my returning 
to the cabin, but I would not, and we set out 
in pursuit of the wounded animal. The trail 
led across the little lake, up over the hill on 
the other side and down into the bottom of a 
steep rocky gulch where a dense clump of wil- 
