„ Rattlesnakes, Skunks and Robins. 
Aitkin, Minn., Jan. i. —Editor Forest and 
Stream: In your issue of Dec. 28 Mr. McCand- 
less says of my comment on rattlesnake rattles: 
“Mr. Jaques is wrong in every particular.” 
Now, if Mr. McCandless is right I am satisfied 
'to be wrong, as I am one of those peculiar crit¬ 
ters that would much rather be wrong than agree 
with anybody else. 
My experience with rattlesnakes dates back 
into the dim and misty past, and then I was not 
taking accurate notes with a view to writing 
a book on rattlesnakes; in fact, I had experience 
with rattlers in Nebraska before Mr. McCand¬ 
less was born, very likely, though Mr. McCand¬ 
less may not be so beardless a youth as his 
innocent prattle would seem to indicate. I did 
have a pair of rattles saved from that remote 
period. Until recently they lay upon a shelf 
along with other bric-a-brac, but this morning, 
when I lay my hand upon the spot where they 
should be, they are minus and inquiry reveals the 
astounding fact that they were lost in the con¬ 
fusion of a certain move we made fifteen years 
ago. This argument is calculated to break down 
all opposition; at least it is the argument that 
has broken me down ever since the first streak 
of light on the dawn of memory. 
Before dismissing the subject let me mention 
some impressions that come to me vividly out 
of the past. A snake’s rattles are flat; that is, 
they lie in a double row joined together some¬ 
what like the barrels of a double gun. Each side 
of this double row of rattles drags upon the 
ground. I have seen them worn through—as I 
supposed—if I ever supposed the case before— 
from contact with the ground. They were not 
worn through on the edge, but underneath; that 
is, both rows were affected alike. They are of 
a slightly lighter shade underneath, being there 
protected in a measure from the sun. The rattle 
appears to be caused by the working of the dry 
husks at the joint. You can shake them and 
make them rattle, but you cannot get anything 
like the tune out of them that the snake does. 
These impressions came without any effort 
whatever to study the subject, and may stray 
from the facts to considerable extent, as witness 
the fact that I just nOw tried to pick up a set 
of rattles, knowing just where they lay upon a 
shelf that had been lost for fifteen years, and 
never had been within five hundred miles of 
the spdt where I tried to pick them up. I have 
a theory of this wide difference in the observa¬ 
tion of different people in regard to the rattle 
subject, but shall not mention it here. 
Whenever I have made any real discovery 
in bird or animal traits that I thought was going 
to send my name thundering down the ages as 
a great naturalist, a little research always showed 
that some other investigator had discovered the 
same thing, and remarked it, anywhere from two 
hundred to two thousand years before I did. 
This fact rather discouraged any ambition I 
might have had to become a great naturalist, 
hence my observations have been rather careless 
than otherwise. Yet I know the natural traits 
of a great many birds and animals. I even know 
better than to try to carry a skunk by its tail. 
I know that it is almost impossible to kill one 
in any violent way without their casting the 
scent. We used to shoot the entire head and 
shoulders off them with our buffalo guns out 
there in Mr. McCandless’s country, yet they 
invariably cast their scent. Sometimes this 
occurred after the think end of them had been 
gone a full minute. One time when on a canoe 
trip I met one in mid stream swimming across. 
There was nothing but its head above water. I 
took that off with a shot and immediately there 
was something doing in the scent line. I never 
got caught by one, for I knew their natural trait 
and kept on the safe side. 
The trouble with the natural history of to¬ 
day is that most of the things worth while have 
been discovered and put on record. If the new 
man wants to discover things he must discover 
things that “ain’t so.” These discoveries are put 
on record with the rest of the stuff and they 
make a terrible mess of it. 
Shaganoss, in a recent issue of Forest and 
Stream, rubs the mark very close in his story 
of the blue heron that wanted to alight in his 
blind. It reminds me of something that hap¬ 
pened at the time that the events that begin all 
stories happened. The scene is laid at the coun¬ 
try home of a great naturalist, author, artist and 
lecturer. There had been a circus at—Morris 
Heights might have been the name of the place 
—and all the street gamins had been playing 
circus for several days, turning somersaults, 
standing on their heads, parading and so forth. 
