


690 
FORESTRSAND STREAM: 
[Nov. 2, 1907. 


These leaves which border the trail are of a 
different shade of brown than those of the ever- 
greens and they form in the forest a noisy floor. 
In mid-summer, however, and even earlier, 
there are always leaves scattered here and 
there, which have all the brilliant colors of the 
autumnal hues. The birch leaf is found, as in 
the fall, inclined toward a pale yellow, while 
the maples, especially the soft maple, is of a 
vivid red. 
One wonders why leaves of autumnal colors 
should be found in July or August. When 
they are examined, however, they are found 
to be diseased—attacked by insects or by blight. 
If one were to look for merely the tragedies 
along the trail, their number and variety would 
surprise him. Plant life especially affords in- 
stances without end. Strong limbs are found 
torn and hurled by the winds to the ground. 
Their wounds are jagged, bright and fresh, 
while their leaves are simply wilted, showing 
that the limbs are only at the very beginning 
of decay. Shrubs, when the canopy of leaves 
permits the sunlight to pass, tangle and strangle 
each other, in order to reach the limited quan- 
tity of light. Limbs shoot out right and left 
and spread their broadest leaves to obtain every 
single ray. Examine these shrubs and _ their 
lower limbs are found to be dead and brittle, 
while other shrubs are pale and sickly, or com- 
pletely smothered by their neighbors. In the 

dense shade of the mighty hemlock solitary 
plants, pale and feeble, exist with scarcely a 
drop of life-giving sap. Little seedlings with 
one or two almost white leaves grow here and 
there. Even the shade-loving plants, such as the 
g 

wood sorrel and the anemone, can scarcely re- 
main alive in such darkness, and when they do, 
they blossom long after their time. Only the 
white and ghostly Indian pipe thrives in the 
shadow of the forest monarch. 
While the plant tragedies along the trail are 
too numerous to mention in detail, we find also 
plenty of untimely endings to insect and ani- 
mal life. In the sunlight the dragon fly darts 
around, capturing mosquitoes, punkies and 
other winged insects by the hundred. One 
time we saw a snake two feet long with its 
jaws unhinged in the act of swallowing a toad. 
Scarcely more than the head and one foot of 
the toad remained outside the snake’s mouth. 
The toad was dozing and opened its eyes only 
occasionally. It was evidently paralyzed with 


fright. Not infrequently the feathers of a par- 
tridge or other birds lie scattered about. Often 
the tail and wing feathers, together with 
smaller feathers are the only remnants of the 
bird, and then you have reason to believe that 
Bubo virginianus, the great horned owl, was the 
slayer; but when a drum-stick, a foot, or other 
piece of bone, remains crushed and broken, it 
is a good guess that a fox has there satisfied 
his hunger. The fox often eats his prey where 
he captures it; the owl or hawk carries it to 
a suitable perch to strip the bones. 
Quite as noteworthy as the tragedies and 
more noticeable are the tracks of the animals 
which follow the trail. The cat-like 
footprint of the fox, plain and clear-cut in the 
mud, follows the trail at a stretch. The vary- 
ing hare stamps his feet into the mud and the 
plantigrade porcupine meanders across the 
path. Deer tracks occur often. You see where 
a doe—told by the size and roundness of the 
hoof—walked into the trail, followed it a number 
of yards, and walked out on the other side. 
Further on another doe, as she was about to 
cross, came to a full halt. Her hoofs were 
spread and the momentum of her body slid 
them along several inches in the mud. By her 
side a fawn made a track no larger than your 
thumb. From these you read that when the 
mother came to the open way she braced all 
four feet. stopped, and suspiciously sniffed the 
path. Then with her young one she turned 
and went back. Further along you see that 
recently a noble buck walked indifferently into 
the trail only to leave it, apparently when he 
was ready, after following it for a score of 
yards. Sometimes you suddenly come upon 
what at first seems to be the track of a bare- 
footed man. But it is narrow of heel and the 
toes are spread and grasp the earth almost like 
cross or 


