


_ ward from the northern boundary of the United States, and 
spreads over the whole treeless region of the West, from 
the prairies of northern Hlinois and Wisconsin. to the rye- 
grass foot-hills of northern California, and reaches south- 
ward to a little beyond the parallel of 40° in the Great 
Basin. This race differs from that found further north, in 
much lighter, more ochraceous colors, and in.naked toes. 
The first feature is due to the common Jaw, giving birds of 
the arid, treeless districts, (of strong heat and reflection 
» summer months, and an almost arctic winter,) 
re bleached colors than those of more wooded 
districts; while the nakedness of the toes is due to the fact 
that in their southern habitat they do not need the protec- 
tion from cold which their northern brethren do. 
Fr uy Ropert Rmeeway. 
—— 
ROTATION { OF FISH, 
” : 
Cazenovia, November, 1 
EprTror. ForEST AND STREAM:— 
He who files and binds the Forrest anp STREAM will 
secure an amount of varied information concerning fish 
and game that collected from therobseryations of men in all 
parts of the globe, will, in time, be of infinite interest and 
value; and none of it will tend more to explode or confirm 
ancient and venerable notions than the columns so kindly 
given to correspondents who send for record the investiga- 
tions made with regard to the peculiarities of game-birds 
and animals. 
The question of snakes swallowing their young has been 
responded to with abundant confirmation, andif the mooted 
point, ‘Will bass take a fly?” is not authoritively set- 
tled, let your present correspondent add the small weight 
of his testimony, in saying that fly-fishing for Oswego and 
black bass has long been one of his favorite amusements, 
although they are more eager for @ spoon bait, or in mid 
summer, deem a grasshopper the tit bit most tempting of 
all. 
A question of considerable interest may arise from seek- 
ing the why of what may be termed the rotation of animal 
life, to use the word as applied to crops. ; 
It is well known that the numbers of any variety of 
animals vary greatly in succeeding years, and the same ap- 
plies to birds. In some instances there are evident facts to 
account for the increase or diminution of certain species, 2s 
when a winter of sudden snows, or rapidly formed crust, 
causes the death of covies of quail and birds that are in the 
habit of collecting upon the ground; but there are great 
variations in cases. where our present information affords 
no satisfactory reasons to.satisfy our curiosity. 
In fish we see something of the kind, but concealed, as 
they are, from observation, it is not easy to distinguish dim- 
inution in number from diminution in catch. 
In the Lake at this place, there have been changes that 
may lead minds more familiar than your correspondent’s, to 
some conclusions of interest. 
When the Lake was first visited it was known by the In- 
dians, Onondagas and Oneidas, by the name Onahgena, the 
‘«Take of Yellow Perch.” The waters of the Lake at the 
beautiful falls of the Chittenango, (‘‘waters running north’’) 
goin one leap one hundred and forty feet, and although 
salmon came in those good old days when the cornucopia of 
nature held something beside bull heads-and suckers,to the 
foot of this cascade, no fin came beyond; proving that un- 
less the lazy Indians made their squaws plant fish, the yel- 
low perch were original inhabitants, dating in occupancy 
from the flood, or from some of the glacial disturbances 
that have laid petrified sand beaches, with every ripple mark 
preseryed,on our hill tops; the stones being from the Potts- 
dam group, one hundred miles north, and one thousand 
feet below the final resting place of the slab that tells how 
in the workshop of nature shifting sands are made a record 
of ages, while permanent rocks tell a tale of wandering. 
Living in less distinguishing numbers with the yellow 
perch, were the placid sucker, the dressy sunfish, and a few 
common pond fish; but there is no record of trout in the 
Lake, although they were abundawt in the streams about. 
Some forty years ago pickerel were introduced. The 
variety chosen as the best was from the Susquehanna, a 
brighter fish than the St. Lawrence cousin, with whom 
they now live in Oneida Lake, having gone alive over the 
Chittenango Falls, and from whom they are favorably dis- 
tinguished as more beautiful to the eye and more agreeable 
to the taste. 
