c 
 
 SS 
 
 ire IN 
 
 REST 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD 
 AND FOREST 
 
 THE- ANIMALS- BIRDS 
 FROGS AND SALAMANDERS 
 
 BY 
 
 F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS 
 
 AUTHOR OF FAMILIAR FLOWERS OF FIELD AND GARDEN, 
 FAMILIAR TREES AND THEIR LEAVES, FAMILIAR FEATURES 
 OF THE ROADSIDE, THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWER GARDEN, ETC. 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 THE AUTHOR, AND PHOTOGRAPHS FROM 
 NATURE BY W. LYMAN UNDERWOOD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 i; 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1898, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 THERE are few things more gratifying to the 
 lover of Nature than those momentary glimpses of 
 wild life which he obtains while passing through the 
 field or forest. Wild animals do not confine them- 
 selves exclusively to the wilderness ; quite frequently 
 they venture upon the highway, and we are apt to 
 regard the meeting with one of them there as a rare 
 and fortunate occurrence. 
 
 The daisy and the wild rose appear in their ap- 
 pointed places on the return of summer, and the song 
 sparrow sings in the same tree he frequented the year 
 before ; but the woodchuck, the raccoon, and the deer 
 are not so often found exactly where we think they 
 belong. To seek an interview with such wild folk is 
 like taking a chance in a lottery : there are numerous 
 blanks and bat few prizes. 
 
 But because wild life is not in constant evidence, 
 like the wild flower, is no proof that it is uncommon. 
 
 To those who keep in touch with Nature it becomes 
 
 iii 
 
iv FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 a very familiar thing, and to live a while where the 
 wild creatures make their homes is to cross their 
 paths continually. I have not failed to meet that 
 much-slandered animal, the skunk, every summer for 
 seven years past, yet with no unhappy results ; I have 
 haunted a fox's hole the better part of one season, 
 and have evidently crossed his freshly made tracks, 
 but with not one lucky chance at the sight of him ; 
 yet when I had no thought of Reynard and was 
 searching the woods for the Cypripedium, there he 
 was! On another occasion he was unexpectedly en- 
 countered in the open pasture by some of the mem- 
 bers of the household, and still later he was seen 
 seated on the highway not very far from the pet cat. 
 
 One can never tell at what moment some surpris- 
 ing demonstration of wild life will occur at one's very 
 doorstep. What with two deer, nine weasels, and a 
 performing bear, all of which appeared in one day 
 last summer close to my studio, I concluded that our 
 tame mountain retreat had relapsed again to the wild 
 and happy conditions of the primitive forest. But I 
 was forced to change my mind a few days after, when 
 an Italian with his organ ground out " Johnny, get 
 your gun" within forty feet of the spot where the 
 wild deer had stood. 
 
 It may be largely a matter of good fortune if one 
 catches a glimpse of some wild creature of the woods 
 
PREFACE. v 
 
 in the way I have just described ; hut in the forest it 
 unquestionably depends upon the skillful movements 
 and quiet demeanor of the observer that he can see 
 without being seen. The wild animals never become 
 familiar to one who is heedless and impatient. The 
 waggle of a leaf or the snapping of a twig sends the 
 timid burrower to the depths of his hole, and it 
 requires more than the patience of Job to await his 
 reappearance. It is necessary to count time by 
 heart-throbs rather than seconds when one enters 
 the woodland; indeed, it is possibly better to take 
 no account of it at all, but lavish it generously upon 
 chances. Perhaps such an apparent waste of time 
 would be called loafing; if so, then Thoreau was a 
 magnificent loafer. But loafers do not bequeath to us 
 a world of woodland knowledge such as Thoreau did. 
 We are at fault because we do not enter the 
 wood and do a little thinking on our own account. 
 Perhaps if we did we would discover that the deer, 
 the marten, the loon, and the bear were not half so 
 uncommon as we thought they were. ]STor can we 
 rely wholly upon what the books say. Audubon, 
 Wilson, Rymer Jones, and Elliott Coues are all well 
 enough in their way, but they smack somewhat of 
 ancient history. The development of natural history 
 in this country is of very recent date ; one naturalist 
 has informed me that up to about ten years ago one 
 
vi FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 of the most remarkable and typical little mammals 
 of Florida, a water rat (Microtus neofiber allenii\ 
 had absolutely no record whatever. In a pamphlet en- 
 titled The Land Mammals of Florida, by Mr. Outram 
 Bangs (1898), of seventy-three forms described, seven- 
 teen are new. When Wilson wrote, in 1812, he knew 
 positively nothing at all of the songs of the nightin- 
 gale of America the hermit thrush and the veery, 
 the thrush named for him ! Even in so late a book 
 as The Fur-bearing Animals of Elliott Coues, the 
 European ermine is confused with two of our Ameri- 
 can weasels. Such an error as that in these days of 
 greater light would be deemed inexcusable. 
 
 It is to some of the younger students of Nature 
 that we are indebted for a more concise knowledge 
 of the relationship of animals in other words, the 
 exact identification of distinct species and varieties. 
 Dr. Merriam makes this fact plain in the following 
 tribute to the work of Mr. Bangs. He says : " Until 
 very recently the group of weasels has been in a state 
 of chaos, but now, thanks to Mr. Outram Bangs's ex- 
 cellent paper entitled A Review of the Weasels of 
 Eastern North America, the obscurity that has so 
 long surrounded our Eastern species has been cleared 
 away." * 
 
 * Vide United States Department of Agriculture, Division of 
 Ornithology and Mammals. Bulletin No. 11, June, 1896. 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 There is more in a name in natural history than 
 one would suppose. The change, in these latter days, 
 of a Latin name generally means that the exact na- 
 ture of the beast is at last discovered. For instance, 
 the flying squirrel, Sciuropterus sabrinus, is a large, 
 and in winter a distinctly yellow-tinged, gray-coated 
 creature, whose white chest fur, if you blow it, is 
 lead-colored at the base. The commoner species, 
 Sciuropterus volans volans, is a different animal, 
 whose under fur is quite white. Not many years 
 ago these two squirrels were not distinguished apart 
 and therefore were known by one name. To-day 
 the old name for the Virginia deer, Cariacus vir- 
 ginianus, is displaced by the newer one, Odocoileus 
 virginianus* The recent change means that until 
 this last winter (1898) this particular species has not 
 been properly distinguished apart from other species. 
 
 But I can not lightly pass the old and inestima- 
 bly valuable works of Audubon, Wilson, and Elliott 
 Coues without a tribute to their excellence. These 
 great naturalists were pioneers, and all they have to 
 say is worthy of the closest study; consequently I 
 have freely quoted such passages from their works as 
 I considered would throw a strong light on the sub- 
 
 * Vide Proceedings of the Biological Society of Washington, 
 p. 99, 1898. 
 
viii FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ject. Regarding Dr. Clinton Hart Merriam's Ani- 
 mals of the Adirondacks, I can only add that I con- 
 sider it a classic, and until some writer shall exceed 
 its simple and attractive presentation of important 
 facts, it must be regarded, as far as it goes, as the 
 best biography of American animals which we to-day 
 
 It should be borne in mind that the times change, 
 a scientific knowledge of animals grows, and the wild 
 creatures themselves shift their position over the 
 land. What was supposed to be uncommon or ex- 
 tinct twenty years ago can not be regarded so to-day. 
 The borders of abandoned farms are constantly not 
 rarely invaded by animals who were not supposed 
 to live within miles of the old places. Occasionally 
 an otter, a lynx, a deer, or a bear turns up most un- 
 expectedly, and immediately all the country turns out 
 to hunt the creature down. 
 
 Unfortunately, we have no proper appreciation of 
 the inherent good in a wild animal ; one would think, 
 by the way men acted, that it had.no right to live. 
 There is no logical reason why we should slay a 
 snake, skunk, fox, weasel or raccoon unless it be- 
 comes a public nuisance and we are compelled to 
 put an end to its depredations. 
 
 There is something satisfactory in the feeling of 
 our own harrnlessness in the presence of some poor 
 
PREFACE. i x 
 
 frightened creature whose wild eyes betray the fear 
 that we are a deadly enemy ; and with what comfort- 
 ing assurance we hasten to say, " No, you are greatly 
 mistaken, I bear you no ill ; I am your friend." If 
 only the poor thing could know that, how much hap- 
 pier the world would wag on ! 
 
 One feels just a bit of exultant pleasure when one 
 sees the little wild thing approach, timidly accept a 
 proffered nut or a crust of bread, and actually eat it 
 within reaching distance. I recall with no small 
 feeling of satisfaction the time when, idly paddling 
 my canoe beside the ^^^^ river bank, I met 
 a great blue heron slow- ^^%>\ ty strolling 
 along the sandy margin, 
 remained beside him for fully 
 twenty minutes an acceptable com- 
 panion. Nor do I forget the time 
 when I approached, softly whistling the 
 while, a brown, heron standing motion- 
 less on the meadow, and got so near him 
 that I could see the round shape of his eye as plain- 
 ly as I have drawn it here. There is a certain 
 charm in music for the wild animals. I have whis- 
 tled by the half hour to the hermit thrush and have 
 received an appreciative and cordial response ; the 
 veery grows quite excited if I imitate his spiral 
 song; the red squirrel sits transfixed if I play for 
 
x FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 him on an insignificant ten-cent harmonicon. One 
 time I noticed a particularly vociferous fellow sub- 
 side, cross his hands on his breast, and listen respect- 
 fully to the soothing strains of " Home, sweet home." 
 
 All this goes to prove that the wild life of the 
 woods is not unapproachable. It may be difficult to 
 cultivate its friendship, but it responds. It is an 
 easy matter to pick a daisy and carelessly throw it 
 away ; but when we have persuaded a wild bii d or a 
 squirrel to eat from our hand, we never throw the 
 memory of that away : it abides with us forever ! 
 
 Guns and traps are all very well in their way, but 
 a conscience void of offense to the animal world is 
 better. There never was a world more peculiarly 
 beset with enemies of all kinds and degrees than the 
 wild animal world ; it has to make a fight of life, 
 anyway ; and then there is the common enemy, man, 
 to reckon with, who crushes the snake, hunts the fox 
 and bear, worries the woodchuck, shoots the bird, traps 
 the marten, kills the deer, and makes war generally 
 upon all wild life without discrimination. One of these 
 days, when the cutworm, the grasshopper, the field 
 mouse, the army worm, and the gypsy moth devour the 
 farm, house and all, we will wonder what has become 
 of the beneficent skunk, weasel, and snake. Per- 
 haps we have yet time enough to give these poor crea- 
 tures a chance to learn we are friends, and not enemies. 
 
PREFACE. x i 
 
 I have no excuse for these imperfect records of 
 my own experience with wild animals except the one 
 that I have lived long enough among them to respect 
 their rights of life and speak a good word for them 
 when occasion offers. There is only one creature I 
 know of who seems to be a thoroughly ugly char- 
 acter, afflicted with a most uncontrollable and vicious 
 temper that is, the Injun Devil, or wild cat (Lynx 
 canadensis). Fortunately, he rarely appears this side 
 of the Canadian border; when he does, the hunter 
 gives him no peace, for there is no peace where he 
 exists. 
 
 I wish to add, that without the valuable assistance 
 of Prof. Samuel G-arman, Mr. Outram Bangs, and 
 Mr. Samuel Henshaw, which I most gratefully ac- 
 knowledge, I never would have been able to gather 
 together the latest scientific facts regarding the ani- 
 mals. Also, the book would have lost much without 
 Mr. W. Lyman Underwood's contribution of photo- 
 graphs from Nature. But the fact is, two heads are 
 always better than one ; and consequently the book, 
 which is not the selfish outcome of one man's 
 thoughts, escapes at least one fault it is not one- 
 sided. 
 
 F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS. 
 
 EL FUREIDIS, BLAIR, CAMPTON, N. H., 
 May, 1898. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. EARLY VOICES OF SPRING 1 
 
 II. THE CROAKERS 22 
 
 III. SONGLESS BATRACHIANS 36 
 
 IV. OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN .... 57 
 
 V. ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS 81 
 
 VI. STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES . . 96 
 
 VII. FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS . . . .112 
 
 VIII. FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS 127 
 
 IX. TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS 147 
 
 X. THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER . . . .161 
 
 XI. THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS 180 
 
 XII. A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR 202 
 
 XIII. THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR 213 
 
 XIV. A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS . . 228 
 
 XV. A SEMIANNUAL SLEEPER AND A NIGHTLY PROWLER . 245 
 
 XVI. SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET 259 
 
 xiii 
 
LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FACIJfG 
 PAGE 
 
 Young foxes Frontispiece 
 
 The muskrat 2 
 
 Pickering's hyla 6 
 
 The bullfrog 31 
 
 The home of the red salamander .47 
 
 The banks of the Pemigewasset, the home of the black- 
 billed cuckoo 85 
 
 The yellowhammer 87 
 
 The bittern 98 
 
 The Pemigewasset River, at Blair's bridge, and the Shel- 
 drake Merganser serrator 105 
 
 The wolverene 114 
 
 The mink 149 
 
 The otter 157 
 
 " A particularly clever skunk " 172 
 
 At the twilight hour, Mt. Chocorua, White Mountains . 183 
 
 Black bear 191 
 
 The raccoon 203 
 
 " Out of harm's way, treed " 207 
 
 xv 
 
X vi FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 "On the whole he is a good-natured beast" . . .210 
 
 A glimpse of a family of foxes 218 
 
 Young foxes 222 
 
 Young deer 233 
 
 Deer in Blue Mountain Park, Newport, N. H. . 238 
 
 The porcupine 254 
 
 "It was not difficult for him to climb a tree" . . . 258 
 
 The gray rabbit 260 
 
 Chipmunk .274 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE 
 IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 
 The Hyla. Acris, Chorophilus, and Bufo. 
 
 TiiE path that follows the course of the stream 
 through the meadow is bordered with miniature 
 leaflets which are growing rapidly in the sunbeams 
 of early April. The young fuzzy leaves of the liver- 
 wort (Hepatica triloba) at our feet are in company 
 with a few promising buds, but the old brown leaves 
 that have survived the winter snows are still reluc- 
 tant to give up life and let the younger generation 
 carry it forward. The brook is rushing tumultuously 
 toward the river, with no time to linger now in the 
 pebbly depths where last August all was quiet, and 
 the lazy trout scarcely moved his tail to keep his 
 place under the sheltering bank. Farther along 
 where the brook widens at the level of the river, in 
 
 a snarl of freshet- dragged alders and willows, there 
 2 l 
 
2 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 is a muskrat busily engaged in gnawing a tender 
 twig, all impatience and hurry ; possibly the creature 
 is building a nest. As we wander along a little far- 
 ther a little green snake in the new grass glides out 
 of our path. But we pass on ; we must reach the 
 hollow in the meadow where strange, shrill voices 
 are piping in a chorus more deafening than the ves- 
 per hymn of the million sparrows which congregate 
 on the bare twigs of the trees in the old graveyard 
 of King's Chapel, in Boston, at five in the afternoon. 
 
 At last we reach the grassy margin of a shallow 
 pool, only to find nothing ! And somehow we have 
 succeeded in silencing the innumerable voices. Ap- 
 parently there is nothing to do but to sit down on 
 the end of a neighboring log and patiently wait. 
 Soon a venturesome peeper begins again ; then an- 
 other, and another, until in about ten minutes the 
 chorus is going again full blast. It proceeds from a 
 hundred little throats of frogs less than an inch long, 
 all but invisible in the shallow pool. 
 
 Hyla pickeringii for this is the name of the 
 noisy creature is a familiar representative of the 
 HylidoB family, and is the earliest piper of spring in 
 the cold bogs and meadows of the hill country. Far- 
 ther south the rattling note of the cricket frog is 
 heard quite as early, and even that of the common 
 toad. But Pickering's Hyla starts in with emphatic 
 
THE MUSKRAT. 
 FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 
 
 "Busily engaged in gnawing 
 a tender twig." 
 
 Photographed from life by 
 W. Lyman Underwood. 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 3 
 
 insistence on the fact that spring is here, notwith- 
 standing the patches of meadow snow and ice which 
 still linger on the shadowy borders. The more 
 southern pipers do not have to brave these last foot- 
 prints of the winter king so continually, and I can 
 not therefore consider them the earliest of all spring 
 singers. 
 
 It is a most remarkable circumstance that Picker- 
 ing's Hyla is always heard, but is seldom seen. He 
 has a disappointing way of 
 submerging himself to his 
 very eyelids in the chilly bog. 
 With the mercury at fifty de- 
 grees he will pipe up at about 
 four or five in the afternoon. If 
 we wish to catch him in the act 
 we must choose a warmer day, ^ 
 
 when the mercury stands at sixty spring Peeper 
 degrees, sit patiently and immova- ^SS^STtoS. 11 
 bly on the log for a good half hour, 
 and scan the surface of the pool near the margin with 
 an opera glass. Here we will be sure to see the bulgy 
 eyes and the tip of the nose just appearing above 
 the water, and if we are fortunate, we may see one 
 of the tiny ocher-yellow creatures perched on some 
 withered cat-tail leaf, singing his song in plain view 
 through the glass. Such a tremendous effort he 
 
4 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 makes to throw out the liquid whistle, no wonder it 
 can be heard on a still afternoon nearly a quarter of 
 a mile away ! Beneath his chin the skin is swelled 
 out like a brownish- white bubble half the size of his 
 whole body. Imagine a man swelling his throat 
 thus until it took a balloon shape fully three feet in 
 diameter, and then letting the thing collapse with a 
 deafening scream that could be heard fully eighteen 
 miles ! Yet this, supposing the Hylds size and voice 
 could be proportionately increased, is exactly what 
 would happen. 
 
 The muscular effort which the tiny creature 
 makes to empty his lungs seems not only to collapse 
 the "bubble," but most of the body, so that when 
 he has let out one shrill whistle there is apparently 
 nothing left but his back, head, and legs. But in 
 another instant he has swelled again, and the per- 
 formance goes on with no evidence that even the 
 smallest blood-vessel will burst. Different individu- 
 als answer each other in different tones, but the 
 dominant one is E slurred to F, in the highest 
 octave on the piano, f)J=72^j j ^ an( ^ the son 
 
 is pitched by a l/fob \ \ \ \ slight effort 
 
 of the imagination J in the key 
 
 of F minor. Other individuals with larger throats 
 disturb this key by singing thus, y Pffi- f~~^~~[ anc ^ B ^ 
 others exasperatingly out of time ivy 1 * and tune 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 5 
 
 sing either sharp or flat. So the whole effect is shrill 
 rather than melodic, notwithstanding the fact that 
 the F is constantly suggesting the finale of a plaintive 
 melody. 
 
 But that is just like Nature she is ever suggest- 
 ing, and leaving all beyond to our imagination. A 
 close examination of the body of the 
 little frog emphasizes this fact. 
 There is a strong suggestion of a 
 Saint Andrew's cross on his ocher- 
 colored* back, unmistakably defined 
 in narrow lines, and a narrow dark 
 line extends from the tip of the nose 
 to the eye. The X is quite suffi- 
 ciently plain to prevent any con- ". spring Peeper, 
 
 J J showing the St. An- 
 
 fusion in the identification of Hy- drew1s cross on 
 
 the back. 
 
 la piclceringii with young tree 
 toads (Hyla versicolor\ or with other frogs of simi- 
 lar size and color, for no other small frog is marked 
 with a cross. 
 
 This Hyla is a characteristic tree frog, who with 
 his padded toes ascends the tallest trees with ease, 
 and takes to the water only for a brief time in 
 spring, which is his nuptial season. When the 
 
 * It may be slightly green, as the frog possesses to a certain 
 degree the power of color change. 
 
6 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 breeding season is over, about the first of July,* he 
 may still be found but rarely among the damp, 
 fallen leaves of the woods, or even in cellars. How 
 the creatures manage to keep themselves so com- 
 pletely out of sight in spring and summer is always 
 a mystery. It is not until the latter part of August 
 that they ascend the trees, and only once in a long 
 while have I heard the plaintive but unmistakably 
 clear whistle of one in the woods toward the close of 
 September. Prof. E. D. Cope speaks of the autum- 
 nal voice of this frog thus : " When the wind is cast- 
 ing the first frosted leaves to the ground, a whistle, 
 weaker than the spring cry, is heard repeated at in- 
 tervals during the day, from one part of the forest 
 to another, bearing considerable resemblance to the 
 note of the purple finch {Carpodaeus purpureus) 
 uttered while it is flying." 
 
 The geographical distribution of Pickering's Hyla 
 is extensive. He is found from east of the Central 
 Plains to the Atlantic, and from Canada to Florida 
 and Texas. 
 
 The form of this Hyla approaches that of a 
 more southern genus called Chorophilus, one species 
 
 * It is a remarkable fact that this Hyla is apt to choose tempo- 
 rary pieces of water in the hollows of the meadow for its breeding 
 places, because, as the season advances and the water evaporates, 
 whole colonies of its tadpoles dry up and miserably perish in the 
 hot sun. 
 
PICKERING'S HYLA. 
 HYLA PICKERINGII. 
 
 "In the latter part of August 
 they ascend the trees." 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 
 
 of which I describe farther on, but it has larger 
 "footpads." 
 
 The cricket frog, or Savannah cricket (Acris gryl- 
 lus), a little creature a trifle over an inch long, com- 
 monly found as far north as southern New York, is 
 the only known representative of this genus. In 
 more southern marshes those, for instance, of 
 New Jersey we may happen to hear both Pick- 
 ering's Hyla and the cricket frog singing in com- 
 pany. 
 
 But Acris gryllus has a distinct voice of his own. 
 He does not whistle an uninterrupted note, but 
 breaks into musical crepitations some- 
 what resembling the broken tone of 
 a rattle whistle. His voice has the 
 same character as that of the 
 common toad, but its quality is 
 more nearly like that of the tree 
 cricket. More than one natural- 
 ist has suggested its likeness to 
 the rapid striking together of two 
 pebbles, but to my ear the pebbles are not musical 
 enough ; impart to them some of the cheery jin- 
 gle of sleighbells and then I will admit the simili- 
 tude. 
 
 Savannah Cricket 
 (Acris gryllus). 
 
 In appearance the cricket frog altogether differs 
 
8 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 from the Hyla ; there are no distinct pads on the 
 toes,* and consequently he seldom if ever ascends 
 trees or bushes. His general color is variable. With 
 the tree toad (Hyla versicolor) he possesses a cer- 
 tain power of color change, or metachrosis, and 
 while he may be dull green in an environment of 
 green leaves, among dead ones he is quite as like- 
 ly to be brown. There is a very characteristic 
 blackish, triangular patch between the eyes, the 
 apex of which is directed backward. This is 
 margined by a light color, sometimes greenish, 
 sometimes rusty, and as often dull white. This 
 marginal color of the triangle is continued in a 
 dorsal stripe to the end of the body. The ex- 
 treme northeasterly limit of this frog is New Haven, 
 Conn. 
 
 But there are two varieties of this Acris, differ- 
 ing slightly in form and appearance from the species 
 proper ; one of northern distribution is called Acris 
 gryllus crepitans, and another of southern distribu- 
 tion (from North Carolina to Florida and Louisiana) 
 is called Acris gryllus gryllus. With the latter we 
 have nothing to do, as it is south of our range ; but 
 the former is likely to engage our attention in the 
 
 * These are furnished, however, with very slightly enlarged 
 disks. 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 9 
 
 West as far north as Illinois, and also in the East in 
 southern Pennsylvania.* 
 
 William Hamilton Gibson has made a most truth- 
 ful drawing of the Acris gryllus crepitans to ac- 
 company his article in Harper's Young People for 
 March 25, 1890. Dr. Abbott also frequently refers 
 to Acris crepitans^ but I question whether either 
 he or Mr. Gibson actually heard this species. It is 
 far more likely that they heard the Acris gryllus / 
 still, I have no means of positively knowing this. 
 According to Professor Cope, Acris 
 gryllus crepitans has no record east of 
 Carlisle, Pa. 
 
 The subspecies Acris gryllus 
 crepitans has three oblique blotches on 
 the sides, which are very prominent, 
 
 ,,,-,., i TT Savannah Cricket 
 
 and the limbs are muscular and well (Acris gryiius 
 
 developed. J crepitans). 
 
 The note of this species, it is said, may be ex- 
 
 * More particularly in Carlisle, Cumberland County. 
 
 f Vide Outings at Odd Times, pages 107, 108 ; also Days Out of 
 Doors, pages 34-37. I doubt very much though, whether the Acris 
 can whistle and crepitate too. This would be contrary to Nature, 
 for reasons which are too many for me to explain. 
 
 \ Professor Cope also gives the following anatomical defini- 
 tion of this subspecies : " Acris gryllus crepitans. Hinder foot, not 
 including the tarsus (that part of the foot above the instep), less 
 than half the length of head and body combined ; skin tubercles 
 larger ; posterior femoral (hind leg) stripe less distinct." 
 
10 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 actly imitated by striking two marbles together, first 
 slowly, then faster and faster, for a succession of 
 about twenty or thirty beats. The noise can not be 
 heard at a very great distance. 
 
 The little frog is prominently marked on the 
 back with green, and has the same dark triangle on 
 the crown as that described for the species proper. 
 He remains in the tall grass around the marsh, and 
 seldom if ever ascends a tree or bush. When pur- 
 sued he leaps extraordinary distances and invariably 
 makes for the water, into which he disappears just 
 as we reach the margin after much clumsy slumping 
 through the bog and vain grabbing at the unattain- 
 able. Only one who has lost a frog this 
 way knows anything about the sudden men- 
 tal activity of the baffled pursuer as he 
 stands gazing at the mocking ripples. 
 
 The genus Acris is distinguished for 
 its swimming powers. Look at my draw- 
 i n o- of the hind leg and note the webbed 
 
 (A. gryllus 
 
 toes ; now compare this with the hind leg 
 
 of Chorophilus triseriatus (page 11). and it will be 
 seen that the latter can not be much of a swimmer. 
 
 The Chorophilus triseriatus^ another singer in 
 early spring, about the same size as the cricket frog, 
 may be heard in the West, and in the East as far 
 north as central New Jersey. This frog is ash-gray 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. H 
 
 striped with three brown lines, or sometimes fawn 
 color with the brown stripes broader ; the yellow- 
 white beneath is distinctly granulated. 
 Professor Cope says, "It delights in 
 those small and often temporary pieces 
 of water which are inclosed in the 
 densest thickets of spiny Smilax and 
 Rubus, with scrub oaks, and sur- ^ 
 
 . n , Three-striped Frog 
 
 rounded by the water -loving Ceph- (choropinius 
 alanthus, where no shade interrupts 
 the full glow of sunlight. Here the little frogs may 
 be heard in the hottest part of the day, accompanied 
 by a few Acris gryllus, or rarely a Hyla pickeringii 
 .... As they scarcely swim, when surprised they 
 seek refuge in the edge of the water, with so little 
 movement that their capture is no easy matter." 
 
 In southwestern New Jersey the swamps 
 resound with the rattling notes of these 
 frogs throughout the spring and sometimes 
 in the summer. They sing not only in 
 the evening but at midday, just as the com- 
 mon toad does. The music is extremely 
 soft rising, swelling, and subsiding like 
 (c. triseri- fa Q wav es of the seashore. I can best 
 
 atus). 
 
 represent the song of a single singer 
 thus : ,- ~ ==r==m /' / ' : \ The crepitations are not so 
 
 loud I fry -'tf j * | ; I as those of the Acris, nor 
 
12 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 have they the same ringing, sleigh-bell quality. The 
 tone is also of a much lower pitch, and it very 
 slightly approaches in quality the bleating tone of the 
 tree toad. 
 
 According to Professor Cope, this frog is com- 
 mon in Gloucester County, K. J., and Chester Coun- 
 ty, Pa. ; but since the time in which he wrote (1889) 
 I am inclined to think that the frog has found his 
 way farther to the northeast, and he ought to be 
 heard now in Staten Island and the vicinity. I have 
 certainly heard his voice in the pine barrens not far 
 from Lakewood, N. J. 
 
 I can not sufficiently emphasize the fact that 
 every species of living thing has its own particular 
 voice. When once we have heard a single Picker- 
 ing's Hyla, we have heard the characteristic voice of 
 that species, and it is not to be confused for one 
 moment with that of any other species. The com- 
 mon frog's droning note can not be mistaken for the 
 rattling note of the Chorophilus, or the ringing, 
 jingling note of the Acris / nor is the quality* of 
 the note of any one of these species I have named 
 like that of the bubbly-bleaty note of the tree toad. 
 
 * This, in music, we call "timbre."' When I change my tenor 
 voice and sing a falsetto note, and thus imitate the soprano voice, 
 I have altered the timbre of the note ; although it may still be A, 
 its quality is no longer the same. 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 13 
 
 I can imitate Hyla picJceringii by shrilly whistling 
 E slurred to F in the highest octave on the piano ; 
 I need a bass viol to imitate the bullfrog (Eana 
 catesbiana) ; I am sure I do not know how to copy 
 the tree toad's note, unless by making a bleating 
 sound with the lips ; I must have a rattle whistle to 
 imitate the Acris ; and I must hum one note and 
 whistle another to approximate the droning note of 
 the toad. A big chorus of the Hyla and Acris 
 sounds like jingling sleighbells; a medley of the 
 larger batrachians' voices is like the " tuning up " of 
 a string orchestra. 
 
 Quite nearly related to the genus Chorophilus is 
 the genus Hyla* one species of which (Hyla picker- 
 ingii) I have already noticed. There are but two 
 other Hyloe whose range extends north of North 
 Carolina : one is Hyla versicolor (of the same range 
 as Hyla piclceringii\ and the other is Hyla ander- 
 
 * The genus Hyla includes fully one half of the large Hylidce, 
 family, which seems to have been created to inhabit the leafy part 
 of the world especially the tropical part for the special purpose 
 of holding in check the prolific insect life which might otherwise 
 do an inestimable amount of injury to vegetation. It is the case, 
 therefore, that in those regions where vegetable life abounds there 
 is a proportional increase in the number of species. I question 
 very much whether one could conscientiously kill a toad or a frog 
 who had a full knowledge of the immense number of insects it 
 devoured within a year's time, and the extent of harm that these 
 might have worked on vegetation. 
 
14 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 sonii, an extremely rare frog found from New Jer- 
 sey to Georgia. As only three individuals of this 
 last species had been found up to 1889, we must pass 
 it as an unfamiliar phase of 
 swamp life, and turn our 
 attention to the very com- 
 mon Hyla versicolor. 
 
 This is the frog fa- 
 miliarly known as the 
 tree toad, which inhabits 
 every hedgerow and tree- 
 girt marsh throughout the 
 country. Professor Yerrill 
 records this species as being 
 found at Norway, Me., 
 which is considered the most easterly point of its 
 range; but at Campton, N. H., scarcely sixty-three 
 miles west of Norway, I have found this frog, if not 
 common, at least so plentiful that I have heard him 
 sing every season for the last ten years. It would 
 seem reasonable, then, to move his easterly limit still 
 farther east than Norway. Wherever there are 
 woodlands bordering a marsh or pond, there he will 
 be sure to be heard, at least in June; and I have 
 no doubt but that his voice may be a familiar one 
 in some of the wooded swamps near Portland. 
 
 This remarkable tree toad has a compact, squat- 
 
 Tree Toad (Hyla vesicolor). 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 15 
 
 looking figure, the outline of which at all points 
 might easily touch the circumference of a circle. 
 The head is broader than it is long. The back of 
 the creature is generally ashen gray, with strange 
 blotches of green here and there ; but we must not 
 forget that he can change color, and in an envi- 
 ronment of leaves and grass he is decidedly green. 
 Again, on a lichen -covered log he is quite likely to 
 be brown-gray, and on the rough trunk of the swamp 
 maple (Acer rubrum) an uncompromising brown. 
 In fact he possesses the power of metachrosis (color 
 change) to a wonderful degree ; hence his specific 
 title versicolor. This change, however, is not accom- 
 plished quickly. His back is covered with warty 
 excrescences ; beneath his body, on the lighter skin, 
 are distinct granulations; and a characteristic loose 
 fold extending across the chest indicates that he does 
 not " fit his clothes." 
 
 The eggs of Hyla versicolor are laid in small 
 packets on blades of grass, slender sticks, and the 
 stems of weeds, in shallow pools. All through the 
 breeding season, in May or June, the bleating note 
 of this frog may be heard after the sun goes down, 
 in different parts of the swamp, one voice respond- 
 ing to another, or perhaps both mingling. I have 
 counted about eight notes given out in one second 
 and a half. This is a fair average utterance of one 
 
16 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 individual. Intervals of about four seconds and a 
 half occur with indifferent regularity. One can not 
 quite depend on the tree toad for synchronous 
 effect ; it is a sort of go-as-you-please musical con- 
 versation which he keeps up, very often confused 
 by two or three speaking at the same time ; but the 
 winning little voices are pleasing and entertaining, 
 and the " word " that is passed around is reassuring. 
 
 There are rarely more than three or four of these 
 frogs congregated in one spot, and it may often be 
 quite a distance to the next assembly. The voices 
 are strung along in the dusk of evening somewhat 
 thus : 
 
 By the time No. 4 begins No. 1 breaks in again, 
 and we have a duet ; then comes No. 2 alone ; 
 then No. 3 accompanied by No. 4 ; and presently, in 
 the irregularity of the succession, we have a trio. 
 Imagine a few tiny lambs bleating thus : " Tur-r-r-r-t, 
 Tre-t-t-t-t," and the simile is as complete as I can 
 make it. Later in the season these voices come from 
 the hedges and the orchards ; the frogs have left their 
 aquatic retreats. A Mr. Geismar, who kept several 
 in his vivarium, has recorded a remarkable instance 
 of their domestication. Both window and vivarium 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 
 
 17 
 
 The 
 
 being left open during part of the day the frogs 
 
 would leave the house and establish themselves on 
 
 the trees in the orchard, where their 
 
 voices could be heard throughout the 
 
 evening. During the night they would 
 
 return to the house, and would appear 
 
 in their usual places in the morning. 
 
 Hyla versicolor is not only remark- 
 able for his change of color and his 
 winning voice, but also for his "foot f 00 t-pads" of 
 pads," my drawing of which will show the Tree Toad - 
 their high development. Not- 
 ing these strange little 
 disks on the tips 
 of the toes, which 
 closely adhere to 
 the surface on 
 which the crea- 
 ture stands, the 
 fact will not ap- 
 pear so surprising 
 that he can stand near- 
 ly upside down ! It is 
 
 Common Toad j> , i -i r 
 
 perfectly plain, too, by 
 
 the webbed feet, that the little acrobat is a fair 
 swimmer. 
 
 Last, but by no means least among the batrachian 
 3 
 
18 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 singers of spring, comes the common toad (Bufo 
 americanus). The poor, brown, warty creature 
 which is so repulsive in appearance, and which one 
 shudders to touch, possesses one of the sweetest 
 voices of spring a dreamy, lulling, musical voice, 
 well fitted to sing the slumber song of Nature, and 
 transport every living thing in woodland and mead- 
 ow to the mysterious land of dreams. The birds, it 
 is true, may be thus sung to sleep, but not so with all 
 the rest of the animal creation ; most of it delights 
 to prowl about all night long, just as Robert Louis 
 Stevenson says, and none of it cares a straw for an 
 accompanying nocturne : 
 
 " The squalling cat and the squeaking 1 mouse, 
 The howling dog by the door of the house, 
 The bat that lies in bed at noon, 
 All love to be out by the light of the moon." 
 
 By moonlight the song of the toad seems even 
 more entrancing ; but cat and weasel, coon and 
 skunk, fox and bat all are intent on prey, and our 
 lullaby singers make some of it. 
 
 Every dweller in the country is familiar with the 
 voice of Bufo americanus. In the breeding season, 
 from April to June, the toad resorts to the swampy 
 parts of the meadow, and there winds his horn for 
 the delectation of his mate. The sound is a some- 
 
3 
 
 EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 19 
 
 what cricketlike but prolonged " Wur-r-r-r-r-r," 
 which can be closely imitated by humming and soft- 
 ly whistling the following notes together : 
 In a large congregation of toads the i V ' 
 chorus, by no means shrill or noisy, is 
 remarkable for its effect of harmony. 
 Although the note is sustained, it is 
 broken by exceedingly rapid crepitations which it is 
 impossible for the ear to follow. The " locust," 
 which, years ago, boys used to construct from a 
 soda-bottle neck, a piece of kid glove, a woven bit 
 of horsehair, and a stick, produced a very similar but 
 less musical sound. In singing, the toad swells his 
 throat to a whitish, bubblelike form, which collapses 
 when the sound ceases ; then after two or three 
 movements of the lips, as though to pucker them 
 for another effort, he swells up again, and continues 
 for the space of about seven seconds more. He re- 
 peats this performance an indefinite number of times, 
 and finally, upon a slight and sudden movement of 
 the observer, disappears among the weeds on the 
 border of the pond. So much for his " Liebeslied." 
 
 In some secluded part of the pond the female de- 
 posits the eggs, which are inclosed in a long, thick- 
 walled tube of transparent albumen, in the water. 
 These tubes lie in long spiral strings on the bottom, 
 and the dark-colored young hatch out quite early. 
 
20 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Finally, after the consummation of the metamorpho- 
 sis, they appear in a completed form (tinier than that 
 of the Hylce at the same age) along the margin of 
 the water veritable pygmy toads. 
 
