330 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 29, 1908. 
of the ground surrounding the marsh or lake. 
This may not apply to the mallards and other 
large ducks, as they nest further north, but to 
the teal, both green and blue wing. 
Every marsh, lake and pond was literally 
alive with ducks, young and old. The hatching 
season must have been fine for ducks, as well as 
for the grouse; and when the shooting season 
opens, the man who is fortunate enough to be 
in Cherry county will surely have some rare 
sport. The early shooting, and up to the 
middle of October, will be mostly at the teal. 
Then they begin to go south and the mallards 
begin to come from the far north. They will 
stay only a few days or perhaps two weeks at 
most. 
In many places I found the prairie dog being 
exterminated by a new enemy. It is described 
very much as one would describe a mink, only 
somewhat larger and much like a ferret, yet it 
is neither. Many old settlers who have trapped 
for years and should know what it is, say that 
it is something new. A pair of them will start 
in at the end of a dog town containing hundreds 
of dogs, and in a year not a dog will be left. 
I saw several of these deserted towns, but did 
not get a glimpse of the strange animal. One 
old resident caught one of the new visitors in 
a trap and examined it closely, but could not 
name it, and turned it loose. 
I got glimpses of coyotes every day, but al¬ 
ways at safe distances. They are very shy when 
one is mounted on a horse, as they are hunted 
in that way, the pack of hounds mostly trailing 
behind the rider, and when the coyote sees a 
man on horseback he strikes out for tall timber 
or distant pastures at a marvelous rate of speed, 
and keeps going a long time, but sometimes will 
stop at the top of a ridge and survey the field, 
himself hidden, and if the rider and hounds are 
not following, he will follow them and watch 
from every point of vantage. 
One day while sitting upon my horse in the 
edge of the rushes surrounding a small marsh, 
with perhaps a half acre of clear water in front 
of me, I saw a snake swimming toward me, and 
waiting until he landed within ten feet, was sur¬ 
prised to see that it was a rattler. It was the 
first time I had ever seen a rattlesnake in the 
water, although I know it to be a common 
thing in the South to see the diamond-back 
swimming; at least, I have often read of it. 
When the snake got quiet and in good position 
to watch me, I planted a .22 short in the right 
spot and the incident was closed. 
On the evening of July 4, I arrived at the 
railroad and took a train for home. I had been 
in the saddle nearly all the time for six days, 
and had ridden about one hundred and fifty 
miles. I had seen much that I cannot describe, 
and had learned much that I will never forget. 
I had stood on the tops of mighty sand ridges 
and overlooked the valleys where a few years 
ago countless thousands of buffalo had roamed, 
now nearly extinct, and wondered if the stories 
of these multitudes would be regarded only as 
legends by the next generation. I had drank 
from springs and flowing wells coming out of 
the ground more than four thousand feet above 
the level of the sea; I had traversed only a small 
part of a country containing more than six 
thousand square miles, and visited only two 
families, fired my gun but once, was sunburned 
and tired, yet rested and refreshed. I had be¬ 
come attached to my horse, and hated to part 
with him. He would follow me, or come at my 
call, and I could lie down and sleep, leaving 
him loose, and find him at hand when I needed 
his services, and while but few men would care 
to take the trip, I consider the days thus spent 
as some of the happiest of my life. 
[Is not the animal that destroys the prairie 
dog the blackfooted ferret, Putorius nigripes of 
Audubon, Cynomyonax nigripes of Coues? It is 
found—but not numerously anywhere—in 
Nebraska, Dakotas, Kansas, Colorado, Wyo¬ 
ming and Montana. The Pawnees had a 
curious superstition about it, and the Blackfeet 
call it a spotted mink..— Editor.] 
Recent Publications. 
The Story of the Guides, by Colonel G. J. 
Younghusband, C.B. Cloth, 207 pages, illus¬ 
trated. London and New York, Macmillan 
& Co. 
To those who have read Colonel Younghus- 
band’s “Indian Frontier Warfare,” “The Relief 
of Chitral,” “The Philippines and Roundabout, ’ 
etc., this, his latest volume, will form a pleasing 
addition to their libraries, for it chronicles the 
history of the Queen’s Own Corps of Guides from 
the time of its organization, in the early ’40’s, 
in Peshawur, by Sir Henry Lawrence, down to 
modern times, ending with the recreation of 
officers and men roundabout the post at Mardan. 