The perch held their own with these long jawed fellows, 
and both did well. Perch of one and two pounds were 
abundant, fine to catch and eat, while the pickerel were the 
aim of many an idler, falling victims to the seductions of 
minnows, frogs legs and, in later years, to the entrancing 
spoon. So far it was a well disposed community, when to 
add variety, Oswego bass, (ashade different from the black), 
were introduced, and they flourished until many a rod was 
bent double to their vigorous rush. 
With them pike were brought, but they must have been 
the Kilkenny breed, for no record remains of any survivors 
among them. The pickerel were not sufferers, they never 
are, (and it is the only case on record where some one great 
pike did not also prove triumphant), but the bright banded 
golden perch were humiliated, and it is presumed were 
sacrificed to ‘‘the survivoral of the fittest.” A few small 
ones bit in retired coves on pin hooks, but they were no 
longer a power among fish—neither free nor equal. 
For many years no changes were noticed. Three years 
ago the Fish Commissioners sent 8,000 salmon trout, which 
were placed in deep water, and one year ago 80,000 more, 
swith 80,000 white fish, were introduced. The white fish 

nap) 
so. 
which do no ‘not take bait, will not be taken by nets, pu 
are introduced experimentally to'see if they and their spawn 
will not afford food in deep*water for the salmon trout. 
How far this experiment will succeed, time alone can de- 
monstrate. Black bass hayé also been planted, and a few 
wall-eyed pike—but they are still small. 
There dves not seem to be any cause in all these changes 
to effect the bass unfavorably, or the perch favorably, but 
the catch of the a tn has been very small in bass, 
almost nothing, while the perch fishing is vastly improved, 
and many were taken upon flies by trolling them under 
water. Dead fish have not been seen in unusual numbers, 
and no good reason is given for the absence of the bass, so 
we are inclined to think there may be some such variation 
in their numbers as exists from year to year amony squir- 
rels, &c., &c. The water is one from which migration is 
practically impossible; yet, the usual amount of skillful 
fishing has been exercised in vain, and some cause must be 
sought beyond any known at present. 
In this,correspondence there are no conclusions, but state- 
ments of the kind may be so multiplied as to lead to some 
that may be valuable, and with this hope the statements are 
communicated. Lis Wie as, 
—~e- 6 , 
WILD TURKEY’S. 
pt Ws 
CUMBERLAND; Mp., Dec. I, 1873. 
Eprror Forrsr anp StTREAM:— 
The game birds found in this region of country are the 
wild turkey, pheasant, partridge, woodcock, jack snipe, 
and severai varieties of the duck family. 
All sink into insignificance when compared with the 
noblest wild fowl that makes its home in the mountain 
fastnesses of the Blue Ridgeand Alieghanies.” Ireferto the 
wild turkey. The proud step and stately beating of this 
bird in his native wilds, proclaim him the monarch of 
game birds in this section of country. 
When full grown he averages probably twenty pounds 
in weight, and he not unfrequently is found weighing as 
high as twenty-five or six. 
The plumage is very dark, nearly black in many cases, 
and glossy; the usual color is abronze deepening into green- 
ish black. The hens are duller in color than the gobblers. 