 In midsummer the toad takes up his abode under 
 one's doorstep, and issues forth in the early evening 
 to secure his insect food. I have a great admiration 
 for a certain big fellow who frequents my garden 
 during the night season and makes way with an im- 
 mense number of insects. He is not disturbed by 
 my presence in the cool of the evening when I water 
 the flowers, and hops about in and out among the 
 poppies and nasturtiums with full confidence that his 
 presence there is welcome. I know exactly where 
 his home is (under the front steps) and can tell pretty 
 nearly at what time he will sally out in the gloaming. 
 He is undoubtedly a creature of systematic habits, 
 and possesses but one fault: he strays beyond the 
 garden limits, and establishes himself about 10 p. M. 
 on the plank walk outside. Here he is in constant 
 danger of being stepped upon with others of his kind 
 who will not stay in the grass. 
 
 If one has not an unconquerable aversion to toads 
 it is worth while to corner a big fellow and scratch 
 him on the back. If he is scratched on the right 
 side he will lean over that way, just as a cat does 
 whose cheek is rubbed ; if scratched on the left side 
 
EARLY VOICES OF SPRING. 21 
 
 he leans to the left ; if scratched on both sides he 
 squats with content, and, I imagine, an expression 
 of satisfaction settles in his fishy eye. 
 
 I do not suppose a toad has any parasite to bite 
 his tough, warty back ; the frog, though, does unfor- 
 tunately have a certain low parasitic form of life 
 which inhabits his blood.* About every creature 
 in the world, however, is likely to furnish another 
 smaller world for yet smaller creatures to live in, and 
 the frog is no exception to the rule. There is more 
 truth than nonsense in the suggestive doggerel that 
 runs: 
 
 " Little fleas have lesser fleas upon their backs to bite 'em, 
 And these fleas have lesser fleas, ad infinitum. 
 Great fleas have greater fleas upon their backs to go on, 
 And these fleas have greater fleas and greater fleas, and 
 
 so on ! " 
 
 * There have been certain sausagelike parasites discovered in 
 the blood of Rana esculenta. Dr. Gaule found in this frog's red 
 blood-corpuscles, mobile corpuscles, elongate, and pointed at the 
 extremities. These issued from the cells, which they could drag 
 after them for some time, but after a while became motionless, and 
 finally died and disappeared. 
 
CHAPTEK II. 
 
 THE CROAKERS. 
 Familiar Members of the Tribe Rana. 
 
 WE have already considered the soloists of the 
 batrachian orchestra, and now the musicians who 
 represent the 'cello and the bass viol must engage 
 our notice. A hundred croaking voices reach our 
 ears from the vicinity of the frog pond, and many of 
 them possess a distinct individuality. The " croaks " 
 are not all alike : there is the basso prof undo of the 
 bullfrog, the barytone of the green frog, and several 
 other strange tones of still stranger batrachians, all 
 of which are easily distinguished apart. 
 
 The genus Rana* to which these croakers be- 
 long, is an extensive division of the large family 
 Ranidce. It includes no less than one hundred and 
 
 * The frogs belonging to the genus Rana are well protected 
 from their enemies by an extremely acrid secretion of the skin. 
 Cats and dogs avoid them as a rule, not, however, without excep- 
 tions ; but snakes appear to differ in their tastes, and the great 
 number of frogs they swallow in the springtime is beyond calcu- 
 lation. Cope. 
 22 
 
THE CROAKERS. 23 
 
 eight species, according to Mr. Boulanger, but of 
 these only six are common enough in our northeast- 
 ern States to attract our notice. These are : 
 
 1. Rana virescens virescens , the leopard frog; a 
 subspecies of Rana virescens (Rana halecina, of other 
 authors), a bright-green frog found along our seacoast 
 and the adjacent country. 
 
 2. Rana palustris, a light- brown frog found in 
 cold springs and streamlets. 
 
 3. Rana septentrionalis, a round -spotted frog 
 found in northern New York and the northwest. 
 
 4. Rana clamata, the green frog, common every- 
 where. 
 
 5. Rana catesbiana, the bullfrog, the largest spe- 
 cies of all, also common. 
 
 6. Rana sylvatica, the wood frog, common every- 
 where in our woodlands. 
 
 The prettiest fellow of them all is 
 the leopard frog, Rana virescens 
 virescens^ about two and a 
 half inches long. A 
 bright copper - col- 
 ored line begins at 
 his nose and ends 
 
 at his eye ; a sec- 1^R^&1P^- * 
 ond line of yellow- 
 
 Leopard Frog 
 ish white reaches (Rana virescens virescens). 
 
24: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 from the nose to the shoulder. The eyes are large 
 and prominent, the nose is pointed, and the general 
 color of the body above is yellowish green marked 
 with oval spots of olive margined with bright yellow. 
 These spots are arranged in two rows on the back, 
 and in two others less distinct on the sides. Under- 
 neath, the body is silver-white at the mouth and yel- 
 low-white at the abdomen. There is a characteristic 
 longitudinal band on the front of the thigh. 
 
 This species is found in great numbers in the 
 swamps that border the creeks and rivers of the At- 
 lantic coast ; but inland, except in the Mississippi 
 Valley, it is rather rare. According to Professor 
 Cope, with the Acris gryllus it is the first species 
 heard in spring, and although a single voice is not 
 loud, the noise produced by thousands of them close 
 at hand is deafening, and can be heard many miles 
 away. This frog " clucks " almost exactly like a hen, 
 and in about the same key ; j =72 
 but the noise of a large [*)'. f- f_ f- f- f- M 
 number sounds more like a 
 
 number of ducks quacking, but not without a de- 
 cidedly musical ring. I can not, of course, indicate 
 what difference there may be between the voices of 
 the species proper (Rana virescens or Rana halecina) 
 and this subspecies, but I am inclined to believe that 
 there is none. 
 
THE CROAKERS. 
 
 25 
 
 Rana palustris is a frog of the same size as 
 Rana virescens virescens, but of entirely different 
 color and tune. His voice is hoarse, and his note is a 
 long, low croak, resembling, as Professor Cope says, 
 the tearing of some coarse material ; I should suggest 
 burlap, and add that the tone is anywhere i ^y \ 
 from F to A below middle C on the piano. ^ 
 
 This frog lives around cold streams and springs, 
 and is very commonly seen in the grass. In habit 
 he is not gregarious like Rana virescens 
 virescens, but on the contrary is rather 
 solitary. He is the most abun- 
 dant frog in the Alleghany 
 Mountains, but is com- 
 mon throughout all 
 the States east of 
 the Mississippi 
 River. In agility 
 he is only excelled 
 by the wood frog 
 (Rana sylvatica), 
 
 which he slightly resembles in point of color, lacking, 
 however, the dash of black behind the eye. With 
 one long, graceful leap this athletic batrachian covers 
 the ground with the ease of a deer, and leaves his 
 pursuer far in the rear. He has rather a disagree- 
 able odor. 
 
 Brown Frog 
 (Rana palustris). 
 
26 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 The nose of this species is more obtuse than that 
 of Rana virescens virescens, and the general color of 
 the back is light brown, well covered with oblong 
 spots of dark brown regularly arranged on either 
 side. Between these spots and another similar series 
 lower down on the side is a bright yel- 
 low line. The wood frog's color is 
 generally tan brown, but he is 
 without conspicuous spots. 
 The northern frog 
 (Rana septentrionalis), 
 which is the least 
 familiar one of my 
 group, is distin- 
 guished for its dis- 
 agreeable odor. It 
 has a somewhat broad, 
 stout body, a narrow 
 head, and a rough but 
 
 not tuberculated skin. The color above is light 
 olive, covered on the lower half of the back with 
 large, nearly circular blotches of brown. The legs 
 have a few blotches, but no bands. Beneath, the 
 color is a uniform dull whitish yellow. Compared 
 with Rana clamata* the species next described, this 
 
 * Vide Batrachia of North America. E. D. Cope. 
 
THE CROAKERS. 
 
 27 
 
 frog has a browner color, larger eyes, longer fingers, 
 and longer but less webbed feet. According to Pro- 
 fessor Cope, the variations of Rana septentrionalis 
 are greater than those of any other North American 
 species of this genus. 
 
 The northern frog is about two inches long in 
 maturity, and is found only in the north country 
 from Garrison's Creek, near Sackett's Harbor (Lake 
 Ontario), N. Y., northward to Canada, and westward 
 to Minnesota. 
 
 Dr. J. H. Gamier, who has given a detailed ac- 
 count of the habits of this species as observed by 
 him at Lucknow, Ontario, says it pos- 
 sesses the odor of the mink, and is 
 particularly offensive on 
 being handled. It is 
 a thoroughly aquat- 
 ic species, which 
 seeks its food 
 insects and small 
 fishes in the 
 water only. I 
 know nothing 
 of its voice. 
 
 The green frog (Rana damata) or the noisy 
 frog, as his Latin specific title would seem to sug- 
 gest (a very common batrachian, about three inches 
 
 Green Frog (Rana clamata). 
 
28 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 long) is the one whose familiar nasal " gum-m-m " 
 or " chun-n-ng" is heard in every pool and frog pond 
 from one end of the country to the other. He gen- 
 erally waits on the margin until we approach within 
 a yard of his retreat, and then slumps into the pool 
 with a short and derisive " g-m-m " in C, one octave 
 below middle C on the piano, thus : |fy r ,| _,-) _^\ \ 
 Often the note will be as high as E ; |' ; ^ ~^ "B 
 but in any event it is not a noisy voice which one 
 hears, and the Latin name seems entirely misapplied, 
 more particularly as these frogs do not congregate in 
 large and clamorous assemblies like Hyla pickeringii 
 or Rana virescens virescens. On the contrary, Rana 
 clamata lives alone or with one or more companions. 
 We will frequently see him seated on a lily pad or 
 on the shaded margin of the pond, where he occa- 
 sionally makes a gulping answer to a fellow frog over 
 on the other side. 
 
 In form Rana clamata is rather stout, with a 
 head longer than it is broad, and very large ear 
 drums. The hind feet are strongly webbed, and the 
 skin of the back is more or less rough. In color the 
 frog is decidedly green, the upper parts quite bright 
 and the lower parts deepening to a dull olive hue. 
 Beneath, the coloring is dull white merging into yel- 
 low under the chin ; the hind legs are marked with 
 three or four transverse dark bands. 
 
THE CROAKERS. 
 
 29 
 
 The next nearest relative of Eana clamata is the 
 bullfrog (Eana catesUand), the largest of all the 
 American species ; he frequently measures four and 
 a half inches from the nose to the end of the body. 
 He is the bass viol of the batrachian 
 orchestra, and the king of all the 
 croaking tribe of Eana, but 
 also a sort of canni- 
 bal into the bar- 
 ain, for he 
 is known to 
 feast on his 
 own tad- 
 pole prog- 
 eny. But 
 this is a bad 
 habit not wholly 
 confined to the 
 
 big Hana catesbiana. Any one who has fished for 
 frogs with a bit of red worsted tied to a fishhook 
 knows how the gaping, wide-mouthed creatures will 
 snap at anything that comes along without discrim- 
 ination ; in fact, a tadpole for bait will do almost as 
 well as a bit of red worsted. Apropos of this fact, 
 Dr. Abbott's remarks about the voracity of frogs are 
 well worth repeating : 
 
 *' While feeding an Anderson's Hyla with flies a 
 
 The Bullfrog (Eana catesbiana). 
 
30 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 few days ago, which it takes from my fingers, I was 
 startled by the on-rush of a little wood frog, which, 
 impatient for its own dinner, seriously attempted to 
 swallow both the tree toad and my fingers at one 
 mighty gulp. . . . With widely gaping jaws, which 
 were distended before the leap was made, the frog at- 
 tempted to scoop up the toad and swallow it, or get 
 such a hold as would make subsequent swallowing 
 an easy task; and yet the difference in size of the 
 two creatures was very little. As for the tree toad, 
 it took the whole proceeding as a matter of course, 
 not moving a muscle even when such great danger 
 was apparently imminent. The whole tribe of tail- 
 less batrachians is much alike in this respect, seem- 
 ingly taking it for granted that they were born to be 
 eaten, and stuff themselves until fate wills it that 
 they go to stuff others. ... I have seen little fellows 
 just from the tadpole state in dangerous proximity 
 to patriarchal bullfrogs, which were then only wait- 
 ing for their appetites to return to swallow a half 
 dozen of their own grandchildren ! " 
 
 Rana catesbiana is much less green than Rana 
 clamata the color of the back is dull olive, some- 
 times marked with darker blotches or bands, the 
 positions of which are not always the same. The 
 head is usually yellowish olive-green, and the lower 
 part of the body much darker. Beneath, the crea- 
 
THE BULLFROG. 
 RANA CATESBIANA. 
 
 " Tuneful scrapings on a 
 moonlight night." 
 
THE CROAKERS. 31 
 
 ture is yellowish white, much deeper in tone under 
 the chin. In different localities the frog is differ- 
 ently marked, and it is therefore impossible to define 
 any standard of color whereby the species may be 
 identified. The head is as broad as it is long, and 
 the hind feet are widely webbed. A characteristic 
 mark of this species is the fold in the skin, which 
 begins behind the eye, curves over the dark round 
 spot which is really the ear. and descends to a point 
 below the lower jaw, losing itself in the yellow skin 
 under the arm on the breast. This is the only fold 
 of skin on the frog, and it is inconspicuous beyond 
 the ear ; but a sharp eye may easily detect its course 
 beyond that point. 
 
 Every one knows the bullfrog's note ; and that 
 his hoarse voice in the distance, so nearly resembling 
 the roar of a bull, should have occasioned his name, 
 goes without saying. Still, as I have remarked be- 
 fore, there is a musical tone to nearly every sound in 
 Nature's world, and our bullfrog is not an exception 
 to the rule. He is the double bass of the midsum- 
 mer orchestra, and no stretch of the imagination is 
 required to hear his tuneful scrapings on a moonlight 
 night ranging through the following chords : 
 
 Ru.mJuQd rum: J u $' rum: more rum-o' rum more rum dram. 
 
32 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 There are often as many discords as there are har- 
 monies, I will admit ; but there, again, is Nature's 
 suggestiveness. She simply suggests the harmony, 
 and we assimilate it ; a little imagination does the 
 rest, and " jug o' rum, jug o' rum, more rum, more 
 rum " is quite a justifiable simile, although it reflects 
 on the character of the woodsman more than it does 
 on that of the batrachian. There is a humorous fit- 
 ting of tones to syllables often scraped on the bass 
 viol during an intermission of the string orchestra, run- 
 ning thus : _Q v Hum those tones to 
 
 a musician 
 
 Q 
 
 Iflr /_^V ^ * J4 and his response is 
 
 ^ \A/ls^K'll ..-.. U*../> I-* y4.'. M bO 
 
 i / Whdt'll vouhaveto drink? , ,1 
 
 a smile of recognition ; they 
 
 suggest but one idea to the German mind beer. 
 I am inclined to think the American woodsman is 
 responsible for the suggestive syllables connected 
 with the bullfrog's sonorous croak. 
 
 The bullfrog prefers the larger bodies of water, 
 especially where these are surrounded by evergreen 
 forests, and he haunts the shores where thickets and 
 underbrush make his home inaccessible. The voice is 
 not heard until the arrival of warm weather, and it 
 continues through every evening during the sum- 
 mer ; it may occasionally be heard for a distance of 
 two miles. 
 
 Dr. Gamier points out certain similar charac- 
 teristics of the three species, R(ma septentrio- 
 
THE CROAKERS. 
 
 33 
 
 nalis, Rana clamata, and Rana catesbiana, which I 
 copy: 
 
 1. They have no chant d' amour in spring. 
 
 2. They retire early to hibernate with the first 
 autumnal frost. 
 
 3. They live in the water and lie in wait for their 
 food, never hunting for it on land. 
 
 4. They poise the body on floating weeds, or sit 
 on the bank, or on any bit of stick or log that suits 
 their purpose. 
 
 5. Their tadpoles require two years in which to 
 mature. 
 
 6. Their notes are produced by inflating the 
 throat pouch and suddenly expelling the air ; where- 
 as in Rana mrescens, etc., 
 
 there is a pouch on either 
 side near the angle of 
 the jaws. 
 
 Y. They are all 
 tinged with yellow- 
 ish green under the 
 chin. 
 
 The wood frog 
 (Rana sylvatica} is 
 a distinctly sylvan 
 character, he is frequently found among the dead 
 
 and moist leaves on the border of the brook which 
 4 
 
 Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica). 
 
34: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 finds its way among the ferny hollows of the hillside 
 forest. This frog is susceptible to the color of his 
 surroundings, and changes from the tan color of a 
 dead leaf to the green of a living one with consider- 
 able ease. In general his color is tan brown, and 
 his characteristic mark is a blackish patch extend- 
 ing from behind the eye to a point just over the 
 shoulder. Often his back will be strong buffish gray, 
 with a tinging of brown on either side. There are 
 three or four transverse dark bands across the thighs, 
 and a few scattered black spots will be found on the 
 sides. 
 
 The nose of this species is rather pointed, and the 
 limbs are long and slender, with the hind feet well 
 webbed. The frog is therefore a good swimmer ; 
 but as a leaper he holds the record. When one 
 spies a dull brown, slender-legged frog among the 
 leaves around a woodland spring, or even in the re- 
 cesses of the forest where there is no water near, and 
 this frog takes a flying leap, disappearing entirely 
 perhaps landing somewhere in the next county one 
 may be pretty sure that it is none other than Rana 
 sylvatica. 
 
 In early April we may hear the spasmodic 
 and hoarse f y ] ^ croak of the wood frog 
 
 near the \ { pond, to which he resorts 
 
 in the short breeding season ; but in the summer he 
 
THE CROAKERS. 35 
 
 takes to the woods again, and remains there for the 
 rest of the year. His voice is pitched about an 
 octave below middle C, and it is really not often 
 heard after May ; in fact, this frog is the most silent 
 one of the genus Rana,. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 
 The Salamanders. 
 
 AFTER leaving the clamorous frogs, one experi- 
 ences a sense of relief in coming to the voiceless 
 salamander lizard as he is wrongly called. Now 
 the lizard and the salamander belong to two separate 
 families of widely different character. The lizard is 
 covered with imbricated or granular scales ; he is the 
 small relation of the alligator. The salamander is 
 smooth-skinned ; he is the elongated relation of the 
 frog. The lizard is a saurian reptile, the principal 
 characteristics of which are the scales, the claws to 
 the toes, the undilated mouth, the toothed jaws, and 
 the eggs with a hard shell or skin, the young from 
 which do not undergo a metamorphosis. The sala- 
 mander is a batrachian, with a skin as smooth as a 
 catfish, toes without claws, dilated mouth, and young 
 which are metamorphosed. 
 
 The salamander was credited with the most re- 
 markable attributes in days of old. His bite was 
 36 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 3? 
 
 considered fatal, and anything which his saliva 
 touched was said to become poisonous. But the 
 principal absurdity connected with this generally 
 aquatic creature was that he could resist fire in fact, 
 could extinguish it. Bacon says : " There is an an- 
 cient received tradition of the salamander that it liv- 
 eth in fire, and hath force also to extinguish the fire." 
 And Shakespeare makes Falstaff say : " I have main- 
 tained that salamander of yours with fire any time 
 this two and thirty years ; God reward me for it ! " 
 Even in colonial times a superstitious connection of 
 salamanders with the fire on the kitchen hearth was 
 rife in the minds of simple folk, and old dying em- 
 bers were said to breed them. 
 
 But between fire and water the salamander chooses 
 the latter ; and although some of the species are ter- 
 restrial in habit, many of them are decidedly aquatic 
 our little red salamander, for instance. Most of 
 the "lizards," however, are found under the stones 
 on the margin of the brook or the ditch ; but not a 
 few hide among the damp, withered leaves of the 
 forest floor. 
 
 One of the common batrachians of the West is 
 named Necturus maculatus the spotted Necturus. 
 His back is crowded with whitish specks, which re- 
 duce the general brown color to a pattern in fine 
 lines. Along the back are also arranged superior 
 
38 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 rows of dark brown spots. The branchial (gilled) 
 formations of this strange creature are very conspicu- 
 ous, the head and muzzle are flat, 
 the body is proportionally short, 
 and there are but four 
 toes to each foot. 
 
 Spotted Necturus (Necturus maculatus). 
 
 He is entirely 
 aquatic. 
 
 That still stranger-looking creature, common on 
 the bottoms of rivers in Ohio, called the hellbender 
 ( Cryptobranchus 
 allegheniensis, 
 Cope*), 
 
 The Hellbender 
 (Cryptobranchus allegheniensis). 
 
 is horrible in name 
 only, but yet far from 
 being agreeable in ap- 
 pearance. He is a rep- 
 tile, every inch. The 
 
 head is flat and broad, the tail is half as long as 
 the head and body together, the mouth is wide, and 
 the legs are short, with an extensive fold of skin 
 
 * Also called Protonopsis horridus. 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 39 
 
 between the armpit and the extremity of the outer 
 "finger." 
 
 This harmless reptile is a pale leaden color with 
 indistinct brown spots on the back. Both this and 
 the preceding species have a more eellike than lizard- 
 like appearance. They are about a foot long. 
 
 The hellbender is distributed from western New 
 York to Georgia and Louisiana, and westward to 
 Iowa. He is entirely aquatic in his habits, and is 
 frequently " hooked " by fishermen on the 
 Ohio River. 
 
 A more lizardlike and attractive crea- 
 ture than the hellbender is the salaman- 
 der named Amblystomob punctatum, dis- 
 tinguished for a smooth 
 skin pitted 
 with pores 
 which are 
 most numerous 
 
 Violet Salamander (Amblystoma punctatum). 
 
 about the tail, 
 
 and for the milky juice which exudes from the darker 
 colored portions of it. The general color of this sala- 
 mander is leaden black, and on each side of the back 
 are a series of circular, or nearly circular, regularly 
 arranged yellow spots about as large as the eye. On 
 the sides, and beneath, are some scattered specks 
 of bluish white on a lighter leaden-colored ground, 
 
40 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 which impart a somewhat plum-colored hue to the 
 creature. 
 
 The eggs of this species are surrounded by large 
 masses of albuminous matter, which are deposited in 
 pools, ditches, and streamlets. Upon a closer exami- 
 nation these masses will be found to consist of a num- 
 ber of hollow spheres about a quarter of an inch in 
 diameter, connected together by a transparent jelly. 
 "Within each sphere is the embryo of a young sala- 
 mander. In due season the half-developed, fishlike 
 creature, freed from the gelatinous envelope, com- 
 pletes its growth in the quiet water, and finally de- 
 velops four legs, which sprout from the body and ter- 
 
 minate first with three, 
 finally five toes. 
 
 then four, and 
 This salaman- 
 der is common 
 from New York 
 westward and south- 
 ward. The length 
 of an average specimen at 
 maturity is about six inches. 
 Another closely allied 
 species is the Amblystoma 
 tigrinum, sometimes ten inches in length, but gener- 
 ally not more than seven. The color of this species 
 is leaden black of a brownish tone ; on the upper 
 parts, generally on the sides of the tail and limbs, are 
 
 Tiger-spotted Salamander 
 (Amblystoma tigrinum). 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 41 
 
 sharply defined yellow spots about the size of the 
 eye, less symmetrically arranged than those of Am- 
 blystoma punctatum beneath, the dull white color is 
 sometimes, but not always, blotched with yellow. The 
 head is proportionally small, the body thick and wide, 
 and the legs stout and short. 
 
 The young of this species are said to be very 
 abundant in all still water in the far West. They 
 are exceedingly voracious and bite at the hook read- 
 ily. Late in the summer they complete their meta- 
 morphoses and take to the land, where they hide in 
 the holes of woodchucks, badgers, etc. Professor 
 Cope describes a captive salamander of this species 
 (it came from New Jersey) which occupied a burrow 
 in the soil of his fernery for several weeks. The 
 burrow had two openings, and from one of these the 
 head of the creature could usually be seen, with 
 the little eyes intently watching what was going on 
 in the outer world. I had two such salamanders in 
 captivity in my own fernery for about a year. They 
 became perfectly tame, and ate from my hand. It 
 was amusing to watch the little heads deliberately 
 turn for a better view of some interesting object. 
 
 Amblystoma tigrinum is common from southern 
 New York southward and westward, and is especially 
 abundant near Beasley's Point, between Cape May 
 and Atlantic City, K. J. A specimen is even re- 
 
42 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 corded from Ottawa, so it is apparent that its geo- 
 graphical distribution is very wide. 
 
 The most elongated and slender native species 
 of salamander is the Plethodon cinereus, whose body 
 and tail, cylindrical throughout, meas- 
 ure about four inches in 
 
 Plethodon cinereus. 
 
 length ; the tail is sometimes considerably longer than 
 the head and body. The color above is dark brown, 
 and below it is dull white, so thickly sprinkled with 
 mottled brown that the general appearance is like 
 that of " pepper and salt." 
 
 This little fellow is characteristically sylvan. His 
 habits are exclusively terrestrial ; he is never found 
 (even in the larval stage) in the water. He hides 
 under the stones and fallen trunks in the forests 
 everywhere, and never strays to the open fields. The 
 eggs are laid in a little package beneath a stone 
 in a damp place; when the young emerge they are 
 provided with branchiae (gills of a fringelike appear- 
 ance), but these soon vanish, and very small speci- 
 mens are often found without them. I do not recol- 
 lect that I have ever found this salamander in New 
 England; but in the woodlands of southern New 
 
SONOLESS BATRACHIANS. 
 
 and characteristics of this 
 of Plethodon 
 
 York he is far from uncommon. That, however, is a 
 matter of personal experience. Professor Cope says 
 that this species, found throughout the United States 
 east of the Mississippi River, is apparently more 
 abundant in the Middle States than elsewhere, and 
 that its northern range is central Maine, Ontario, and 
 Michigan. 
 
 A very common variety of this species is the red- 
 backed salamander (Plethodon cinereus erythrono- 
 tus). There is prac- ^ tically no difference be- 
 tween the proportions 
 sub-species and those 
 cinereus. In ap- 
 pearance there is a 
 difference; the back 
 of Plethodon cinereus 
 
 erythronotus is marked Red-backed Salamander 
 
 . (P. cinereus erythronotus). 
 
 with a broad red stripe 
 
 which begins at the neck and finishes at the tip of the 
 tail. There is a mottled appearance at the middle 
 of the stripe which does not affect this color. The 
 stripe is also variable in tone ; sometimes it is brick- 
 red, occasionally it is pinkish, and at other times it 
 is pale orange.* 
 
 * When it is this color we are liable to confuse it with the spe- 
 cies Desmognathus ochrophcea, but the body of the latter is stouter, 
 and its under parts are never yellow. 
 
44 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 This species is common on the west side of Lake 
 Champlain, in Essex County, N. Y., in southern New 
 England, in the southern Catskills (at Pine Hill), and 
 in New Jersey, at least according to my experience 
 and that of several others. Its distribution, however, 
 is quite parallel with that of Plethodon cinereus. At 
 his home in New Jersey, Dr. Abbott once shook one 
 from a stick of wood which he was about to place on 
 the fire, and the creature, instead of supporting its 
 reputation of being a "fire-eater," scampered away 
 from the hearth in frantic alarm. 
 
 Another species closely allied to the above, but 
 stouter in figure, called Plethodon glutinosus, the 
 
 Plethodon glutinosus. 
 
 sticky salamander, has a wide range from Maine to 
 Texas. Professor Cope says he found it more abun- 
 dant in Pennsylvania and New York than in south- 
 western Yirginia. It is also said to be common in 
 Massachusetts and Maine.* The skin of this sala- 
 mander is everywhere lined with little glands which 
 
 * Vide Batrachia of North America. Cope. 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. ' 45 
 
 secrete a milky juice ; these glands are largest on the 
 upper surface of the tail, and more scattered on the 
 under parts. 
 
 The head of the sticky salamander is broad, the 
 eyes are large and prominent, and the toes are slight- 
 ly swollen at the ends. The color of the back is 
 leaden black, and on the sides are tiny silvery gray 
 specks. The back is sometimes entirely without spots, 
 or they are exceedingly minute. This salamander is 
 also terrestrial in his habits. He is found most com- 
 monly in the mountainous districts of the North and 
 South, and his favorite haunts are the crevices of 
 rocky ledges and the hollows in decaying logs. His 
 total length is a little less than six inches. 
 
 This species is distinguished from Plethodon cine- 
 reus by its broader figure, larger limbs, less webbed 
 toes, and silvery side spots. 
 
 The next salamanders which should engage our 
 attention belong to the genus Spelerpes, which is re- 
 
 Two-striped j^ellow Salamander (Spelerpes bilineatus). 
 
 markable for its bright colors, usually red or yellow. 
 The two-striped salamander (Spelerpes bilineatus) is 
 yellow, with a slightly brownish tinge on the back, and 
 
46 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 two dark brown lines, one on either side. The under 
 parts are a spotless citron yellow. The pretty little 
 creature is scarcely more than three inches in length ; 
 his tiny legs are terminated by the slenderest of toes, 
 and his small figure is altogether dainty and attractive. 
 Very probably he is the salamander to which Dr. 
 Abbott refers in Days Out of Doors, thus : " Deeper 
 in the drifted mass, where the trickling waters of a 
 little spring had formed a shallow pool, were numbers 
 of long, lithe yellow salamanders, which I had not 
 found before, and so had held were not to be included 
 in our fauna. I forgot for the time that others might 
 have been more fortunate, as was the case." Yes, 
 these amber-yellow salamanders, even if they are not 
 common in New Jersey, are somewhat common in 
 New York in the southern Catskills, for instance 
 and in Pennsylvania. The northern range of the 
 species is extended with decreasing numbers to the 
 borders of Maine, and, although specimens may not 
 be common, perhaps, in New Hampshire, I have found 
 one as far north as Squam Lake. Southwardly and 
 westwardly this species is found in Florida and Ohio. 
 The yellow salamander is aquatic to a certain extent, 
 and frequents shallow brooks, stony swamps, and cold 
 springs ; but I have also found the little fellow 
 among the weeds that border the brook. He is a 
 sprightly creature, and wriggles away from the hand 
 
THE HOME OF THE 
 SALAMANDER. 
 
 SPELERPES RUBRA. 
 
 THE MCCANN BROOK, 
 CAMPTON, N. H. 
 
 RED 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 47 
 
 which captures him with the slightest opportunity 
 that is offered. 
 
 A far commoner type of Spelerpes is the red sala- 
 mander (Spelerpes rubra), which is found in almost 
 every mountain tarn or brook 
 
 in the north country. 
 
 This is the fa- 
 miliar, so-called "red 
 lizard," perhaps five inches long 
 at most, whose brilliant coloring in 
 the green setting of the hillside 
 spring is an unexpected and de- 
 lightful surprise to one who gazes 
 upon it for the first time. In habits 
 this creature is decidedly aquatic, as Red salamander 
 
 (Spelerpes rubra). 
 
 he never goes beyond the precincts 
 of the brook except in rainy weather. On a very 
 rainy day last summer one made his appearance on 
 the back-door step of my cottage in the White 
 Mountains, evidently after straying from the spring 
 a hundred feet behind the house ; but wet days are 
 the only ones for salamanders to travel in. There 
 is no fear of "drying up" en route, and the wide 
 world, however wet, is more interesting than the 
 stony environment of the brook ; so I captured the 
 adventurous salamander and gave him a view of 
 life in my studio from the confines of a fish globe. 
 
48 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 But he proved very uninteresting. He did not favor 
 me with his mysterious song, which I had read so 
 much about, and he ate nothing that was set before 
 him. In fact, his existence proved to be a very mo- 
 notonous one from my point of view, so I gave him 
 his liberty. 
 
 He came on a rainy day, and I let him go on an- 
 other. There is nothing like being consistent. It is 
 well not to forget that it occasionally rains frogs and 
 salamanders, according to the dictum of some simple- 
 minded people, and it is wisest to choose a wet day, 
 and thus not shake the faith of a believer ! But there 
 is a very strange thing connected with the little red 
 salamander, which is the more remarkable because 
 there seems to be but one record of it. I refer to the 
 voice ascribed to the creature. It seems very doubtful 
 whether he has any voice.* Possibly I am the most 
 unreasonable of skeptics in this matter, but I have a 
 lingering idea that the salamander f which John 
 
 * I have referred the matter to Professor Garman, of Cam- 
 bridge, and he is also very skeptical about the salamander's voice. 
 As Professor Garman is one of our leading authorities on batrachi- 
 ans, and as he has never heard a salamander sing, I am inclined 
 to accept his opinion as final. 
 
 f " For years I have been trying to ascertain for a certainty the 
 author of that fine plaintive peeping to be heard more or less fre- 
 quently, according to the weather, in our summer and autumn 
 woods. It is a note that much resembles that of our small marsh 
 frog in spring the Hyla. It is not quite so clear and assured, 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 49 
 
 Burroughs heard was a scamp and a base deceiver. 
 He must have been swelling his throat " for the fun 
 of it," while some Pickering's Hyla was piping near 
 by ; but Burroughs not only says he saw and heard 
 this particular salamander sing, but adds that "it 
 makes more music in the woods in autumn than any 
 bird." 
 
 Now, in all the time I have known the red sala- 
 mander from boyhood I have never heard him 
 make any kind of noise. Still, this proves nothing. 
 He may sing, and all these years I may have missed 
 the song ; but on Staten Island, in Putnam County, 
 in the Adirondacks, in the Catskills, and in NQW 
 England, I have frequently seen him early and late 
 
 but otherwise much the same. On a very warm October day I 
 have heard the woods vocal with it ; it seemed to proceed from 
 every stump and tree about one. Ordinarily it is heard only at 
 intervals throughout the woods. Approach never so cautiously 
 the spot from which the sound proceeds and it instantly ceases. 
 . . . ' Is it a frog,' I said, ' the small tree frog, the piper of the 
 marshes, repeating his spring note f ' . . . Doubtless it is, yet I 
 must see him in the very act. ... I heard the sound proceed 
 from beneath the leaves at my feet. Keeping entirely quiet, the 
 little musician presently emerged, and, lifting himself up on a 
 small stick, his throat palpitated, and the plaintive note again 
 came forth. . . . Xo, it was no frog or toad at all, but the small 
 red salamander, commonly called lizard. This was the mysteri- 
 ous piper, then, heard from May till November through all our 
 woods, sometimes on trees, but usually on or near the ground. It 
 makes more music in the woods in autumn than any bird." Pe- 
 pacton, Chapter V, John Burroughs. 
 5 
 
50 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 in the year, yet never have heard him sing. Still, 
 this again proves nothing ; there are other places and 
 times that he might have sung, and not every one 
 could be the fortunate listener. But let me draw to- 
 gether some facts which have a favorable bearing on 
 the salamander's voice, and then leave the reader free 
 to form his own opinion. 
 
 Professor Cope says of a Western batrachian, 
 Amphiuma means, that it resembles the species of 
 Desmognathus in the possession of a chirrup or 
 whistle (!). Then he continues, "I do not know of 
 another American salamander which possesses a 
 voice." Also, in an addenda to the work from which 
 I quote,* he says : " Dr. Charles C. Abbott informs 
 rne that Spelerpes rubra has a distinct whistlelike 
 voice, and states that John Burroughs has also 
 heard it." 
 
 Dr. Abbott says, in Outings at Odd Times : " It 
 was only after a hard chase that I captured it " [a red 
 salamander], " and, holding it in my hand until rested, 
 I endeavored to induce it to squeak, for it is one 
 of the very few that has a voice but it was not to 
 be coaxed. It suffered many indignities in silence, 
 and so shamed me by its patience that I gently 
 placed it in the brook." 
 
 * The Batrachia of North America. 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 51 
 
 William Hamilton Gibson, in an article entitled 
 Autumn Whistlers, published in Harper's Young 
 People,* also quotes from John Burroughs the same 
 account of the red salamander's voice which I have 
 given in the accompanying footnote ; but he does 
 not cite any instance where he heard the voice and 
 saw the singer himself. 
 
 In a letter contributed to Nature I find Professor 
 Eimer relates his experience connected with a lizard's 
 voice. He remarks that one which he observed on 
 the rocks of Capri had a peculiar voice which is 
 ascribed among reptiles to geckoes and chameleons 
 alone. This lizard, he says, made a peculiarly soft pip- 
 ing sound on being captured, and uttered repeatedly, 
 in quick succession, a series of very sharp tones sound- 
 ing like "Bschi," and reminding one of the hoarse 
 piping of a mouse or young bird. I suppose this liz- 
 ard must have been one of the same species which I 
 saw when wandering through the deserted streets of 
 the ancient city of Pompeii. There seemed to be a 
 lizard partly hidden in every nook and cranny of the 
 walls on either hand. Once in a while one scam- 
 pered with lifted tail across the rough pavement out 
 of my way. Upon capturing two or three, I found 
 they resented handling by squirming about and giv- 
 
 * Also published in a volume entitled Sharp Eyes. 
 
52 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ing a vicious nip at one's fingers, but they never 
 squeaked. 
 