a fan. The track is as long as your shoe and 
at the toes much broader. A bear made that, 
and you are thrilled with a feeling that, after 
all. the age is somewhat primeval. 
While the trail alone affords innumerable 
features of wild life, one should wander about 
the pathless forest to make the best observa- 
tions. In this manner we were once examining 
everything from a hillside to the minute plants 
which grow on moss-covered boulders, when 
we sat down to breathe in the pure air. An 
indistinct noise was heard as if perhaps some 
one was talking. One of us thought it was a 
dog illegally in chase of a deer. As we listened 
we tried in vain to fix the cause, for most 
curiously it sounded like objects of the most 
widely separated character. At one time it 
sounded as though it might be the distant roar 
of the wind on the trees, or the far-away 
rumble of a huge waterfall, or the tinkling of a 
bell. At another moment it seemed to be the 
swish of rain through the leaves. We wondered 
what could be the origin of this most change- 
able sound, and after listening for a time, we 
began to investigate. A little further on a 
rivulet was found tumbling down, the hillside 
and that solved the problem. We went back to 
our former place to listen again. The noises 
did not fail us, even after we knew the cause 
and found that we could imagine into the 
sounds either the voices of people or the rush 
of a waterfall. What we heard, however, varied 
to some extent, according to the drift of the 
air. 
In this manner one is continually meeting 
some little mystery which is baffling and diffi- 
cult to solve. Sometimes one solves them 
after a few moments of investigation, or 
thought, and again they are never solved. On 
our way to a mountain we heard the unfamiliar 
song of a bird. It was evidently in the top of 
a lofty birch tree, yet we could not catch sight 
of it. When we went to the tree the songster 
was soon heard in the top of another tree 
further on. We watched to see if we might 
catch a glimpse of it as it darted through the 
branches to the next tree, but follow and peer as 
we could, the wary creature was more than a 
match for us. Our interest was raised to the 
highest pitch, for here was a bird so wild that 
it would not permit a person to come under 
it seventy feet below. Finally, to our dismay, 
when it stopped singing we lost track of it. 
The next day, however, we heard the bird in 
the same locality, and with the greatest care 
went in chase. We peered and gazed until the 
backs of our necks were almost cramped. It 
was this fact which at last caused us to find the 
bird. As one of us was resting he looked at a 
log, and upon it he caught sight of an incon- 
spicuous brown bird. It immediately burst out 
in the loud, thrilling song. He pointed and we 
stood in amazement. As the bird worked its 
way along the moss-covered log, it stopped 
every few moments to relieve its overflowing 
heart. When we looked at the little bunch of 
feathers the song came straight to us, but 
when we turned our heads, it came driving 
down from the branches far above. Now that 
we had found the bird we identified it as the 
winter wren. Before we left the woods, and 
since then we have heard this wonderful song 
many times. It is curious that such a char- 
acteristic is not mentioned in the authoritative 
bird books. Like protective coloration—John 
Burroughs, notwithstanding—we interpreted 
this ventriloquous effect as a means of safety 
to the bird. The weasel, or other beast of prey, 
imagines, like ourselves, the songster in the 
treetops and therefore passes on without seek- 
ing it. 
Among other things which we saw on our 
rambles was the work of a porcupine. From 
his den in the hillside he had climbed fifteen 
neighboring trees, ranging from medium sized 
hemlocks down to maple saplings, and had 
stripped and girdled them until they were dead. 
The large hemlocks were shorn of all branches 
smaller than the diameter of a man’s thumb, 
while the bark in many broad patches was 
eaten clean. Here was a beast which had made 
a clearing for twenty or thirty yards square, 
enabling brush and second growth to spring 
up. He did it, of course, without thought, yet 
this second growth made the best of food for 
the small plantigrade. 
Of no little interest was the discovery of a 
string of roots reaching twenty feet to the 
ground from a birch trunk. The roots grew on 
the dead side of the trunk which had been 
killed by insect or fungus. Some of the roots 
were an inch or more in diameter, but the 
greater portion were long and slender rootlets 
which were interwined into a thick, flat mass. 
Previously they had grown under the dead 
bark which had now fallen away, leaving the 
roots exposed, so that they, too, were now 
dead. They had not grown long enough to get 
a firm hold in the ground. It is peculiar that a 
birch should thus produce roots so far from 
the ground. They grew with such vigor and 
in such numbers that they must have been able 
to obtain no little nourishment from their 
parent trunk. 
Early one morning in August we arose be- 
fore the east had revealed a ray of light. We 
sat down by the lake and listened to the 
various sounds that occasionally broke the deep 
silence. A drop of dew would fall spattering 
through the leaves like a rain drop; without a 
known cause, a twig would crack somewhere in 
the dark woods, and a bird would occasionally, 
as if dreaming, peep at some place up the 
shore. At length the sky brightened and the 
woods began to waken. There were more 
noises, and though it was.in the moulting sea- 
son, the birds sang. There was 4 sense of re- 
lief as the tenseness of our nerves was relaxed. 
There is something great, wonderful, and awful 
in the night of the woods. When it became 
light our attention was at first attracted chiefly 
to the fog which slowly rose from the lake and 
partially blanketed the mountains. Such a 
scene cannot be described. The water became 
a mirror. To our delight we saw a large bird, 
which appeared to be a goose, flying swiftly 
in our direction. When it arrived at our end 
of the lake it turned and sped past within 
twenty-five yards, the wings churning the air 
with a distinct thud, thud, thud, like a power- 
ful pump. It was a loon, as we could now see. 
It dropped slowly to the water which it struck 
like a duck with a splash and a skim, and was 
soon moving about peacefully. In a short time 
another loon came and alighted near it, when 
they both dove. The first we knew, with a 
great noise of splashing, there was a trail of 
water a yard high and five yards long shooting 
off across the lake with the speed of a green 
wing teal’s flight. The loon proceeded in this 
manner for a half mile, beating the water with 
its wings as it flew. The other bird, with 
scarcely a movement of the water came up from 
its dive. It looked about, saw the other loon, 
and stretching its neck, went tearing up the 
water in the same manner, after the first bird. 
Instead of remaining close to the water, how- 
ever, it rose slowly from the surface until after 
going about a hundred and fifty yards only the 
tips of his wings made chub-like ripples on 
the glassy surface. They dove, swam and flew, 
and for a long time we watched them play. 
Yet most inspiring of all were their calls. 
They repeatedly gave their famous laughter, but 
we liked best the far-sounding and surprised 
“Q-0-0-0-0-0-0-0.” Jt reached the mountain 
tops, and echoed and re-echoed far and wide. 
ExvpripcE A. SPEARS. 
November. 
A boisterous wind, a slap of rain; 
Dark, soaked earth and gloomy skies; 
But in our cosy home no thought of this, 
For with the roaring wind my open fire 
Burns bright, and we are well content. 

SUBSTANTIAL NOURISHMENT. 
The chief concern of every camper is to ob- 
tain substantial nourishment in compact form. 
No camp or cabin is complete without its supply 
of Borden’s Eagle Brand Condensed Milk and 
Peerless Brand Evaporated Milk. They have no 
equal for Coffee, Fruits and Cereals.—Adv, 



















































































































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