212 
FOREST AND STREAM. — 


For Forest and Stream. 
GREAT NORTHERN PICKEREL. 
. (Hsox Lueiodes.) 
——~>—_——_ 
MID the Thousand Isles that gem 
St. Lawrence with a diadem, 
When winds are soft and waves are calm, 
And pine woods steep the air with balm, 
The angler dreams away his days, 
Mid scenes beyond the poet’s praise; 
Wafted across that fairy flood, 
He sees in Nature naught but good. 
“Mid islets, wood-embower'd and green, 
The fisher comes when day is new, 
Lapp’d in Elysian dreams to float. 
Enchanted in his light canoe. 
High up on drooping boughs entwin’d, 
The grapevine twists its garland wreath, 
Or droops its purple clusters down 
To kiss the wooing wave beneath. 
The red bird from the topmost branch 
Pours out its mellow burst of song; 
The larks and blackbirds down the shore, 
Their sweet harmonious trills prolong, 
And when the evening shades prevail 
The whippoorwill repeats its tale. 
Here is the angler’s paradise, 
A dreamy,{Eden-like retreat; 
With balmy perfumes in the air, 
And wild flowers springing at the feet; 
And far beneath the lucent deeps, 
The gay-hued, floating fish are seen, 
Quick darting in the depths serene. 
Here Esox Luciodes dwells, 
With bristling teeth and mighty jaw, 
Insatiate, savage, swift to seize 
The prey that feeds its hungry maw. 
And here the angler’s utmost skill 
Is task’d the struggling foe to kill, 
To land him, gasping and supine, 
With humming reel and spinning line. 
I. McLELLAN. 
to 
THE GREEN RIVER COUNTRY. 
alatrsAe eee 
ROM where it rises—a little brook in Fremont’s Peak— 
the Green River rolls southward an impetuous torrent, 
its volume constantly increasing as it receives the tribute 
brought by a thousand channels from the lofty mountains 
through which it flows. Its waters are dark and black as 
it sweeps through some narrow passage where the sun’s 
rays never penetrate, but assume when spread out in the 
clear light of day the pale green color from which it takes 
its name. 
It is a glorious river. The territory through which it 
passes presents some of the most majestic scenery that our 
country can afford. For miles it rushes through deep and 
gloomy cajions, whose precipitous sides offer no inequality 
that might serve as the resting place for a bird; or through 
stony valleys, where the water leaps and dashes against the 
rocks as though they were enemies, that it would tear from 
their beds and carry captive toward the Colorado. It roars 
between high mountains, rock-ribbed and dark with their 
evergreen foliage, or sublime with their mantles of ever- 
lasting snows, and glides pleasantly through fertile valleys, 
where Nature is the only husbandman and the deer and elk 
the only cattle. 
Parks there are, where the tall pines and the cotton- 
woods, with their silvery foliage, stand as if arrayed at the 
command of the most skillful of gardeners; where green 
meadows, dotted with clumps of trees, or with little copses, 
stretch away toward the rocky heights beyond and seem 
almost to reveal the hand of man in the artistic beauty of 
their design. But no gardener planted these towering 
trees, nor was human skill evoked to lay out these delight- 
ful parks; the hand of a greater being than man is visible 
in all these beauties—the haad of God. 
Each mile of the river’s length presents fresh charms, 
and the thoughtful mind is awed and purified by the con- 
templation of these, some of the grandest works of Nature. 
Nor is animal life, in all its varied forms, wanting to 
complete the picture. Here we have perhaps the finest 
hunting ground in America. Owing to the rocky and 
mountainous nature of the country it offers but little to 
attract the farmer, and the few dwellers on the river are 
the wandering trappers who, like the Indian, driven by the 
constant influx of settlers from the plains and from the 
eastern slope of the mountains toward the setting sun, find 
here a resting place whence they will not soon be expelled. 
These, however, are few in comparison with the myriads of 
furred, feathered, and finned denizens of this wild region, 
and cause but slight diminution in their numbers. The 
brooks furnish trout by thousands—from half a pound to 
four pounds in weight—active, plucky fish, that it isa 
pleasure to hook anda satisfaction to land. Beaver are 
very plentiful, and their dams may be found at intervals of 
half a mile on every moderately large brook. Otter, too, 
are trapped in considerable numbers every winter, though 
not so numerous now asin former years. These, with the 
mink and fisher, are the finer fur-bearing animals of the 
country. The felide are represented by the lynx and the 
mountain lion, or cougar; the latter rarely seen, but some- 
times making his presence felt by killing a calf or a colt 
while the herds are out on the range. 
Deer and elk are numerous in the bottoms and on the 
mountains, a few antelopes frequent the elevated plateaus 
that occur from time to time along the river, while the 
loftiest peaks afford a secure refuge to the wary mountain 
sheep. When hunting along the river or some of its tribu- 
taries you will often notice the track of the ferocious griz- 
zly, or of his smaller and more timid congeners, the black 
and cinnamon bears; and should you desire a closer ac- 
quaintance with these kings of the mountain it may be 

formed by following the tracks into the higher lands. 
