In Camp. 
My camp is pitched in one of the loveliest 
and most fertile spots of the newly settled 
West, in a region which only a generation 
ago was the warring ground of some of the 
fiercest and most dreaded Indian tribes of 
all the plains. The land, then traversed only 
by the savage on his war journeys or his buf¬ 
falo hunting, is now occupied by the white man 
and divided off into rectangular plots of a hun¬ 
dred and sixty acres which yield bountiful crops 
of grain, cotton and alfalfa. 
Our lodge is pitched, with those of a few 
Indians, on uncultivated ground, but for many 
miles all about us stand the smiling farms of 
the settlers. On this bit of ground, however, 
nature still holds her own. The huge trunks 
of old black walnut trees rise close along the 
stream and in the bottom, while beneath them 
close to the water, grows a thick tangle of 
bushes and vines which give shelter to a multi¬ 
tude of birds. In a little inclosure close to the 
lodge are a dozen deer, unafraid and gentle, so 
that they show no alarm at the passing human 
being. 
In the trees that grow all about the camp, 
great fox-squirrels frolic and play, and because 
they are never harmed they too are unsuspicious 
and scarcely trouble themselves to run around 
to the other side of the tree trunk when a man 
passes near them. Out of the long grass, which 
grows near the lodge, little brown rabbits ven¬ 
ture as the sun falls low, and feed about within 
a few yards of us. The other morning, when 
I stepped out of the lodge door, a young fawn 
sprang from the grass hardly fifteen steps away 
and bounded off to a little distance, where he 
lay down in the grass and imagined that he hid 
himself. 
It is early summer, and the prairie and bot¬ 
tom are covered with a multitude of beautiful 
flowers. The tall stems of the yucca have shed 
their blossoms and now bear huge oval seed 
pods, but everywhere on the prairie are seen 
yellow sunflowers, daisies, harebells, several 
varieties of pea, with the showy white poppy 
and a multitude of other flowers. 
Among the attractions of this beautiful spot 
the birds hold a foremost place, both for num¬ 
bers, variety, beauty of plumage and sweetness 
of song. Among the most showy are the blue- 
jays, which here are as tame as sparrows and 
are to be seen everywhere in the trees and on 
the ground. One of their favorite habits is to 
fly up from the ground and alight sidewise on 
a tree trunk, three or four feet above the grass, 
and there survey their surroundings. The cardi¬ 
nal bird, the summer tanager, Baltimore oriole 
and orchard oriole are constantly seen, as is also 
the painted finch, resplendent in his gay coat. 
There are half a dozen sorts of woodpeckers, 
conspicuous alike for their bright colors, their 
undulating flight and their harsh and noisy cries. 
We see the hairy, the downy, the red-bellied, 
the golden-winged and the red-headed wood¬ 
peckers. The two last seem quarrelsome, for 
sometimes a redhead and a flicker are seen on 
a dead limb making threatening motions at each, 
other, the redhead uttering his loud grating cry, 
while the flicker menaces with a clear-voiced 
“yucker.” 
Perhaps most abundant of all the birds is 
the mocker, soberly clad to be sure, yet con¬ 
spicuous in flight by the white patches which 
mark his wings and tail, but most notable for 
his wonderful song, and for the graceful antics 
which so often accompany it. Often his song 
is heard at night, and in the intense quiet has 
a beauty that has been noticed a thousand times, 
was most feelingly described by Audubon, and 
yet never loses its freshness and its charm. 
I have never seen the cuckoos so abundant 
as here. Their voices are heard constantly and 
they are often seen in flight, darting across an 
open space and then disappearing into a tree 
where they sit absolutely motionless and so are 
often hard to see. 
The less showy birds are probably more 
numerous than those of brilliant plumage. 
Brewer’s blackbird, the black-throated bunting, 
the screaming great-crested flycatcher and a host 
of brown-coated sparrows, most of which keep 
themselves well out of sight, and are seen only 
by chance, contribute to the life of our sur¬ 
roundings and add to their charm. 