 Now this evidence, such as it is, proves but one 
 thing : that a certain lizard and a salamander or two 
 do have voices ; but these, it seems, are rarely heard. 
 We have no testimony regarding the voice of Spe- 
 lerpes rubra except that given by Burroughs. The 
 very fact that he mentions the strange voices as com- 
 monly occurring in the woods from May until No- 
 vember, suggests the possibility that he may have 
 heard the Hylce, who do sing scatteringly in the woods 
 during this season. Moreover, the fact remains that 
 Spelerpes rubra is distinctively aquatic. He has no 
 business to be plaintively " peeping " on trees or on 
 the ground, especially when it is not a rainy day. 
 Indeed, if we should care to look for a red salaman- 
 der on a fine day we would better go to the spring or 
 brook at once. He is, as I have intimated, an at- 
 tractive little creature whose quiet habits are worth 
 study. In appearance he is far from positive red. 
 His color is rather a translucent dull orange red, and 
 sometimes he matches a brick quite perfectly. Along 
 his back are blackish specks which are more or less 
 conspicuous in different individuals. In immature 
 specimens these are not distinct, and in some they are 
 scarcely perceptible. 
 
 The red salamander is generally found beneath a 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 53 
 
 stone in a cold spring, or oftener in a hollow beside 
 the stone. He swims with considerable activity, and 
 is not easily caught as he glides through the water 
 with limbs pressed against the body and tail undulat- 
 ing rapidly ; but once on land he is at the mercy of 
 his pursuer. His efforts at locomotion are neither 
 graceful nor rapid. The food of this species con- 
 sists of insects. 
 
 Still another even more common salamander, per- 
 haps the most abundant one in North America, is 
 found in the hillside spring. This is Desmognaihus 
 fusca, a little mud-colored character scarcely 
 more than four inches long, which 
 burrows under the pebbles and 
 stones, and whose dark 
 brown color ad- 
 
 A. 
 
 Desmognathus fusca. ~^SJ^Lv r -r=s^ ^ ~" ^~ """^Ej. (J 
 
 Section of keel-shaped tail at A. ~= 
 
 
 
 mirably protects it from enemies. The 
 tail of this species is characterized by finlike and 
 keellike extensions which narrow toward the tip. 
 Among the wet blackish roots and stones of the 
 brook the little creature is not easily distinguished 
 from his surroundings, consequently he escapes our 
 notice ; but turn over a half-dozen stones on the 
 border of some shallow pool, and the agile move- 
 
54 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ments of one or two wriggling so-called lizards will 
 betray their presence. 
 
 I have found this salamander quite plentiful in 
 the shallow brooks of Campton, X. H., particularly 
 where these run through stony, boggy places charac- 
 terized by blackish mud, and perhaps shaded by the 
 feathery boughs of the hemlock. But the species is 
 common throughout the country, although its eastern 
 limit is probably Essex County, Mass. 
 
 The ocher - colored salamander, Desmognathus 
 ochrophcea, is an allied species of more local interest, 
 which is found in Essex County, N. Y., and in the 
 Alleghany Mountains. It is abundant in the Black 
 Mountains of North Carolina and northern Pennsyl- 
 vania. Its color is brownish yellow above, with a 
 dorsal row of spots in darker yellowish color, and on 
 either side of it, lower down, a band of the same color 
 which extends to the tip of the tail. Beneath, it is 
 without spots. 
 
 This small species, not more than three inches 
 long, and rarely exceeding half the size of Desmogna- 
 thusfusea, resembles the red-backed salamander, but 
 its figure is stouter. Its tail is rounded, in which re- 
 spect it differs from Desmognathus fusca, and it also 
 differs from the other species of the genus Desmog- 
 naih'US in its thoroughly terrestrial habits. Instead 
 of hiding under the stones of the brook, it frequents 
 
SONGLESS BATRACHIANS. 55 
 
 the damp places of the woods where decaying leaves 
 and tree trunks are plenty, particularly those of the 
 hemlock. Professor Cope says he never saw one in 
 the water of streams and river banks. 
 
 Desmognathus nigra, another allied species, is a 
 black salamander about six and a half inches long, 
 which is found in the Alleghany Mountains from 
 Pennsylvania southward. It is particularly common 
 in Virginia. This creature is aquatic, and, like Des- 
 mognathus fusca, inhabits only shallow stony brooks 
 and cold springs in the remote parts of the mountains 
 which afford cool and shady retreats. 
 
 I am wholly unable to account for the paragraph 
 which I have quoted on a previous page from Cope's 
 Batrachia of North America. The professor makes 
 no further remark about the Desmognathus possess- 
 ing a whistle. I certainly know two of the species of 
 this genus well, but I am not aware that either pos- 
 sesses a voice. Years ago I used to spend hours 
 hunting through the brooks of New Jersey and New 
 Hampshire for salamanders, and these I carried to 
 my home in the city by the dozen that was my boy- 
 ish pleasure ; but never have I heard one whistle. 
 The creatures were apparently voiceless. It seems 
 as though after twenty years of acquaintance with 
 them I ought to have heard one sing; but I have 
 not, and I shall leave it now for my readers to dis- 
 
56 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 cover that rare and mysterious music of the so-called 
 " lizard," which, when it is heard, will prove beyond 
 a shadow of doubt that these batrachians are not 
 songless. 
 
CHAPTEK IY. 
 
 OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN.* 
 Snakes. 
 
 A REPTILE f in the fullest sense of the term, the 
 snake glides through the grass and across the road, 
 the most unfortunate and repellent representative of 
 his class. I think Euskin hit upon the true reason of 
 our aversion to snakes when he said that the creature 
 glided " a bit one way, a bit another, and some of him 
 not at all." That is the one characteristic of the 
 snake his circumventive motion which we most 
 dislike ; regardless of his reptilian looks, it is suffi- 
 cient to know that he skims over the ground in so 
 sinuous a way that we can not keep an eye on him. 
 Any attempt to trace his course meets with failure, 
 and before one realizes it, one is stupidly staring at 
 the spot where the creature was ! We do not like to 
 be tricked this way ; such an insidious method of 
 locomotion is a species of deceit indicative of the 
 treacherous character of the beast, so we count him 
 
 * From 6<j>l8iov, a serpent. f From the Latin repo, to crawl. 
 
 57 ' 
 
58 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 an evil thing to wreak vengeance upon a sort of 
 scapegoat for the sins of all creation ! 
 
 Ever since that unfortunate incident in the gar- 
 den of Eden the serpent has had heaped upon his 
 back the abiding enmity of the human race ; but this 
 is a mere trifle so far as the cause of the ill feeling 
 toward the reptile is concerned ; the real truth is, we 
 do not like his appearance or his ways, and we kill 
 him upon any and all occasions regardless of his his- 
 torical associations. 
 
 Now this is all wrong ; we must learn to let the 
 snake alone, or else in the long run we will be the 
 sufferers. In this eastern part of the country we 
 have only two venomous snakes, the rattlesnake and 
 the copperhead ; all the rest are absolutely harmless. 
 As for these two dangerous reptiles, their venomous 
 character has been greatly overestimated, and a great 
 deal of sensational nonsense has been unnecessarily 
 connected with them through the credulity of the 
 ignorant. Not more than two dogs in nine die who 
 have been bitten by the rattlesnake.* The copper- 
 head is by far a less venomous reptile than the other, 
 but to-day both are so rarely met with that they 
 scarcely deserve attention at all as familiar animals. 
 
 The rattlesnake still lives in some of the remote 
 
 * The Poison of Serpents. S. Weir Mitchell. The Century 
 Magazine, 1889, p. 514. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 59 
 
 wildernesses of the northeastern States. In the 
 vicinity of Lake George, on one of the shores of 
 Lake Champlain, and perhaps in the southern Cats- 
 kills, he is occasionally found; but in the Adiron- 
 dack and White Mountains I believe he does not ex- 
 ist. In all the years that I have traveled among 
 these northern hills I have never met one, and I am 
 of the opinion that few, if any, are to be found to- 
 day even in those localities where they were once 
 reported to be plentiful. 
 
 Of the other harmless snakes, the racer, the water 
 snake, and the blowing adder are the most formidable 
 so far as appearances are concerned ; but they are 
 only aggressive, and fight without doing much dam- 
 age when angered. Not one of them can bite as 
 hard as the red squirrel, and they are not large 
 enough to seriously constrict a person. The racer 
 might possibly choke a child if he set about the task, 
 but I have only read of one instance where the rep- 
 tile had sufficient courage to attempt anything on 
 quite so large a scale. As for our innocent little 
 green snake, he is the mildest and most defenseless 
 little animal on the face of the earth ; the ringdove, 
 who is a creature to dread among the small birds, is a 
 monster compared with him. 
 
 Yet it is a fact only too familiar to us all that the 
 cry of " Snake ! " on the highway is the immediate sig- 
 
60 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 nal for war on the reptile with whatever weapons are 
 handy stones, pitchforks, clubs, sticks, or heels. 
 Every man does his duty in the fray, and when the 
 poor mutilated creature squirms at that part where 
 he is not quite smashed, somebody remarks : " Oh, it 
 isn't of any use to hit it any more ; you know snakes 
 never die until after sundown " ; and we think so, or 
 believe we do, and proceed on our way satisfied that 
 the country is rid of one more big and dangerous 
 reptile. 
 
 But what is the truth ? The farmer has lost one 
 of his best friends ; in proof of which, open the big 
 snake's stomach and see what is there mice, insects, 
 grubs, slugs, rats, or moles, as the case may be ; all 
 the worst enemies of the farmer. The very habits of 
 the reptile are sufficient proofs of his harmless and 
 beneficent character. He is never out at night, and 
 in the spring he haunts the plowed fields and garden 
 patches, ever on the alert for mice, or, best of all, 
 grubs, cutworms, grasshoppers, and slugs. Yet in 
 spite of all this the garden hoe is an ever-ready 
 weapon with which to chase the poor thing from the 
 field, if not to eventually make mince-meat of him. 
 
 It is a most curious fact that the greatest igno- 
 rance exists among many intelligent people regarding 
 snakes. One would scout at believing such absurd 
 things about any other kind of a creature, yet there 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 61 
 
 are many who think the snake exerts a sort of charm 
 over its prey ; that a frightened mother snake 
 temporarily swallows her young in time of danger ; 
 and that the forked tongue of the creature is its 
 deadly sting. Then one is told that a certain terrible 
 serpent of Africa rolls itself up like a hoople, chases 
 a man, and strikes him dead with its horny, spiked 
 tail. Also one is told that a snake never dies before 
 sunset ; that it always licks its prey all over with its 
 forked tongue preparatory to swallowing it, so that it 
 will " slip down easily " ; and that when its fangs are 
 extracted it lives an indefinite length of time on the 
 stimulus of its own poison, and without food, and so 
 on ad absurdum ! 
 
 But, as opposed to all this nonsense, I can cite a 
 number of facts not less remarkable and curious. 
 Snakes, for instance, are strangely tenacious of life ; 
 some can and "do live a while without their brains or 
 without their heart. The body decapitated for a cer- 
 tain length of time continues to move and coil, and 
 the separated head will dart out the tongue, or even 
 try to bite ; * but I am not aware that these automatic 
 and convulsive movements are in any way checked by 
 
 * And more than this : Dr. S. Weir Mitchell says, " If we cut 
 off a snake's head and then pinch its tail, the stump of the neck 
 returns and with some accuracy hits the hand of the experimenter 
 if he has the nerve to hold on ! " Century Magazine, August, 
 1889, p. 507. 
 
62 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 the setting of the sun. When the last lingering rem- 
 nants of life are fled the snake is dead, that is all. 
 As for the tongue that delicate and marvelously 
 sensitive organ it is absurd to think so soft a thing 
 is a sting, and ridiculous to suppose it is adapted to 
 licking ; the snake' is dull of sight and hearing, and 
 this dainty tongue makes up for the deficiency by 
 pursuing investigations by touch. 
 
 Snakes are, as a rule, remarkably prolific, and bear 
 anywhere from seven to one hundred or more young. 
 Sometimes the eggs of certain species hatch in the 
 oviduct ; hence the term ovoviviparous. It is easy to 
 understand, therefore, that some ignorant person cut- 
 ting open a snake in the early spring, and unaware of 
 the true position of the stomach, should think that the 
 creature had swallowed the young. But there are 
 those who have very vague ideas of diseases as well as 
 stomachs, and I remember a backwoodsman who 
 during the greater part of one hot summer suffered 
 terribly, according to his own account, from cholera 
 infantum ! 
 
 As for the swallowing process of the snake, that 
 has a length which words can only inadequately 
 measure. It is something like Milton's "linked 
 sweetness long drawn out," without the sweetness. 
 As a matter of fact, when one's teeth spread over 
 one's palate it can not be expected that one's taste 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 63 
 
 should escape being impaired. So it is with the 
 snake : he may have a liking for birds, mice, and 
 frogs, but that he can taste them is quite a different 
 thing. A cobra in the London " Zoo " one time 
 made a mistake and swallowed her blanket instead of 
 a rabbit. It is true she was partially blind, as it was 
 just before she should shed her skin,* but that fact in 
 no wise affected her taste. It is therefore perfectly 
 plain she could not distinguish the difference in flavor 
 between rabbit fur and a blanket ! To the average 
 American snake a sleek young mouse is no more ac- 
 ceptable as a tidbit than a rank, acrid-skinned frog of 
 the genus Rana.\ 
 
 But the way the frog is swallowed is something 
 
 * At the time of sloughing, or casting the skin, snakes are par- 
 tially blinded by the dull old skin which also covers the eye. It 
 must be remembered that the ophidia do not possess eyelids. 
 
 f Even a snake is food for a snake. Here is a remarkable in- 
 stance of such cannibalism. M. Leon Vaillant, in a paper read 
 before the Academic des Sciences de Paris, says : " In a menagerie 
 of the museum of the Jardin des Plantes, a French viper (Pelias be- 
 rws)had to be put in the same cage with a horned viper (Cerastes). 
 As the individuals, although they belonged to different species, 
 were about the same size, it was supposed that they would live 
 peaceably together. It was a mistake. During the night that fol- 
 lowed the Cerastes swallowed the Pelias, and, in order to accom- 
 modate himself to his huge prey, his body was distended so that 
 the scales which touched each other laterally and even lapped in his 
 normal condition, were now so spread apart that between the lon- 
 gitudinal rows a bare space equal in size to the scales was left. 
 Digestion went on regularly, however, and the Cerastes did not 
 appear to suffer." The American Naturalist, March, 1893. 
 
64 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 appalling. It is one of those "ways" of the snake 
 which, as I have already said, we do not like. Now 
 we sometimes facetiously remark on the facility with 
 which a small boy " gets around " a large piece of pie. 
 The expression, however, more exactly fits the case 
 of the snake ; he truly gets around his prey with a 
 courageous disregard for its formidable dimensions. 
 His head is scarcely half an inch thick, yet down 
 goes the frog between his distended jaws, and yet it 
 measured not a whit less than an inch and a half in 
 diameter. Now the simple fact is, the bones of the 
 serpent are held together by elastic ligaments, and 
 the reptile's capacity is correspondingly elastic. The 
 teeth, too, are set with a backward curve, and by 
 slightly working the jaws* the kicking frog is 
 worried down by slow degrees in spite of a slippery 
 hide which, were it not for those tiny, sharp, re- 
 curved teeth, might assist him in the struggle for 
 freedom. But he is doomed, and in less than ten 
 minutes his toes disappear, and he proceeds on a 
 lumpy course to the stomach of the reptile, smoth- 
 ered. Immediately after swallowing the frog the 
 snake gives a ghastly wide-mouthed gasp or two, as if 
 choking to death. But no such thing ! he is merely 
 
 * These are formed of no less than four sections, two above 
 and two below, each of which is worked more or less independ- 
 ently. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 65 
 
 working his jaws back to a state of repose, and gulp- 
 ing down a few breaths to make up for the time just 
 past when breathing was somewhat difficult. 
 
 Like the batrachians, the snakes sleep all winter, 
 waking up after a seven or eight months' nap under 
 the vivifying influence of spring sunshine, and with a 
 sharpened appetite for frogs, mice, and the like. At 
 this time, too, the snake discards his dull skin and 
 arrays himself in a resplendent coat of iridescent 
 colors. The skin is shed complete, inside out, and 
 scraped off by the contact with bushes, rough ground, 
 and dead leaves. 
 
 Now the method of a snake's locomotion is as 
 curious as its habit of hibernation. Watch one move, 
 and it is hard to tell how he moves. "We may think 
 it is entirely by lateral pressure against every blade 
 of grass and every grain of sand ; but that is not all. 
 The lithe creature does something more than push 
 himself along. Every rib is employed in a measure 
 as a leg would be, and with careful observation one 
 may detect a certain undulation in wavelike intervals 
 beneath the skin, which is due to the contraction and 
 expansion of the ribs as the snake moves. Thus a 
 snake can, if he chooses, move in almost a straight 
 line and over rather slippery surfaces. 
 
 The constricting power of some snakes is also a 
 
 marvel. With lightninglike rapidity the reptile will 
 6 
 
66 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 throw himself about the body of his victim and 
 tighten his hold as one might tighten the cord about 
 a bundle by pulling the string ends. But the squeez- 
 ing of our American snakes is a more serious matter 
 for mice than men, so we will pass that, and devote 
 our attention to the snakes themselves. 
 
 There are two distinct groups or families of our 
 snakes, one of which includes the poisonous rattle- 
 snake and copperhead, and the other all the non- 
 poisonous snakes. Here they are as defined by Prof. 
 S. F. Baird : 
 
 CKOTALID^E : Erectible poisonous fangs in front ; 
 few teeth in the upper jaw ; pupil of eye vertical ; 
 deep pit on the side of the face between the eye and 
 nostril. 
 
 COLUBEID^: No poisonous fangs; pupil of eye 
 round ; no pit, and both jaws fully provided with 
 teeth. 
 
 According to Prof. Samuel Garman, there are at 
 least four species of rattlesnakes east of the Missis- 
 sippi River ; but with one only will we have to do as 
 a barely common object of familiar life. This is the 
 Northern rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus)* Length, 
 forty to sixty inches ; dark brown above, blotched 
 with brown, black, and tan somewhat diagonally ; 
 
 * The nomenclature in every case is that of E. D. Cope, 1892. 
 Vide Proc. U. S. Nat. Mu., vol. xiv, p. 589. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 
 
 yellow beneath, blotched ; contracted neck ; carinated 
 (keeled) dorsal scales in twenty-three to twenty-five 
 rows. The fangs recline against the roof of the 
 mouth protected by an elastic membrane. They are 
 the only teeth on the maxillaries. These fangs when 
 broken off or re- 
 moved are re- 
 placed by oth- 
 ers. The ven- 
 om may or may 
 not be ejected 
 by the serpent.* 
 Like the skunk, 
 the creature is 
 chary about dis- 
 pensing what he seems to consider a valuable product 
 not to be wasted on any account. The snake can only 
 strike a distance equal to half the length of his body, 
 and he is by no means aggressive, as the passer-by is 
 unmolested if he does not begin hostilities. The 
 snake need not necessarily be coiled to strike, either. 
 He will throw himself right or left as far as the posi- 
 tion of his body allows him to reach. The noise of 
 the rattle is extremely like a rapid stridulation of the 
 cone-headed grasshopper (Conocephalus ensiger\ with 
 
 The rattlesnake coiled to strike : showing the flat- 
 tening of the body against the ground. 
 
 * Samuel Garman. 
 
68 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 about eleven hundred vibrations to a minute, instead 
 of two hundred and eighty-eight as in the case of the 
 grasshopper.* Ba Because a serpent may 
 
 possess half a "fff f " dozen sections to his 
 
 rattle it by no os=s means indicates that he 
 
 is six years old. More than one section may be added 
 in a year's time, and frequently one is broken off by 
 accident. 
 
 The copperhead (Ancistrodan contortrix). Length, 
 thirty-six inches ; light rusty brown above, with 
 darker blotches and a coppery cast to the head ; 
 ^-shaped brown marks on sides ; yellowish beneath ; 
 fangs like the rattlesnake's. An extremely rare but 
 dangerous reptile, with a pointed, horny tail but with 
 no warning rattle. 
 
 The familiar members of the non-poisonous family 
 Colubridce are as follows : 
 
 The ground snake (Carphophiops amosnus). 
 Length, twelve inches ; opalescent color ; chestnut 
 brown above, salmon beneath ; head very small, not 
 wider than the neck; thirteen dorsal rows;f found 
 
 * In the American Naturalist for March, 1893, somebody 
 gives the vibrations of the rattle a tempo of one hundred and 
 ten per minute. This is a great error, which may be proved 
 at once by setting the metronome at one hundred and twelve 
 adagio. 
 
 f By this I mean that the scales on the back are arranged in 
 thirteen rows. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 
 
 69 
 
 under dry logs and stones in the mountains. Massa- 
 chusetts to Louisiana and Illinois. 
 
 The worm snake * 
 ( Carphophiops 
 Length, twelve 
 lustrous purple 
 flesh color be- 
 half and half ; 
 
 vermis). 
 inches ; 
 black above, 
 neath ; colors about 
 head very small, not wider 
 
 Ground snake, 
 12 inches. 
 
 thirteen dorsal rows. Mis- 
 sas, and southern Illi- 
 
 than the neck ; 
 souri, Kan- 
 nois only. 
 
 The chain snake (Ophibolus getulus getulus). 
 Length, forty-eight inches; handsome and inoffen- 
 sive ; black, crossed by narrow, 
 
 continuous yellow- ^jl|i^BfclS^hi white rings 
 which bifurcate on ffiSlF rlW the flanks ; 
 
 on the back 
 are large 
 black hexa- 
 gons ; blotched with black 
 beneath ; head scarcely wider 
 than the neck. Cope says that 
 certain tamed chain snakes be- 
 longing once to his little daughter drank milk from 
 a saucer. The chain snake is a great enemy to other 
 
 Chain snake, 48 inches. 
 
 * Carphophis amcenus, var. vermis. Samuel Garman. 
 
70 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 snakes. Common in the South, and occasionally 
 found on Long Island, .N". Y. ; southern New York 
 to Florida and Louisiana. 
 
 The king snake (Ophibolus getulus sayi). Length, 
 forty-eight inches ; black above, with a yellow spot on 
 each scale ; the effect of these spots is to form sixty 
 transverse lines across the back ; yellowish-white be- 
 neath, with black blotches. West of the Alleghanies, 
 north to Illinois and Wisconsin (Hoy). 
 
 Milk snake, spotted adder, 48 inches. 
 
 The spotted adder, milk, or house snake (Ophi- 
 bolus doliatus triangulus).* Length, forty-eight 
 inches ; handsome ; pale brown or ash-gray above, 
 with about fifty dorsal, transverse, triangular choco- 
 late blotches edged with black; other lateral ones; 
 yellowish-white beneath, checkered with square black 
 blotches; small eye; twenty-one dorsal rows. It is 
 said to be fond of milk, and to frequent the floors of 
 dairies and cellars of houses. I killed one at least 
 thirty-eight inches long last summer in a vegetable 
 
 * He has even more names viz., chicken snake, thunder and 
 lightning snake, checkered adder, etc. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 71 
 
 garden, much against my will, but in deference to a 
 person who had a mortal antipathy to snakes. The 
 poor creature was absolutely harmless, and 
 never showed fight under the heavy blows 
 of a club. This was the first, and it will 
 be the last, harmless snake I shall accom- 
 modatingly kill for another transeat in 
 exemplum ! The milk snake is com- 
 mon from Maine to Virginia and 
 westward to Iowa and Wisconsin. 
 
 The ring-necked snake (Diadophis 
 punctatus). Length, fifteen inches ; a 
 beauty, and dressed tastefully ; violet- 
 black above, orange beneath, edged by 
 black spots ; yellow-white ring or collar 
 around the neck ; fifteen dorsal rows ; 
 food, beetles, slugs, and grasshoppers; 
 found beneath fallen logs and stones. 
 Common in the mountains of Penn- 
 sylvania and Virginia, Maine to Wis- 
 consin, and the Southern States. 
 
 The green or grass snake (Liopeltis 
 vernalis ; Cyclophis vernalis of other 
 authors). Length, eighteen inches ; beau- jpake, 
 tif ul ; bright green above, yellowish be- 
 neath ; fifteen dorsal rows ; small head ; very smooth 
 scales food, insects, grubs, etc. Very common, and 
 
72 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 exceedingly gentle, frequenting wet meadows and 
 sometimes climbing the alder bushes. My Manx 
 cat frequently brought the pretty green creatures 
 into my studio ; they never showed the slightest hos- 
 tility on being so roughly handled by the 
 cat. Maine to Virginia and Wisconsin. 
 Another similar species (Cydophis 
 oestwus)* length, twenty-seven inches, 
 has seventeen dorsal rows, the verte- 
 bral ones strongly keeled / a long, 
 slender Southern 
 green snake. North 
 to New Jersey and 
 
 Green snake, 18 inches. 
 
 southern Illinois. 
 
 The fox snake (Coluber vulpinus). Length, sixty 
 inches ; light brown above, with sixty dorsal, trans- 
 verse chocolate blotches margined with black ; one 
 or two lateral rows ; yellowish-white beneath ; the 
 four lateral rows of scales smooth. Massachusetts to 
 Kansas and northward. 
 
 The pilot snake, or mountain black snake (Coluber 
 obsoletus obsoletus). Length, sixty inches; graceful, 
 inoffensive, and mild ; uniform silky brown or black 
 above, with a few of the scales narrowly edged with 
 white, slaty black beneath, with chin and throat yel- 
 
 * Phyllophilophis cestivus. Samuel Garman. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 73 
 
 lowish ; twenty-seven dorsal rows, the seven outer 
 ones smooth. Resembles the racer, or black snake, 
 in color only. Mt. Tom, Mass., to Texas ; abundant 
 in southern Illinois. 
 
 The pine, or bull snake (Pityophis melanoleu- 
 cus). Length, sixty inches ; very harmless ; tan and 
 buff; from twenty-seven to thirty-three dorsal 
 blotches, brown margined with black ; three series 
 of lateral blotches ; brownish -white beneath ; twenty- 
 nine dorsal rows. An exceedingly shy snake, fre- 
 quenting sandy pine forests near the coast, and disap- 
 pearing in a hole in the ground upon being 
 surprised. Common south of the Ohio 
 River, and found from New Jersey to 
 South Carolina and Michigan (Gibbs). 
 
 The black snake, or 
 racer (Bascanium con- 
 strictor). Length, forty- 
 eight to eighty inches ; 
 lustrous black above, greenish 
 or slaty -black beneath ; chin 
 
 and throat dull white ; Seven- Black snake, racer, 
 
 48 inches. 
 
 teen dorsal rows. An ugly 
 
 customer when angered, but a harmless and cowardly 
 one ; remarkable for the speed with which it " covers 
 the ground," and hence called "the racer." He 
 frequents wild ground where there is water, climbs 
 
Y4: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 trees with ease, and has a special penchant for birds 
 and their eggs. He has no mean power of constric- 
 tion also, and wins in a fight with the rattlesnake. 
 Elliot Coues relates an instance in which he witnessed 
 one of the frequent combats between the black snake 
 and the rattlesnake, when the former, in less time than 
 it takes to tell it, snapped the latter asunder by wind- 
 ing the anterior and posterior parts of his body around 
 the neck and tail of the rattlesnake and suddenly pull- 
 ing himself taut. The food of this snake is mainly 
 rats, mice, frogs, toads, and birds. Not uncommon 
 throughout the country east of the Missouri River. 
 
 The striped, or ribbon snake (Eutomia saurita)* 
 Length, twenty-eight inches ; light, bright choco- 
 late above, with three yellow stripes ; greenish -white 
 beneath; nineteen dorsal rows; large eyes; slender 
 and graceful figure, agile ; found on the edge of the 
 woods or near the water. A mild -tempered creature, 
 which, should it happen to bite, pricks one's finger as 
 a pin might. Common throughout the east, and 
 abundant in the Alleghany mountains. 
 
 The western garter, or striped snake (Eutwnia 
 radix). Length, twenty inches ; brownish or green- 
 ish-black above, with three narrow yellow stripes, and 
 six series of black spots, sometimes obscure ; pale 
 
 * These striped or garter snakes emit an offensive odor. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN, ?5 
 
 greenish tone beneath, marked black ; nineteen dor- 
 sal rows, sometimes less. Common in central Western 
 States to Lake Michigan and Oregon. 
 
 The common garter snake (Eutcenia sirtalis sir- 
 talis). Length, thirty to forty inches ; olive-brown 
 above, sometimes nearly black, with 
 three narrow light-yellow stripes en- 
 croached upon by the three series of 
 small black spots on sides ; greenish 
 white beneath ; nineteen dorsal rows ; 
 dorsal scales keeled ; body somewhat 
 stout ; food, frogs, toads, mice, etc. ; 
 stouter than Eutcenia saurita. This 
 snake is commoner in New York 
 than any other species. It is found 
 from Essex County to Westchester 
 County, and I remember it as the 
 most familiar snake about Lake 
 Mahopac, Putnam County. It 
 frequents wet meadows, and is 
 generally found near the water. 
 The female bears a great number Garter snake, 30 inches, 
 of young ; she is ovo viviparous. 
 Professor Baird says he has killed one with no less 
 than eighty -three little ones about six inches long. 
 It is a disagreeable snake to handle, as it emits a 
 fetid odor. Common through the United States, ex- 
 
76 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 cepting the Pacific coast ; but I have not yet seen 
 one in the White Mountain region ; it evidently pre- 
 fers a warmer climate. It is abundant, however, in 
 Illinois. 
 
 Still another species of the garter snake (Eutobnia 
 sirtalis dorsalis) is common throughout the United 
 States. This species is brownish olive above, with 
 three broad green -white stripes, dark spots on the 
 sides, and greenish white beneath. 
 
 The brown, or spotted snake (Storeria dekayi). 
 Length, twelve inches ; ash or chestnut- brown 
 
 above, with a clay-colored dorsal band, 
 dotted along the margin two scales 
 apart ; gray-white beneath ; a dark 
 patch on either side of the back of the 
 head ; seventeen dorsal rows ; food, in- 
 sects, etc. Exceedingly common in New 
 York and Massachusetts ; abundant on 
 the shores of Lake Champlain. Maine 
 to Wisconsin, Florida, and Texas. 
 
 The red-bellied snake (Storeria oc- 
 cipitomaculatd). Length, twelve inches ; 
 pretty ; ash, chestnut, or even olive - 
 brown above, with three distinct light- 
 colored irregular spots behind the head ; 
 a beautiful reddish-salmon beneath ; fif- 
 
 Red-bellied 
 
 snake, is inches, teen dorsal rows ; dorsal scales keeled ; 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. 77 
 
 food, insects, etc. Yery abundant everywhere on 
 meadows and grassy ground, and associated with 
 Storeria dekayi. Maine to Florida and Texas. 
 
 Kirtland's snake (Clonophis Mrilandi ; Tropido- 
 clonium Mrtlandi of other authors). Length, six- 
 teen inches ; a beauty ; light, ruddy brown above, 
 with three alternating series of round 
 black spots, the central ones of which are 
 indistinct and the smallest ; reddish or 
 perhaps yellowish beneath, with a row 
 of small black spots on either side ; nine- 
 teen dorsal rows ; body stout. It will 
 flatten its body and remain motionless to 
 escape detection. A Western snake. 
 Ohio to Illinois. 
 
 The water snake or water adder 
 (Natriw fasciata sipedon / Nerodia 
 sipedon of other authors). Length, 
 forty eight inches ; dull bronze 
 brown above, redder on the 
 sides ; transverse light irregu- 
 lar bands margined with black ; 
 
 yellowish to reddish beneath ; Water snake, 48 inches. 
 
 twenty-three dorsal rows ; head 
 
 narrow and long ; strongly carinated scales. This 
 snake frequents marshes, overflowed meadows, and 
 the shores of streams and ponds, climbs among the 
 
Y8 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 bushes, coils there, and slips into the water when 
 alarmed ; it is a good swimmer, and a great fighter 
 when enraged, but it is perfectly harmless. It is 
 the cast skin of this reptile which that interesting 
 woodland bird, the crested flycatcher (Myiarchus 
 crinitus), is so fond of as a lining for her nest.* 
 The food of the water adder is 
 frogs, small fish, salamanders, etc. 
 Common from Massachusetts to Wis- 
 consin and Georgia. In 
 the South it is called 
 the water moccasin. 
 Another species of water 
 snake, sometimes called the 
 queen snake (Natrix lebe- 
 ris ; Regina leberis of other 
 authors), length, twenty- 
 three inches, also common 
 
 in the East, is differently marked ; the color above 
 is chestnut- or chocolate-brown, with a lateral yel- 
 low band and three narrow black dorsal stripes ; yel- 
 lowish beneath ; nineteen dorsal rows ; dorsal scales 
 carinated. Frequents the banks of streams, and shal- 
 low water where there are loose stones. Common 
 
 Queen snake, 23 inches. 
 
 * The nest is usually in a hole fifteen feet up in a tree, and it 
 is lined with bits of roots, grasses, and snake's skin. 
 
OUR ANCIENT ENEMY THE OPHIDIAN. ?9 
 
 from New York to Wisconsin ; abundant in the 
 mountains of Pennsylvania and Ohio. 
 
 The blowing or deaf adder or hognose (Heterodon 
 platyrhinus). Length, thirty inches ; yellow-gray 
 and sepia-brown above, checkered with about thirty 
 dark dorsal blotches ; yellowish beneath ; a dark band 
 across the forehead, and a pug nose ; strongly cari- 
 nated scales back of the head ; twenty -five dorsal 
 rows. This beggar has a threatening aspect when we 
 approach him, but he is perfectly harmless ; he is "all 
 bark and no bite," flattening his head and body out 
 until he looks twice as big as he really is, and hissing 
 like a steam engine, with an effect of fearful malig- 
 nancy. He is the creature, too, who, so hard of hear- 
 ing, was the occasion of that familiar and siiggestive 
 
 Hognose snake, blowing adder, 30 inches. 
 
 saying, " as deaf as an adder." He is common through 
 the Eastern and Southern States, is rare in New 
 York, and probably is not found at all in New Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The hognose snake (Heterodon- simus). Length, 
 
80 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 twenty -six inches ; stouter and smaller than H. pla- 
 tyrhinus\ light brown -yellow, with a dorsal series 
 of thirty-five transverse black blotches ; sides with one 
 to three smaller series ; yellowish beneath ; twenty- 
 three to twenty-seven dorsal rows; a decided pug 
 nose, evidently of great use in burrowing through the 
 soil. Common in the West and South. 
 
CHAPTEK Y. 
 
 ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 
 
 The Robin, Hermit Thrush, Veery, Redstart, Wood 
 Pewee, etc. 
 
 ALL the strange world of wild life offers no 
 greater contrast than that between the snake and the 
 bird. The latter is a true musician ; the former is as 
 mum as the brown leaf under which he hides. Who 
 has heard the robin's note and failed to recognize the 
 fact that the bird is a musician ? 
 
 I do not make a random selection of the robin 
 (Merula migratoria) among the long list of singing 
 birds, and intimate that he is a musician beyond the 
 rest. Many a woodland bird is a better singer ; but 
 to every thrush's song we will hear a score of robins' 
 songs, and some one of the robins will most likely be 
 an accomplished vocalist, just like the one whose 
 music I have interpreted a little farther on. 
 
 We respond to the musical side of Nature only in 
 proportion to the development of our " ear for music." 
 It must be admitted that this very common expres- 
 
 r si 
 
82 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 sion implies that there are those who have no ear for 
 music those, in other words, who are tone-deaf. 
 But tone-deafness is simply a qualifying term, and 
 we are forced to admit that the person without an ear 
 for music is to a certain extent deaf. Now, a par- 
 tially deaf person will hardly be able to distinguish 
 apart the songs of two different robins, one of which 
 is much more musical than the other. So I must 
 appeal to the imagination of the unmusical as well 
 as the musical mind in order to have my bird songs 
 understood ; they must not be taken too literally.* 
 
 I have said that we respond to the music of Na- 
 ture according to the degree of our musical percep- 
 tion ; but it only needs a little cultivation of our sense 
 of hearing to be able to intelligently grasp the mu- 
 sical idea which Nature is constantly suggesting. 
 Thus a musical robin last June sang the following mel- 
 
 or t^ 
 
 less perfectly: Ifon EEjVlLES 
 
 * Without imagination it would be. difficult, if not impossible, 
 to understand a wild bird's song. One has not only to hear all 
 the notes with an attentive ear, but sort them out, so to speak, 
 and transmute them to truer and better conditions. Thus, what 
 is doubtfully A in a bird's song must be positively A in the hear- 
 er's mind ; and a musical fifth which is off a quarter or half a 
 tone must be considered not a bit off ! In music we allow only 
 tones and half-tones for instance, C and D ; between the two is 
 C sharp, the half-tone. The bird is very apt to sing a quarter- 
 tone, that is something halfway between C and C sharp. 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 33- 
 
 But this song was suggestive rather than positive ; 
 the robin produced all the melody, but it was a vague 
 melody. One could not be quite positive that every 
 turn was meant to be just what the musical mind de- 
 manded that it ought to be. 
 
 Nature is always suggesting, but never complet- 
 ing ; she does not commit herself to measured tones 
 and exact musical phrases any more than she does to 
 exact primary colors. It is invariably that vagueness 
 of purport that renders her work fascinating, and in- 
 spires the artist to take hold of it and make the mean- 
 ing plain. 
 