“One of the highest forms of falconry,” writes 
the colonel, “and one little known in other coun¬ 
tries, was the pursuit of the ravine deer. Only 
falcons reared from the nest could be trained 
to this sport, and they had to be obtained from 
far off Central Asia. The falcon used was the 
cherug, or sakar, as she is known in Europe, 
and the method of training is interesting. From 
the nest upward the bird was taught that the 
only possible place to obtain food was from 
between a pair of antlers. At first fed sitting 
between them, as she learnt to flutter, she was 
encouraged to bridge a short gap to her dinner. 
Then as she grew stronger, she flew short dis¬ 
tances to get her food as before. 
“The next step was the use of a stuffed deer 
on wheels, which, when the hawk was loosed, 
was run along, and thus accustomed her to the 
idea of movement in getting her food. At the 
same time she was accustomed to the presence 
of greyhounds, for without the aid of these 
she would never be able to bring down her 
quarry. For the Pathan saying is, ‘The first day 
a ravine deer is born a fleet man may catch it ; 
the second day a dog; and the third day no one!’ 
“The hawks, which were flown in pairs, were 
now taken into the field, keen set, to use a term 
in falconry; that is, very hungry, but not weak¬ 
ened or disheartened by hunger. Directly a 
herd of deer was sighted, the hawks were cast 
loose, and soaring up, soon descried a seem¬ 
ingly familiar object with a pair of antlers, be¬ 
tween which there was doubtless a delicious 
meal. Off, therefore, they went straight for the 
quarry, and stooping, struck for the deer’s ant¬ 
lers. Naturally, however, no bird of that size 
could bring a deer to earth or even stop him 
unaided; but the hawks had done their initial 
work, and the riders, with a couple of grey¬ 
hounds leashed to the stirrup, rode hard for 
the spot where the hawks were striking, and 
let slip the hounds. 
“The rattle of hoofs at once stampeded the 
deer, and then the chase began. The hawks, in 
turn towering and stooping, showed the line 
to take, for the deer was invisible to the dogs, 
and generally to the riders. But the dogs had 
learnt to work by the hawks, and cutting a 
corner here or favored by a jink there, grad¬ 
ually closed up, the part of the hawks being, by 
constantly striking, to delay and confuse the 
deer. It was a hard ride and a fine combina¬ 
tion which secured the quarry, and as with all 
sport worth the name, it was even chances on 
the deer. 
“When the combination failed and the deer 
got away, it was a bit of human nature to see 
the meeting between the hawks and the dogs. 
The hawks would be sitting on the ground or 
a bush, evidently and unmistakably using lan¬ 
guage of the most sulphurous nature; while the 
dogs came up, their tongues out, their tails be¬ 
tween their legs and with a general air of ex¬ 
haustion, dejection and apology. As they slunk 
up, the muttered curses broke forth: ‘You! 
you lazy hound. Call yourself a greyhound. 
You’re a fat-tailed sheep, that’s what you are 
—nothing more!’ And up would get friend 
hawk and cuff and strike and harry that poor 
dog, till he fairly yelped and fled to his master 
for protection.” 
The Lackawannas at Moosehead, or the Young 
Leatherstockings, by George Selwyn Kim¬ 
ball. Cloth, 320 pages, illustrated by W. D. 
H. Koerner, $1.25. Boston, the Ball Pub¬ 
lishing Company. 
A party of college boys are the chief actors 
in this story of the Maine woods. With their 
guides they met at Moosdhead Lake in summer, 
and while receiving instruction in wood and 
water craft played many boyish pranks on each 
other and on acquaintances. By the Allegash 
canoe route they then made their way to Fort 
Kent, where they disbanded in the autumn. Deer 
and bear hunting adventures, minor woods acci¬ 
dents and incidents and the schemes evolved by 
the boys to have fun with each other, make a 
pleasing story that is not without merit, al¬ 
though the “blood and thunder” introduced here 
and there seem out of place in a chronicle of 
the Maine woods. There are bad men on whose 
heads two governments have set a price—and 
of course these boys subdue them; bears that 
thirst for gore, etc.; but there are also hints 
worth knowing and much that may be read 
with profit by youths. 
Ivedar Kross, a Tale of the North Country, by 
J. Van der Veer Shurts. Cloth, 430 pages, 
$1.50. Boston, Richard G. Badger. 
The scene of this story is laid in the Adiron- 
dacks in early days, although parts of it have 
to do with the Civil War. Kedar Kross, the 
home of Marvin Elwood, the hero of the story, 
is pictured as an estate in the woods near the 
old John Brown home at a time when game and 
fish were to be had with little effort, and lum¬ 
bering was in its infancy. There are several 
characters—woodsmen, French-Canadians, hunt¬ 
ers and trappers—that play their parts in the 
story with vigor, and altogether it is a whole¬ 
some yarn. 