The stately man of science had noticed this. 
One day while walking in the garden he noticed 
a robin trying to stand on its head. Its head 
went down, its legs stiffened, and it made des¬ 
perate efforts to stand upon its head or turn a 
somersault, ajid though its feet never left the 
ground there was no mistaking the effort. 
Other robins came and stood upon their heads 
or tried to. Then they would straighten up and 
go hopping off dragging something that might 
have done for a banner, with a train of other 
robins hopping in their wake. They were play¬ 
ing circus and parading. Like a ray of sunlight 
glancing from a new tin roof this dawned upon 
the man of wisdom. The cute little things had 
been watching the gamins play circus; had com¬ 
prehended and were practicing it themselves. He 
called his wife as a witness to his great dis¬ 
covery. Aye! he called passers-by from the 
street until quite a crowd had gathered, and they 
stood open-mouthed, and marveled much. At 
last the stable boy came whistling by, and he, 
too, was called as a witness, but he proved to 
be one too many. He glanced at the robins for 
an instant and said, “Huh! they’re jest pullin’ 
up angle worms.” The crowd laughed. Some 
leading magazine lost a nature story. The new 
natural history lost a chapter, and the stable 
boy lost his job. • E. P. Jaques. 
Cures for Rattlesnake Bites. 
Williamsport, Pa., Dec. 28.— Editor Forest 
and Stream: In to-day’s issue of Forest and 
Stream Mr. A. D. McCandless, of Wymore. 
Neb., has a very instructive article on rattle¬ 
snakes, and his position is well taken in all of 
his assertions, with the exception of a part of 
his treatment. 
He states: “It pains me to have to say that 
whiskey is not an antidote for the bite of the 
rattlesnake; in fact, it is about the worst thing 
the patient can take, as it heats the blood and 
thus stimulates the absorption of the venom and 
gives you a headache the next day.” 
I can hardly let this statement go by. The 
gentleman is correct when he states that whiskey 
is not an antidote, but he never made a more 
grievous error than in stating it is the worst 
thing a patient can take, and almost every phy¬ 
sician of experience would be willing to take 
issue with him on this subject. 
Pie is not far wrong when saying that per¬ 
manganate of potash injected into the fresh 
wound will effect a cure. He would have been 
entirely correct had he added to his statement 
that the strongest diffusible stimulants should 
immediately be given with the potash injection. 
In other words, one is as important as the other, 
and whiskey heads the list of diffusible stimu¬ 
lants. 
I should consider it safer, if I had my choice 
of the two remedies and could give only one of 
them, to give whiskey, and I believe I would 
save the greatest per cent, of cases by this treat¬ 
ment. 
The venom of the rattlesnake is a deadly 
poison, and it acts as do all poisons when injected 
under the skin; the deeper the injection, the more 
rapid the absorption, depending somewhat upon 
the part of the body struck. Some is absorbed 
immediately, the balance over a short period of 
time. 
It is a powerful heart depressant; it kills by 
paralysis of the heart’s action. Once the poison is 
under the skin all that Mr. McCandless would have 
us do is to inject the antidote which neutralizes 
the excess of the venom. How does he take care 
of the already absorbed poison ? It must be 
passed through the circulatory apparatus and be 
eliminated by the skin and kidneys. He risks 
paralysis of the heart, or if the heart withstands 
the assault of the poison he invites acute in¬ 
flammation of the kidneys—Bright’s disease—oc¬ 
casioned by the poison in its passage through 
the kidneys. 
When any poison has been taken into the sys¬ 
tem, the treatment consists of administration of 
the antidote and the giving of heart stimulants 
to support it and aid it in its elimination of the 
poison; therefore whiskey should be the first 
drug to be given, as it stimulates the heart and 
supports it in its efforts to pass the poison out 
of the body. 
,After one has been bitten the best thing to do 
is to immediately apply a band—a handkerchief 
will do—around the arm or leg above the wound 