 There is no doubt in my mind that the robin tried 
 to touch as many tones of regular intervals as he 
 could. Certainly he had more excuse for errors 
 than the unmusical man who vowed that he could 
 always distinguish " My country, 'tis of thee," from 
 "Yankee Doodle." But who, pray, would call the 
 robin unmusical that could produce such a melody as 
 that I have transcribed ? Without interpretation, his 
 song, although jerky, agitated, and vague in meaning, 
 would still be perfectly musical. I have taken no 
 liberties with his triplets. 
 
 But here is another specimen from a sprightly 
 musician who sang in a maple tree for a few min- 
 utes one day last June, just before my studio win- 
 dow (in Campton, X. H.), and then disappeared 
 
84 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST, 
 never to return. 
 
 never 10 return. n 
 It was a Baltimore g 
 oriole (Icterus gal- 
 bula), and his simple musical phrase was absolutely 
 true in pitch, differing in this respect from my 
 robin's song. But the most remarkable thing about 
 a really musical oriole one may not happen to be as 
 melodic as another is the way he syncopates. Now 
 syncopation in music is equivalent to the dropping of 
 an important note ; one of accent or emphasis. Who 
 has not heard in the streets the shrill fife and drum 
 with the measured boom of the bass drum, and who 
 does not remember the turn the latter makes at the 
 end of a musical phrase ? It sounds as though the 
 next to the last " boom " was dropped in the street, 
 and the drummer, stooping to pick it up, lost a little 
 time and then hurriedly made it up thus : Boom ! 
 boom ! boom ! boom ! boom ! boom ! boom ! 
 boom-boom ! 
 
 This is a perfect syncope, and it is exactly what 
 the whistling oriole is continually doing. Here is a 
 second instance of dropped notes in a little song I 
 once heard in the Harvard Botanical Garden, Cam- 
 bridge, in May. i-a-* 
 
 But this oriole 
 was not quite so musical as the one I heard in Camp- 
 ton, N. H. 
 
THE BANKS 
 OF THE 
 
 PEMIGEWASSET, 
 THE HOME OF THE 
 BLACK-BILLED CUCKOO 
 
 COCCYZUS 
 ERYTHROPHTHAfttUS. 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 85 
 
 I have long since learned who plays the " kettle- 
 drum" of the bird orchestra; he is the black-billed 
 cuckoo (Coccyzus erythrophthalmus) a long, lithe, 
 pigeonlike creature, who is subject to nervous attacks 
 after a prolonged silence, and lets off the following : 
 
 n wco Tltard. ^==~ But the black - billed 
 
 I (j) r I* I* I* P P r < r < r f I cuckoo does not confine 
 
 Cu-uc-uc-uc-oo-oo co -o ca-o co-a! himself to exactly this ar- 
 rangement of his two notes. Sometimes he sings thus : 
 
 It is also not quite fair to 
 
 r / /__/ /=pb: liken him to a noisy drum- 
 
 Cuc-uc-ac cacJt-oocutk-oo! 
 
 onant than that of the tubby kettledrum, and as a 
 musician he is the soul of accuracy in his musical 
 thirds and fourths. But the mention of this reminds 
 me of the musical attempts of the crow. I wonder 
 how many of us have caught the crow in the act of 
 coughing up a number of musical tones ! It is the 
 most absurd performance in all the category of wild 
 music. The crow when he sings is nothing short of 
 a clown. He ruffles his feathers, stretches his neck 
 like a cat with a fishbone in her throat, and with a 
 most tremendous effort delivers a series of henlike 
 squawks double fortissimo, thus : 
 
 What he means by the call " J 
 
 it is difficult to say, unless it has * 
 some connection with the general 
 
86 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 is sure to be in full session at no great distance down 
 in the copse on the meadow border. But the crow 
 
 is not unmusical after all. 
 His "caw" is a note 
 of decisive emphasis 
 which can not be justly 
 slighted in the grand 
 orchestra of Nature. The 
 tone of it has that wood- 
 en, reedlike quality which 
 is best represented by the oboe, 
 an instrument of a singularly pastoral 
 nature. Haydn fully appreciated this 
 fact, and in his oratorio of The Seasons 
 gave it a very prominent position not 
 only in a fine adagio, but in a long 
 The musical Crow, solo imitating the crowing of a rooster. 
 Notice how nicely the notes follow 
 the last part of the " crow " by sliding down the 
 chromatic scale. 
 Here is a case 
 where a great 
 musician followed the suggestion of Nature very 
 closely ; and I could enumerate several others in 
 which Nature's intention was most admirably carried 
 out. However, I can only record one extreme in- 
 stance, which is as pathetic as it is interesting ; and 
 
THE YELLOWHAMMER. 
 COLAPTES AURATUS. 
 
 "On the wooded border of a meadow." 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 87 
 
 whenever I hear the golden-winged woodpecker's 
 (yellow-hammer's) nasal and monotonous voice, I re- 
 member how much Beethoven made of it in his Pas- 
 toral Symphony. In the summer of 1823, long after 
 the great composer had become " stone deaf," he was 
 walking with his friend Schindler on the wooded 
 border of a meadow not far from Vienna. " Seating 
 himself on the grass," says Schindler, " and leaning 
 against an elm, Beethoven asked me if any yellow- 
 hammers were to be heard in the tree above us. 
 But all was still. He then said, 'This is where I 
 wrote The Scene by the Brook,* while the yellow- 
 hammers were singing above me, and the quails, 
 nightingales, and cuckoos calling all around.' I 
 asked why the yellow-hammer did not appear in 
 the movement with the others; on which he seized 
 his sketchbook and wrote the following phrase : 
 4 There's the little composer,' said 
 he, ' and you'll find that he plays 
 a more important part than the 
 others, for they were nothing but a joke.' ' : 
 
 Well, the power of a musician's imagination to 
 transmute a few tones is illimitable, for the notes 
 above are not those of the yellow-hammer at all. 
 But, as I have already intimated, imagination is neces- 
 
 * Die Scene am Bach, the second movement of the sixth (Pas- 
 toral) symphony. 
 
88 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 sary on the part of the hearer to understand the mu- 
 sical drift of Nature. So Beethoven gives his imag- 
 ination full play, and constructs a part of his sym- 
 phony not from the yellow-hammer's monotonous 
 "kee-er, kee-er" alone, ___ 
 
 ^rfY jf Cr^y* -~--^^ -^- r *~**^ ^t 
 
 but from the association hfy fffffff f~ f if : 
 of these vigorous tones 
 
 with the milder ascending tones of still another bird 
 the nightingale, perhaps. 
 
 To my mind Beethoven's six notes and others 
 like them of constant recurrence in The Scene by 
 the Brook are remarkably suggestive of the hermit 
 thrush (Turdus aonalaschkce pallasii}, our most 
 gifted American songster the prima donna of the 
 orchestra. The notes of this bird always fly upward 
 with bounding emphasis to some extremely high point, 
 and after a short interval these three very high notes 
 succeed, followed by a whispered "wee- 
 ^J. chee-weechee " too attenuated for me to 
 I/. t record by musical signs. 
 
 ' Much has been written about the music 
 
 of the hermit thrush, but I have found nothing which 
 treats the bird with justice except the remarkably 
 faithful records jotted down by Mr. Simeon Pease 
 Cheney.* It is almost exclusively to this gifted mu- 
 
 * Author of Wood Notes Wild ; he died May 10th, 1890. 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 
 
 89 
 
 sician, who has lived among the birds in the green 
 hills of Vermont, that we are indebted for any scien- 
 tific knowledge of bird music. 
 
 In a previous volume * I have devoted some at- 
 tention to the songs of the thrushes, and have given 
 a song of the hermit thrush which is almost identical 
 with one reported by Mr. Cheney. It is character- 
 ized by thirds and triplets. Here is a portion of it : 
 
 He can do even 
 sides a num- 
 clear sil- 
 subdued, 
 
 But this is only one phase, although a very common 
 
 one, of the hermit's music. 
 
 better than that, and be- 
 
 ber of most extraordinarily 
 
 very whistles, he gives us a 
 
 reedlike series of pianissimo 
 
 tones which I can only liken 
 
 to those of a 
 
 harmonicon. 
 
 It is very 
 
 likely that this peculiar na- 
 ture of these pianissimo notes 
 they can not be heard more than 
 forty feet away suggested to The Hermit Thrush. 
 
 *& 
 
 * Familiar Features of the Roadside. 
 
90 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Burroughs the hymnlike quality of the hermit's song 
 which he so often mentions. I must quote what he 
 says : " A strain has reached my ears from out the 
 depths of the forest that to me is the finest sound in 
 nature the song of the hermit thrush. ... It ap- 
 peals to the sentiment of the beautiful in me, and 
 suggests a serene religious beatitude as no other 
 sound in nature does. It is perhaps more of an 
 evening than a morning hymn, though I hear it at 
 all hours of the day. It is very simple, and I can 
 hardly tell the secret of its charm. ' O spheral, 
 spheral ! ' he seems to say ; ' O holy, holy ! O clear 
 away, O clear away ! ' interspersed with the finest 
 trills and the most delicate preludes." 
 
 But this is the sentiment of the song ; what of the 
 song itself ? That I can only describe with musical 
 annotations. There is first a prolonged tone, prob- 
 ably A ; this is succeeded by another shorter one a 
 third above, another a fifth above, and still another 
 an octave above the A. Interspersed are several very 
 short notes, which are undoubtedly some of Bur- 
 roughs's " fine trills and delicate preludes." Here is 
 the music: n^ A ^^ ,^ -I--^N -^ u * we w ^ 
 notice that \&\* /) jf f j ^ ^[)| the song does 
 not end with the high 
 
 note; there are still three more which glide down- 
 ward, finishing at the original A ; these have that 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 
 
 91 
 
 harmonicon quality of which I have spoken. So 
 pronounced is this final harmonic tone that it might 
 well be expressed thus : (\^f\ ^] 
 
 'Now, this is but one [ A^xf *p of six musical 
 phrases which a single 5^ bird sang. An- 
 
 other, but a less gifted musician, sang a similar phrase. 
 ^_ But, of all the singers, not one, 
 however clear - voiced, equaled 
 in dexterity and precision the 
 bird I heard last summer, which sang the following : 
 
 The distinctness and 
 rapidity of the last six 
 
 short notes was simply 
 phenomenal ; they furnished a fitting cadenza to a 
 long song of certainly eight or nine passages not one 
 of which was like an- . other. After 
 
 the bird finished 
 maple tree 
 
 his solo in a 
 not ten yards 
 from where I sat 
 he fluttered silent- 
 ly away to a neigh- 
 boring brook to " wet his 
 whistle." 
 
 Wholly unlike the her- 
 mit's music is that of the skulking veery (Turdus 
 fuscescens\ who haunts the shrubbery by the river's 
 brink, and leaves the hillside grove entirely to his 
 
 The Veery. 
 
92 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 more accomplished musician cousin. Still, the veery's 
 song is the most romantic and suggestive one of the 
 twilight hour in spring. His notes are characterized 
 by a reedlike quality, which I will liken again to the 
 tones of a harmonicon. No other bird has a voice 
 like his ; it can best be imitated by humming a low 
 tone and whistling a high one ; and it sounds as 
 though the little owner was being swung in four suc- 
 cessive circles through the air. Somebody has com- 
 pared its character to that of a spiral line. Notice 
 after the preliminary grace notes the unbroken flow 
 of the four clusters which follow : 
 
 No hermit could do that sort of thing as well ; he 
 would not have breath enough. But there is also 
 another than spiral effect to this musician's song. 
 Sometimes a rare individual sings whose sonorous 
 tones vibrate be- 
 tween thirds and 
 fifths, thus: 
 
 And in a chorus of veeries such as I heard last spring 
 his notes stand out by contrast with the others in a 
 most refreshing way ; let one's ear be never so subtle 
 at following a musical cadence, it can not be quick 
 enough to catch the full beauty of the last notes of 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 93 
 
 this eccentric singer ; they must be heard over and 
 over again to be remembered. They remind one of 
 the weird effect of an seolian harp or a singing tele- 
 graph pole,* but they are twice as mysterious. 
 
 But the most mysterious singer of the woodland 
 is the chipper and restless little redstart (Setophaga 
 ruticilla), whose jet - black 
 head and orange shoul- 
 ders are continually 
 perking out from the 
 bordering green of the 
 highway, and surprising one 
 
 J ' The Redstart. 
 
 by a sudden and transient 
 
 glimpse of bright color. This little fellow does not 
 perch on the tree-top like the indigo bird and the 
 song sparrow when he sings ; he evades the public 
 eye, and chirrups on the other side of the tree from 
 the inquisitive observer. His song, much more 
 sprightly than that of the veery, and much less seri- 
 ous, runs thus : 8VA ^^ ^rz. ^-^. -^ e ^ s ever 
 
 for an in- 
 hesitates to 
 
 on 
 
 8VA ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 the alert j # v f f'C LET E f 
 
 4 (A) ' r " r J 
 
 V Che-^e tne-we-we-wecne-weo 
 
 and never 
 
 cut his song short when a tempting mouthful meets 
 his eye in the shape of some "crawly bug" on a 
 
 * In extremely cold weather, if one's ear is placed against the 
 telegraph pole one will hear a remarkable harmonic vibration of 
 the wires, like that of an aeolian harp. 
 
94 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 leaf near by. The " ching a-wee, cher-wee, wee ! " 
 quite as often ends abruptly as otherwise, and there 
 is one less insect in the shrubbery. 
 
 A still more mysterious singer in the wildwood, 
 one who sings along with the hermit thrush and 
 ever evaded my watchful eyes, 
 wood pewee (Contopus virenq). 
 I have seen fifty thrushes to one 
 pewee, and yet have heard both 
 singing at the same time and in 
 the same wood. At last, in the 
 past season, I saw the pewee : a 
 plainly attired little creature, with 
 rusty black back and gray-white 
 breast. There he was, on a sprig of the gray birch, 
 calling his mate, as usual, with " Sally, come here ! 
 
 The Wood 
 Pewee. 
 
 H- 
 
 e- 
 
 but musically, 
 thus : 
 
 SFf 
 
 Here! 
 
 Sally come here 
 
 It is the most musical of calls, full of suggestive- 
 ness, and quite as much a part of the spring orchestra 
 as the peep of the Hyla. But the most remarkable 
 part of it is the long-drawn-out "H-e-r-e!" which 
 might just as well be translated " Whi-e-e-eu ! " It is 
 a whistle rapidly descending the scale, precisely like 
 the whistle of painful surprise one makes when one's 
 " best corn " is trodden on. In the case of the bird 
 
ACCOMPLISHED VOCALISTS. 95 
 
 the prolonged note of surprise is, I am always think- 
 ing, an indication of his unbounded amazement at 
 the unnecessary delay in obeying his peremptory 
 summons. He keeps up this whistling for his wife 
 all summer long ; the only answer he seems to get 
 comes from the borders of a neighboring field. It is 
 the call of the chickadee : 
 
 Pe-wee. FiddVde de. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 
 The Bittern, Owl, Loon, etc. 
 
 A STRANGE sound comes from the meadow swamp 
 down by the pond " G-chug, g-chug, g-chug. It is 
 the uncanny voice of the bittern or stake-driver (Bo- 
 taurus lentiginosus\ and if we could see him making 
 the noise we would exclaim at once, "That bird is 
 beastly ill ! " Such a remarkable performance one 
 never witnessed ; the distressing musical attempt of 
 the crow recorded in the preceding chapter is not a 
 circumstance to this convulsive proceeding of the bit- 
 tern. He " hiccoughs " wildly several times, and then 
 is apparently seized with a most violent fit of nausea, 
 producing with each convulsion a hollow " booming " 
 noise which on most occasions sounds like somebody 
 driving a stake in the ground. This charming music 
 I suppose the naturalist would call the love-song of 
 the bird ; it is certainly most common in April, and 
 its continuance for half an hour or more is perhaps 
 
 accounted for by the indifference of the female, who 
 96 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 97 
 
 possibly considers the noise too unattractive for a 
 prompt response. Indeed, it is on record that the 
 bird has " pumped " for an hour. The sucking sound 
 of a pump, I might explain, is considered by some 
 the nearest -approach to this strange creature's un- 
 musical notes. 
 
 If we are near enough to the swamp where the 
 bittern stands, we will see a bird, about twenty-four 
 inches high, with a slate-gray head and neck the 
 latter black-streaked and a brown back, standing 
 
 ' O 
 
 upright and motionless. It really takes quite a sharp 
 eye to separate the bird from his surroundings. 
 When he moves, his deliberate and stealthy steps are 
 hardly perceptible ; but as soon as he opens his bill 
 to speak his strange actions attract our notice and 
 enlist our sympathy. 
 
 His crop is seemingly distended with air which he 
 has swallowed in a most noisy fashion ; every time he 
 takes a gulp of it the head is thrown upward and then 
 forward, the body is violently convulsed, and, with 
 every feather puffed out, one imagines the wretched 
 creature is at his last gasp with a torturing fishbone 
 in his throat. 
 
 But no ; he is only singing his chant d'amour, or 
 amusing himself with a bit of everyday vocal ath- 
 letics. Mr. William Brewster, of Cambridge, de- 
 scribes the sound as a trisyllabic one, thus : Pump-er- 
 8 
 
98 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 lunk, pump-er-lunk, etc. Evidently his bird was a 
 
 "pumper"; but all the bitterns that I have heard 
 
 were "stake-drivers," and sang thus, 
 
 the second syllable closely resembling [ sy. j| j^ 
 
 the resounding thwack of a woodman's 
 
 axe as it drives some stout stake in the ground. 
 
 The bird begins operations by raising his head and 
 stretching his neck until the bill is pointed up in the 
 air ; then with three or four preliminary snaps of the 
 bill, which can be heard fully five hundred feet away, 
 oif he goes on his g-chug, g-chug, g-chug, g-chug, 
 from four to eight times, when he tires of it and takes 
 a minute to rest ; then da capo. 
 
 Thoreau alludes to this remarkable bird thus : 
 " The stake-driver is at it again on his favorite 
 meadow. I followed the sound and at last got within 
 two rods. When thus near, I heard some lower 
 sounds at the beginning like striking on a stump, or a 
 stake, a dry, hard sound, and then followed the gur- 
 gling, pumping notes. ... I went to the place, but 
 could see no water." It seems Thoreau, like a good 
 many others, imagined that the bird made the noise 
 with the help of water by partly submerging his 
 bill. But all who know the stake-driver and his 
 strange performance now agree that water has noth- 
 ing to do with the case. 
 
 I have heard and seen the bird on the river 
 
THE BITTERN. 
 BOTA'URUS LENTIGINOSUS. 
 
 "The stake-driver is at it again on 
 his favorite meadow." 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 99 
 
 meadows of Grafton County, N. H., and I know that 
 lie makes the noise when there is not a bit of water 
 in his vicinity. Bradford 
 Torrey records a most inter- 
 esting performance of a bit- 
 tern which he witnessed in 
 company with Mr. Walter 
 Faxon,* and he declares that 
 the bird was perched on 
 the dry remnants of an old 
 haystack. He furthermore 
 says the sounds are not en- 
 tirely caused by an exertion 
 of the vocal organs, but are 
 connected in some way with 
 the distention of the crop 
 and the drawing in of the 
 breath, not the throwing of 
 it out after the crop is full. 
 
 In the dim twilight suc- 
 ceeding a warm day in spring 
 another strange but familiar note comes across the 
 meadow from the edge of the bordering wood, and 
 we recognize at once the hoot of an owl. It is a 
 barytone note, and from its depth and freedom from 
 
 The Great Horned Owl. 
 
 The Auk, vol. vi, p. 1. 
 
100 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 a quivering, weird quality (familiar in the screech- 
 owl's notes), we can be sure it comes from one of the 
 larger owls. It is, in fact, the voice of the great 
 horned owl (Bulo virginianus), a big, brown-and- 
 ocher-colored bird, mottled with black, and remark- 
 able for his tufted ears, the conspicuous feathers on 
 which stand out fully two inches beyond the contour 
 of his head. 
 
 Mr. Frank M. Chapman calls this owl, just as 
 many another ornithologist does, "a tiger among 
 birds." The creature is a terror to small birds, poul- 
 try, squirrels, mice, and rabbits. But he is not quite 
 so destructive to the inmates of the henhouse as he is 
 made out to be. On the average, not more than one 
 owl in four steals a chicken ; all the others feed on 
 mice, moles, and other such harmful creatures which 
 live on the farm. 
 
 One of the first voices of spring is that of the 
 horned owl ; it is not a cheerful one, but it is a pre- 
 sage of warm days to come, and is therefore welcome. 
 
 Here are the notes of an owl . 
 
 I heard hooting in May last : [(fy^J J , / 
 
 |_i^ pj| u, 
 
 There is but one domi- "MOO, oo, o^ oo^ 
 
 nant tone to the song ; my grace-notes, of course, 
 only indicating a certain modulation of the voice, do 
 not indicate a second tone. One of the most extreme 
 instances of modulation in a bird's voice is mani- 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 101 
 
 fested in that of the loon (TTrinator imber\ whose 
 sliding note resembles that outrageous invention 
 called a "siren" whistle, which one may hear any 
 time in the harbor of New York. I do not mean to 
 imply by this comparison that the loon when he calls 
 sprawls all over the chromatic scale, as the above- 
 mentioned whistle does ; he does not ; the screech 
 owl comes far nearer that sort of thing. But the 
 loon does modulate his " O-ho-oo ! " / , 
 
 in a wild, fortissimo way so nearly like YjL p 
 
 the "siren" that the comparison, to my Yo 
 
 mind, is a very natural one. Mr. Cheney's render- 
 ing of the three notes is different ; 
 
 n u. //&- _ 
 
 but all birds do not sing alike. 
 
 I quote what Mr. J. H. Langille 
 says of the loon's voice. " Beginning on the fifth 
 note of the scale, the voice slides through the eighth 
 to the third of the scale above in loud, clear, sonorous 
 tones, which on a dismal evening before a thunder- 
 storm the lightning already playing along the inky 
 sky are anything but musical." Here they are : 
 f " He has also another but rather soft and 
 pleasing utterance, sounding like 'Who- 
 who-who-who,' the syllables being so 
 rapidly pronounced as to sound almost like a shake of 
 the voice a sort of weird laughter." 
 
 This last calmer but still strong cry is usually ut- 
 
Hoo-OO-O-O'O hOO-OO-O-O-0 OO-O-O-O, 
 
 102 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 tered while the bird is on the wing ; it runs thus : 
 
 Many years ago the weird 
 song was a very familiar 
 one to me at the twilight 
 hour in the wilderness of the Adirondacks. I do not 
 know whether the loon to-day frequents the lakes, 
 which thirty years ago were his favorite haunts ; I 
 do not think he does. The changes in the woods are 
 radical, and civilization has introduced numberless 
 fashionable and elaborate " camps," which prove 
 most conclusively that there is less venison, trout, 
 and loon music there than there used to be in the 
 " sixties." 
 
 The loon is a retiring character, who avoids all 
 contact with the civilized world and lives in the se- 
 clusion of the wilderness. In 1887 Mr. Simeon Pease 
 Cheney found ample opportunity to study the loon at 
 Trout Lake, St. Lawrence County, N. Y., about 
 twenty-five miles northwest of Paul Smith's. Ac- 
 cording to his account, the nest of a certain loon he 
 saw was simply a cavity in some dry muck on the 
 ruins of an old nraskrat house. The female, he ex- 
 plains, shoved herself on it very much as she pushed 
 herself into the water, and did not, as Wilson says, 
 approach it on the wing by darting obliquely and 
 falling securely in it. Loons never lay more than 
 two grayish, olive-brown eggs speckled with black, 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 103 
 
 and these are nearly as large (three and a half inches 
 long) as those of a goose. 
 
 The loon is a big bird, anywhere from twenty 
 to thirty-two inches long from bill to tail, and so 
 characteristically 
 aquatic 
 that he 
 
 is absolutely helpless 
 and clumsy on land ; 
 the legs are too far 
 back to be of any 
 service in walking, 
 and when on the 
 shores of a lake he 
 shoves himself for- 
 ward partly on his 
 breast. I have heard 
 sportsmen say that it ^S 
 was next to impos- 
 sible to shoot one 
 of the creatures ; he 
 must be struck in 
 
 the head or not at all, as the feathers on the body 
 are so thick and close that the shot is effectually 
 checked by them ; besides that, as an escaping diver 
 the bird is without an equal. He disappears upon 
 the slightest provocation, swims under the water an 
 
 The Loon. 
 
104 FAMILIAR LIFE. IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 extraordinary distance, and reappears far away, on 
 the other side of the lake, perhaps, quite out of gun- 
 shot. The following is Mr. Cheney's description of 
 an alarmed loon's method of progression on the sur- 
 face of the water : " Suddenly there was a furious 
 dashing and splashing just behind us, and in a mo- 
 ment more one of them rushed by very near us, both 
 flying and swimming, with wings in the air and feet 
 in the water. He swept by us with a noise like a 
 steamboat, but no boat could equal his speed. At 
 every stroke of his wings he smote the water as well 
 as the air." 
 
 Bat aquatic birds are always a source of surprise 
 to us when we see the rapidity of their progression 
 through the water. Last June, when the Pernige- 
 wasset River, New Hampshire, had swollen to an 
 enormous and resistless flood after a long rain, and I 
 was watching the seething water sweeping beneath 
 the bridge with fearful rapidity, I was much sur- 
 prised to witness the successful efforts of a red- 
 breasted sheldrake (Merganser serrator) making up- 
 stream with no inconsiderable amount of speed. I 
 shouted and clapped my hands, and the bird, taking 
 immediate alarm, flapped his wings and shot over the 
 surface of the flying water like an express train. I 
 calculated at the time he was making fully thirty 
 miles an hour, although relatively with the river bank 
 
THE PEMIGEWASSET RIVER 
 AT BLAIR'S BRIDGE, AND 
 THE SHELDRAKE. 
 
 MERGANSER SERRATOR. 
 
 " He slyly proceeds 
 up stream." 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 1Q5 
 
 his speed did not count for so much. At ordinary 
 times, when the river is low, I have seen this wild 
 duck propel himself noisily through the water with a 
 rapidity that would rival the best effort of a Harvard 
 oarsman. 
 
 On being alarmed the sheldrake utters a melan- 
 choly, hoarse " quonk," usually in the key of C. 
 * His voice is often heard late in 
 
 ly J J j J Jj I the afternoon, when with his fel- 
 w *ew<*e.o^.c*p lowg he shylv proceeds U p S t r e a m 
 
 in quest of the little fish that abound in the river. 
 He pursues and captures his prey under the water, 
 and, like the loon, dives upon the slightest disturb- 
 ance which occurs near his retreat. 
 
 Merganser serrator is a red-breasted sheldrake, 
 whose white-ringed neck and broad band of rust 
 color on the upper breast, black streaked, distinguish 
 him from the other species, Merganser americanus, 
 whose breast is white tinged with salmon. 
 
 A group of sheldrakes on a quiet bit of the river 
 is an interesting gathering to stir up. Occasionally 
 one or two individuals make some passing remark 
 probably on the possible presence of an observer in 
 the vicinity. The ducks keep a sharp lookout both 
 for fish and men ; suddenly some one springs out of 
 the neighboring thicket with an abrupt shouting and 
 clapping of hands ; instantly the river in the vicinity 
 
106 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 of the ducks is a scene of wildest turmoil and con- 
 fusion, the ducks flee, and the water is rapidly 
 churned up for a quarter of a mile downstream. In 
 less than a minute after all is quiet again, and no one 
 would think there was a duck within a hundred miles 
 of the spot. 
 
 So we turn from the lonesome river brink and 
 direct our footsteps to the wood on the hillside ; 
 hardly have we stepped within its shade when there 
 is the greatest commotion among the ferns and the 
 dead leaves, where a hen and her chickens have been 
 hiding ; they scatter in all directions. But it was a 
 partridge hen, and she has as much trouble in collect- 
 ing her faculties as her " chicks," for we can still hear 
 her excited, nervous clucks in the distance. I once 
 came upon such a brood so suddenly and noiselessly 
 that one of the little things was nearly beneath my foot 
 before my intrusion was discovered. With an experi- 
 mental turn of mind I immediately began to chirp 
 like a lost chicken, and in an instant the distracted 
 mother came tearing back to the rescue ; for a few 
 moments she stood directly before me in the most 
 anxious attitude, and, making the most distressful 
 clucks and cries, tried to regain her lost chick. But 
 she was shortly convinced that I was a base deceiver, 
 and left as hurriedly as she came. 
 
 The partridge (Bonasa umbellus) is responsible 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 1Q7 
 
 for some of the strangest noises that break the still- 
 ness of the mountain forest. The female is always 
 clucking and quirping on the approach of an intrud- 
 ing footstep, and she never ^^, seems to discov- 
 er it until it is within ,^ff^^ a couple of 
 
 yards of her re- 
 imagine, 
 circum- 
 
 The Partridge. 
 
 treat. I should 
 not only from this 
 stance but from the 
 fact that the male 
 bird makes such a rum- 
 pus in spring when he 
 calls his mate, that she is a 
 bit deaf. One almost treads 
 upon the tail of a partridge 
 
 before it occurs to the creature to get out of the 
 way ; then there is a fearful whir-r-r-r-r, violent 
 and startling enough to set one's heart beating, and 
 the bird is gone, not, however, without making the 
 following vocal exclamation, s f*\>? rTTT^ 
 
 whistled in a variety of tones \jL \ \ \ [ 'T f * J ; 
 as shrill and explosive as some whieu-whien-eu.-eu.-eu-eu! 
 of the remarks of the red squirrel. I always imagine 
 the bird saying, " Why in thunder didn't you say you 
 were coming ? it's a shocking surprise ! " 
 
 But this chick- o' -the woods is no fool ; he knows 
 he can make noise enough to rattle the sportsman, 
 shake his nerves, and spoil his aim, so he does not 
 
108 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 hurry himself to move off. His mottled brown 
 colors are amply protective, and if he " lies low " he 
 
 can save himself 
 the trouble of an 
 arduous retreat on 
 the wing. Par- 
 tridges do not care 
 
 to % if tne J can 
 avoid it. Indeed, a 
 
 Wing of the partridge. 
 
 glance at my draw- 
 ing of the wing shows that it is not the best shape 
 for flying. Compared with the pigeon's wing * it is 
 short and stumpy, although handsome. 
 
 The strangest noise the partridge makes may be 
 heard in the spring ; then the male bird mounts an old 
 stump or a log and begins his u crow " in the usual 
 way, but his voice is silent. He beats his wings ex- 
 actly as the rooster does, but with an expert's ability, 
 and does no more. Thump, thump, thump, thump, 
 thump, thump, th-ur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ! 
 
 Thump-ump-ump-ump-p thr-r-r-r-r-r. 
 
 The tone is that of a muffled snare drum. He is un- 
 questionably the drummer of Nature's orchestra. 
 
 * The carrier pigeon has been known to fly one hundred miles 
 in an hour. 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES. 109 
 
 The great question among naturalists has always 
 been how he made the noise. I think the question 
 has not long since been answered by more than one 
 observer, and one of the best of these answers has 
 come from Mr. Cheney. I quote what he says : " It 
 is now plainly to be seen that the performer stood 
 straight up, like a junk bottle, and brought his wings 
 in front of him with quick, strong strokes, smiting 
 nothing but the air, not even his ' own proud breast,' 
 as one distinguished observer has suggested. . . . 
 The first two or three thumps are soft and compara- 
 tively slow, then they increase rapidly in force and 
 frequency, rushing onward into a furious whir, the 
 whir subsiding in a swift but graduated diminish. 
 The entire power of the partridge must be thrown 
 into this exercise. His appearance immediately after- 
 ward affirms it as strongly as does the volume of 
 sound, for he drops into the forlornest of attitudes, 
 looking as if he would never move again. In a few 
 minutes, however perhaps five he begins to have 
 nervous motions of the head ; up, up, it goes, and his 
 body with it, till he is perfectly erect legs, body, 
 neck, and all. Then for the thunder once more." 
 
 I can add nothing to this perfect description of 
 the performance. The noise is made, just as has been 
 stated, by the wings beating the air with furious ra- 
 pidity. There should be no doubt whatever about 
 
HO FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 that, and all I need to produce a convincing proof of 
 the fact is a machine that will vibrate a pair of wings, 
 which I have before me as I write, at the rate of five 
 hundred times a minute. Hollow the hands and then 
 clap them rapidly together a number of times, and a 
 somewhat similar sound will be produced, which will 
 show how much the air has to do with the case. 
 
 The food of the partridge consists of berries, 
 seeds, buds, catkins, insects, and wild fruit. In the 
 autumn he will occasionally visit the orchard, and I 
 have often discovered him beneath some wild apple 
 tree in a copse by the river picking at the fallen fruit. 
 In winter the bird still finds ample nourishment 
 in the wild woods of the northern mountains, and 
 what with wintergreen (Gauliheria procumbens), his 
 own berry partridge berry (Mitchella repens) 
 creeping snowberry (Chiogenes serpylli- 
 folia\ and an abundance of evergreen 
 leaves, he is far from starving; all 
 these he gets by scratching and 
 burrowing in the snow. But it is 
 undoubtedly the case that many a 
 young bird perishes with its first ex- 
 perience of the winter's severe cold. 
 
 In the Northern woods the par- 
 tridge will burrow to the interior of a snowdrift and 
 pass the nights of intense cold there. The hardy 
 
STRANGE CREATURES WITH STRANGE VOICES, 
 
 little creature is also provided with snowshoes, a curi- 
 ous fringe of stout, bristly growths arranged along 
 the toes, which greatly assist him in walking over the 
 snow. This growth begins to show itself on the foot 
 by the middle of October, and by the end of March 
 it has completely disappeared. 
 
 The flesh of the partridge, in my estimation, is 
 incomparably superior to that of the quail, and the 
 amount of it on the breast of a plump bird is sur- 
 prising. A bird should be kept in the ice chest at 
 least three days before it is eaten. 
 
 Partridge berry. 
 
CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. 
 The Wolverene, Fisher, and Marten or Sable. 
 
 IT is a question whether we are justified in con- 
 sidering the strange wolverene a furry friend. From 
 one point of view he is, as his splendid coat furnishes 
 us with one of the finest and most beautiful furs of 
 the country. But he is certainly not a familiar crea- 
 ture among the northern woods in these days ; long 
 years ago he was practically extinct in the northeast- 
 ern States.* 
 
 Dr. Clinton Hart Merriam writes that several were 
 caught at Raquette Lake, in the Adirondacks, as late 
 as 1842. Elliott Coues mentions the fact that a Dr. 
 Z. Thomson, writing in 1853, states that the animal 
 was then extremely rare in Vermont ; and Mr. Allen 
 asserts that as late as 1870 it still lingered among 
 the Hoosac hills in Massachusetts. At the present 
 
 * His most southerly range is about latitude 42 for the east- 
 ern portion of the continent. 
 112 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. H3 
 
 day all the skins which are brought into the market 
 come from the far West and Northwest. 
 
 But we can not afford to pass the wolverene, or 
 glutton, as he is sometimes called (G-ulo luscus\ with 
 only a nod of recognition ; he is entirely too in- 
 teresting. His Latin name means "glutton," and 
 his record in literature in this connection is quite 
 unique.* He is the first and largest if not the most 
 important member of the Mustelidce family, that 
 splendid furry tribe whose skins have such a high 
 market value. He is also the most remarkable 
 member of the subfamily Mustelines, which includes 
 the long-bodied, short-legged martens, weasels, ferret, 
 and mink. The skunk, badger, and otter are his 
 more distant relatives, and it certainly would be 
 inexcusably partial to consider these, and not the 
 wolverene. 
 
 This strange animal is from two to three feet long 
 less than that, so far as general appearances go 
 with a chunky figure like that of a bear's cub. His 
 coat is shaggy and blackish or dark brown, with light 
 
 * We find it gravely stated that this brute will feast upon the 
 carcass of some large animal until his belly is swollen as tight as 
 a drum, and then get rid of its burden by squeezing himself be- 
 tween two trees, in order that it may return to glut itself anew 
 an alleged climax of gluttony to which no four-footed beast at- 
 tains, and for the parallel of which we must refer to some of the 
 most noted gormandizers of the Roman Empire. Fur-bearing 
 Animals. Elliott Coues. 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOEEST. 
 
 chestnut bands, which begin at either shoulder, ex- 
 tend down the flanks, and meet at the root of the 
 tail ; this is short, bushy, and characterized by long 
 drooping hairs. His back is high and arched, and 
 his head and tail are carried low. The forehead is 
 a light gray color, and beneath the throat is another 
 patch of the same pale tint. The head is broad and 
 rounded, the muzzle pointed, the beadlike eyes are 
 small, and the rounded ears (well furred on both 
 sides) are set low, and scarcely extend beyond the 
 fur in their vicinity. The feet are large and black- 
 ish, with sharp, curved, whitish claws about an inch 
 long. 
 
 The wolverene, like others of its tribe, possesses 
 anal glands which secrete a disgustingly nauseous, yel- 
 low-brown fluid, which is discharged by the usual 
 nipplelike duct terminations situated just within the 
 anus; the odor is ten times as bad as that of the 
 skunk. But a more serious characteristic of this ani- 
 mal is his propensity to steal and hide things. He 
 annoys the Northern trappers by upsetting their 
 traps, stealing the bait, and sometimes killing and de- 
 vouring the martens which are caught. 
 