Of the people with whom we are living, much 
that is interesting might be told. They include 
gray-haired buffalo hunters and warriors, the 
story of whose lives in the old unsettled West 
is most interesting to hear. A few days 
ago I talked with a venerable white-haired and 
wrinkled dame, whose memory carried her back 
to the years before the stars fell (1833), and 
who was born long before Bent’s old fort was 
constructed, and even before the Sante Fe trade 
began. The older men have many tales to tell 
of the wars between Indian tribes in those old 
days, of trips down in Old Mexico to capture 
horses, of hunting expeditions far and near, and 
of curious actions of birds and animals which 
no naturalist has ever observed. 
Hunting and fishing have no part in our brief 
sojourn here. The buffalo and the big game 
disappeared a generation ago, and now rabbits 
and quail, with rarely a turkey, overlooked by 
the universal white man, constitute the game 
fauna of this region. 
Quail seem to be extraordinarily abundant 
here. Their clear “Bob White” is heard con¬ 
stantly, and in passing along the roads or 
through the fields they are everywhere seen on 
the fence posts, whistling. Often in walking 
along the roads or through the pastures we 
start them from the ground, when they fly but 
a few feet, and then alight and scuttle away 
through the grass. 
I am glad to see on boards stuck up in many 
of the fields the sign, “No Hunting Here,” and 
wish that the posting of these fertile lands by 
the farmers might become general. Surely, if 
the land owners knew how useful these birds 
are to the farmer the whole State would be 
turned into one great quail preserve. 
A day or two since we had here a violent 
rain and wind storm, which more or less floodec 
the land, washed out the roads, raised the 
creeks and threw hundreds of young birds ir 
this immediate neighborhood out of their nests 
to be drowned or chilled to death. Already ] 
see the parent birds busy building new nests 
and no doubt other broods of young will b< 
raised by all of them. 
To revisit this region and once more to asso¬ 
ciate with ancient men who were one’s com 
panions in the days of youth, is a mingled pleas 
ure and pain; yet on the whole the pleasuri 
outweighs the sadness, for the meeting revive; 
recollections of a joyful past, which no happen 
ing in the future can take away, and which wil 
always remain a comfort and a joy. G. 
Oklahoma. 
Newfoundland Caribou. 
St. Johns, N. F., June 27 .—Editor Forest am 
Stream: Passengers and train hands during th- 
last two weeks have reported large numbers o 
caribou crossing the track at various points, bourn 
north for their summer feeding grounds. Thi 
is later than usual. While scattered caribou ar 
seen during the whole summer from the train 
very seldom after the snow goes are such largi 
numbers seen as late as this. 
In former notes I mentioned that six cariboi 
were captured by Mr. Dodd, of the Log 'Cabin 
for shipment abroad. The following item show 
that they arrived safely: 
The six caribou captured on the West Coas 
by Mr. Dodd and shipped by the S. S. Bruce, ar 
rived at Sault Ste. Marie safely on May 26. The; 
were in good condition on arrival. Three mei 
were out in the woods seven weeks before th 
deer were captured. The purchase money wa 
$450, but by the time they reached Sault Ste 
Marie, the expenses had amounted to nearl; 
$1,000. They are placed in a stock park. 
W. J. Carroll. 
In Yellowstone Park. 
Gardiner, Mont., May 30 .—Editor Forest am 
Stream: Beautiful evening here, a little coo 
but clear. The sun is getting low in the wes 
but still shining on the alfalfa field in front 0 
the town where forty-four mule deer, most 
them lying down, made a very peaceful Sunda 
evening picture. 
In the distance a number of troops of ante 
lope are to be seen, but none close to town 
I have not seen many lately on the alfalfa; no 
over eight or ten. The other evening I counte 
fifty-five deer. The bucks’ horns are in the velve 
The snow is off the roads so that teams hav 
gone out into the park. Almost every trai 
up the park branch brings some one to see th 
animals in front of the town. I think the dee 
are very kind to stay around so late. They ca 
be seen all the way up to the springs and 0 
through Golden Gate. Two more troops c 
cavalry arrived last week, making four in th- 
park. T. E. H. 