For the birds, who shall tell their numbers, or who shall 
enumerate their varieties? Sand-hill cranes, together with 
geese and ducks in countless numbers pass over in spring 
and autumn, and pause at various points to feed and rest. 
Three species of grouse—the sage, the blue and the ruffed— 
are found in the bottoms and onthe mountain’s sides, while 
close beneath the snow line breeds the white tailed ptar- 
migan. 
In fine, the sportsman or naturalist will find here much 
to attract and delight him. And perhaps he may even be 
tempted, as I once was, to sever for atime the ties that 
bind him to his eastern home, and, building a little cabin, 
settle in this country until he shall have exhausted its plea- 
sures. 
But why should§l attempt to awaken in other breasts the 
enthusiasm I feel for this fascinating region, or to picture 
to you the beauties of this fascinating river? To delineate 
them aright would require the pen of a Ruskin and the ex- 
perience of a Powell. Its glories are only known to one 
who, like the latter, has floated on its hurrying tide down 
to where it unites with the Grand to form that mightier 
stream, the Rio Colorado of the west. 
Fifty miles below the Union Pacific Railroad crossing 
the river becomes wider, and its mad rush for ‘a while is 
ch@ked as it flows slowly through a broad valley. Here 
its surface is dotted with little sand bars, against which the 
water ripples with a gentle murmur, far different from its 
usual angry roar. On the north and south the mountains, 
stern and immutable in their rugged magnificence form an 
almost continuous barrier, and seem to open unwillingly 
the narrow channel through which the waters pass. On 
the east the bluffs rise one after another in bare, gray 
walls until they become part of the foothills and at last 
run into the mountains a few miles away. On the west 
the valley is bounded by a range of lofty buttes, almost 
perpendicular on every side, but occasionally affording a 
path by which an active climber may reach the summit. 
The surface of the plateau is level and clothed with short 
bunch grass, here and there diversified by a few tall weeds, 
which wave wildly in the never-ceasing breeze. 
From this elevated post the country may be seen stretched 
out in a glorious panorama. The dark green ribbons, 
which run back from the river in all{directions, showing 
where the brooks descend from the higher land, contrast 
finely with the silvery gray of the sage plains ; while the 
cloud-capped mountains beyond, touched by the declining 
sun, form a gorgeous setting fcr the picture. 
Near the base of one of these buttes our camp is pitched. 
Three or four tents, their white canvas showing bright 
against the green willows, stand ata short distance from 
the water. Four Government wagons are drawn up not 
far off, and the baggage of the outfit lies on the ground 
beside them. The horses and mules, dispersed over the 
plain, are cropping the luxuriant herbage, tended by their 
watchful herders, who occasionally drive in those that 
stray too far, and prevent the more restless from wander- 
ing away from camp. 
Around the glowing fire a dozen men are stretched upon 
the ground. Bearded, bronzed by exposure to ali weathers, 
and clothed in buckskin, you might take them all at first 
glance for a party of trappers; but their speech betrays 
their occupation, and shows you that they are members of 
some scientific expedition. 
The evening meal over, they have lighted their pipes, 
and are discussing with animated voice and gesture the 
various prizes obtained during the day. Some exult in 
a new fossil, others examine some rare bird, others 
still are looking over their tools, while two who are clean- 
ing their rifles converse about to-morrow’s hunt. The two 
last are John N—— and myself. The last morsel of fresh 
meat in the camp has been consumed to-day, and we have 
resolved to make an early start to-morrow morning and see 
if we cannot renew the supply. So, soon after the sun 
goes down we wrap our buffalo robes around us and ere 
long are soundly asleep. 
The stars were shining brightly from the cloudless sky, 
when we crossed the river and turning north, directed our 
course up the stream. The wind blew chilly down from 
the mountains, causing us to gather our blankets closer 
about us we trotted silently along. At length we reached 
a deep and rocky cafion, where, on passing some days be- 
fore, we had noticed numerous tracks of deer and elk ; 
here, turning away from the river, we commenced to as- 
cend the heights. 
A silent ride of ‘about two miles between the gloomy 
rocks brought us to the commencement of the timber just 
as the light began to appear in the Hast. Pushing on 
through this until we were well up on the mountain, we 
came to a slight opening among the pines, where a little 
spring bubbling out of the ground fertilized a small extent 
of land and nourished a rich growth of grass. Here we 
halted and unsaddled our horses, and after picketing them 
out to feed, started off to look for the game which we ex- 
pected to find near at hand. 
We took the precaution to notice with the utmost care 
the various landmarks that we passed on our way. This 
yas necessary for the reason that among those extensive 
forests each tree looks so much like the next one that unless 
great care is exercised the traveler becoming bewildered by 
this similarity, is almost sure to lose his way. 