 A Mr. Ross relates the following : " An instance 
 occurred within my own knowledge in which a hunt- 
 er and his family having left their lodge unguarded 
 during their absence, on their return found it com- 
 
THE WOLVERENE. 
 GULO LUSCUS. 
 
 "A strange animal with a chunky figure. 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. H5 
 
 pletely gutted the walls were there, but nothing else. 
 Blankets, guns, kettles, axes, cans, knives, and all the 
 other paraphernalia of a trapper's tent had vanished, 
 and the tracks left by the beast showed who had been 
 the thief. The family set to work, and by carefully 
 following up all his paths, recovered, with some tri- 
 fling exceptions, the whole of the lost property." 
 
 The most extraordinary habit of this strange ani- 
 rnal is thus recounted by Elliott Coues : " We need 
 not go beyond strict facts to be impressed with the 
 wit of the beast, whom all concede to be ' as cunning as 
 the very devil.' ... It is said that if one only stands 
 still, even in full view of an approaching carcajou " 
 the Indian name for the wolverene " he will come 
 within fifty or sixty yards, provided he be to the 
 windward, before he takes alarm. . . . On these and 
 similar occasions he has a singular habit, one not 
 shared, so far as I am aware, by any other beast what- 
 ever : he sits on his haunches and shades his eyes 
 with one of his fore paws, just as a human being 
 would do in scrutinizing a distant object. The carca- 
 jou, then, in addition to his other and varied accom- 
 plishments, is a perfect skeptic, to use this word in 
 its original signification. A skeptic, with the Greeks, 
 was simply one who would shade his eyes to see more 
 clearly. 
 
 The handsome fur of the wolverene brings a high 
 
116 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 price among the furriers, the finest skins being valued 
 at four dollars and the coarser ones at two dollars. 
 It is said that the Indians and Esquimaux use the 
 fur for fringing their garments, as they do that of 
 the wolf, the skin being cut into strips for this pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Another member of the Musteline tribe, and one 
 which approaches the long-bodied, short-legged form 
 of the tribe more nearly than the wolverene, is the 
 fisher, or Pennant's marten (Mustela* pennanti\ 
 often called the pecan, and rarely the black cat or 
 black fox. There are two American species of mar- 
 ten which are distinguished apart by the following 
 characteristics, according to Elliott Coues : 
 
 Mustela pennanti : Length, two feet or more ; 
 tail, a foot or more ; ears low, wide and semicircular ; 
 color blackish, lighter on fore upper parts and head ; 
 darkest below ; no light throat patch. 
 
 Mustela americana : Length, less than two feet ; 
 tail, less than a foot long and uniformly bushy ; ears 
 high, subtriangular ; color brown, etc., not darker 
 below than above ; usually a large yellowish or tawny 
 throat patch. 
 
 * The name mustela means a kind of weasel. " Its adjective 
 derivative, mustelinus, refers primarily to general weasellike qual- 
 ities, and secondarily to the peculiar tawny color of most species 
 of weasels in summer. For example, the tawny thrush of Wilson 
 is called Turdus mustelinus.'" Elliott Coues. 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. 
 
 These species form the connecting link between 
 the wolverene and the weasels, which is somewhat 
 evidenced by a more heavily haired, stouter body 
 than that of the sinuous weasel, and a slenderer figure 
 than that of the wolverene. Of the two martens the 
 fisher is by far the largest, as may be seen by Dr. 
 Coues's description above ; indeed, according to Dr. 
 Merriam, the average length of the animal is three 
 feet and a half from nose to tip of tail. 
 
 The fisher. 
 
 The prey of the fisher is mostly mice, squirrels, 
 partridges, small birds, frogs, fish, and sometimes 
 hares and even raccoons. Strangely enough, he does 
 not hesitate to attack the well -armored porcupine, 
 which he kills by biting in the belly so says Sir 
 John Richardson. But I copy from Dr. Merriam's 
 account of the animal the indubitable proofs of the 
 fisher's liking for porcupine flesh, and whether he at- 
 tacks the porcupine in a vulnerable spot or not, it is 
 perfectly plain he does not have an easy time of it. 
 " The intestine of one was lined with rows of porcu- 
 
118 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 pine's quills arranged like papers of needles through- 
 out its length, but they did not penetrate the sides. 
 Many were imbedded in the neck muscles, and in the 
 head, chest, back, and legs, but no inflammation was 
 caused. The needles were about two and a half 
 inches long." 
 
 The fisher is an inhabitant of the wilderness, and 
 in the northern woods he is occasionally seen prowl- 
 ing about the vicinity of lonesome ponds and ever- 
 green swamps. Dr. Merriam states that the fisher 
 has been found of late years in the Adirondack 
 woods, and to my certain knowledge he still exists in 
 the secluded forests of northern New Hampshire and 
 Maine. Besides the few furs which come into the 
 market from the northeastern States, there are a 
 large number which come from the vicinity of Lake 
 Superior, Canada, the Northwest, and the Pacific 
 coast. The parallel of 35 is considered by Elliott 
 Coues the fisher's southern limit. 
 
 The name of the animal is somewhat misapplied, 
 as he does no fishing for himself unless it is on the 
 borders of the pond. On the whole the fisher is most 
 decidedly arboreal ; he spends a great deal of his 
 time exploring the trees for his prey. He is agile 
 and muscular to a degree almost exceeding the ath- 
 letic accomplishments of the cat tribe, and it is said 
 that he can make a descending bound of forty feet, 
 
FUKRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. H9 
 
 never failing at the end to secure his prey. He is, 
 in fact, the expert climber of the family to which he 
 belongs. In a race with the raccoon the latter' s 
 heels are not lively enough to save his hide ; the 
 poor coon has not a ghost of a chance. I copy what 
 
 " He spends a great deal of 
 his time exploring the 
 trees for his prey." 
 
 Mr. Peter Reid, of Washington County, New York, 
 has said long years ago on that point : " While hunt- 
 ing early one winter I found the carcass of a freshly 
 killed sheep, and by the tracks around it in the light 
 snow perceived that a fisher had surprised a raccoon 
 at the feast. A hard chase had ensued, the raccoon 
 tacking at full speed to avoid his pursuer, the fisher 
 outrunning and continually confronting his intended 
 
120 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 victim. I saw where at length the fisher had made 
 an assault, and where a bloody contest had evidently 
 ensued. The raccoon, worsted in the encounter, had 
 again broken away and the chase was resumed, but 
 with diminished energy on the part of the raccoon ; 
 the animal had been soon overtaken again, and a still 
 more desperate encounter had taken place. The 
 coon had failed fast, and it had at last become mere- 
 ly a running fight, when both animals had entered 
 a swamp where it was impossible for me to trace 
 them further ; but I have no doubt the coon was 
 killed." 
 
 It is said that the nest of the fisher is usually in 
 a hollow, standing tree, from thirty to forty feet 
 from the ground. The female bears from two to 
 four young ones about the 1st of May. 
 
 The fisher's skin was evidently not very valuable 
 when De Kay wrote, in 1842, thus : " The hunting 
 season for the fisher, in the northern part of the 
 State (New York), commences about the 10th of 
 October and lasts to the middle of May, when the 
 furs are not so valuable. The ordinary price is a 
 dollar and a half per skin." Such a low figure as this 
 would not hold good nowadays, for the least expen- 
 sive Eastern skin of the poorest quality brings that 
 price, and the most expensive one nine dollars. The 
 average price of a good pelt is seven dollars and a 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. 121 
 
 half. Excepting that of the two otters, the fisher's 
 fur is the most expensive of any belonging to the 
 members of the Mustelidce family. Its prevailing 
 color is an admixture of brownish and grayish tints, 
 gradually darkening into blackish brown at the hind 
 quarters, tail, and legs. The real beauty of the skin 
 lies in its rich, smoky brown tone. 
 
 American Sable. 
 
 The fur of the other, smaller marten, sometimes 
 called the pine marten or American sable (Mustela 
 americana\ is almost as expensive as that of the 
 larger species. It is by far the commoner fur of the 
 two, and in many respects is quite as handsome. This 
 smaller marten is one of the most beautiful of our 
 little American animals, and is common yet among 
 the evergreen forests of the North. His environment 
 is properly the trackless mountain wilderness where 
 the fir and the spruce cast their mingled shade over 
 the tangled undergrowth of ferns, lycopodiums, shiny 
 
122 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 wintergreen, and gold thread, and the wild, troubled 
 mountain stream bordered by lichen-painted rocks 
 and gnarled, moss-covered roots. Here we may see 
 his lithe, gliding body appear through the shadows, a 
 bright bit of warm color set in the sober green of the 
 forest. But the little animal is nocturnal in his habits, 
 and one gets a glimpse of him only once in a lifetime ; 
 if it is early spring, one may chance to catch sight of 
 the female in search of food for her young. Not in- 
 frequently she will be seen traversing the limbs of 
 the trees hunting for the nests of the thrush and 
 vireo. Martens are strictly arboreal in their habits, 
 and they are not known to attack poultry. Their 
 diet is usually mice in particular, and partridges, 
 birds, eggs, frogs, and the larger insects in general ; 
 they are expert climbers, and go bird's-nesting with 
 great success. As the whole group of Mustelidce is 
 characteristically carnivorous, I have grave doubts 
 about this animal eating nuts and berries, as some 
 writers aver. 
 
 I have said that it was a pretty little animal ; at 
 the same time I can not give a description of one in- 
 dividual which will do for all. There is such a great 
 variety of color in the fur, due to season, age, and other 
 conditions, that a single marten's appearance is no 
 criterion for that of the genus. The particular ani- 
 mal which I remember best of all was tawny brown, 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. 123 
 
 not a reddish color like that of a fox, but a soft tone 
 nearly like that of a lion, but darker. The feet and 
 tail were darker, and the head lighter than the back. 
 Mr. B. E. Ross describes the color of the marten 
 thus : " In a large heap of skins which I have ex- 
 amined minutely there exists a great variety of shades 
 darkening from the rarer yellowish white and bright 
 orange into a variety of orange- browns considerably 
 clouded with black on the back and belly, and ex- 
 hibiting on the flanks and throat more of an orange 
 tint. The legs and paws, as well as the top of the 
 tail, are nearly pure black. The claws are white and 
 sharp. The ears are invariably edged with a yellow- 
 ish white, and the cheeks are generally of the same 
 hue. The forehead is of a light brownish gray, dark- 
 ening toward the nose, but in some specimens it is 
 nearly as dark as the body. The yellowish marking 
 under the throat (considered a specific distinction of 
 the pine marten) is in some cases well defined and 
 of an orange tint, while in others it is almost perfect- 
 ly white. It also varies much in extent, reaching to 
 the fore legs in some instances ; in others consisting 
 of merely a few spots, and in still others being en- 
 tirely wanting." 
 
 The fur is variable, of course, according to season ; 
 in November it is in prime condition, and in winter 
 it still continues full and soft, about an inch or so 
 
124 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 deep, and with a great number of large black hairs 
 interspersed. 
 
 The pine marten is an agreeable little creature 
 when tamed, and is almost entirely without the un- 
 pleasant odor which is characteristic of the family to 
 which he belongs. But he has a pugnacious disposi- 
 tion, and quarrels with any part of the animal world 
 he rubs against. He fights and kills the weaker ro- 
 dents, and is a terror to the woodland birds. He is a 
 sworn enemy of the red squirrel, as we may see by 
 the following account of Mr. G. S. Miller, Jr. : " At 
 Nipigon " [Ontario] " a trapper told me that the mar- 
 tens, wherever they occur in sufficient numbers, so 
 terrorize the red squirrels by constant persecutions 
 that the noisy rodents, learning that silence is their 
 best protection, stop chattering. Hence an abundance 
 of silent squirrels is, according to my informant at 
 least, a certain indication that marten fur is plenti- 
 ful." 
 
 The little animal is somewhat shy, and retreats to 
 the seclusion of the deep woods upon the advancing 
 settlement of the country. I recollect that as early 
 as the year 1867 the marten was plentiful in the Adi- 
 rondack woods. The early French settlers, in fact, 
 named one of the rivers having its rise in these 
 northern woods for him the Ausable River. He is 
 still common in the evergreen woods of that region, 
 
FURRY FRIENDS WITH FINE SKINS. 125 
 
 and hundreds are trapped there every year for their 
 valuable fur. In Maine he is also common in the 
 vicinity of Lake Umbagog, and he frequently appears 
 in the spruce forests of northern New Hampshire. 
 Notwithstanding his shyness, he is a bit inquisitive, 
 and trappers say that if one should meet him and 
 begin to whistle, his curiosity will overcome his pru- 
 dence, and he will allow himself to be approached 
 near enough to be easily shot. When he is trapped, 
 if any one draws very near he will raise his hair, 
 arch his back, show his teeth, and growl and hiss 
 like a cat. If attacked by a dog, he will fasten on 
 his nose if he can, and bite so severely that the dis- 
 tracted dog will frequently let go his game and suffer 
 it to escape. 
 
 The female makes her nest in the hollow of a 
 log, or rarely in some secluded spot on the ground, 
 and bears from four to six young ones in early 
 April. The animal when full grown is about the 
 size of a cat, but slenderer and much shorter legged. 
 The tail, hairs and all, is nearly a foot long, bushy, 
 and in this respect quite the reverse of that of the 
 pecan. The head is rather triangular and conical, 
 and the eyes are set obliquely at the point where the 
 muzzle begins to contract. 
 
 The finest marten furs come from the country 
 north of Lake Superior, and from Labrador and 
 
126 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Alaska. These are quoted at from five to seven 
 dollars each, while those coming from New York 
 and New England rarely bring more than two 
 dollars. 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 
 The Weasels. 
 
 may consider the weasels furry friends, if 
 we look at the matter from an unprejudiced stand- 
 point, and do the creatures the justice to admit that 
 they are remarkably serviceable, not so much in the 
 form of a muff or a collar as in the capacity of just 
 and effective destroyers of vermin. If the wolverene 
 is a friend on account of his fur, then the weasel is a 
 better friend, because he can beat the record of the 
 best-trained terrier in rat-killing. The sight of a 
 weasel just issuing from a rat hole licking his chops 
 after a good day's work, prompts one to call him a 
 glorious fighter ; the animal deserves our congratula- 
 tions, and he gets them. But when he comes out of 
 the henhouse and leaves thirty or forty bedraggled 
 corpses behind him which are not rats, but chickens, 
 then we reach for the gun and pay him in his own 
 coin. In the latter case I should properly introduce 
 
 him hors de combat and physically exhausted, as the 
 
 127 
 
128 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 celebrated chicken-killer who has done his best ! It 
 altogether depends upon what he happens to have 
 done whether we shall consider him as a friend or 
 a foe. 
 
 Now, the next relatives of the martens are the 
 little and larger weasels, the latter being the most 
 bloodthirsty little rascal, taking size into considera- 
 tion, of all animal creation. This seems a sweeping 
 assertion, but I shall presently gather together suffi- 
 cient data to establish the charge beyond refutation. 
 
 The little brown weasel (Putorius* cicognani 
 Putorius vulgaris, of Merriam) is a long-bodied ani- 
 mal scarcely larger than a rat. He lives along water 
 courses, in swamps, and under rocky ledges, and his 
 prey comprises a variety of small creatures, such as 
 mice, moles, birds and their eggs, insects, and frogs. 
 He is reputed to be an enemy of chickens, but there 
 is no doubt whatever that some confusion exists be- 
 tween him and the larger weasel in the minds of the 
 farmers. The latter is really the destroyer who en- 
 ters the poultry yard, and not the little brown weasel. 
 
 The following are the principal points of distinc- 
 tion between the two species : 
 
 Little brown weasel (Putorius cicognani) ; length 
 of body without tail, six to eight inches ; tail short, 
 
 * From the Latin putor, a stench, in allusion to the putrid 
 odor of some members of the genus. 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 129 
 
 cylindrical, black at the tip ; color of under parts 
 buff-white, sharply defined in nearly a straight line 
 
 Little brown Weasel. 
 
 beside the brown ; feet white beneath ; always turns 
 white on the approach of winter.* 
 
 Larger weasel in his summer coat. 
 
 Larger weasel (Putorius noveboracensis Puto- 
 rius erminea, of Coues) ; length of body without tail, 
 eight to eleven, or oftener nine to ten, inches; tail 
 at all seasons bushy, conspicuously black-tipped for 
 about one third of its total length. Color of under 
 
 * In Connecticut P. cicognani always turns white in winter, 
 while P. noveboracensis never does. 
 10 
 
130 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 parts buff -white irregularly defined against the brown ; 
 
 feet brown ; turns white only in the northern part of 
 
 its range. The male of this species is much larger 
 
 than the female. 
 
 In respect to the general color both weasels are 
 
 the same. But Elliott Coues makes an emphatic 
 point of distinction between the 
 two species, which is obvious in a 
 comparison of the tails. He says: 
 " This member is both absolutely 
 and relatively shorter in the weasel 
 than in the ermine. ... In the 
 weasel the tail is without the slight- 
 est bushy enlargement, and in most 
 of the specimens I have seen there 
 is no black whatever at the end of 
 weasels 1 tails. the tail ; on the contrary, the end is 
 
 1. P. rixosus l 
 
 2. P. dcognani ; frequently tipped with a few white 
 
 3. P. noviboracensis. , . ,, -,- ,, . -, 
 
 hairs.* In other specimens, how- 
 ever, the tail is dusky, while in one from Oregon the 
 tip is quite blackish." He furthermore says, speak- 
 ing of the skins which he had seen (from British 
 America) of the whole animal, that " they were about 
 six inches long, and also somewhat peculiar in the 
 intensity of a liver-brown shade." Now Dr. Coues 
 
 * He evidently refers to the northern or Arctic species called 
 the least weasel (Putorius rixosus), which is not found in the East. 
 
PUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 
 
 has recorded the common color of the weasel as a 
 variable mahogany brown, and he cites this peculiar 
 liver color as an exception to the rule; but I must 
 say that the weasels which I was fortunate enough to 
 see last summer in broad daylight (at ten o'clock in 
 the morning) were an unmistakable seal brown of a 
 lightish tone, or liver brown i. e., a color produced 
 by mixing six parts sepia with one part crimson lake. 
 But a mahogany-colored weasel I have never seen. 
 
 The weasel is an inquisitive little animal, cease- 
 lessly active, and ever on the scent of his prey ; this, 
 it is said, he pursues with the intelligence of a hound. 
 Mr. Thomas Bell describes the 
 weasel's hunt as follows : " In 
 pursuing a rat or a mouse it 
 not only follows it as long as it 
 remains within sight, but con- Head of little brown wea . 
 tinues the chase after it has dis- sel ' showin & the n *rrow form 
 
 adapted to the exploration of 
 
 appeared, with the head raised sma11 animals' homes under- 
 
 ground. 
 
 a little above the ground, fol- 
 lowing the exact track recently taken by its destined 
 prey. Should it lose the scent, it returns to the 
 point where it was lost, and quarters the ground with 
 great diligence till it has recovered it ; thus, by dint 
 of perseverance, it will ultimately hunt down a 
 swifter and even a stronger animal than itself. But 
 this is not all: in the pertinacity of its pursuit it 
 
132 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 will readily take the water, and swim with great ease 
 after its prey." 
 
 The female weasel, a much smaller animal than 
 the male, brings forth four, or more frequently five, 
 young, and has two or three litters in a year. The 
 nest is composed of leaves and herbage, and is warm 
 and dry ; usually it is built in a hole under some 
 river bank or in the hollow of a tree. 
 
 As a rule the little brown weasel will most likely 
 be seen in the woody borders of the meadow, not far 
 from the river. Last June, during a most unpre- 
 cedented flood of the Pemigewasset Eiver, EC. H., 
 caused by violent rains, the weasels were driven from 
 the river banks to the higher land at the foot of the 
 hills. To my unspeakable surprise, I saw, one morn- 
 ing while weeding the garden bed in front of the 
 house, a number of weasels traveling Indian file 
 down the brick walk directly toward me. The baby 
 (aged three) stood on the bricks, and as I handed 
 him a bachelor's button in compliance with his re- 
 quest, I noticed that he seemed a trifle disturbed by 
 something near his feet. No wonder ! there were a 
 number of long-necked, ratlike creatures plodding 
 slowly along, within six inches of his toes, and grunt- 
 ing discomposedly like little pigs. On they came, 
 the queer, dark-brown, bold-faced things, apparently 
 with no thought except that the brick walk was the 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 
 
 133 
 
 proper thoroughfare to the gate, and that we were in 
 the way. I never saw so strange a sight. "We stood 
 the baby and I within four 
 feet of the wide-open 
 rustic gate, which with 
 the surrounding coun- 
 try seemed entirely too 
 public to the weasels' 
 minds. I was still more 
 amazed, a moment later, 
 while three or four of the 
 animals were endeavoring 
 to insert themselves between 
 the boards of the plank walk 
 set scarcely an inch apart, just 
 beside the gate, to notice one 
 of the individuals return a few 
 feet, saucily stare us in the face, 
 and with a variety of hisses and 
 grunts show his disapproval of our 
 presence. Still another, much both- 
 ered by the publicity of the meeting, 
 took refuge beneath a neighboring sun- 
 flower, and, after squeaking and grunting 
 his dissatisfaction a moment longer, con- 
 cluded to join his fellows under the plank walk. 
 After a while, with a good deal of scrambling and 
 
134 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 squeezing, they all succeeded in getting there. Then 
 the place looked deserted. But presently the regi- 
 ment reappeared Indian file again down by the 
 horse block on the road, at the foot of the terrace ; 
 here I had a chance to count them as they marched 
 riverward across the road and disappeared in the 
 shrubbery on the other side there were no less than 
 nine. I have not the remotest idea why so many of 
 them had congregated in the vicinity of the cottage, 
 unless the refuse tub around in the rear was the at- 
 traction. Truth to tell, on the borders of the wilder- 
 ness more wild animals (and tame ones, too, for I 
 must include the itinerant cow) visit one's refuse 
 tub than may be found in a city menagerie ! 
 
 I have often met the weasel, and he never im- 
 pressed me with any shyness of disposition ; but 
 others have had a contrary experience ; for instance, 
 Dr. Abbott relates the following : " The careless 
 snapping of a twig may not startle you, but it tele- 
 graphs your whereabouts to creatures many a rod 
 away. . . . Not long since I was watching a weasel 
 as it tripped along the rough rails of an old worm 
 fence. It was intently engaged, following the trail 
 of a ground squirrel, perhaps. Suddenly, as if shot, 
 it stood in a half -erect posture, turned its head quick- 
 ly from one side to the other, then rested one ear on 
 or very near the rail, as I thought ; then reassumed a 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 
 
 135 
 
 semi-erect position, gave a quick, bark like cry, and 
 disappeared. There was no mistaking the meaning 
 of every movement. The animal had heard a sus- 
 picious sound, and recognizing it as fraught with dan- 
 ger, promptly sought safety. 
 
 " Extremely curious myself to learn what the 
 weasel had heard for I was sure it was the sound of 
 
 perfectly still 
 mystery was 
 
 weasel, 
 
 an approaching object I sat 
 awaiting coming events : the 
 quickly solved a man drew 
 The assurance of the \ 
 however, in the pres- 
 ence of his prey is 
 unbounded. He 
 throws himself on 
 the unsuspecting 
 victim like a 
 panther, and 
 
 if it is 
 a mouse 
 
 Or a Weasel and a rat. Squirrel gives 
 
 it one bite on the head, 
 
 piercing the brain and thus killing the creature in 
 an instant. His lithe, sinuous form enables him to 
 
136 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 bend himself in the most extraordinary way and seize 
 his prey at the greatest possible advantage. 
 
 The weasel climbs trees with perfect ease, and 
 rifles a bird's nest of its occupants or eggs, as the case 
 may be. In the barn, among the grain stacks and 
 hayricks, he is an invaluable friend to the farmer, 
 for he will quickly rid the premises of all mice and 
 rats. 
 
 According to Mr. Outram Bangs, the range of this 
 weasel extends nearly across the continent, through 
 the forest belt; his range has been positively fixed 
 from Long Island and Connecticut northward to Lab- 
 rador, and westward at least to Fort Snelling, Minn. 
 He turns white in winter throughout this range ; the 
 hindquarters are tinged with sulphur yellow. The 
 skin of this weasel has no especial market value. 
 
 The larger weasel, mistakenly called the ermine or 
 stoat (Putorius noveboracensis Putorius erminea of 
 Coues), is not identical with the European species, 
 which is considered so valuable for its white fur.* 
 As a bloodthirsty character he has no parallel among 
 the mammals ; this seems to be a universal opinion 
 among those who know the remarkable little crea- 
 
 * Elliott Coues, in Fur-bearing Animals, makes no distinction 
 between the European ermine and this larger weasel. The differ- 
 ences, however, are very great, and more than sufficient to induce 
 me to adopt the conclusions of later authors. 
 
FDR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 137 
 
 ture well, and there are apparently records enough 
 of his murderous deeds to amply justify such an 
 opinion. 
 
 One would never think, though, to see the pretty 
 little animal in confinement, that he was such a dis- 
 reputable character ; but when I search among his 
 records I find substantially the same old story every- 
 where. Audubon, William Macgillivray (who de- 
 scribes the European ermine), Elliott Coues, John 
 Burroughs, Dr. Merriam, and J. A. Allen all tell 
 equal tales of the creature's relentless passion for de- 
 struction. Even E. P. Roe does not let him pass 
 without a just " dab " in Nature's Serial Story, and I 
 find the tale repeated there of his killing " fifty chick- 
 ens in one night " out of " pure cussedness " has gone 
 the rounds of the creature's most recent biographers. 
 It is apparently unnecessary for me to add anything 
 of a like nature to these woeful tales, but I think I 
 shall be justified in telling one, the finale of which 
 will relieve the series from a character of monotony. 
 But first let us have some of that data about the 
 so-called ermine's bloodthirsty character which was 
 promised on a previous page. 
 
 Audubon says : " Yet, with all these external at- 
 
 / 
 
 tractions, this weasel is fierce and bloodthirsty, pos- 
 sessing an intuitive propensity to destroy every ani- 
 mal and bird within its reach, some of which 
 
138 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 such as the American rabbit, the ruffed grouse, and 
 domestic fowl are ten times its own size. It is a 
 notorious and hated depredator of the poultry house, 
 and we have known forty well-grown fowls " [later 
 accounts make it fifty] " to have been killed in one 
 night by a single ermine. Satiated with the blood 
 of probably a single fowl, the rest, like the flock 
 slaughtered by the wolf in the sheepfold, were de- 
 stroyed in obedience to a law of Nature, an instinctive 
 propensity to kill. . . . We have observed an ermine, 
 after having captured a hare, . . . first behead it and 
 then drag the body some twenty yards over the fresh 
 fallen snow, beneath which it was concealed and the 
 snow lightly pressed down over it." 
 
 Now let us hear what Elliott Coues has to say : 
 " Swift and surefooted, he makes open chase and runs 
 down his prey ; ... he assails it not only upon the 
 ground, but under it, and on trees and in the water. 
 Keen of scent, he tracks it and makes the fatal spring 
 upon it unawares ; lithe, and of extraordinary slen- 
 derness of body, he follows the smaller creatures 
 through the intricacies of their hidden abodes, and 
 kills them in their homes ; and if he does not kill for 
 the simple love of taking life, in gratification of super- 
 lative bloodthirstiness, he at any rate kills instinctive- 
 ly more than he can possibly require for his support. 
 I know not where to find a parallel among the larger 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 139 
 
 carnivora. ... A glance at the physiognomy of the 
 weasels would suffice to betray their character. The 
 teeth are almost of the highest known raptorial " 
 [preying] " character ; the jaws are worked by enor- 
 mous masses of muscles covering all the side of the 
 skull. The forehead .^^^ 
 
 is low, and the nose 
 is sharp ; the eyes 
 are small, penetrating, 
 cunning, and glitter 
 with an angry green 
 light. There is some- 
 
 thing peculiar, more- Face of a Western Weasel 
 
 (Putorius nigripes). 
 
 over, in the way that 
 
 this fierce face surmounts a body extraordinarily wiry, 
 lithe, and muscular. It ends a remarkably long and 
 slender neck in such a way that it may be held at 
 right angles with the axis of the latter. When the 
 creature is glancing around, with the neck stretched 
 up and flat, triangular head bent forward, swaying 
 from one side to the other, we catch the likeness in 
 a moment it is the image of a serpent ! " * 
 
 It seems as if this uncompromising, unqualified 
 exposure of bad character was sufficiently convincing 
 to go no further ; but I must repeat what John Bur- 
 
 * Fur-bearing Animals. 
 
14;0 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 roughs has said also. After telling of the manifold 
 perils of a bird's life, he says : 
 
 " One day last summer my attention was arrested 
 by the angry notes of a pair of brown thrashers that 
 were flitting from bush to bush along an old stone 
 row in a remote field. Presently I saw what it was 
 that excited them three large, red weasels or ermines 
 coming along the stone wall and leisurely and half 
 playfully exploring every tree that stood near it. 
 They had probably robbed the thrashers. They 
 would go up the trees with greatest ease and glide 
 serpentlike out upon the main branches. When they 
 descended the tree they were unable to come straight 
 down like a squirrel, but went around it spirally. 
 How boldly they thrust their heads out of the wall 
 and eyed and sniffed me as I drew near their round, 
 thin ears, their prominent, glistening, beadlike eyes, 
 and the curving, snakelike motions of the head and 
 neck being very noticeable. They looked like blood- 
 suckers and egg-suckers. They suggested something 
 extremely remorseless and cruel. One could under- 
 stand the alarm of rats when they discover one of 
 these fearless, subtle, and circumventing creatures 
 threading their holes. To flee must be like trying to 
 escape death itself." 
 
 Yery true, the rats are undoubtedly struck with 
 mortal terror on the approach of this their deadliest 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 141 
 
 enemy.* But the rat makes some show of fight not- 
 withstanding the desperate odds against him, and 
 sometimes he "turns the tables." Now for my story. 
 Not long ago, in a comfortable old farmhouse 
 familiar to me from childhood, but one much the 
 worse for the company of rats, a weasel appeared 
 around the kitchen way, evidently seeking for some 
 ingress to the partitions. At last he found the desired 
 rat-hole, and entered. In less time than it takes to tell 
 it, there was the dickens to pay inside the walls of the 
 old house ; such desperate scrambling, rushing, squeak- 
 ing, and shrieking were never heard there before! 
 Truly speaking 
 
 " You heard as if an army muttered ; 
 And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; 
 And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling ; 
 And out of the house the rats came tumbling." 
 
 There was grim death in the path of the destroyer for 
 
 * " We once placed a half-domesticated ermine in an outhouse 
 infested with rats, shutting up the holes on the outside to prevent 
 their escape. The little animal soon commenced his work of de- 
 struction ; the squeaking of the rats was heard throughout the 
 day. In the evening it came out licking its mouth, and seemed 
 like a hound after a long chase, much fatigued. A board of the 
 floor was raised to enable us to ascertain the result of our experi- 
 ment, and an immense number of rats were observed, which, al- 
 though they had been killed in different parts of the building, 
 had been dragged together, forming a compact heap. The ermine, 
 then, is of immense benefit to the farmer. We are of the opinion 
 that it has been over-hated and too indiscriminately persecuted." 
 Quadrupeds of North America, Audubon. 
 
142 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 a considerable space of time ; then, in a tumultuous 
 scramble, he reappeared in the kitchen in a desperate 
 encounter with several rodents, and surprising as it 
 may seem, exhausted and torn by the violence of the 
 conflict. The rats were too many for him; he was 
 worsted ; and in two minutes more he was " as dead 
 as a doornail," with a significant and appropriate sur- 
 rounding of disjecta membra. 
 
 Dr. Merriam remarks that the weasel is ever vic- 
 torious ; but here is an instance of something quite 
 the contrary, and although one's sympathies are not 
 often enlisted on the rat's side, one can not help feel- 
 ing like complimenting the old rodents which on this 
 occasion broke the record. 
 
 The weasel, as a rule, does not eat the flesh of his 
 victim when game is plenty ; instead, he devours the 
 brains, sucks the blood, and, when finished, goes for 
 the next and the next victim, until, after a most ter- 
 rific slaughter, he stops through sheer exhaustion. 
 Relying on his strong, muscular jaws he springs upon 
 his game, and " brains " it with a single bite. Hunt- 
 ing day and night, climbing trees with perfect ease, 
 and entering the burrows of the rodents, he is a ter- 
 ror to all animal creation. Even the dog does not 
 get the best of him without a tough tussle, for he will 
 grab his nose if he gets a chance and hold on with 
 the grip of a vise. Fortunately, he does not very 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 143 
 
 often enter the chicken house ; but when he does, it 
 is good-by to the hens ! In the field, or among the 
 grain stacks, like the little brown weasel he is the best 
 friend of the farmer, for mice, rats, and rabbits are 
 his favorite game. 
 
 The range of this weasel is from southern Maine 
 and Yermont South to North Carolina, and West to 
 Indiana and Illinois. 
 
 In late summer, autumn, and winter the weasel's 
 coat is remarkably beautiful. The change from dark 
 brown in summer to white in winter is perhaps the 
 most remarkable thing about the little animal. There 
 is an irregular line of demarcation between the upper 
 brown and the lower buff- white color in summer; 
 this line begins at .the mouth, and continues low down 
 on the sides to the tail ; all around the latter and 
 over the paws is the same color as the back, but the 
 tip of the tail is black. 
 
 According to Elliott Coues, the latitudes in which 
 the change occurs in this country include the north- 
 ern tier of States and the entire region northward. 
 In this area, he says, the change is regular, complete, 
 and universal ; but, Audubon says, " in specimens 
 received from Virginia the colors of the back had 
 undergone no change in January." 
 
 Regarding the cause of the color change, about 
 which there is much conflicting opinion, to those who, 
 
144 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 like myself, have observed the animal only in the 
 North, it would seem as though Dr. Merriam's theory, 
 recently expressed, is the one which is 
 
 correct. 
 My experi- 
 ence inclines 
 me to believe that 
 the change from 
 brown to white occurs. 
 
 altogether too suddenly, In his winter ' coat . m many in- 
 stances, to admit of any other ex- 
 planation than that which Dr. Merriam gives, quoted 
 below. 
 
 Elliott Coues says : " As Mr. Bell contends, tem- 
 perature * is the immediate controlling agent. This 
 is amply proved in the fact that the northern animals 
 always change ; that in those from intermediate lati- 
 tudes the change is incomplete, while those from far- 
 
 * We may safely conclude that if the requisite temperature is 
 experienced at the periods of renewal of the coat, the new hairs 
 will come out of the opposite color ; if not, they will appear of 
 the same color and change afterward ; that is, the change may or 
 may not be coincident with shedding. That it is ordinarily not 
 so coincident seems shown by the greater number of specimens in 
 which we observe white hairs brown tipped. Fur-Bearing Ani- 
 mals, page 123, E. Coues. 
 
FUR-CLAD FIGHTERS. 145 
 
 ther south do not change at all. ... The design or 
 final cause of this remarkable alteration is evident in 
 the screening of the animal from observation by as- 
 similation of its color to that of its surroundings. It 
 is shielded not only from its enemies, but from its 
 prey as well." 
 
 Now I quote in substance what Dr. Merriam says 
 to the contrary : " Temperature," he states, " time of 
 change, and fact of change have little to do with the 
 case. In the Adirondacks the ermine never turns 
 white until after the first snow. In late October or 
 early November, forty-eight hours after a snowstorm, 
 regardless of temperature, the coat has assumed a pied 
 appearance, often systematically marked and striking- 
 ly handsome; the change continues with great rapid- 
 ity. By early spring the process is reversed ; the 
 change will even occur in a warm room indoors, al- 
 though the transition is tardy ; but it is really occa- 
 sioned by the inevitable influence of hereditary 
 habit." 
 
 In northern New Hampshire, among the great 
 hills, the temperature frequently falls to 20, and even 
 12, between September 20th and November 10th. 
 Yet, until the snow comes, the weasel remains brown. 
 There is no lack of continued cold, either, between 
 these dates, for almost every night in the latter part 
 
 of October the mercury drops to the freezing point, 
 11 
 
146 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 and frequently far below it. The larger weasel is by 
 no means rare in this part of the country, and there 
 is sufficient opportunity for a trapper to study his 
 change of coat in early winter. The nest of the little 
 animal will be found snugly tucked away in the hol- 
 low of some old stump, or in the sheltered nook be- 
 tween an old moss-covered log and a shelving rock. 
 In early May the female bears from four to six 
 young, which, it is said, remain in the vicinity of the 
 nest all summer. 
 
 The white fur of the ermine seems to have gone 
 out of fashion so completely that I can find no quota- 
 tion of its value in the American list. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 
 The Mink and Otter. 
 
 THE mink (Putorius visor) is the next relation 
 of the weasel. Larger and heavier in figure, in some 
 respects he resembles the marten ; like this animal, he 
 has a large bushy tail, but, unlike him, the ears are 
 small and low, scarcely extending beyond the fur in the 
 vicinity ; they are rounded, and well furred on both 
 sides. The feet are somewhat pointed and small, and 
 the legs are short. Over the snow the tracks of the 
 mink are mingled in one regular and rather deep fur- 
 row, quite different in this respect from the rhyth- 
 mical tracks of the marten. On the sandy river beach 
 the tracks are also a trifle mixed, and are easily recog- 
 nized on this account. 
 