A pair of turkeys raise from ten to twenty youngina 
season. So wary and watchful are they that it is seldom 
an opportunity can be obtained in which to observe them 
when in their domestic relations. Their habits are there- 
fore unknown tomany. Severe battles often take place 
between the gobblers to determine which shall be the hap- 
py spouse of some hen that watches without seeming 
interest the struggle going on for her sake. The victorious 
hero strutting proudly by the side of the well pleased hen, 
becomes so much excited over his victory that the red and 
white of his head and neck assume adeep purple. With 
jtail spread to its utmost extent, and one wing sweeping the 
ground, an old gobbler presents a fine picture of self-satis- 
faction and pride. The vanguished gobbler does not write 
a letter admonishing his friends that he is so stricken with 
shame at his defeat, and so stricken with grief at the loss 
of his adored that to remain any longer on this mundane 
sphere would only be a strain upon his feelings and make 
him a burden of woe and grief to his friends. Such a reas- 
onas this having been given for his blind act he doesnot go 
to alone and secluded spot where some giant rock over- 
hangs a deep and boiling pool, and after having behaved 
himself in an insanely appropriate manner throw himself 
as a sacrifice to his selfishness into the waters below. No, 
he is more sensible than that. After his defeat he does 
some very fast walking to get out of the way of his success- 
‘ful adversary. This having been accomplished he busies 
himself in smoothing out his ruffled plumage and in cover- 
ing the marks of defeat. Once more his ‘“‘keouk” sounds 
through the forest inviting another fight or perhaps seeking 
a meeting with some other hen, and thus the war of the 
gobblers continues until all are mated and the theory of 
natural selection verified. 
A spot in the far off mountain is selected under a shelter- 
| ing log or jutting rock, the dried leaves and grasses of the 
last fall are scooped out, and in the hollow thus formed the 
egos are deposited. During incubation the gobbler stays 
near his mate, and when she desires to leave the nest in 
search of food and to rest her cramped limbs he takes her 
place upon the eggs. 
As soon as the young are hatched a spot easier of access 
is sought where the young birds may obtain food more 
readily. Both parents take great interest in the growth and 
progress of their young family. The wild turkey is more 
hardy than its domestic cousin, and the rains of spring and 
the early summer months affect the health of the young 
brood much less than our tame and domesticated varieties. 
A dry season is preferable for their rapid development. At 
one month old the real trials and dangers of the young 
family begin. At this age there is suilicient good eating in 
the young turkey to make the chops of Reynard water with 
delight, and the numerous hawks infesting this region are 
not insensible of the delicious flavor of wild turkey. 
The young birds are exposed to the greatest amount of 
danger in the latter part of August and the first of Septem- 
ber; they are then about the size of a common barn-yard hen, 
and are an easy prey for the hunter. A flock of half grown 
turkeys startled by the approach of any one will take im- 
mediately to the nearest trees, and can be shot. one after 
another from their perches. This mode of slaughtering 
the poor birds is poor fun and a disgrace to a true sports- 
man. Five turkeys at.that season will about. equal. one 
good one killed during the months of November and Decem- 


The two last named months are the ones in which 
ber. 
the turkey ought to be hunted, and I would be much grati- 
fied if our Legislature could be induced to pass a law pro- 
hibiting their destruction (for so I must-call it) at any other 
time. . 
In the morning after ‘‘the beautiful” has covered the 
ground to the depth of an inch or two is the best time to 
start upon a hunt for wild turkeys. They will then be 
actively searching for food and every movement and turn 
may then be tracedin the snow. Great caution is necessary 
in approaching them; their sight is excellent, and their 
hearing gocd. Many a fine gobbler is lost by the cracking 
of a twig or the movements of the hunter. Every precau- 
tion should be taken to see as far ahead as possible without 
being seen. If provided ‘with a turkey caller it is well 
every now and then to see if an answering ‘‘keouk” cannot be 
obtained. If the hunter be fortunate enough to get withip 
shooting distance let him take deliberate aim at the head 
(if provided with a rifle). But the possessor of a shot gun 
should aim to cover the whole body. After being mortally 
wounded a turkey will frequently run or fly for half a mile, 
but in a straight line. And very many turkeys are thought 
to have escaped injury when by a careful search they 
might have been found dead a short distance from the 
place where they received the fatal shot. 
As the cultivation of the bottom Jands along our 
rivers increases the wild turkeys become more abundant. 