As we proceed through the sombre aisles of the forest 
our moccasin-shod feet fall noiselessly upo” the thick car- 
pet of fine needles with which the ground is upread. The 
breeze blows softly on our faces bringing with it the faint 
damp odors of decaying vegetation and soughs with a 


gentle rustling through the tops of the lofty pines. A 
dim, uncertain light pervades the scene, rarely relieved by 
aray of sunlight, which breaks through the dense foliage 
and flecks the ground with spangles of waving gold. The 
ruffed grouse, with sedate step and dignified bearing, stalks 
a few paces away from our path, while the little pine squir- 
rel, startled from the ground, hurries to some elevated 
perch, whence he gazes at us with his round, black eyes, 
wondering, no doubt, what the strange creatures are that 
invade these mysterious solitudes. No sound is heard save 
the whispering of the pines and the distant cry of the 
Clarkes crow, borne faintly to our ears from the peaks above. 
At length we reach a spot where the trees grow farther 
apart and the light becomes stronger, and as we round the 
prostrate truak of a huge tree, an object catches our eye 
which causes us suddenly to stand motionless as statues. 
A fine two-year-old black tail buck is feeding on the edge 
of the openiag not seventy-five yards from us. The wind 
blowing from him to us has not notified him of our pres- 
ence, nor have his eyes or ears warned him to hurry away 
through the forest. We draw cautiously back to the shel- 
ter of the fallen tree, John kneels, and, as the buck pre- 
sents his side, fires. The crack of the rifle echoes over the 
mountain and is thrown back from a hundred crags. The 
buck gives two or three sudden bounds and stands gazing 
wildly around fora moment, and then moves slowly off 
through the trees. But we lave seen the life blood pour- 
ing from the wound behind his shoulder, and we know 
that he will not go far before lying down, and that when 
he lies down he will never rise again. 
We step leisurely forward to the spot where he disap- 
peared and find a thick trail of blood, and following this 
for about thirty yards we come to the beautiful creature 
lying dead, his muscles still quivering and the steaming 
current just ceasing to flow. 
Half an hour is devoted to skinning and breaking up our 
quarry, and as much more to the enjoyment of a cigarrette 
as we recline on the soft pine needles and dreamily watch 
the waving tree tops; and then seeing that the sun is ap- 
proaching the zenith, we resume our rifles and advance 
again. Two or three little openings are passed revealing 
nothing, and the afternoon is wearing away, when, as we 
stand on the edge of another little glade consulting upon 
the advisability of an immediate return, we see a large 
buck and two does emerge from the woods on the other 
side and walk down toward the little pool which lies half 
way across the opening. They are three hundred yards 
away, but if they continue to advance after drinking will 
pass within shot of us. The; remain near the water, how- 
ever, and we determine to crawl upon them. 
The grass, fortunately, is moderately high, and conceals 
us as we creep slowly along. At length we are within one 
hundred and fifty yards, the grass becomes shorter and we 
can advance no nearer. We carefuily raise our heads 
above the grass and fire together, and the two does drop. 
The buck runs a few paces and stops and looks back to see 
why his companions are not at his side. As he stands 
broadside toward me, I raise up again, and, firing quickly, 
have the satisfaction of seeing him come to his haunches, 
Werun gleefully up and administer the coup de grace to 
John’s doe, which he has shot through the shoulders, and 
to the buck, which has a broken back. Then hastily bleed- 
ing the game, we hurry off to bring up the horses. 
And we were none too soon in doing so. The time 
taken in packing the loads, and in looking for John’s 
buck, which on our return we had almost missed, and the 
fact that we had to walk, leading our burdened horses, de- 
jayed us so that the sun was setting as we emerged from 
the timber. A little later and we should have been forced 
to camp in the forest. No great hardship, you will say. 
True, but we preferred the dinner that awaited us in camp 
and our warm buffalo robes to dry deer meat and a single 
blanket in the mountain. 
We hurried down the cafion, and in a short time after - 
reaching the river bank were opposite the camp. Here our 
shouts soon attracted the attention of the crowd around the 
fire, and a couple of horses were led over to us by one of 
the party, which we mounted and rode across the river. 
And now while we enjoy our dinner by the cheerful fire- 
light, some skin the last three decr and others tell us of 
what they have done during the day and demand an ac- 
eount of our trip. This is soon given ; and when an hour 
later the rising moon silvers the mountains, the plain and 
the river, and floods the camp with its clear, pale light, 
dimming the flickering rays of the fire, no sound breaks 
the stillness of the air save the monotonous cropping of 
the feeding nerd and the low murmur of the water as it 
ripples softly against’the banks ; lenes susurri sub noctem. 
ORNIS. 
— eo 
PRACTICAL FISH CULTURE. 
———_ 4. 
NUMBER ONE. 
——— 
NDER this head the writer proposes to give full and 
complete instructions regarding the building of 
ponds, dams, screens and the manner of keeping trout, to- 
gether with the modes of taking spawn, handling and hatch- 
ing it, the rearing of the young fish, their diseases and 
enemies so far as known, and such other matters as may be. 
necessary to thoroughly post one that has not the slightest 
knowledge of the first principles of fish-breeding, so that he 
will be able to manage a trout farm successfully. Therefore, 
the reader that is already well posted is informed that these 
articles are for a much larger class who must perforce com- 
mence at the A B ©, and if he should be so well learned 
that there is nothing possible for him to gain from the ex 
ha’ 