 The mink is a handsome animal, with a beautiful, 
 long, very dark-brown or blackish fur, and black, 
 bushy tail ; beneath, his body is irregularly patched 
 with white. He is tolerably abundant in the Adiron- 
 dack woods ; occasionally he is found on the borders 
 
 147 
 
148 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 of tlie woodland lakes of northern New Hampshire, 
 and rarely he is met with in the wilder parts of 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 The prey of this thoroughly aquatic mammal, 
 which, somewhat web-footed, swims and dives like a 
 fish, consists of mice, rats, muskrats, birds, eggs, fish, 
 
 The Mink. 
 
 frogs, crayfish, and fresh-water mussels. He is, like 
 the weasel, the particular enemy of the rat, who, it 
 is said, gives no battle, but yields at once ; the mink 
 severs the main blood-vessels of the neck so skillfully 
 that the deed is scarcely observable.* Occasionally 
 the animal enters the henhouse or the poultry yard 
 and makes away with a number of chickens and ducks ; 
 but, unlike the weasel, he does not proceed to wan- 
 ton murder. He takes one chicken at a time, and 
 most likely devours it, flesh, bones, and all ; then, if 
 he feels like it, he helps himself to another. When, 
 
 * Fur-bearing Animals. Elliott Coues. 
 
THE MINK. 
 PUTORIUS VISOR. 
 
 " He even captures the speckled beauty 
 of the mountain stream," 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 14.9 
 
 however, food is plenty he is a bit wasteful. One 
 winter a mink tunneled a passage under the snow to 
 the troughs of the State Fish Hatchery, at Liverrnore 
 Falls, N. H., where he captured and destroyed num- 
 berless trout, the remains of which were discovered, 
 when the snow disappeared in the spring, in and about 
 his nest. He is decidedly nocturnal in his habits, and 
 consequently is not as often caught in his depreda- 
 tions on the poultry inclosure as the fox or the weasel ; 
 but he generally frequents the margins of rivers and 
 lakes both night and day. The only one I ever saw 
 in the wild state was busily occupied in the middle of 
 a summer morning devouring either a mouse or a frog 
 on the sandy border of a mountain lake. Dr. Mer- 
 riam says he once saw three on the banks of the out- 
 let of Seventh Lake (Adirondacks), and many times 
 has met them in summer and winter about the water 
 courses of northern New York. The little animal 
 often prowls about the lakes of the Adirondack wil- 
 derness, he further says, and devours the remains of 
 fish left on the shore near the camps. As a swimmer 
 the mink is not excelled by any other similar small 
 animal. He can remain a long time under water, and 
 pursues fish by following them under logs and shelter- 
 ing rocks. He even captures the speckled beauty of 
 the mountain stream, for Audubon relates that he saw 
 a mink catch a trout upward of a foot long. Exceed- 
 
150 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ingly strong for so small an animal, and sagacious to 
 a surprising degree, it is on record that he has dragged 
 a mallard duck more than a mile to reach his hole 
 and share the game with his mate. The writer * says : 
 "As we followed the line we could easily trace the 
 wide trail 'of the mallard as it was dragged bodily 
 along over the fresh snow, and the deep penetration 
 of its claws into the new ice spoke volumes of the 
 force exerted by the small animal in the completion 
 of so severe an undertaking." 
 
 When the mink is caught young, and tamed, he 
 makes not only a good ratter but an interesting pet, 
 although he resents any careless stepping on his feet 
 or tail by using his sharp teeth with decisive effect. 
 In his native wilds he is not a very timid animal, as 
 may be inferred from the experience of Dr. Abbott.f 
 
 * An anonymous writer in Forest and Stream. 
 
 f " It was past noon, and rest was the order of the hour. What 
 creatures I saw moved with great leisure, as if annoyed that they 
 had to move at all. The mink crept along the prostrate log as 
 though stiff in every joint, but when at the end of his short journey 
 I whistled shrilly, with what animation he stood erect and stared 
 in the direction of the sound ! Half concealed as I was, the mink 
 saw nothing to arouse his suspicions ; he was merely curious or 
 puzzled ; he was thinking. ... He did not move a muscle, but 
 stared at me. Then I commenced whistling in a low tone, and 
 the animal became more excited ; he moved his head from side to 
 side, as if in doubt, and needed but a slight demonstration on my 
 part to convert this doubting into fear. I whistled more loudly, 
 and moved my arms; in an instant the mink disappeared." Out- 
 ings at Odd Times. C. C. Abbott. 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 151 
 
 Elliott Coues describes the animal in its wild state, 
 however, as being anything but amiable : " One who 
 has not taken a mink in a steel trap* can scarcely 
 form an idea of the terrible expression the animal's 
 face assumes as the captor approaches. It has always 
 struck me as the most nearly diabolical of anything 
 in animal physiognomy. A sullen stare from the 
 crouched, motionless form gives way to a new look 
 of surprise and fear, accompanied with the most vio- 
 lent contortions of the body, with renewed champ- 
 ing of the iron till breathless, with heaving flanks 
 and open mouth dribbling saliva, the animal settles 
 again, and watches with a look of concentrated 
 hatred mingled with impotent rage and frightful 
 despair. The countenance of the mink its broad, 
 low head, short ears, small eyes, piggish snout, and for- 
 midable teeth is always expressive of the lower and 
 more brutal passions, all of which are intensified at 
 such times. As may well be supposed, the creature 
 must not be incautiously dealt with when in such a 
 frame of mind." 
 
 Unfortunately, too, the mink has a pair of anal 
 glands which secrete a fluid of disgustingly fetid and 
 offensive odor, which is pretty sure to be emitted 
 when the animal is trapped. Dr. Merriam says of it : 
 
 * When caught in a trap by the leg the mink is very apt to 
 gnaw the member in a manner most painful to witness. 
 
152 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOKEST. 
 
 " It is the most execrable smell with which my nos- 
 trils have as jet been offended ; in some individuals 
 it is only more powerful and offensive than it is in 
 others." 
 
 According to my experience, the close- set, bristly 
 fur is never without some remnant of the bad smell 
 in spite of all proper precautions in curing it. In wet, 
 winter weather, and in contact with the natural mois- 
 ture and heat of one's neck, the " minky " smell is in 
 strong evidence. To me the odor of the creature is far 
 more unpleasant than that of the skunk ; yet Elliott 
 Coues does not seem to think it is distressingly bad. 
 He says : " No animal of this country, except the skunk, 
 possesses so powerful, penetrating, and lasting an 
 effluvium. ... It belongs to the class of musky (!) 
 odors, which in minute quantities are not disagree- 
 able to most persons. 
 
 Of course, de gustibus non disputandum I can- 
 didly admit that I can not quite agree with Elliott 
 Coues either with regard to the musky quality or the 
 mild offensiveness of the perfume. Perhaps I expe- 
 rienced too much of it on a particular occasion long 
 since. 
 
 The nest of the mink is made of dried leaves piled 
 together about the thickness of an inch or more, and 
 rounded in a snug hollow lined with fur and feathers. 
 It is generally found in either a hollow log or a bur- 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 153 
 
 row. There are from four to six young produced 
 in the latter part of April or early in May. But one 
 litter is raised in a year. By nature the mink is not 
 a good burrower, and often the female avails herself 
 of the hole of a muskrat in which to build her nest. 
 
 Thirty years ago the fur began to increase steadily 
 in value until the price of a single pelt reached five, 
 and even ten, dollars. Dr. Merriam says he caught 
 one whose skin sold for fourteen dollars ; but to-day 
 the highest price quoted for the dark Nova Scotia 
 and Labrador skins is two dollars ; those from 'New 
 York and New England bring about a dollar and 
 a half ; and of the more southern and western furs, 
 those from northern New Jersey to Wisconsin bring 
 from a dollar and a quarter to thirty cents ; and those 
 from Ohio to Florida and Texas, from a dollar and 
 twenty cents to twenty cents, according to color the 
 darkest fur bringing the most money. 
 
 Now the mink is the last member of the sub- 
 family Mustelince, which is an important and large 
 division of the general family Mustelidce. The next 
 subfamily is that of the skunks, Mephitince, only one 
 member of which, the common skunk (Mephitis me- 
 phitica), is found northeast of the Mississippi, and 
 consequently concerns us. But the skunk is so com- 
 mon and important an individual that, a little fur- 
 ther on, I have devoted a whole chapter to his odor- 
 
154: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 iferous majesty, and thus have taken him out of his 
 proper position in the family just here. So for the 
 present we will give the skunk a wide berth and pass 
 on to his next relative ; this is the badger (Taxidea 
 americana\ of the next subfamily Melince, another 
 "Western animal, whose eastern limit is Wisconsin and 
 Iowa. It must not be inferred that this animal is 
 one of the swimmers indicated in the heading of this 
 chapter ; he only happens to be sandwiched between 
 the two swimmers by reason of his relationship. He 
 is a burrower. But this incorrigible burrower, whose 
 hole on the Western plains has broken more than one 
 horse's leg and given more than one rider's scalp to the 
 Indians, this miserable, broad -backed beast of secret 
 and unknown habits, is too distinctively Western to 
 command our attention ; still, we will listen to a word 
 about him from Elliott Coues, and then pass on. He 
 says : " I have found badgers in countless numbers 
 nearly throughout the region of the upper Missouri 
 Eiver and its tributaries. I do not see how they could 
 well be more numerous anywhere. In some favorite 
 stretches of sandy, sterile soil, their burrows are 
 
 i/ 7 
 
 everywhere. ... In ordinary journeying one has to 
 keep a constant lookout lest his horse suddenly goes 
 down under him, with a fore leg deep in a badger hole ; 
 and part of the training of a Western horse is to make 
 him look out for and avoid these pitfalls." 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 
 
 155 
 
 Leaving the badger, we next come to the sab- 
 family Lutrince, which is represented by the single 
 North American species of this genus, the otter. He 
 is not very familiar through the well-settled parts of 
 the eastern country, but is still to be found in the wild 
 woods, on the borders of those charming lakes in the 
 wildernesses of northern New York, New Hampshire, 
 and Maine. 
 
 The beautiful otter (Lutra canadensis) which is 
 a splendid swimmer and a great frequenter of moun- 
 and lakes in the dense spruce 
 lock forests of the North 
 is yet reported from Lake 
 Umbagog, Maine, and 
 the lake regions 
 farther north- 
 east, the 
 lakes in 
 
 tain streams 
 and hem- 
 
 The Otter. 
 
 the Adirondack wilderness, the northern shore of 
 Lake Superior, and Bayfield, Wisconsin. In the 
 
156 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. ' 
 
 South he is common in the wilds of Tennessee, 
 ^orth Carolina, and West Virginia. 
 
 The otter is amphibious in the largest sense of the 
 word ; he can remain under water as long as a loon, 
 and can swim a quarter of a mile without reappearing 
 at the surface. His prey generally consists of fish and 
 crayfish, but he also has a taste for frogs, muskrats, 
 wild duck, and poultry. He is an expert swimmer : 
 he can overtake almost any fish, not excepting the 
 trout, of which he is very fond, and in captivity he is 
 partial to boiled beef. Dr. Merriam also says he is 
 remarkably fond of crayfish (Cambarus\ incredible 
 quantities of which he destroys during the summer. 
 
 Otters are most restless creatures, traveling from 
 lake to lake and river to river, and pursuing either a 
 continuous or a devious course, u just as it happens." * 
 They travel great distances in winter, and are with 
 considerable difficulty overtaken by the hunter, so 
 rapidly do they progress. They propel themselves 
 over the slippery ice and snow with their hind legs, 
 and, doubling the* fore legs under, slide downhill and 
 over snowy ridges in a most rapid and comical fash- 
 ion. With the impetus gained by several rapid 
 jumps on the ice they manage to cover the ground 
 quicker than a swift runner on snowshoes. 
 
 * Animals of the Adirondacks. Dr. Clinton Hart Merriam. 
 Transactions of the Linnaean Society, vol. i. 
 
THE OTTER. 
 
 LUTRA CANADENSIS OR LUTRA HUDSONICA. 
 
 "The animal apparently enjoys a 
 regular sort of toboggan slide." 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 157 
 
 This remarkable propensity for sliding is one of 
 the strangest habits of the otter. That the animal 
 should apparently enjoy a regular sort of toboggan 
 slide is almost past one's comprehension. But such is 
 undoubtedly the case. 
 
 Audubon says : " The otters ascend the bank at a 
 place suitable for their diversion, and sometimes where 
 it is very steep, so that they are obliged to make quite 
 an effort to gain . the top. They slide down in rapid 
 succession where there are many at a sliding place. 
 On one occasion we were resting ourselves on the 
 bank of Canoe Creek, a small stream near Henderson, 
 which empties into the Ohio, when a pair of otters 
 made their appearance, and, not observing our prox- 
 imity, began to enjoy their sliding pastime. . . . We 
 counted each one making twenty-two slides before we 
 disturbed their sportive occupation." 
 
 " The borders of lakes and streams in the Adiron- 
 dacks," says Dr. Merriam, " show numerous examples 
 of their slides, and also wallowing places in which 
 they play and roll. May's Lake, a small and secluded 
 body of water abounding in trout, is fairly surround- 
 ed by them." * 
 
 The otter is an intelligent animal, of an easy and 
 playful disposition that easily fits it for domestication. 
 
 * Vide Animals of the Adirondacks. 
 
158 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Audubon tells of otters which he had seen so perfectly 
 tamed and trained that they never failed to come like 
 dogs when whistled for, crawling slowly and with ap- 
 parent humility toward their master. He also recites 
 his own experience in taming several otters, which 
 eventually he had the pleasure of romping with in his 
 study. They were captured when quite young, and 
 became as gentle as puppies in two or three days; 
 they preferred milk and boiled Indian meal to fish 
 or meat, and would not touch these last until they 
 were several months old. The animals are not only 
 easily tamed and domesticated, but it is said that they 
 are taught to catch and bring home fish to their 
 masters ; they are taught to fetch and carry exactly 
 as dogs are, and in the beginning a leather fish stuffed 
 with wool is employed for the purpose ; they are 
 afterward exercised with a dead fish, and chastised if 
 they disobey or attempt to tear it ; finally 
 they are sent into the water after a live 
 one.* 
 
 The peculiar formation of the nose 
 The otter's p a( i a k ou t an inch long in full-grown 
 
 nose pad. 
 
 otters, is the admirable means whereby 
 the animal is enabled to dive and swim under water 
 without inconvenience to the breathing organs. I 
 
 * Bell's Quadrupeds. 
 
TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS. 159 
 
 quote what Elliott Coues says of it : " In general 
 shape it is an equilateral pentagon, with one side 
 inferior, horizontal, and straight across, and the other 
 side on either hand irregular, owing to the shape 
 of the nasal apertures, the two remaining sides coin- 
 ing together obliquely above to a median acute angle 
 high above a line drawn across the tops of the nos- 
 trils. It somewhat resembles the ace of spades." In 
 a word, this nose pad is a valve which closes over the 
 nostrils and prevents the water 
 from entering while the animal 
 is diving or swimming. The 
 otter in other respects is much 
 like its congeners ; the body is 
 long and columnar, about two 
 feet or more from the tip of The Otter1s webbed foot - 
 the nose to the root of the tail ; the head is globose, 
 the muzzle very obtuse, the eyes and ears are very 
 small, the broad feet well furred and webbed, and 
 the tail about a foot long and slightly flattened 
 i. e., elliptical in transverse section. 
 
 The nest of the otter is built under some shelving 
 rock or uprooted tree, and sometimes in the hollow of 
 an old stamp. The young are brought forth about the 
 middle of April, and there are usually two, or rarely 
 three, in a litter. The mother and young generally 
 remain together through the summer and autumn. 
 
160 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 The skin of the otter is usually taken from the 
 body without being opened lengthwise, and is in a 
 prime condition in November. The fur is seal brown, 
 with beautiful lustrous long hairs, and thick, close 
 under hairs of a rich but lighter hue. It is the most 
 valuable fur of the Mustelidce family, excepting that 
 of the sea otter, which in its prime condition brings 
 from four to five hundred dollars for one skin. The 
 otter's skin is worth from three to ten dollars, ac- 
 cording to color, the darkest fur bringing the most 
 money. The best skins come from Canada, New 
 England, Lake Superior, and the Northwest. Open 
 skins have a decreased value of twenty per cent on 
 the prices quoted. 
 
CHAPTEK X. 
 
 THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER, 
 The Skunk. 
 
 the twilight wanes, and trees, bushes, and 
 fences become vaguely outlined in the gathering 
 dusk, a strange little animal, somewhat resembling 
 a black-and-white cat, ventures from his daytime 
 hiding place, and we are aware of his presence 
 in our immediate vicinity by a pungent and offensive 
 odor. So, with bated breath and the suggestive whis- 
 per of " Skunk ! " we quicken our footsteps and warily 
 peer into the shadows on either hand ; but alas for 
 the luckless one who stumbles upon the little creature 
 in the hasty effort to evade it ! Nothing short of a 
 Turkish bath and a complete change of clothing will 
 ever enable him to regain his self-respect. He is an 
 outcast from society, and, like the leper of old, must 
 consider himself exiled from all the world. 
 
 The skunk (Mephitis mephitica)* another mem- 
 
 * The Latin name means a foul-smelling foul smeller. 
 12 1G1 
 
162 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ber of the Mustelidce family, belonging to the group 
 Mephitince, is one of those few wild animals with 
 which no one is anxious to make even a " scraping 
 acquaintance." " Distance," I cautiously remarked 
 
 The Skunk. 
 
 one time to a skunk which appeared directly in my 
 path, " lends enchantment to the view ; you may 
 have the right of way, and the path, too ! " So I 
 gave him a wide berth, beat an ignominious retreat, 
 and breathed again when the atmosphere regained its 
 purity. One always feels secure at ten yards, but 
 within that distance, notwithstanding the fact that 
 competent authorities set the line of safety at sixteen 
 and a halffeet, one is excusably nervous. 
 
 But, putting all prejudice aside, the skunk is not 
 only a much-abused animal, but one whose usefulness 
 can not be overestimated. Let us see what he feeds 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 163 
 
 upon : mice, salamanders, grasshoppers, beetles, larvae, 
 grubs, and caterpillars.* This is not a bad list, and, 
 taking into consideration the fact that he makes away 
 with a vast number of mice and grasshoppers, besides 
 those insects which are peculiarly destructive to the 
 hopvine, it is not surprising that the Legislature of 
 the State of New York seriously considered a bill 
 many years ago for his protection. Truth to tell, he 
 eats more insects than any other mammal, f if we are 
 to believe the testimony of at least three eminent 
 naturalists, and it follows that he must be of great 
 service to the farmer. 
 
 Some years ago I carne to the conclusion, based 
 upon a few observations, that the skunk was not only 
 an interesting and useful animal, but a very beautiful 
 one, so far as his coat was concerned, and that so- 
 ciety in general, particularly drawing-room society, 
 was not paying him the attention he deserved. To 
 be sure, the skunk may not be an appropriate topic 
 for the drawing-room, nevertheless his name is often 
 whispered there, for the reason that his domain is 
 now undoubtedly encroached upon by the outposts of 
 refined civilization. The refuse tub of more than one 
 
 * I admit that he unfortunately robs the henroost at times. 
 
 f The excrement of the skunk consists almost wholly of the in- 
 digestible parts of insects, such as the black shells of beetles, legs 
 of grasshoppers, etc. ; it is remarkably black. 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 modern stately colonial residence has been visited by 
 him, and the evidence of his presence has wafted in 
 the open window of the parlor during a warm sum- 
 mer evening and changed the countenance of many 
 a stickler for propriety. Now, if the hostess should 
 remonstrate with the intrusive skunk, and the latter 
 could speak, he would undoubtedly reply with some 
 assurance, " If you do not like my neighborhood and 
 kind of perfumery you should not have located on 
 my territory ; your drawing-room, like a weed, is a 
 thing out of place ! " The greater part of the coun- 
 try has always been the skunk's, and the site of one 
 of our great cities (Chicago) * was once his favorite 
 stamping ground. But, as I shall attempt to prove, he 
 deserves more attention and less evasion ; perhaps if 
 we knew more about him his character would grow 
 in our estimation, and we might cease to consider him 
 the " most disgusting thing in all creation." Interest 
 in so remarkable an animal, therefore, induced me to 
 search through his record and find some naturalist 
 who would know all about him. It must be confessed 
 that there is some difficulty in picking up knowledge 
 about an animal which one does not dare to approach 
 nearer than ten yards. To bridge over that ten yards 
 by another's experience, instead of pursuing investi- 
 
 * The Indian name Chicago means the place of the skunk. 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLEK. 165 
 
 gations at close range, would promise at least to be a 
 method of procedure involving no expense in the 
 matter of clothing. At last I found a man who had 
 at different times no less than ten pet skunks one 
 for each of my ten yards. " Bravo ! " I said ; " Dr. 
 Clinton Hart Merriam has built the bridge. Any 
 man who has had the pluck to tame ten skunks 
 undoubtedly knows the animal better than all the 
 rest of the wise heads put together." And so it 
 proved. 
 
 But before we look at the skunk through the eyes 
 of the scientist, we will steal a glance at him in broad 
 daylight a somewhat difficult thing to do, as he is 
 nocturnal in his habits, sleeps all day, and is rarely 
 seen before the sun goes down. He is about as large 
 as a small cat (I must not be taken too literally, for 
 skunks greatly vary in size). The head is small, the 
 snout pointed something like that of the European 
 badger and the long-clawed fore legs, which he uses 
 to dig with, are disproportionately short. In figure he 
 is not a bit graceful, and his walk or hop is decidedly 
 awkward. His coat is black, long-haired, and with 
 little or no white markings in some cases, while in 
 others it is traced over the back with two distinct 
 white stripes, which gradually merge into one at 
 the neck. The crown is usually white, and the fore- 
 head marked with a narrow white stripe. His tail is 
 
166 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 large, bushy, long-haired, black, and terminates in a 
 buff- white tuft. 
 
 He is the most deliberate little beast that ever 
 prowled along the highway. A moonlit night is 
 apparently his delight, and if we meet 
 him then he is more easily recognized 
 by his measured tread and cat-like fig- 
 ure than by his color. 
 Even when frightened 
 he does not break into 
 much more than a hob- 
 bling gallop, and a horse 
 
 at an easy trot would ' b^.^vifoW**** :>*;* 
 
 outstrip him.* Not 
 infrequently he is run The skunk ' showing the white marks on 
 
 J the forehead and flank. 
 
 down in crossing a 
 
 road, and then well, the country is perfumed within 
 a circle a mile in circumference. As for the horse 
 and wagon, they might as well be buried on the spot. 
 The skunk is not only slow, but remarkably curi- 
 ous. I observed one once, on a moonlit night, in- 
 vestigate a box trap which I had made for squirrels ; 
 he scanned it cautiously first on one side, then on the 
 other, peeped inside, and sniffed along the edges in 
 the same manner as a dog. At length, after appear- 
 
 * One night last summer one followed beside my horse at a 
 slow trot for some distance without making himself disagreeable. 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 
 
 ing to meditate for a moment, he apparently came to 
 the conclusion it was "no good," and marched off. 
 Later on in the season, his visits to the cottage prov- 
 ing too numerous to be interesting, he was caught in 
 a steel trap and shot an ill-advised way, 
 as I shall hereafter show, of disposing of 
 him. Dr. Mer- 
 riam, in his ad- 
 mirable mono- 
 graph on the 
 skunk,* tells of one 
 which peeped in the 
 door of his museum, climbed 
 up on the sill, scrutinized Trapped, 
 
 him with the keenest of black 
 
 eyes, and then began to stamp and scold saucily, 
 finally backing out and into a beech tree near by, 
 which so surprised him that he whirled about tail 
 up, growled excitedly, and scampered off among the 
 bushes. 
 
 The skunk makes frequent visits to the farmhouse, 
 around by the kitchen way, but usually at seasons 
 when insects, particularly grasshoppers and beetles, 
 are scarce. I never knew him to attack a rat, but I 
 have seen frequent evidences of his destruction of field 
 
 * Vide Transactions of the Linnaean Society, vol. i. 
 
168 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 mice and their nests. These he digs out with his long 
 claws, and whole families go to make up his evening 
 meal. He prowls around the wood pile, evidently 
 after mice, and Dr. Abbott* relates an incident 
 humorous enough to bear repetition here. 
 
 u The. old wood pile was not infrequently the hid- 
 ing place of one or more of these l varmints,' which 
 raided the henroost, kept the old dog in a fever of 
 excitement, and baffled the trapping skill of the oldest 
 1 hands' upon the farm. . . . With what glee do I re- 
 call an autumn evening years ago, when the unusually 
 furious barking of the old mastiff brought the whole 
 family to the door. In the dim twilight the dog could 
 be seen dashing at and retreating from the wood pile, 
 and at once the meaning of the hubbub was appar- 
 ent : some creature had taken refuge there. A lan- 
 tern was brought, and, as every man wished to be the 
 hero of the hour, my aunt held the light. The wood 
 pile was surrounded, every stick was quickly over- 
 turned, and finally a skunk was dislodged. Confused, 
 or attracted by the light, . . . the 4 varmint ' made 
 straightway for the ample skirts of the old lady, fol- 
 lowed by the dog, and, in a second, skunk, dog, lady, 
 and lantern were one indistinguishable mass! My 
 aunt proved the heroine of the evening, nor did the 
 
 * Outings at Odd Times. Dr. C. C. Abbott. 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 169 
 
 men object. I often pause at the very spot, and 
 fancy that ' the scent of the roses ' doth ' hang round 
 it still.' " 
 
 The home of the skunk is usually in some corner 
 of the pasture, Or perhaps on the shrubby border of 
 the road sloping toward the streamlet on the meadow. 
 Frequently he accepts a new clearing as a convenient 
 home, and digs a hole for his nest under an old stump. 
 The hole is small, cleanly cut, and is generally 
 without the slightest odor but that depends. Prob- 
 ably, if a large family say, from six to nine mem- 
 bers remains in one domicile all winter, there is an 
 appreciable odor in the vicinity. But it is a mistake 
 to suppose the animal is not cleanly ; the adults are 
 very careful in the employment of their weapon of 
 defense, and they do not use it except when they are 
 in a dilemma. This is my conclusion, based upon 
 considerable observation; and the fact that I have 
 often met the strange little creature without having 
 experienced any disastrous consequences, inclines me 
 to believe that he is not aggressive. Give him a wide 
 berth, and avoid a surprise or anything like a sudden 
 movement, and he will not put himself on the defen- 
 sive. Dr. Merriam is of the same opinion. He says 
 that not one skunk in twenty will smell when caught 
 in a steel trap, and that a person may drag both trap 
 and skunk by the chain without danger if he proceeds 
 
170 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 very slowly and without making a sudden move; 
 "but," he adds, "a young one squirts upon insuffi- 
 cient provocation " a dubious fact which, to say the 
 least, is disconcerting to the inexperienced, who can 
 not be expected to " size up " a skunk in a jiffy and 
 run if it should prove " ower young ! " 
 
 The skunk is so common an animal all over the 
 country that his unique method of defense is thereby 
 proved to be quite as effective as any other means of 
 protection common in animal life. I do not know of 
 any animal that preys upon the skunk. Other crea- 
 tures, however well provided with means of defense, 
 find their match ; even the porcupine, in spite of his 
 quills, falls a prey to his arch enemy, the fisher ; but 
 all creation seems to " draw the line " at the skunk, 
 and he lives a comparatively unmolested life. The 
 miserable dog who has had an experience rolls him- 
 self in the grass or dirt, resorts to the pond, looks 
 quite crestfallen for the rest of the day, and shows 
 by an evasive eye that he has lost every atom of his 
 self-respect. 
 
 Having perfect confidence in his means of defense, 
 the skunk is perhaps the least timid of all the smaller 
 animals except the weasels, whose audacity and calm 
 assurance are simply unparalleled. But the skunk 
 and weasel are not overconfident ; there is everything 
 to justify one's self-confidence when the world flees 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 
 
 before one's presence. If we meet a skunk, we run ; 
 it is the hereditary habit of a skunk from the time 
 he is born to feel sure we would run. Just so with 
 the weasel : he is apparently born with the conscious- 
 ness that the first rat he meets will shriek in terror 
 and flee for his life. But the superior mind of man 
 is more than the skunk can cope with ; consequently 
 the poor unsuspecting creature falls not only into 
 every trap that is set for him, but into every trap set 
 for another animal ; and if there is anything exasper- 
 ating about trapping, it is the discovery of a skunk in 
 one's fox trap. Dr. Merriam relates how a number 
 of these animals can be easily captured, somewhat 
 thus : * "In winter the hunter treads down the snow 
 from the entrance of the skunk's hole into a narrow 
 path, and sets a number of steel traps at certain inter- 
 vals along the route ; at nightfall, when the mother 
 comes out the young ones follow her lead, single file, 
 down the path ; the first trap near the hole catches 
 number one; the others climb over the obstruction 
 and move on until a second trap snaps on another ; 
 then the third trap catches still another, and so on 
 until the whole family is taken in a single night." 
 
 * My quotations are not taken verbatim, because a slight con- 
 densation here and there became necessary to save the limited 
 amount of space at my command ; but in each case I have rigidly 
 adhered to every important point. 
 
172 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 This seems rather stupid of the skunk, but it is sim- 
 L ' j the logical result of his dependence upon a special 
 means of defense ; a trap is a machination of man 
 with which he can not reckon, but with man himself 
 he will reckon when he comes around for the trap. 
 In this respect his method of warfare is not unlike 
 tnat of the primitive Chinese, who threw among the 
 enemy vessels called " stink pots " filled with noxious 
 and suffocating fumes, which cleared the field quite as 
 effectively as shot and shell. 
 
 But now, for the scientific point of view regarding 
 this interesting animal, we must turn to Dr. Merriam.* 
 He had at different times ten live skunks in confine- 
 ment, all quite young and consequently small from 
 four to ten inches long. From some of these he re- 
 moved the scent pouches, but the greater number 
 were left in a state of nature ; these, he says, never 
 emitted any odor. A particularly clever skunk from 
 whom he had removed the scent pouches proved to be 
 a great pet, sleeping in his pocket while he was driv- 
 ing about on his professional duties, and walking close 
 at his heels when he took an occasional stroll after 
 supper. If he walked too fast, the little creature 
 would stop, scold, and stamp with his fore feet ; if he 
 persisted in his rapid walk, he would turn about and 
 
 * Vide Transactions of the Linnaean Society, vol. i. 
 
g 1 
 
 l 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 173 
 
 make off in the opposite direction ; but if he stopped 
 and called him, he would return at an ambling pace 
 and soon catch up. Frequently the doctor walked to 
 a certain meadow where grasshoppers were plenty, 
 and there the little fellow would revel in his favorite 
 food. When the grasshoppers jumped he would jump 
 after them, and frequently he would have as many as 
 three in his mouth and two under his fore paws at a 
 time ; in fact, he would often eat so many that his 
 distended stomach would drag on the ground. When 
 young, the courageous little creature would often 
 tackle a horned beetle, and he got many a nip in 
 consequence. When he caught a mouse he would 
 devour it all, and growl and stamp his feet if any one 
 came near while he was thus engaged. He was a 
 playful animal, and the doctor records a curious habit 
 that he had of clawing at his trousers for fun, and 
 then scampering off with the hope of a chase. 
 
 Regarding the skunk's most dreaded perfume, the 
 doctor gives us the following concise account : " His 
 chief weapon of defense lies in the secretion of a pair 
 of anal glands that lie on either side of the rectum 
 and are imbedded in a dense, gizzardlike mass of 
 muscle, which serves to compress them so forcibly 
 that the contained liquid may be ejected to the dis- 
 tance of from thirteen to sixteen and a half feet. 
 Each pouch is furnished with a single duct that leads 
 
174 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 into a prominent nipplelike papilla that is capable of 
 being protruded from the anus, and by means of 
 which the direction of the jet is governed. The secre- 
 tion is a clear fluid, amber or gold-yellow in color, 
 has an intensely acid reaction, and in the evening is 
 slightly luminous. On standing in a bottle, a floccu- 
 lent whitish precipitate separates and falls to the bot- 
 tom. The fluid sometimes shows a greenish cast, and 
 it always possesses an odor that is characteristic and 
 in some respects unique. Its all-pervading, penetrat- 
 ing, and lasting properties are too well known to re- 
 quire more than a passing comment. A well-closed 
 house in winter became permeated by the scent with- 
 in five minutes' time after a skunk had been killed at 
 a distance of nearly twenty rods. The more humid 
 the air is and the higher the temperature, the farther 
 the scent is discernible and the longer it lasts. Un- 
 der favorable conditions it is certainly distinctly rec- 
 ognizable at the distance of a mile. De Kay quotes a 
 statement from the Medical Repository that a Dr. 
 Wiley, of Block Island, distinctly perceived the smell 
 of a skunk although the nearest land was twenty 
 miles distant. 
 
 " The marked difference in the intensity of the 
 scent in different skunks is chiefly due to the age of 
 the particular animal from which it emanates. It 
 is quite overpowering when there has been no dis- 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 175 
 
 charge for some time and it seems to have become 
 concentrated. When recently ejected the fumes are 
 suffocatingly pungent, extremely irritating to the 
 air passages, and, I have no doubt, are capable of 
 producing oedema of the glottis, as are the fumes of 
 strong ammonia; and when inhaled without a large 
 admixture of atmosphere, the victim loses conscious- 
 ness, breathing becomes stertorous, the temperature 
 falls, the pulse slackens, and if the inhalation is pro- 
 longed the result doubtlessly proves fatal." * 
 
 Dr. Merriam does not consider the perfume of 
 the skunk one tenth as disagreeable and disgustingly 
 nauseating as the secretions from the corresponding 
 glands of many other members of the Mustelidce, 
 particularly the weasel and mink. Nor do I. There 
 is nothing putrid about the smell of the skunk ; it is 
 undoubtedly pungent and suffocating at times, but it 
 is never sickening. 
 
 The skunk is a hibernating animal, but he does 
 not sleep all winter long ; during the greater part of 
 
 * There is a case on record where mischievous schoolboys 
 forced one of their number to inhale from a two-ounce vial a 
 large quantity of skunk perfume with somewhat serious conse- 
 quences. The victim became unconscious, muscular relaxation 
 followed, the temperature fell to 94, the pulse to 65, and the ex- 
 tremities grew cold. The patient was unconscious for an hour, 
 but finally recovered after the administration of hot pediluvia 
 and stimulants. Vide Virginia Medical Monthly, vol. viii, No. 5, 
 August, 1881. 
 
176 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 January and February he keeps in his hole, especially 
 if the weather is severe ; but upon the first appear- 
 ance of a genuine thaw in March, just about maple- 
 sugar time, he is abroad again. Dr. Merriam states 
 that he has seen skunks scampering over the snow in 
 midwinter when the mercury stood at 20. He also 
 says that they have large families from six to ten 
 young all the members of which remain in the same 
 hole until spring, but that not more than two adult 
 skunks have ever been found in a hole at any one 
 time. 
 
 It is not generally known, perhaps, that the fur of 
 the skunk is quite long, thick, glossy black, and there- 
 fore valuable. The wholesale price of the finest skins, 
 which come from New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio, 
 is from eighty-five to ninety cents each ; the poorest, 
 or fourth-grade skins, are worth only ten cents. The 
 fur eventually " made up " goes by any other name 
 than skunk generally Alaska sable and black marten. 
 
 Of course thousands of the little animals are killed 
 each year for the sake of their skins, and it is a fact, 
 as Dr. Merriam explains, that no one knows how to 
 kill them. His method is so simple and sure that I 
 think it should be given a place here. " The skunk's 
 back," he says, " must be broken by a smart blow from a 
 heavy stick," and he adds : " If the animal is in a trap, 
 approach cautiously and slowly ; if you go too fast he 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 177 
 
 will elevate his tail, present bis rear, and assume an 
 uncomfortably suspicious attitude. Give him a little 
 time, and he will about face and peer at you again 
 with his little, keen, black eyes. Now advance a little 
 nearer, be sure of your aim, and when you strike, 
 strike hard. The main thing is to keep cool and not 
 strike too soon. On receiving the blow his hinder 
 parts settle helplessly upon the ground, and the tail, 
 which was carried high over the back, now straightens 
 out behind, limp and powerless. As a rule, the head 
 soon droops and the skunk expires." 
 
 A heavy blow on the back given by a pole (not 
 too long), the doctor further explains, injures the 
 spine and thus produces paralysis, or a complete loss 
 of power in the muscles supplied by those nerves 
 which radiate from the spinal column just below its 
 point of injury. By shooting or decapitating the ani- 
 mal the ensuing death struggle inevitably brings 
 about a discharge of the scent. Audubon, however, 
 testifies to the contrary ; nevertheless, my own expe- 
 rience teaches me that Dr. Merriam is right and Au- 
 dubon is wrong. If there are those who wish to 
 satisfy themselves on this point, let them practice on 
 the skunk with a revolver, and escape the perfume if 
 possible. Also, it is not true that the animal limits 
 himself to one discharge ; he is quite equal to several, 
 
 if there are sufficiently serious provocations. 
 13 
 
178 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 There seems to be a universal and absurd theory 
 that the skunk scatters the scent with his tail ; this 
 is an altogether mistaken and ridiculous notion scarce- 
 ly worthy of passing comment, for it is evident that 
 he elevates the tail not only from cleanly motives, 
 but because it would seriously interfere with his aim. 
 
