972 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June 20, 1908. 
Stepping up to the dog's head, he stooped over 
and parted the palmetto fans to look for the 
bird, but instead of a quail he saw a coiled 
rattler, head reared, and apparently on the point 
of striking. He jumped back and called to his 
companion, his close call so unnerving him that 
he was unable to- shoot it. Not until the snake 
was shot, almost under his nose, did the dog 
break his point. After cutting off the rattles, 
nine in number, the hunters decided they had 
had all the shooting they wanted that day, and 
without even waiting to look for the dead or 
crippled bird, started for the railway station. 
They had gone about 200 yards, when the dog 
came to a point, this proving to be another 
rattler, which was killed in short order. This 
one had but seven rattles, but was somewhat 
larger than the first one, being about S'A feet 
in length. Now, I am not going to attempt an 
explanation of why the first rattler the dog 
pointed did not sound its danger signal nor 
strike either man or dog, though within strik¬ 
ing distance; nor why the dog (an old seasoned 
pointer I have hunted many a day and have seen 
side-step in lively fashion more than one snake) 
would not break his point till after the snake 
was shot. The reader can figure it out to his 
own satisfaction. 
In Alachua county a German had a spaniel 
that followed him everywhere. One day as the 
man was’ going through the woods to the 
village store the dog jumped a rabbit and chased 
it down a gopher hole. (It might be well to 
state that the gopher of this state is a species of 
land turtle.) The man got down on his hands 
and knees to look into the hole, when the dog 
darted in between his legs and thrust its head 
into the opening, only to let out a yelp and jump 
back with a rattlesnake hooked to its nose. For 
a few seconds there was a lively mix-up of 
German, dog and rattler, but as soon as the 
snake could release its fangs, it drew back into 
the hole. Picking up the dog, the man hurried 
to the store and told his story. He was advised 
to gather some snakeweed and dose the dog 
with a tea made of the leaves, also to make a 
poultice of the bruised leaves and apply to the 
wound. He followed this advice and the dog 
got well, but for several days its head was 
swollen to such proportions it seemed in danger 
of bursting. 
On a cool, drizzling morning in February, 
some years ago, I was quail shooting with my 
brother in Alachua county. We had scattered 
a large covey over a piece of low flatwoods, 
sparsely timbered, and it looked like we were 
going to get some good open shooting. The 
dog struck a trail at once and came down on a 
point; but as we walked up to flush the bird, he 
began to trail slowly, we keeping abreast on 
either side. After the dog had made several 
points only to take up the trail again, my 
brother suddenly stepped in and caught hold 
of the dog’s collar, pulled him back and told me 
to look out for a rattler just ahead. One look 
showed me the kind of game we had been try¬ 
ing to flush. The next squint I took was down 
the rib of my gun, and a load of No. 8 shot 
took off the snake’s head. This rattler was 
fully 5 feet 10 inches in length, and had twelve 
rattles and button. The skin of this snake was 
later sent to the present editor of Forest and 
Stream, in whose company I had had the pleas¬ 
ure of enjoying a month’s canoe cruise on the 
Osage River, in Missouri, in 1892 —the many 
pleasant incidents of which, and the camp-fire 
reminiscences, are as green in memory as 
though they had taken place but yesterday. 
Several years ago a negro snake-charmer 
used to give exhibitions here in front of the 
hotels and on street corners. This man usually 
had a good collection of large rattlesnakes, and 
it was a common thing to see him raise the 
top of the cage, make a few passes and lift out 
an angry rattler. Then he would proceed to 
extract its fangs with a small pair of pliers. 
Another favorite stunt was to thrust the head 
of a noisy rattler into his mouth. Occasionally 
the negro was struck while exhibiting his pets, 
but it did not seem to give him any uneasiness, 
for he would produce a bottle of medicine of his 
own concoction, take a swallow, rub a little into 
the wound, and proceed with his show. Judg¬ 
ing from the scars on his hands and wrists, it 
was an effective antidote, but so far as I know, 
no one was ever successful in getting him to 
tell what the medicine was composed of. One day 
he left the city on a little snake round-up, as 
his stock of rattlers was getting low and ti e 
season for the tourists to throng the streets was 
near at hand. He took along his banjo and a 
sack in which to bring back the captives. That 
night he came back to town with a good big 
rattler in the bag, but he was a pretty sick man, 
the snake having managed in some way to 
strike him back of the shoulder while being 
carried on his back. For several days it was a 
question whether his medicine would pull him 
through, but he recovered. This man once ex¬ 
hibited a snake he called the king of all rattlers. 