During the late civil war agriculture was at a stand still in 
this part of the country; the farmers raised barely sufii- 
cient to keep body and soul united, consequently the food of 
the wild turkey was diminished in quantity and there was 
& proportionate decrease in their numbers. But since hostil- 
ities have ceased and the fields are once more contributing 
the necessaries of life, the wild turkey has steadily increased 
in numbers, and to-day or any day during the season 
dozens may be seen hanging in front of the restaurants and 
game stands. ‘ 
I have spoken of a turkey caller, and it would not be 
doing justice to myself or my readers to close without de- 
scribing this implement of the turkey hunt. The small 
bone from the wing of the turkey makes a very good caller 
by putting one end into the mouth and drawing the air 
through it, but the best one can be obtained by sawing 
about two inches from the end of a cow horn, then cut a 
piece of shingle so as to fit the small end of the piece sawed 
off, bore a hole in the middle of the shingle, and insert a. 
stick about the thickness of a ten penny nail, allowing the 
end of the stick to come through the piece of horn and to: 
project a short distance beyond the open end. Put the end 
of the stick thus projecting upon a picce of slate and the 
sound produced thereby is the best imitation of the ‘‘keouk” 

of a turkey known. ‘OBSERVER. 
- ——S> 6->— 7 
DEER HUNTING IN CANADA. 
eS eae 
Epitor Forest AND STREAM :— 
Being a subscriber for your valuable papexT thought a 
short account of a deer hunt among the rocks. of Digby and 
Dalton would interest your readers. Our party consisted 
of four gentlemen and myself, accompanied by two deer 
hounds, named Bugler and Music, also.a spaniel named 
Joe. We took along our tent and a plenteous supply of 
blankets and buffalo robes, also some stuff we commonly 
call ‘‘goose oil’ which answers two-purposes, one is to 
keep us from getting dry, and the other is'to pour into our 
boots to keep the wet out. It-was well into the small hours 
of the morning when we reached the camping ground and 
began to pitch tent and cut wood to make a fire. We had 
bad luck the first three days, although the dogs started 
some deer. On Saturday morning we made an early start 
and were all on our runways by day light. The dogs had 
not been long away before I heard their charming music. 
It did not last long, as bang went Donald’s gun, and so did 
Hector’s, and away went the buck fora point on Cranberry 
lake, where Charley was stationed. Bang went his gun 
and down dropped Mr. Buck, being shot in the head. 
After cutting him open and giving tlie dogs a feed, we 
started back to the tent taking the deer along with.us. It 
was well on in the afternoon when we arrived there, but I 
took Joe (the spaniel) along with me, after some partridge, 
and before night set in I had been successful in bagging 
six brace, 
Jim Salter came into camp, (he is a farmer and. deer 
hunter) and some proposed still hunting; so on the: next 
morning my friend Billy and I went with Jim. His direc- 
tions were few and simple;fhe told me to walk quietly along 
the ridge, and} Billy totake that one (pointing to the ridge 
a little farther on). After we had taken our latitude we all 
went into the bush, climbing over rocks, swales and gulleys. 
All went well for a short time, and then I heard my friend. 
“‘Hallo—Bob, come here.” I found him sitting ona log, wet, 
dirty and swamping up to his waist. Bang went Jim’s rifle - 
three times (shoots a Henry) and. brought down a doe, 
which we cleaned and buried in the snow until morning. 
We had hard work to get it into camp next morning, as 
the snow was two feet deep and not crested sufficiently to 
bare us. While we were away the rest of the’ party had 
succeeded in killing two buck fawns. During that night it 
was the first howl of the wolves that disturbed our rest. 
They must have come very near, as the dogs barked 'and 
howled gloriously and were much scared. Some of us 
looked out, but could see nary a wolf, only hear their in- 
fernal howl. No doubt the track of the deer that we had 
shot and buried, and the smell of blood, had aroused their 
insatiable hunger. Next morning on locking for tracks we 
found the snow trodden down as if there had heen a fight, 
\ 