 There is one more fallacious idea connected with 
 the skunk, and that is that his bite is attended by a 
 species of rabies Rabies mephitica* as it has been 
 called. This is all nonsense, and absurdly contrary 
 to the " germ theory " of disease which meets univer- 
 sal acceptance among physicians to-day. A skunk 
 bitten by a dog or any animal afflicted with rabies 
 might transmit that disease again by his bite ; but 
 without such an occurrence the bite of the skunk will 
 be a bite, and nothing more. It is true that his teeth 
 are sharp and that they can inflict severe wounds, but 
 nothing more unless he is diseased. 
 
 Probably there are few of us who could imagine 
 the flesh of the skunk furnishing a dainty and choice 
 dish for one's dinner; but, according to Dr. Merriam, 
 it is far more delicate -than the tenderest chicken. I 
 quote what he has to say on the subject with the same 
 
 * This strange theory was not only exhaustively treated in an 
 article in Forest and Stream (vide vol. xvi, No. 24, page 473) by 
 the Rev. Mr. Hovey, but was seriously considered by Elliott Coues 
 in a later writing; see his Fur-bearing Animals. 
 
THAT FAMOUS ESSENCE PEDDLER. 179 
 
 confidence in his judgment and admiration for his 
 bravery that I have already expressed. He says : " 1 
 am able to speak on this point from ample personal 
 experience, having eaten its flesh cooked in a variety 
 of ways boiled, broiled, roasted, fried, and fricasseed 
 and am prepared to assert that a more " toothsome 
 bit" than a broiled skunk is hard to get, and rarely 
 finds its way to the table of the epicure." 
 
 Hose olim meminisse juvabit ; but the next time 
 we meet a skunk it will be just as well for us now 
 we have learned of his superior character but still 
 lack that confidence which it ought to inspire to def- 
 erentially step aside at least sixteen and a half feet ! 
 
CHAPTEE XL 
 
 THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 
 The Black Bear. 
 
 THE king of the wilderness, if the term has a rea- 
 sonable application to any one of our wild animals, is 
 undoubtedly the black bear ( TJrsus americanus). He 
 
 The Bear. 
 
 is a humorous creature withal, from a certain restrict- 
 ed point of view, and his dignity suffers in conse- 
 quence. At the very mention of a bear we are in- 
 clined to be amused and interested, and it depends 
 180 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 181 
 
 upon circumstances whether we smile or feel our hair 
 stand on end. Most likely the latter happens when, 
 without a rifle, we accidentally meet him in the wilds 
 of the evergreen forest; here he is every inch a 
 king, but, alas ! an arrant coward that is, under 
 all ordinary conditions. 
 
 In captivity his humorous nature comes to the 
 front. Not long a^o, when I visited a certain wild 
 
 o o ' 
 
 animal " show," every beast, except- 
 ing those in the monkey 
 cage, appeared to take life 
 most seriously; but when I 
 stood before two black bears 
 all appearance of serious- 
 ness came to an end. 
 
 Here a jolly couple 
 were thumping 
 about their narrow 
 quarters, apparent- 
 ly trying to swal- 
 low each other 
 crosswise, and 
 A joiiy couple. evidently enjoy- 
 
 ing the sport 
 
 with as much gusto as college students do the rush 
 in a game of football. Later on they subsided to the 
 milder amusement of swallowing huge slices of bread ; 
 
182 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 but even this was done playfully, as though they 
 didn't care a rap for such staff. 
 
 But even in his native wilds the black bear is ex- 
 tremely interesting, and riot without some irresistibly 
 amusing traits of character, for if he should happen 
 to visit the lumberman's camp while the latter is 
 abroad, he will handle the jug of molasses he may 
 find there with as much ease as a toper handles a jug 
 
 of rum. Indeed, 
 he is particular- 
 ly partial to mo- 
 lasses and pork, 
 and his visits to 
 camp are far 
 from rare. 
 
 The black 
 bear is quite 
 common in many 
 of the wilder- 
 nesses North 
 
 and South from Maine to Mississippi. He is yet 
 frequently found in the evergreen forests of the 
 White, Green, Adirondack, and Catskill Mountains. 
 As recently as last summer, at a house not far from 
 my cottage in the White Mountain region, I had the 
 pleasure of feeding a young one in captivity with 
 a pocketful of ginger snaps, which he took very 
 
 The Black Bear in the woods. 
 
H < 
 
 ffi 3 
 o o; 
 
 3 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 183 
 
 respectfully and carefully in his mouth, never offer- 
 ing to grab. Dr. Merriam states that in 1883 many 
 bears dwelt in an evergreen forest in Lewis County, 
 New York, twenty miles west of the border of the 
 Adirondack wilderness ; in the autumn they were 
 in the habit of crossing the intervening valley and 
 entering the Adirondack region, passing quite near 
 the town of Leyden, his home. Here, within six 
 miles of his residence, nine bears were killed in 
 October, 1877.* Bears frequent the woods in the 
 vicinity of Mount Chocorua, in the White Mountains, 
 and they still haunt those giant peaks of the Sandwich 
 range which overlook the pleasant valley of the Bear- 
 camp Water. 
 
 During the winter of 1873 several bears were 
 killed in the vicinity of the Twin Mountain House, 
 White Mountains ; and I recollect a young one, tame 
 and intelligent, a great pet with the guests of the 
 hotel in the succeeding summer, whose special delight 
 was a bit of maple sugar or a slice of cake. Most of 
 the afternoon he circumambulated about the heavy 
 stake to which he was chained, and occasionally took 
 a sitz bath in the tub provided for his comfort. One 
 of his favorite performances was to balance himself 
 crosswise on the edge of the tub with three paws, 
 
 * Vide Transactions of the Linnaean Society, vol. i. Animals 
 of the Adirondacks. By Clinton Hart Merriam, M. D. 
 
184 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 and claw a stick out of the water with the remain- 
 ing one. 
 
 Of late years it is probable that extremely few 
 bears have been found in the Catskill woods ; but I 
 remember as a boy a great sportsman's resort on the 
 eastern slope of the hills not far from Cairo, called 
 Barney Butts' s, where bearskins and tame bears years 
 ago were almost as common as chipmunks are now. 
 
 One unfortunate young 
 bruin which I remember 
 better than the others 
 had lost a paw in a 
 steel trap ; it was said 
 that he had gnawed 
 it off (a not uncom- 
 mon thing for a 
 trapped bear to do), 
 escaped, and was recaptured after tracing his blood- 
 stained tracks over the frozen snow. The limb 
 eventually healed quite perfectly, and he managed 
 by the following summer to do as well with three 
 legs as most of his kind did with four. But I never 
 could forget the picture which my imagination con- 
 jured up of poor bruin hobbling in anguish over the 
 icy snow, a wretched victim of man's inhumanity; 
 so he was regaled with cakes and lumps of sugar, the 
 best way of showing him my boyish sympathy. The 
 
 Caught in a trap. 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 185 
 
 last news I got of him in the fall was that he had 
 knocked the spigot out of a barrel of molasses some- 
 where in the neighborhood, and that particular part 
 of the country was very sticky. 
 
 Besides having a most extraordinarily sweet tooth, 
 bruin is decidedly omnivorous ; his food is commonly 
 mice, turtles, frogs, fish, ants and their eggs, bees and 
 honey, wild cherries, blackberries, blueberries in 
 fact, berries of every kind fruits, vegetables, roots, 
 and not infrequently sheep, pigs, and poultry. If 
 you try him with a kitchen diet his taste is quite as 
 comprehensive; it includes cake, bread, muffins, pie 
 and pudding, butter and eggs, ham, hominy, sweet- 
 meats, crackers and milk, pork and beans, corn cake, 
 gingerbread in fact, excepting pickles, I doubt 
 whether he would refuse anything contained in the 
 larder. In his native wilds he will tear old stumps 
 to pieces to find ants and bees, dig out the nests of 
 white-faced hornets and yellow-jackets, and, caring 
 little for stings, devour the grubs with great relish ; 
 scoop out the honeycomb from bees' nests, regardless 
 of the army of furious insects ; tear down the branches 
 of the beech for the sweet beechnut ; strip the black 
 cherry of its prussic-acid-flavored fruit (which is his 
 great delight), and clean out a blueberry patch of 
 every berry, ripe or green, without greatly disturbing 
 the foliage. Besides the huckleberry, the beautiful 
 
186 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 china-white snowberry, and the common wintergreen 
 (Gaultheria procumbens\ to all of which the bear is 
 partial, there is another mountain berry actually 
 named for him, the bearberry (Arctostaphylos Uva- 
 Ursi\ of which he is said to be 
 particularly fond. But he does 
 not always confine himself to 
 the wilderness in his search for 
 sustenance : he is a great rover, 
 especially in autumn, and not 
 infrequently he comes down 
 the mountain side and plun- 
 ders the orchard of its fruit ; 
 he will even enter the barnyard, and his presence 
 there is the immediate signal for an uproarious com- 
 motion among the animals. It is a great pity one 
 can not persuade the horse that the bear is quite as 
 much of a coward as himself. Indeed, two such cow- 
 ards it would be difficult to find the like of through- 
 out the animal kingdom. I have rarely heard of a 
 black bear attacking any creature larger than a calf, 
 and in the presence of a bear a horse loses his head, 
 shies, jumps, trembles like an aspen, and bolts if he 
 gets a chance. For that matter, the keen-scented horse 
 will smell a bear through a two-inch pine board, and 
 the intervening side of a barn is, of course, far from 
 reassuring to him. Last summer an itinerant French- 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 187 
 
 man, with a performing bear a remarkably large 
 and handsome one, of the cinnamon species stopped 
 before my mountain home one warm day and put the 
 great hulking creature through a variety of perform- 
 ances, to the infinite delight of the children. He was 
 the best of bears, good-natured if ever there was one 
 that could be called so and exceedingly mild-eyed ; 
 he ate the cold muffins we gave him with a " that's- 
 not-half-bad " expression, and hugged the pail of wa- 
 ter as though it were a gift never to be parted with ; 
 yet, after he had gone as peacefully as he had come, 
 he innocently spread terror among the horses he 
 passed along the highway just above, near the Profile 
 House ; and not long after I heard that our friend 
 the Frenchman was in durance vile as a disturber of 
 the peace of horses ! 
 
 Now, the black bear is as shrewd and cunning as 
 he is cowardly. The hunter knows this, and has to 
 take the greatest precautions to get to the leeward of 
 him, and ultimately within rifle range. Bruin is re- 
 markably keen -scented, and the first whiff he gets of 
 "a man in the air" prompts him to take to his heels 
 at so rapid a pace that the college athlete would be no 
 match for him in a race through the forest. I wit- 
 nessed for an instant a fair exhibition of his running 
 power several years ago in Waterville, on the western 
 slope of one of the great southern ridges of the White 
 
188 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Mountains, named Sandwich Dome. It was the latter 
 part of September, and I was one of a small party 
 making the ascent of the mountain. We had come 
 suddenly upon the verge of a ravine, and there, less 
 than a hundred yards ahead of us, directly on the 
 
 path, was the huge 
 black form of bruin 
 beating a precipi- 
 tate retreat and 
 never favoring us 
 with so much as a 
 x parting glance. There 
 was a moment's rustling 
 and swaying of leaves, a 
 sharp crackling of twigs, 
 
 then nothing his sylvan majesty had fled, and the 
 woods were as silent and deserted as if they had seen 
 no live thing since the birds sang in June. There 
 is a solemn silence in the forest, anyway, just before 
 the leaves begin to fall, but after that bear disap- 
 peared the stillness seemed dramatic, if not actually 
 oppressive. 
 
 Not many years ago a black bear was seen by a 
 sportsman while he was fishing in the east branch of 
 the Pemigewasset River in the White Mountain re- 
 gion. The great creature was standing on his hind 
 legs reaching for the ripe fruit of a black cherry ; he 
 
 On the run through the snow. 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 189 
 
 sniffed the air suspiciously after a few moments, and 
 then made off in a direction opposite to that of the 
 fisherman in the greatest haste. 
 
 In February, 1878, three Adirondack hunters 
 while on a panther hunt came across prints in the 
 snow of a large female bear ; she was traced to her 
 den, but was found already frozen in so she could 
 not get out. After she was shot three cubs about 
 three weeks old were taken from the den, but they 
 were too young to raise, and soon died. In April 
 of the same year another den was found in a swamp 
 near Fourth Lake, Fulton Chain. The 
 den, which was in the side of a knoll, 
 was discovered by the proximity of 
 the young cubs, who were playing 
 outside and did not know enough 
 to " go in "' when the hunters ap- 
 peared. The mother bear again 
 could not get out, and was easily 
 killed. In the following June a 
 very young bear was shot by Dr. 
 Bagg, also in the vicinity of Fourth 
 
 Cubs. 
 
 Lake ; it weighed about ten pounds, 
 and its stomach was filled with old beechnuts. The 
 poor little creature had evidently lost its mother ; 
 and Dr. Bagg, hearing a strange squealing like that 
 of a pig, imitated the sound with such success that 
 
190 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 the lost cub came running toward him, but, alas ! to 
 its death. 
 
 In the summer of 1882 the signal station camp of 
 the Adirondack Survey, in charge of Mr. Yerplanck 
 Colvin, was visited by a bear in the absence of the 
 campers and turned topsy-turvy by the mischievous 
 brute ; the tent was torn down, and blankets, books, 
 and instruments were strewn about in great disorder. 
 The footprints of bruin were found later, and Mr. 
 Colvin, catching sight of him, fired at and wounded 
 him,, but did not succeed in effecting his capture. 
 Dr. Merriam states that the average number of bears 
 annually killed in the Adirondacks up to 1882 was 
 thirty or more.* In the wildernesses of the White 
 Mountains scarcely a season passes without ten or 
 more being killed, and in the fastnesses of the great 
 forests of Maine the shooting of a dozen bears in 
 one season may be considered a mild amount of sport. 
 In the Red Hock district of New Brunswick in 1879 
 eighteen bears were killed, only two of which were 
 fully grown. This part of the country is sparsely set- 
 tled, and it is said that, through the depredations 
 of bears during the year mentioned, the farmers lost 
 more than seventy head of stock, which included even 
 horned cattle. 
 
 * Vide Transactions of the Linmean Society. Animals of 
 the Adirondacks. 
 
BLACK BEAR. 
 URSUS AMERICANUS. 
 
 "A large black bear was seen standing 
 on the verge of a precipice." 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 191 
 
 In the summer of 1881 the little propeller Ganou- 
 skie, which traveled through Lake George at that 
 time, while passing the mountain point known as An- 
 thony's Nose, ran down a large bear which was swim- 
 ming across the lake (nearly a mile wide at this part), 
 and one of the passengers dispatched him with a 
 blow from an axe. 
 
 The bear, if he is in good condition, is an excel- 
 lent swimmer, and a matter of a mile or so is no 
 arduous undertaking. "When he is fat his specific 
 gravity is not much greater than that of water ; there- 
 fore he can confine his efforts to propulsion. Several 
 years later than the occurrence just related, while the 
 steamer Horicon was passing the rocky ridge which 
 borders the lake at the foot of Black Mountain (at 
 that time burned bare by forest fires), a large black 
 bear was seen by the passengers standing on the 
 verge of a precipice ; he immediately disappeared on 
 the nearer approach of the steamboat. 
 
 The time when bears den up for the winter de- 
 pends entirely upon the mildness or severity of the 
 season ; the long winter nap, however, is not pro- 
 found. Bruin is not overparticular about the char- 
 acter of his retreat, provided it offers sufficient 
 shelter from wind and weather. A big hole scooped 
 out with his ponderous paws beneath some fallen 
 tree, a rocky cave on a mountain knoll, or even a 
 
192 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 broad hollow stump if it is big enough is quite to 
 his mind. "When he is ready to " turn in," his fur is 
 at its best, and it is then that the hunter prepares for 
 his big game. When bruin reappears probably dur- 
 ing the first warm days of March he is not the 
 handsome beast that he was ; a long fast and an un- 
 kempt coat make him look a bit the worse for wear, 
 so he is unmolested if he keeps clear of the farmyard. 
 Again, the time of his hibernation is almost entirely 
 dependent upon the condition of the food supply. If 
 food is scarce and the cold is severe, he retires about 
 the first of December; but if beechnuts are plenty 
 and the weather is mild he will prowl about all win- 
 ter, and the female will den only before the period 
 of bringing forth her young. So long as the male 
 can find enough to eat he will not den, be the weather 
 never so severe. In the Yellowstone Park, which is 
 the largest game preserve in the world, the black 
 and grizzly bears are so tame and plentiful that 
 they have become quite a nuisance by their frequent 
 visits during winter to the garbage dumps in the 
 vicinity of the hotels on the reservation. Dr. Mer- 
 riam states that it is perfectly evident bruin does 
 riot den to escape either cold or snow, but to bridge 
 over that period when, if active, he would be unable 
 to procure sufficient food. The females also remain 
 out until the maternal instinct prompts them to seek 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 193 
 
 shelter for their prospective offspring, and in the 
 Adirondacks they have been found traveling as late 
 as the middle of January. Their dens do not amount 
 to much, and are often hastily scooped out beneath 
 the upturned roots of a fallen tree or a pile of logs ; 
 the nest is frequently made of bits of brush and dried 
 leaves, without so much as a bit of moss to soften it. 
 In severe weather, however, madam makes a much 
 better bed, and frequently remains snowed under and 
 walled up in it until April or May. The den is some- 
 times revealed by a small opening in the snow which 
 has been melted by the animal's breath. 
 
 Mr. Frank J. Thomson has published an inter- 
 esting account of baby bears born in the Zoological 
 Garden at Cincinnati,* the substance of which I 
 copy : " About the middle of January the female 
 bear refused to come out of her den, and would not 
 let her mate approach her ; she was at once supplied 
 with hay, which she used to make her nest comfort- 
 able and warm, and was then closed in. On Janu- 
 ary 26th the young were born, but they were not 
 seen until the third day after, as she would not allow 
 the keeper to enter the den ; then, by feeding her 
 with bread held high above her head, she sat upon her 
 haunches and thus exposed her babies to view. Ap- 
 
 * Vide Forest and Stream for September 4, 1879, p. COS. 
 14 
 
194 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 parently they were not more than six inches long, 
 dirty white in color, and quite hairless. After ten 
 days their coats began to show, first grayish and then 
 a variety of shades, which finally terminated in 
 brownish black. In forty days their eyes were open ; 
 thirty-one days later they followed their mother to the 
 bars of the cage where she was fed ; but she did not 
 approve of this, and led them back ; the second time 
 they followed her she cuffed them back. After a 
 few more days she allowed them to wander at will, if 
 no one was immediately in front of the cage ; but if 
 a visitor appeared they were promptly driven within 
 the den and kept there until the intruder disappeared. 
 As the young cubs grew older they climbed all over 
 the cage and had regular sparring bouts, ending 
 in a clinch and a rough-and-tumble fight, when the 
 mother would interfere and knock both completely 
 out of time." 
 
 The black bear has commonly from two to three 
 cubs, rarely four, and it is doubtful whether she has 
 more than one litter in two years. It would seem 
 very unlikely that the young cubs could fall a prey to 
 the fox, panther, or fisher, but such is the case ; and 
 Mr. Charles C. Ward cites an instance * where an 
 Indian hunter, who knew of two litters of cubs which 
 
 * Vide The Century Magazine for March, 1882, p. 719. 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 195 
 
 he intended to capture as soon as they were old 
 enough to be taken from their mother, was antici- 
 pated in one instance by a fisher and in the other 
 by a fox. Of course the marauders entered the 
 dens when mother bear was not at home, but out 
 on the search for food ; however, in the case of 
 the fox, who was not sufficiently sagacious to time 
 himself for his work, the bear arrived home sooner 
 than was expected and tore the base intruder into 
 shreds. 
 
 It is a surprising fact, not without pathetic inter- 
 est, that the bear rears her young in late winter when 
 food is so scarce that one wonders where the poor 
 mother finds sufficient to keep herself alive. 
 
 Bruin suffers most at the hand of man, and is 
 hunted to death in a greater variety of ways than 
 I have space here to describe. When he can not 
 be persuaded to leave his den by any other means, 
 and he is inaccessible, a fire of moss and pine boughs 
 is started at the entrance and he is smoked out; 
 but he will frequently issue forth in great rage and 
 trample the fire out. In a quaint old manuscript 
 of Paul Dudley, dated 1718, there is an amusing de- 
 scription of a bear hunt, which I will quote in part : 
 " Dog scents them & Barks, then they come out. 
 But if snow be deep they wont stir : they then put 
 fire in Hole of a Tree then the Bear will come 
 
196 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Thundering out whether they are asleep or only 
 
 mope for they easily wake." * 
 
 On the whole, it is not to be 
 regretted that the black bear is a 
 good deal of a coward, for, on 
 occasions when he is thoroughly 
 aroused, there 
 is usually some 
 terrific execu- 
 
 Fore paw and hind paw ^JQ n with his 
 of the black bear, 
 
 showing the planti- sharp -clawed 
 grade character. 
 
 fore paws and 
 
 his formidable canine teeth. A 
 casual glance at his thick shoul- 
 ders, however, reveals the true 
 point of his strength ; and his 
 method of attack shows how 
 completely he relies upon the big 
 muscles of his forearm. He 
 does not seize his prey with his 
 teeth, but strikes a most terrible 
 downward How with his fore paw, 
 which tears flesh and bone asunder. The sharp 
 claws are like steel hooks, and nothing can with- 
 stand the power which lies behind them. For some 
 
 Bruin's autograph. 
 
 * Vide Forest and Stream for December 26, 1878. 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 197 
 
 unexplained reason brain exercises claws and teeth 
 on the bark of trees as he passes through the forest, 
 and thus leaves his autograph, which, sometimes to 
 his misfortune, serves as a guide for the hunter. 
 These tree marks have several times been noticed 
 in the wilderness which surrounds Slide Mountain 
 in the southern Catskills. The bear rises on his 
 hind legs, and, embracing the trunk with his fore 
 legs, tears the bark with tooth and claw for sev- 
 eral minutes, and then proceeds on his rambles. Mr. 
 James Gordon, writing on Bear-Hunting in the 
 South,* records his guide's remarks on these bear 
 scratches (they are always made by the male) as 
 follows : " Look close, and you will see the tallest 
 marks are the freshest. A young b'ar, feeling very 
 large all by himself, wrote his name tliar fust. The 
 way he does it, he places his back ag'in' the tree " (a 
 position which does not seem to correspond with that 
 described by Audubon f), " and, turning his head, 
 bites the bark as high as he can reach, which means, 
 in b'ar lingo, ' I'm boss of the woods : beware how 
 you trespass on my domains.' The next b'ar that 
 comes along takes the same position and tries to out- 
 reach the first. Now this old fellow has written in 
 bear hieroglyphics a foot higher, ' Mind your eye, 
 
 * Vide The Century Magazine for October, 1881. 
 f Vide Quadrupeds of North America. 
 
198 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 young un, you're a very small potato ; Pm the boss 
 that claims pre emption rights to these pastures.' 
 Another reason for thinking it is a he-b'ar is that the 
 shes have young about the third week in January, 
 and it's about that time. We hunt them in February 
 by examining the cypress trees, where they have left 
 their marks climbing to their dens." 
 
 The black bear is a good climber, but he is too 
 heavy to ascend into the tree tops. Often when 
 hunted by dogs he takes to the tree, and then it is all 
 up with him. A pack of dogs trained to hunt bears 
 in the South is comprised of the most "or'nary- 
 looking " curs, with pedigrees of confessedly vile 
 mongrel strains. A few rough-haired terriers, active 
 and plucky, to fight in front, some medium-sized 
 dogs to fight on all sides, and a few large active curs 
 to pinch bruin's hind quarters are all that are re- 
 quired to make a well-trained pack, which will only 
 seize hold in a body when one of its number is 
 caught ; then it boldly charges to the rescue of the 
 comrade, and, as soon as he is freed, it lets go and 
 runs. Finally, gathering around the bear again, the 
 dogs worry him until he climbs a tree. 
 
 If bruin is captured when he is very young he 
 becomes quite tame, provided he is carefully and sys- 
 tematically trained ; but it is wisest to keep a sharp 
 and vigilant eye on him, as he is not altogether trust- 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 199 
 
 worthy as a pet.* Mr. Ward confesses that his own 
 efforts to tame young bears have not always been re- 
 warded with perfect success, and he mildly writes 
 that it is an unpleasant experience to return home 
 from a journey and find the house surrounded by 
 neighbors armed with pitchforks and muskets, the 
 family shut up in the dining-room, and the pet bear, 
 in a ferocious temper, having things all his own way. 
 " Nevertheless," adds Mr. Ward, " if one is willing 
 to endure that sort of thing, a vast amount of amuse- 
 ment can be got out of a tame bear." 
 
 The black bear is remarkable for its magnificent 
 fur, which, when properly dressed, possesses great 
 softness and luster combined with dura- 
 bility. At the close of autumn, 
 when bruin has had plenty to 
 eat, and he is sleek and fat 
 with the rich mast gathered 
 from the beech forest, he is 
 jet-black excepting his muzzle, 
 Bruin's profile. which is fawn color at the nose 
 deepening to tan color near the 
 eyes ; over each eye there is a spot of tan brown. 
 The profile of the black bear's face is characterized 
 by a delicate convex line from nose to forehead ; the 
 
 * Read Bret Hart's charming story of Baby Sylvester, in the 
 St. Nicholas for July, 1874, vol. i. 
 
200 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 eyes are small, black, and intelligent, and the ears are 
 somewhat rounded in outline ; on the whole, his face 
 is not an unkind one, and it has a certain canine 
 suggestion both gentle and reassuring ; but hunted 
 down and in a desperate encounter with a hunter, 
 bruin assumes an expression of countenance sinister 
 in the extreme. Mr. W. W. Thomas describes a 
 close and dangerous meeting with a wounded bear 
 thus : * " I see the beast leaping on all fours, hind 
 quarters high, fore shoulders low, head down and 
 askew, snout turned to the right, lip curled up like a 
 snarling dog, teeth chattering, and black eyes gleam- 
 ing with a devilish light. On comes the monster 
 with his vibrating, grunting growl, Knar-r-r-r-r ! As 
 the gun swings up to my face I glance along the 
 barrels, and see the snapping teeth of the leaping 
 brute within four feet of my gun muzzle. I fire. 
 The beast falls forward with a heavy thud at my 
 feet ! " 
 
 Bruin's voice is far from musical. After a queer 
 sniff made by drawing in the breath there is a gut- 
 tural growl, which sounds like a prolonged Gnar-r-r- 
 r-r-r-r ! far deeper-toned and more threatening than 
 the warning growl of an angry mastiff. But in cap- 
 tivity the black bear rarely exhibits any symptoms of 
 
 * Vide A Week in a Dug-out, Harper's Magazine, vol. Ixiii, 
 1881, p. 830. 
 
THE KING OF THE WILDERNESS. 201 
 
 a ferocious disposition, and his growls are few and 
 far between. Not so when he is on the rampage in 
 the forest during the rutting season ; at that time he 
 scours the wilderness with a number of his fellows, 
 indulging in continual snarling and fighting. The 
 collision of two such creatures in a regular up-and- 
 down fight is a sight which impels one to keep at a 
 respectful distance. I recollect a certain bear fight 
 in a "Zoo," one time, which demoralized the whole 
 establishment for the space of several minutes ; dur- 
 ing that time the earth trembled, and what with the 
 blood-curdling growls and thumping blows of the 
 hulking creatures, the rest of the animals concluded 
 the end of all things was at hand, and their cries were 
 proportionally energetic. 
 
 The flesh of the bear is quite good in flavor if the 
 animal happens to be in prime condition, otherwise it 
 is rather tough. I can testify, however, to the un- 
 qualified excellence of bear steak taken from a young 
 and fat animal. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR. 
 The Raccoon. 
 
 A NEAK relative of the bear, and, like him possess- 
 ing a humorous side to his character, abundant in all 
 parts of the country, and constantly getting into mis- 
 chief in his nightly visits to the barnyard and corn- 
 field, the raccoon is one of those interesting wild ani- 
 mals whose appearance brings guns, traps, and dogs 
 into immediate requisition ; and the poor beast, 
 hunted for his life, usually ends with his skin tacked 
 on the barn door and his dismembered body in the 
 pot. Alas for the coon ! But he happens to fur- 
 nish a very savory dish for the table, and he is re- 
 puted to rob the henroost ; two excellent reasons for 
 demanding his life at least so argues the farmer. 
 
 Now the raccoon (Procyon lotor *) is by no means 
 
 * The name is significant : it is derived from irpottv&v (procyon), 
 one who snarls like a dog ; the specific lotor, Linnaeus added, be- 
 cause the animal has a habit of dipping its food in water before 
 eating. 
 
 203 
 
, 
 
 THE RACCOON. 
 PROCYON LOTOR. 
 
 "He is abroad at all hours of the night, 
 and often on cloudy days." 
 
 Photographed from life by 
 W. Lyman Underwood. 
 
A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR. 
 
 203 
 
 an enemy to farming interests ; what he may happen 
 to steal in the way of corn and chickens is greatly 
 
 overbalanced by 
 mice and in- 
 
 stroys. 
 
 the number of 
 sects which he de- 
 His depredations 
 are therefore insignifi- 
 cant compared with 
 the havoc he makes 
 among the homes of 
 creatures injurious to 
 the farm. Beetles, mice, 
 and even rats, he hunts with 
 ceaseless activity during all hours 
 the night, and it is impossible to 
 estimate the extent of his services in this 
 direction. 
 
 Raccoon. But he is omnivorous, like the bear ; he 
 feeds on mice, fats, moles, turtles, toads, 
 frogs, fish, insects, nuts, fruit.* corn, birds and their 
 eggs, and sometimes poultry. He is abroad at all 
 hours of the night, and often on cloudy days. 
 
 There is no question about the abundance of life 
 
 * Dr. Abbott tells of a coon he once saw in a tree whose mouth 
 was apparently reeking with gore, but upon a closer view of the 
 animal and his environment he found that he had been indulging 
 his taste for wild grapes. The tree was draped with the vines, 
 and the coon had liberally helped himself to the ripe fruit, which 
 had stained his jaws red. 
 
 The 
 
204 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 in the woods and fields ; there are evidences of it in 
 every direction when we are strolling through the 
 country highways and byways. It only needs a 
 watchful eye to discern the unmistakable traces of 
 creatures, both great and small, at our feet, within 
 reach of our hands, and over our heads. I do not 
 allude now to the ubiquitous toad, the occasional 
 snake, the familiar squirrel, and the still more famil- 
 iar sparrow : these are always in evidence. But the 
 woodchuck's hole is not far off, if we will look for it 
 the salamander's tracks are traced in the sand around 
 every other stone on the margin of the brook, the 
 marks of the porcupine's teeth are on the corner of 
 the woodshed, the tattooing of the sap sucker deco- 
 rates the trunk of the apple tree, the weasel's home is 
 under the decaying log, the fox leaves feathers and 
 bony relics at the threshold of his burrow, the raccoon 
 leaves his footprints in the muddy margin of the 
 pond, the turtle trails a curious pattern on the sandy 
 shore of the river, and strange paws mark the black 
 mud around the spring in the mountain forest. 
 
 Not only are the homes and haunts of many fa- 
 miliar creatures around about us, but also the evi- 
 dences of many a tragedy. Here, just under the 
 bushes beside the road, is a dead chipmunk ; a glance 
 at the place where his head ought to be is sufficient 
 to identify the murderer ; he was undoubtedly a 
 
A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR, 
 
 205 
 
 The Coon's paw. 
 
 weasel. There are some spots of red on the clover 
 beside a tin y hole in the meadow grass ; here was the 
 home of a field mouse who was cap- 
 tured last night, perhaps by a coon. 
 There is the daintiest kind of a foot- 
 print in the soft earth near by ; it is 
 like a miniature hand pressed lightly 
 on the ground ; whose is it ? Look 
 at a coon's fore paw and the ques- 
 tion is answered. 
 In the coon we have another animal which, like the 
 cat, loves to be out by 
 the light of the moon. 
 If we desire to meet 
 this nocturnal prowl- 
 er, we must prowl 
 also up to a late hour 
 at night. Of course it 
 will be good luck if we 
 catch a single glimpse 
 of him after prowling 
 about through out- 
 rageously late hours 
 during every night 
 throughout the sum- 
 mer ! Notwithstanding we see evidences of his pres- 
 ence in the vicinity, he does not appear ; but set a 
 
 The moonlight prowler. 
 
206 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Coon's face. 
 
 trap with a chicken leg or a bit of toasted codfish, 
 and -there he is the next morning, poor frightened 
 beast, with a sinister expression on 
 his pretty face. There is nothing 
 in all Nature so striking as the black 
 setting of his eyes with the sur- 
 rounding ring of white. There is 
 
 ... 
 
 an appealing look in the creature s 
 face, despite his threatening aspect. Who is cold- 
 blooded enough to kill him ? 
 
 Coon-hunting in the South, however, by moonlight, 
 seems to be a regular institution. When the corn is 
 ripe in September, " Marse Coon " steps into the field 
 as the shades of evening have deepened and helps 
 himself to a few choice ears, stripping them of their 
 husks with his dainty fore paws quite as well as a 
 pretty girl with deft fingers does at 
 a corn-husking. He is very 
 fond of the succulent, 
 milky kernels, and very 
 handy with his paws ; but, 
 alas ! he is so preoccupied 
 with his feasting that the 
 wretched dogs are soon upon his 
 scent, and close upon his heels 
 before he has realized his danger. He runs for his 
 life, but one of the dogs is at him, and in an instant 
 
 Coon eating corn. 
 

 "Out of harm's way, 
 treed." 
 
 Photographed from life by 
 W. Lyman Underwood. 
 
A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR. 207 
 
 there is a snarling scuffle, too vaguely outlined in the 
 light of the moon to enable one to determine the 
 issue ; but the dog evidently knows more about coons' 
 teeth than to his liking, and Marse Coon escapes. 
 Again other dogs catch up, and there is a big scrap 
 this time just under a gum tree ; but by some quick 
 work with his teeth the coon procures a stay of pro- 
 ceedings, in the midst of which he makes a dart like 
 lightning for the trunk of the tree and gains it with- 
 out another encounter. Up he goes spirally, and soon 
 is lodged in a crotch out of harm's way " treed." 
 There is instantly more bark dogs' bark around 
 that tree than ever was known before in all its his- 
 tory! The coon was more than a match for the 
 dogs. But along comes the hunter with his gun ; 
 and who, however brave, is a match for the gun ? 
 
 The coon is a fair climber, as a glance at his claws 
 will amply testify ; but he is no match in tree-climb- 
 ing for the members of the MustelidfB family the 
 martens and the weasels nor for the red squirrel. 
 Indeed, he is not arboreal, in the strict sense of the 
 term, and I very much doubt whether he can be in- 
 cluded among the enemies of the birds without posi- 
 tive injustice to his character. He does not pursue 
 his prey among the tree tops, and is rarely seen in a 
 tree above some crotch in the lower branches. His 
 home, it is true, may be well up in the hollow of a 
 
20S FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AXD FOREST. 
 
 dead limb, but his hnntiDg expeditions are mostly 
 made on terra frma. 
 
 Remarkably bright and winning in manners when 
 tamed, the coon enjoys special privileges as a pet. 
 He is frequently given the freedom of the honse, as 
 he never attempts to run away ; but the consequences 
 of his freedom are sometimes disastrous to the house- 
 keeper. He is the very soul of mischief, and his 
 curiosity has no bounds ; nothing within reach is safe 
 from his meddlesome fingers, and woe nnto the 
 kitchen pantry which he enters ! lake his cousin the 
 black bear, he is especially fond of " sweets." Mo- 
 lasses, sugar, preserves, and cake everything, he 
 samples them all with infinite satisfaction, and scat- 
 ters the remains of his feast with a noble disregard 
 for consequences. Sugar, milk, lard, butter, and 
 broken eggs cover the shelves and mix together in 
 such generous quantities that only the hot oven is 
 needed to convert the mess into some nameless kind 
 of cake ! It is not an agreeable sight for the house- 
 keeper to enter the pantry and surprise the pet coon 
 seated in the sugar barrel and oozing molasses at the 
 tip of every hair. 
 
 But I do not exaggerate : he is on record as having 
 done all these things. It does not make much differ- 
 ence where he is, his propensity for mischief finds a 
 sufficient means for exercise. The last coon I made 
 
A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR. 209 
 
 the acquaintance of was chained to keep him out of 
 trouble. He was the pet of the proprietor of a to- 
 bacco shop, and before he. was chained he took it into 
 his head, one Sunday, to sample the cigars. " My 
 stars ! " said the salesman who told me of the inci- 
 dent, "you just onghter 'uv seen this shop o' Monday 
 mornin' ! Sech a sight ! Boxes o' Henry Clays upsot 
 over the floor ; the best Havanas all chawed up and 
 spit out not one or two, but scores o' 'em ; tobacky 
 jars knocked down and smashed ; { Dill's best ' all 
 dragged outen de boxes, an' de best Carolina mixed 
 sprinkled over the floor like sawdust ; and when I 
 looked aroun', there sot that coon in the corner lickin' 
 his chops kinder apologizin' like, and seemin' to say, 
 4 1 had a d 1 of a time yesterday, young feller, try- 
 in' to find somethin' fit to eat '. An' I reckon Pd a 
 worse time that day clearin' up. Since then we kep 
 'im chained. He's young, but he ain't no fool, and 
 he's beggin' now for a lump o' sugar here, you 
 young rascal ! " and he gave him one. While my 
 informant talked the coon dodged his head about, 
 turned a few somersaults, clawed at the man's trou- 
 cers, and by other unmistakable means showed that 
 he would relish some kind of a tidbit not in the line 
 of tobacco. 
 