From the top of its head projected a horn about 
half an inch in length. Shortly after exhibiting 
this freak snake here, he disposed of his entire 
collection in a distant city. It was afterward 
said the horned rattler was the result of a neat 
piece of surgery, the spur of a rooster having 
been grafted on the snake’s head, which, if true, 
goes to prove that this snake charmer was as 
good a surgeon as he was dentist. G. A. I. 
Bears in North Carolina. 
Linville Falls, N. C., May 27. —Editor Fore.it 
and Stream: Sport in the Blue Ridge country 
has been quite interesting and promises to con¬ 
tinue so. Not long since a thirteen-year old boy, 
Edgar Burleson, started out for a bear hunt, 
armed with nothing more than a single-barreled 
shotgun, which is the favorite 'weapon of the 
mountaineer in these days. About two miles 
from this post office his dog discovered an old 
bear with three cubs. The dogs tormented her 
so that she drove the cubs up a tree, cuffing 
them sharply, the boy says, to make them go 
up alone. Then she started down the gorge of 
the Linville River, the boy and dogs after her. 
Young Burleson made a long jump to get a shot 
at the old bear and let go at her with his shot¬ 
gun, but seems to have missed her and she got 
away from the dogs. The boy limped back to 
his uncle’s house, having sprained his ankle in 
the jump, and his uncle went to the tree where 
the cubs were, climbed up some forty feet and 
succeeded in catching all the cubs and putting 
them into a sack with which he safely reached 
the ground. 
Next morning a hunt was organized and the 
old bear was killed. She was a fine specimen 
of the common black bear, and to my surprise 
her flesh was fat and sweet. Bear meat is con¬ 
sidered a great delicacy by the mountain people. 
The cubs have been a strong attraction here, for 
some days. Not long after this another hunt 
was organized and a yearling was killed near 
here. The mountaineers have a custom of firing 
off about forty shots when they get within a 
half mile of home if they have been successful 
on the hunt. Frank W. Bicknell. 
I imber Owners to Fight Fire. 
One of the most important economic move¬ 
ments of the day about which the general public 
has yet learned little is the concerted action of 
owners of timber in different parts of the coun¬ 
try in organizing associations to protect their 
holdings from fire. In the Pacific Northwest the 
Washington Forest Fire Association has just 
elected officers at Seattle^ and begun work for 
the year with 3,000,000 acres under its care. 
The plans include a system of partol by rangers 
resembling the work done by the United States 
Forest Service in guarding against and ex¬ 
tinguishing fires. 
Organizations of similar kind and for a like 
purpose are at work in Oregon and Idaho. In 
the latter State a portion of the expense is borne 
by taxation and paid from the State treasury. 
A Western railroad company, which holds large 
tracts of timber, has taken steps to guard its 
property from fire, and during the short time 
that its plans have been in operation it has met 
with most encouraging success. 
Similar work is being done on the other side 
of the continent. Forest owners in Maine have 
gone to work in the same systematic way to 
control the forests’ great enemy—fire. Like or¬ 
ganizations are found in other parts of the coun¬ 
try, showing how fully it is now realized that pro¬ 
tection against fire is of the greatest importance. 
It is safe to say that fires in this country have 
destroyed more timber than lumbermen ' have 
cut. When timber was abundant the waste 
passed almost unnoticed, but now that a scarcity 
is at hand and an actual wood famine threatens 
in the near future, the owners of forest lands 
are waking up and taking action to save what 
is left. 
Wildcat in a Freight Car. 
Many residents of South Amboy, N. J., says 
the Times, have armed themselves in anticipa¬ 
tion of a sudden attack by a supposed wildcat, 
which escaped from a Pennsylvania freight car. 
The car contained lumber consigned to the 
South Amboy Lumber and Supply Company. It 
came to the company’s yards from North Caro¬ 
lina, and was on the way nearly a week. 
One day, as lumber handlers started to open 
the car, they heard a scratching noise inside, and 
when they opened the door they saw in the 
shadow two gleaming eyes.’ None of the men 
wanted to enter. Finally Edward Letts hit upon 
the happy expedient of going to the other side 
of the car and banging it with a crowbar. The 
others drew away from the door to give the 
animal a chance to come out. It did. 
It proved to be a wildcat, or Southern lynx, 
and the lumber handlers say it was about four 
feet long. 
It was seen later in the day drinking from a 
spring near the railroad. Later it took to the 
woods. The lumber company has offered a re¬ 
ward for the cat, dead or alive. 