 I made several sketches of him on the spot, the 
 
 results of which appear in these pages. Most of the 
 15 
 
210 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 on the 
 
 day he seemed to sleep, coiled up in a corner, but 
 about four o'clock he roused himself and solicited a 
 little attention. 
 
 The coon's voice is not a musical one ; he has a 
 sharp, snarling cry, not very loud, and a discordant, 
 growling Grnar-r-r-r ! when he is angered ; but 
 
 whole he is a good-natured 
 beast, who likes company 
 whether he is in the 
 Id state or do- 
 mesticated. It is 
 rarely the case 
 that a coon 
 chooses to 
 live in a 
 particular 
 part of 
 the coun- 
 try quite alone ; he goes in company on his foraging 
 expeditions, and it is said that several members of a 
 single family will live together in amity and make 
 their excursions together, leaving the nest for several 
 days at a time. 
 
 The female bears from four to six young about 
 the middle of April, and these stay with the mother 
 throughout the year. They hibernate during the 
 severe part of the winter, and reappear, according to 
 
 Coon asleep in the willows. 
 
f I 
 
A MISCHIEVOUS NEIGHBOR. 211 
 
 the abatement of the cold, from February to March. 
 Truth to tell, the coon does not fancy cooling his heels 
 in the snow any more than comfort-loving puss ; and 
 the retirement of the chimney corner, in his state of 
 domesticity, is far more to his taste. But his heredi- 
 tary habits are such that when he stirs himself into 
 activity, about five in the afternoon, it is wise to keep 
 the pantry door closed^ or he will make a night of 
 it. There are records of his having drawn corks 
 from bottles, removed the covers from butter tubs, 
 lifted latches, and even turned door knobs. 
 
 So clever an animal ought not to be so easily 
 trapped ; yet he is. I recollect two summers ago 
 that my neighbor and right-hand man, the esteemed 
 guardian of my mountain home, remarked one day 
 that a coon had appeared the night before in his 
 dooryard. " I'll have him to-morrow," he added ; 
 and he did. The trap was set that night, and the 
 unsuspicious coon made the fatal error of trusting too 
 much in the harmlessness of things in general and 
 man in particular. "We both of us had coon stew for 
 dinner shortly afterward, and the pelt of the poor 
 trusting creature decorated the barn door, as might 
 be expected. 
 
 The flesh of a young coon is tender and delicately 
 flavored, if it is properly cooked ; but, as in the case 
 of any other animal, it is tough and unsavory if the 
 
212 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 creature is old. On the whole, between young rab- 
 bit, coon, frog's legs, and chicken, each " done to a 
 turn," give me the chicken last. It is a great mistake 
 to cook any meat whatever from an animal freshly 
 killed; an interval of three days at least, and the 
 temperature of a refrigerator, are absolutely requisite 
 to bring flesh to the proper point of tenderness. 
 
 The fur of the coon is thick, long, and pepper- 
 and-salt gray ; the tail is strikingly ringed with black, 
 and the face is strongly marked. Occasionally there 
 are individuals caught which are nearly all black ; 
 the pelts of these bring as much as two dollars each. 
 Coons from New York, New England, Ohio, Iowa, 
 Michigan, and the Northwest have the finest fur, and 
 these skins bring from twenty to eighty cents, accord- 
 ding to quality. Skins from the Southern States and 
 south Indiana and Illinois bring from fifteen to sev- 
 erity cents. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 
 The Red Fox. 
 
 HE is a much-abused creature, this red fox ( Vul- 
 pes pennsylvanicus), and the reputation he has un- 
 
 through his incur- 
 roost is not an en- 
 animal world, 
 and a thief his 
 cum stance 
 
 fortunately acquired 
 sions on the hen- 
 viable one in the 
 But as a robber 
 deeds are not a cir- 
 compared with those of 
 the weasel ; the latter 
 seems to delight in pure 
 murder, without rhyme or 
 reason, but the fox takes 
 what he needs and leaves 
 all else to be sure, not with- 
 out an eye for the immediate A y uthf ui 
 
 Red Fox. 
 
 future, as one may frequently 
 
 find him returning for a second or third tempting 
 
 hen, and the relics surrounding his hole show that his 
 
 213 
 
214 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 disposition is not an improvident one. On the whole, 
 however, an impartial examination into his account 
 with the henroost shows a surprisingly small percent- 
 age of loss to the latter through his subtractions. 
 And again, I doubt very much whether the chickens 
 which Reynard captures are taken from the poultry 
 yard ; a thrifty farmer with a well-ordered henroost 
 is not bothered much by foxes. Reynard lurks on 
 the outskirts of the farm and picks up, night and 
 day, those lawless rovers which a slovenly fence in- 
 vites to the freedom of a boundless world beyond. 
 
 ~No one but a farmer knows what a trial the roam- 
 ing cow and hen are. If Reynard would only pluck 
 up courage enough to worry the hind legs of wander- 
 ing cattle and somehow or other head them for home, 
 I am sure the farmer would gladly concede to him 
 the itinerant hen. Without doubt the farm hand 
 wastes more time hunting cows than listening to gos- 
 sip in the country store. As for the roving and de- 
 structive hen, the expense of chicken-yard wire-fenc- 
 ing, and the depredations of half a dozen or more 
 escaped fowls in the newly sowed garden beds these 
 are sufficiently exasperating to make one wish for a 
 stray fox to administer condign punishment. 
 
 We can spare a few chickens for Reynard's sake ; 
 he will not take many, and he is so thoroughly inter- 
 esting himself that he will amply repay us for the 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 215 
 
 loss of a few bothersome hens, if we will take the 
 trouble to study his marvelously sagacious character. 
 He has little to depend upon in the struggle for ex- 
 istence beyond his wits ; he is thoroughly carnivorous, 
 and must catch what he can without risking a fight 
 with creatures more fully equipped with means of de- 
 fense than himself. Consequently his prey is com- 
 prised of only those animals which can make the least 
 show of resistance. The skunk he will catch un- 
 awares, if he can ; at most it 
 will only be a conflict 
 between sharp teeth, if 
 Reynard can clinch 
 with him before 
 there is a chance 
 for a bombardment. 
 Then, among the ro- 
 dents there are musk- Fos aslee P (showing the warmth and 
 
 protection of the bushy tail). 
 
 rats, woodchucks, 
 
 hares, squirrels, and mice. Birds, poultry, and eggs 
 he is, of course, especially addicted to ; frogs, and 
 even fish, he does not disdain, and I have known him 
 to make away with the carcass of a horse in the winter 
 season. It is even recorded by more than one au- 
 thority that he is partial to wild grapes and strawber- 
 ries ; but I have no knowledge of his vegetarian pro- 
 clivity, and I doubt whether fruit of any description 
 
216 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 would tempt him so long as there was a bird or a 
 mouse to be found. 
 
 Our red fox is by no means the same animal as 
 the English fox ( Vulpes vulpes). The latter lacks 
 the soft color of the former, the fur is harsher and 
 not nearly so fine, the head is broader, the muzzle 
 less pointed and shorter, and there is less black on 
 the legs. I do not suppose, however, that the two 
 animals differ very greatly in character, as the Ameri- 
 can fox is quite equal to his English cousin in an 
 ability to hold his own on the very ground of his 
 arch-enemy, man ; and in this country, where fox- 
 hunting has not yet become common, the fox needs all 
 his clever wits to evade the cruel traps of the relent- 
 less trapper who means business and not sport. It is 
 a fair fight, though, between the fox and the trapper ; 
 but the fox-hunter's childish sport offers the fox no 
 chance ; it is all rank injustice ; he must run to his 
 death and make a holiday for idle men and a pack 
 of dogs. 
 
 In spite of his adversaries the sagacious fox still 
 retains his place throughout the wilder parts of the 
 country, and given some proper consideration he will 
 continue to live without making serious inroads on 
 the shiftless farmer's defenseless chicken roost. It is 
 doubtful whether he ever gets a chance to rob a man 
 of thrift. Our failure to recognize the common 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 
 
 217 
 
 rights of life among the animals often blinds us to 
 the fact that wild creatures are really beneficent 
 
 servants in one way or an- 
 man is generally the one 
 It is quite natural 
 the fox 
 
 " With a bedraggled hen. 1 
 
 other, and 
 benefited, 
 to picture 
 with a be- 
 draggled hen 
 in his mouth ; 
 but, as a matter 
 of fact, he de- 
 stroys a score of 
 such creatures as 
 rats, woodchucks, 
 rabbits, and moles, 
 
 to every single hen. I know this by experience, for 
 a casual examination of the vicinity of a fox's hole 
 last summer revealed the truth beyond a doubt ; but 
 to be quite candid, I must admit that another fox's 
 retreat revealed more chicken's feathers than would 
 guarantee my proportion of one to twenty. 
 
 " But all sorts of things and weather 
 Must be taken in together 
 To make up a year 
 And a sphere," 
 
 and it happened that this particular fox took up his 
 residence within a convenient distance of two shift- 
 less-looking farms. 
 
218 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Not only are we apt to lose sight of the beneficent 
 phase of wild life, but we are quite as prone to for- 
 get that it possesses any joy. We think the fox 
 struggles for existence. What does he know about 
 struggling for food and shelter ? It is a joy to him 
 to creep stealthily and noiselessly upon his victim, to 
 gain his dinner by his wits, and to feel the satisfac- 
 tion of an appeased hunger. A glimpse of a family 
 of foxes reveals anything but the serious side of 
 life. Nothing in the wide world is more attractive- 
 ly bright than the face of a young fox, and three or 
 four of the little creatures at play are even jollier and 
 prettier than as many kittens. 
 
 But when he is hunted by dogs the fox's struggle 
 has begun in earnest, for it is a desperate and hopeless 
 one. He leads the dog a chase over hill and dale to 
 utter exhaustion, and at the end uses his needlelike 
 teeth to no purpose ; after facing each other for a 
 brief space with panting jaws, the dog makes a lunge 
 at the fox, seizes him by the throat, perhaps gives 
 him one shake, and all is over. 
 
 When Reynard is trapped, a very moderate but 
 sharp blow on the muzzle with a heavy stick finishes 
 him with equal dispatch ; at best one can not help 
 feeling a bit remorseful after the deed is done, be- 
 cause it was so easily accomplished. But what a 
 beauty he is ! The ears and the long hairs of the 
 
THE RED FOX. 
 VULPES PENNSYLVANICUS. 
 
 " A glimpse of a family of foxes." 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 219 
 
 tail are tipped with black ; the fur is thick and 
 warm ; the tone along the line of the back is a pale 
 burnt sienna ; the tail is bushy and long, and the 
 gradation of color from the back to the stomach 
 through ruddy ocher to buff and cream is beautiful 
 beyond expression. 
 
 Reynard is not easily trapped, however ; his keen 
 scent discovers the touch of a hand and the tracks of 
 a foot at once, and he will not approach a trap. It 
 is often the case that the fox's aversion to water is the 
 means of his being entrapped by shrewd hunters. 
 The method of setting the trap is this : The bait is 
 placed conspicuously on a stone out in the shallow 
 water just beyond reach of the fox ; halfway be- 
 tween this and the shore the set trap is sunken, and 
 over it is placed, slightly above water, a lump of turf ; 
 the fox then, to avoid wetting his feet, steps on the 
 insecure turf, the trap snaps, and he is caught. 
 
 I do not know how common the red fox now is 
 over the country from East to West, but forty odd 
 years ago he was to be found almost anywhere. Dr. 
 Abbott writes that in the vicinity of Trenton, N. J., 
 the fox could be considered as extinct eight years ago, 
 although at that time he appeared together with the 
 wild-cat at long intervals. But in the Pemigewas- 
 set and Merrimac valleys, ~New Hampshire, he is 
 certainly very common indeed ; only last summer I 
 
220 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 found the retreats of four wily individuals who lived 
 
 within a radius of three miles in the valley first 
 
 named. One of them visited a neighboring farm one 
 
 morning very early, before the family appeared, and 
 
 was seen complacently sitting in the middle 
 
 of the road not far from the pet white 
 
 cat. Puss did not seem in the least 
 
 disconcerted by the strange visitor 
 
 although he sat not ten yards 
 
 away ; undoubtedly he 
 
 would have found his 
 
 match in the cat if 
 
 he had dared to 
 
 attack her. 
 
 Reynard's proper 
 environment is the 
 hillside pasture that 
 borders the wood ; 
 here he is seen if 
 one is lucky enough 
 to catch a glimpse 
 of him at the best 
 advantage ; his bushy tail, his splendid coat, and his 
 vigilant eye are not eclipsed by the leafy under- 
 growth of the half -lit woods ; and, what is best of 
 all, one has a good chance to see his nimble legs beat 
 a hasty retreat. There is nothing doglike in his ap- 
 
 In the hillside pasture. 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 221 
 
 pearance except it be his pointed ears ; but even these 
 have a certain unmistakable foxy air about them, and 
 in a flash, when Reynard is gone, one's first impres- 
 sion that the strange creature was a dog is promptly 
 dismissed. No dog ever had a tail like that, nor was 
 there ever one so lithe and agile in his movements. 
 Reynard appears and reappears in and out among the 
 sweet fern with scarcely the rustle of a leaf or the 
 waving of a fern frond ; that is his way. We could 
 trace any clumsy dog's course by the agitation he cre- 
 ated among the leaves ; but Reynard is accustomed 
 to steal noiselessly after his prey ; the motion of a 
 fern might cost him his dinner. 
 
 In the morning and in the evening, in May and 
 in October, in summer and even in midwinter, we 
 can hear his short, sharp, nervous, rasping bark ; so 
 strange is it that I scarcely know what to liken it to. 
 Perhaps it resembles the stridulous, rasping sneeze 
 of an old backwoodsman, or the harsh tones of a 
 parrot, uttered fortissimo. For the sake of a clearer 
 idea of the 'kind of a bark the fox makes, I may as 
 well show how it can be rendered by musical notes : 
 n. prr,x=: ff ^ ie se tter dog has quite a dif- 
 ferent tone and, like all dogs, 
 he gives a series of short barks, 
 
 each one of which may be fairly represented by a 
 single note with an introductory grace note. The 
 
222 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 fox's bark, however, is one sliort, suddenly loud 
 squally bearing not the remotest resemblance to the 
 bark of a setter. The terrier's bark may be a great 
 deal nearer in pitch, but it is quite as far off in qual- 
 ity of tone. Indeed, between the dog and the fox 
 there is, after all, very little similitude. 
 
 Reynard's burrow is usually on 
 the border of the wood, and per- 
 haps beside some old stump ; not 
 infrequently he resorts to safer 
 retreats beneath the broken rocks 
 which have fallen from the steep 
 ledges of some mountain. He is a 
 rather strong - smelling animal, and 
 his home is consequently not without 
 a characteristic odor, all the more 
 apparent in the dampness of 
 a summer evening. The fe- 
 male bears her young 
 anywhere from the 
 middle of March to 
 
 the middle Of April. Reynard's bUmwT 
 
 She has from four 
 
 to eight little ones, with the prettiest faces imagin- 
 able. They make famous pets when captured early 
 in life, but unfortunately turn out treacherous and 
 sly in the end. 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 223 
 
 The largest and finest red fox skins come from 
 Canada, Labrador, Michigan, and Minnesota ; these 
 sell for a dollar and a half or a dollar and eighty-five 
 cents, according to quality and size. 
 
 The gray fox ( Urocyon cinereo-argenteus) is rare- 
 ly if ever found in New England nowadays.* He 
 
 is small, and it is said that he has been driven out by 
 the larger red fox. But in the middle West he is still 
 common from southern Michigan to western New 
 York, and from northern Indiana to South Carolina 
 and Tennessee. His coarse fur, which is stiff and 
 long haired, is blackish mixed with silver-gray, behind 
 and beneath the ears is a rusty tinge, and the upper 
 part of the tail is very dark, characterized by long 
 black hairs. The skin is worth about sixty-five cents. 
 
 * According to Prof. J. A. Allen, his most Northern range is not 
 much beyond the parallel of 42. 
 
224: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 The so-called " silver " fox of the far West is valued 
 for his remarkably beautiful skin, which brings no less 
 than one hundred and twenty-five dollars if it is in its 
 
 prime. The handsomest 
 skins come from the ex- 
 treme Northwest. But 
 I must draw attention 
 to the fact that there 
 ?-=- are but two species 
 
 p$\ 
 Silver-gray Fox. of f OX6S Common in 
 
 the country east of 
 
 the Mississippi Valley : one is Vulpes pennsylvani- 
 cus, and the other is Urocyon cinereo-argenteus. The 
 former species, usually called the common or red fox, 
 is now considered the one species which must include 
 the so-called " silver " fox ( Vulpes argentatus), the 
 so-called " cross " fox * ( Vulpes decussatus\ and the 
 so-called Western fox ( Vulpes macrurus). 
 
 The generally accepted opinion that the color of a 
 fox decides the species, is thrown to the winds by 
 
 * The " cross " fox is more or less frequent as far south as 
 northern New York and northern New England, and throughout 
 the more elevated portions of the great Rocky Mountain plateau, 
 where it constitutes a.large proportion of the representatives of 
 the so-called Vulpes macrurus. More rarely the black or so-called 
 silver fox is met with in the same regions, becoming frequent in 
 the higher parts of the Rocky Mountains and northward. J. A. 
 Allen. Bulletin of the United States Geographical Survey, vol. 
 ii, No. 4, Washington. 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 225 
 
 Prof. J. A. Allen, who is an unquestionably high au- 
 thority in the definition of species. Here is what he 
 has to say about the common fox : " In the common 
 fox we meet with a range of color variation irrespec- 
 tive of locality, somewhat akin to that seen in the 
 wolf (Canis lupus). The prevalent tendency, how- 
 ever, is toward melanism,* which tendency is much 
 more strongly developed in the colder than in the 
 warmer latitudes. Frequently individuals of the me- 
 lanistic type occur in litters of the common variety. 
 The varying degrees of melanism occurring in this 
 species have given rise to several commercial vari- 
 eties, which have received at the hands of naturalists 
 systematic designation, and have been regarded more 
 or less commonly as valid species. Generally these 
 melanistic varieties are more fully furred and have 
 larger and heavier tails than the common form. The 
 difference in the fineness and softness of the fur is 
 recognized to such an extent by furriers as to greatly 
 affect the price of the skins ; the so-called e silver ' 
 and ' cross ' furs being considered far more valuable 
 than the fulvous type. 
 
 " With this tendency to great variability in color, 
 we meet, as usual in such cases, a great variation in 
 
 * Melanism, or melanosis, from /ieAcu/axrw, which means a be- 
 coming black. 
 16 
 
226 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 size. In the present case the variation in color may 
 be properly regarded as geographical through an in- 
 creasing tendency to melanism northward. The vari- 
 ation in size is also chiefly of the same character, the 
 size uniformly increasing toward the North. The 
 largest specimens come from the Aleutian Islands 
 and Alaska, and the smallest from Essex County, 
 New York. 
 
 " The foxes of the colder regions, it is true, have a 
 fuller and softer pelage, a greater tendency to mela- 
 nism, shorter muzzles, and are larger ; yet these differ- 
 ences are so inconstant especially the differences of 
 color and so insensibly intergrade that any attempt 
 at their subspecific recognition seems impracticable, 
 the most diverse varieties in color occurring at the 
 same localities and even among individuals of the 
 same litter." 
 
 So it appears that the particular foxes called red, 
 black, silver, and cross are all one species, with a com- 
 mercial difference ; that is all. But that difference 
 expressed in dollars and cents is quite considerable. 
 I find that the dearest red fox skin is quoted at a 
 dollar and eighty-five cents, and the cheapest at fifty 
 cents ; the dearest " cross " skin at nine dollars, and 
 the cheapest at seventy -five cents. The dark " silver " 
 is quoted at from one hundred and twenty -five to ten 
 dollars, and the pale at from fifty to five dollars. 
 
THE FARMER'S SLY NEIGHBOR. 227 
 
 The " cross " fox is so named because a dark band 
 between the shoulders is crossed by another extend- 
 ing over the shoulders. The muzzle and under parts 
 with the legs are black, and the remainder of the 
 body is a tawny color. 
 
CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 
 
 The Virginia Deer. 
 
 \ 
 
 To " run like a deer " means to run like the fleet- 
 est-footed member of that highest division of animal 
 
 life in the world called 
 Mammalia. Now the 
 term Mammalia is a 
 significant one with a 
 world of meaning in it 
 which few, perhaps, fully 
 appreciate.* It means that 
 the closest possible relationship 
 exists between the mother and 
 her young. And perhaps one 
 of the most beautiful examples 
 of a mother and her young 
 among the animals is the soft-eyed deer and her 
 dainty, snow-spotted fawn. 
 
 * The essential character of a creature belonging to the great 
 group called Mammalia is that it is wholly dependent upon its 
 
 228 
 
 Head of a Deer about five 
 years old. 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 229 
 
 The Virginia deer (Cariacus virginianus) is not 
 only the fleetest but the most sympathetically attract- 
 
 great group. One who 
 into the liquid eyes of a 
 its mother, and after- 
 a gun at one or the 
 tent to destroy, fol- 
 
 ive animal of this 
 has once looked 
 young fawn and 
 ward has aimed 
 other with in- 
 lowing up the in- 
 tent with its accom- 
 plishment, burdens his 
 conscience with a sort 
 of questionable guilt for 
 the rest of his days. 
 To slay such beautiful 
 creatures seems some- 
 thing not far short of 
 murder ; but there is 
 the venison to be considered, and as that is the meat 
 of the epicure one's conscience must be smothered. 
 
 It would seem as if I stretched a point to include 
 this rare animal in my list of familiar life ; but I do 
 not. Times have changed and the deer is not as rare 
 as he was. Last summer there were many complaints 
 
 mother for nourishment during the helpless period of its infancy. 
 The Mammalia, in a word, are animals which suckle their young ; 
 the term is derived from the Latin, mamma, meaning "the breast." 
 Thus, we undoubtedly have sufficient reason to believe the endear- 
 ing name mamma had its origin with the Latin word. 
 
 Virginia Deer. 
 
230 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 coming from the farmers in Vermont and New 
 Hampshire because the animal had made some havoc 
 in their cornfields. I do not know how much of an 
 'excuse such complaints were to secure a modification 
 in the strict game laws of both 
 States, but I 
 suspect the 
 average farm- 
 er was anx- 
 ious to get a 
 better chance at a 
 deer. At pres- 
 ent the laws are 
 so comprehen- 
 sive and effect- 
 ual that the deer 
 has a chance at 
 
 the farmer! a fact of such slight consequence that 
 I think we have no sufficient reason to regret it. 
 
 O 
 
 Thrice, last summer, three deer made their appearance 
 within a quarter of a mile of my hillside studio, and 
 once two young ones appeared close by the pasture 
 fence on the border of the wood, not more than fifty 
 feet from the piazza rails. Repeatedly deer had been 
 seen on the highway in the spring, and once one was 
 chased on the track by a passing train. 
 
 In 1867 when, as a child, I was taken on a tour 
 
 Two young Deer at El Fureidis. 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 231 
 
 through the Adirondack woods, there was not much 
 choice of meat either at Paul Smith's, Bartlett's, or 
 the guide's camp ; it was pork or venison which 
 would we have ? I need not say which we always 
 chose, and as a consequence the bill of fare was like 
 a delightful " theme with variations," thus : Break- 
 fast, venison roast, broiled, or fried. Dinner, veni- 
 son fried, broiled, or roast. Supper, da capo. 
 Twenty years after, when I went over exactly the 
 same extended route, I looked in vain for a sports- 
 man with his antlered game ; and at the table an elab- 
 orate menu, with a picture of a deer at the top, was 
 handed to me to choose my dinner from alas for 
 the wilderness ! it was no more. There was no such 
 word as venison on the card.* 
 
 But of late years the game laws are beginning to 
 bear fruit, and the deer is again on the increase in 
 New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire. On 
 what does he subsist in the snowbound forests of the 
 North ? How does he endure the cold ? These are 
 questions not so difficult to answer. As soon as the 
 fall comes his hair grows twice as thick as it was in 
 midsummer, so thick, in fact, that it helps to float 
 
 * Up to 1882 from five hundred to eight hundred deer were 
 killed annually for the preceding ten years ; that would make a 
 fair estimated total of six thousand five hundred slain in this 
 decade ; no wonder venison was scarce in 1887 ! 
 
232 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 him in water ; by December it is like a door mat, but 
 not quite so coarse. He sheds his coat gradually 
 twice a year, in June and September, and it changes 
 in color from red-brown in summer 
 
 Lycopodium obscurum. 
 
 Lycopodium clavatum. 
 
 to gray in winter. For food he has young twigs 
 those of the black birch he especially relishes the 
 foliage of the arbor vitse (Thuja occidentalis)* hem- 
 lock, and fir ; digging through the snow with his 
 
 * The margins of some of the Adirondack lakes are thickly 
 overhung with the branches of the arbor vitae ; these are often 
 stripped off for a distance of five feet up the trunks of the trees, 
 the result of the feeding of deer which have wintered in the vi- 
 cinity. 
 
YOUNG DEER. 
 
 CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS, OR 
 
 ODOCOILEUS VIRGINIANUS. 
 
 "He works his way toward the 
 
 shore of the lake." 
 
 Photographed from nature by W. Lyman Underwood. 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 233 
 
 hoofs he feeds upon the wintergreen (Gaultheria 
 procumbens\ the lycopodiums, and many other green 
 tilings, like mosses and lichens. Early in the spring 
 he gradually works his way toward the shores of the 
 lakes, and finds there pickerel weed, lily pads, and 
 spatter-dock ; as the season advances he approaches 
 the outskirts of civilization and crops the 
 new meadow grasses near the farms ; he 
 even ventures as far as the pasture bars, 
 not infrequently feeding in company with 
 
 Lycopodium complanatum. Pickerel Weed. 
 
 the cows ; but the latter are inclined to be suspicious 
 of the strangers and sometimes move off to another 
 part of the field. 
 
234: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 From spring to autumn his food consists of nu- 
 merous herbs, grasses, aquatic plants, leaves of shrubs 
 and trees, and the berries of the mountain ash and 
 dwarf cornel. "When beech nuts are plenty the trees 
 bear in alternate years these constitute a large por- 
 tion of his fare. By the middle of September the 
 
 deer in the Adirondack 
 region desert the water 
 courses and retire to the 
 more secluded parts of the 
 forest.* Here they congre- 
 gate during the deep snows 
 of winter in what are called 
 deer yards ; these are certain 
 sheltered localities where 
 
 the heavy snow is trampled down and pathways lead 
 in all directions toward promising food supplies, and 
 where under thickets of spruce and fir the animals 
 find sufficiently comfortable beds. Mr. Yerplanck 
 Colvin, speaking of one of these deer yards, describes 
 it as resembling a sheep yard in winter.f 
 
 The deer is not a strictly nocturnal animal, al- 
 though he haunts the shores of the Adirondack lakes 
 
 * Vide Transactions of the Linnaean Society. Animals of the 
 Adirondacks. Dr. C. H. Merriam. 
 
 f Vide Report of the Adirondack Survey for 1880, Ver- 
 planck Colvin. 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 235 
 
 through all hours of the night ; he is also frequently 
 seen browsing in the grassy glades of the forest dur- 
 ing the afternoon hours, and when I saw the two 
 animals near our cottage in the White Mountains, 
 last summer, it was as late as eight o'clock in the 
 morning. On another occasion 
 up a deer shortly after midday 
 quietly feeding in a 
 forest opening on a 
 mountain side. Dr. 
 Merriam, however, 
 says that it is the 
 habit of Adiron- 
 dack deer to visit 
 the water at 
 night and retire 
 to the depths 
 of the forest 
 at break of 
 
 day. Unquestionably different individuals are timid 
 to a greater or less degree ; that is perfectly plain in 
 their conduct. One will not venture abroad in full 
 daylight, and another has not only been browsing in 
 the open during the greater part of the day, but has 
 joined company with the cows at four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, attracted, perhaps, by the little trough 
 containing salt for the cattle lodged close beside the 
 
 Quietly feeding in a forest opening." 
 
236 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 pasture bars. A glance at a timid deer shows that 
 all his faculties are on the alert : the head is erect, 
 the broad ears are turned in the direction of danger, 
 the eyes intently peer at a single leaf that waggles 
 in a passing zephyr, the nostrils are distended and in 
 motion, j^ and an uneasy fore foot is poised 
 for a run. When the animal is 
 at last satisfied that 
 
 Running Deer (from a photograph). 
 
 his safety is threatened, the spindlelike legs are 
 raised, there are a few graceful bounds rather than 
 steps over the intervening ferns and lichen -covered 
 stones, and the creature is gone. But in a swift run 
 he covers the ground like an india-rubber ball, touch- 
 ing it only at every sixteen feet maybe. 
 
 The beautiful antlers of the deer are shed and re- 
 newed each year the so-called " spike horn," or ant- 
 lers without any branches, belong to an animal about 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 237 
 
 a year old. The two-branched horn belongs to a 
 deer three years old, and so on. Very rarely indeed 
 a female will develop a spike horn covered with vel- 
 vet. This velvety covering of the antlers when they 
 
 The spike horn. Antlers four years old. Antlers three years old. 
 
 first appear is a most remarkable part of the develop- 
 ment of the horns. I quote in part what Dr. Mer- 
 riam has to say regarding it : " The new horns of a 
 deer in the Adirondacks are first seen about the mid- 
 dle of May ; they appear like 
 soft, dark-colored excrescences 
 which, as they rapidly elongate, 
 harden from below upward. 
 By the time the growth, which 
 is accomplished in about three 
 months, is completed, all but 
 the tips is well ossified ; the 
 soft, velvetlike skin now begins 
 to peel off in irregular shreds, 
 and by the first or middle of 
 September the horns are generally clean. This vel- 
 vet does not come away of itself, but the animal rubs 
 
 The skin now begins to peel 
 off in irregular shreds." 
 
238 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 it off against small trees, as if the antlers itched." 
 Judge Caton, of Ottawa, says : " The evidence which 
 I have derived from a great number of observations 
 made through a course of years is conclusive that 
 Nature prompts the animal to denude its antlers of 
 their covering at a certain period of growth, while 
 yet the blood has as free access to it as it ever had." 
 
 Four months after the antlers have fully matured 
 they fall off again. The largest and handsomest horns 
 come from middle-aged deer ; those with few prongs 
 come from young or very old animals, and sometimes 
 from a very ill-conditioned or sickly one. 
 
 The rutting season of the deer is in November ; 
 during this month the bucks rush wildly about and 
 
 "The bucks fight like troopers. 1 ' 
 
 fight like troopers. As a consequence, that mag- 
 nificent game park established by the late Austin 
 Corbin in the wild and picturesque region of Suna- 
 pee, !N". H., has to be closed to all visitors. I am told 
 that it is not safe to meet a deer on the grounds while 
 he is in this pugnacious state of mind ; it is not infre- 
 
a 
 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 239 
 
 quently the case that he will attack a man and do 
 some fearful work with horns and sharp hoofs. In- 
 deed, the wild and rampant creature at this time for- 
 feits all claim to that mild and attractive disposition 
 which is his usual attribute ; his neck is greatly en- 
 larged, he fights furiously with his fellow bucks, and 
 sometimes loses his life in a desperate encounter 
 through the locking of the antlers. When this hap- 
 pens in the wild woods the animals can not separate, 
 and both miserably perish of exhaustion and starva- 
 tion. What a strange tragedy of Nature ! Dr. Mer- 
 riam says that his father possessed a set of locked ant- 
 lers which he found on the frozen carcasses of two 
 deer which had perished on the ice in Pine Creek, 
 N. Y. Audubon also states that he once saw three 
 pairs of antlers interlocked, and remarks upon the 
 pathetic sight the owners must have made as they 
 slowly starved in the midst of plenty. But Audubon 
 did not take into account the fact that exhaustion 
 shortened the animals' lives, and mercifully, there- 
 fore, the period of their starvation. 
 
 As a rule, the female deer bears two fawns one 
 is quite the exception and these are born in the 
 month of May ; they are quick at making use of their 
 slender, long legs. The little fawn is prettiest when 
 he is about a month and a half old ; the sides are 
 spotted with white, the face is delicately graded with 
 
240 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 deeper and paler color, and the eyes are unusually 
 large and expressive. The dainty creature is the 
 
 gracefulness in move- 
 pearance ; nothing is 
 than the airiness of 
 
 Female Deer. 
 
 very embodiment of 
 ment as well as ap- 
 more charming 
 his little leaps 
 over the uneven turf, 
 and he is perfectly sure- 
 footed ; I doubt wheth- 
 er any one ever saw a 
 young deer stumble. 
 He is an inquisitive 
 little animal too, con- 
 stantly mixing his ex- 
 treme timidity with an overwhelming curiosity to 
 know what a strange-looking object is made of, and 
 
 trusting to his agile 
 legs to escape if 
 it should prove 
 dangerous. He is 
 also omnivorous, like 
 the goat, and eats 
 anything that comes 
 
 A young Fawn. along. There is a 
 
 record of one young 
 
 fawn who was reckless enough to devour a paper of 
 chewing tobacco which happened to come within his 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WQODS. 241 
 
 reach ; but he paid the penalty of his rashness with 
 his life the next day. 
 
 Yery young fawns bleat like little lambs, and the 
 voice of a doe is a high-pitched and tremulous whistle 
 or squeal. It is said that a buck when he is surprised 
 and frightened utters a sharp, shrill whistle. But he 
 is far from a coward, like the bear, and he runs only 
 when he is persuaded that his horns and hoofs are 
 not equal to the emergency. 
 
 If the deer meets a rattlesnake in the woods he 
 considers it a deadly enemy and jumps upon it with 
 " all fours," cutting it to pieces with his sharp hoofs ; 
 indeed, he is quite capable of kicking a man into un- 
 
 " Swimming across the lake." 
 
 consciousness by springing upon him with his sharp- 
 hoofed fore feet. When he is swimming across a lake 
 the rash and unsophisticated hunter who is sufficiently 
 near to grab him by the antlers, does so at the risk of 
 a broken arm, for still the active limbs are ready to 
 inflict a stunning blow. The only way to seize a deer 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 in the water is by the tail an unreachable member ; 
 for the animal is an expert and swift swimmer, who 
 learned the art when he was but three or four months 
 old, and now that he is older his legs are by no means 
 hampered by so light a task. 
 
 Contending for half the year with the severities of 
 a hard climate where the mercury frequently drops 
 thirty degrees below zero ; chased not infrequently by 
 his deadliest enemy, the panther 
 (Felis concolor) ; 
 hunted night 
 and day by 
 another 
 
 Two young Female Deer. 
 
 not less deadly enemy, man, the wonder is that the 
 Virginia deer survives in the face of such terrific 
 odds. But, given a fair chance, he holds his own in 
 the wilderness, and with the protection of admirably 
 effective game laws, there is no reason why he should 
 not increase. 
 
 In the Adirondacks there have been three ways 
 in common practice of hunting the deer : The first is 
 by shooting him at night, as he feeds on the margin 
 
A FLEET-FOOTED NEIGHBOR IN THE WOODS. 243 
 
 of the lake, with the aid of a " jack " light a sort of 
 reflector lantern which casts all its light ahead from 
 the bow of a boat in which the hunter is concealed by 
 the darkness. This method takes advantage of the in- 
 ordinate curiosity of the animal, and he loses his life 
 by allowing the mysterious light to approach too 
 near. The second is by driving that is, by chasing 
 him with hounds in daytime, and driving him into the 
 lake, on the shore of which the sportsman is posted 
 with his boat, so that he can easily pursue and shoot 
 him. And the third is by still-hunting that is, by 
 following his tracks over the snow in winter and 
 shooting him after a prolonged chase in his forest 
 home, perhaps under some fallen tree top where he 
 has taken refuge. A wounded deer is not usually 
 followed, but tracked by his prints and blood stains 
 several hours, or perhaps the next day, after he is 
 shot. The reason is quite obvious, for experienced 
 hunters say that a deer will run several miles when 
 he is severely wounded. Judge Caton says that he 
 has known of one that ran a mile and a half after he 
 was shot through both lungs with a O.M-caliber rifle 
 ball. 
 
 In the State of New Hampshire hunting the deer 
 by hounds is contrary to law, and in the season al- 
 lowed for shooting the sportsman must get his deer 
 the best way he can by means of his gun. This is 
 
244 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 the fairest kind of sport, for the deer has an equal 
 chance with the hunter ; the latter must still-hunt 
 and prove his skill as a marksman by bringing down 
 his game by a single well-directed shot, or else, with 
 less success, he must make up his mind to follow 
 the tracks of the wounded creature several miles over 
 the snow-clad hills the next day. 
 
 Not long ago, a fine deer, weighing one hundred 
 and fifty -four pounds, was shot near my cottage by 
 the "fair-play " means of still-hunting, and my sports- 
 man neighbor,* ever a good shot at a partridge, 
 brought down his game with unerring aim. 
 
 The flesh of the deer is the most juicy and pala- 
 table of all meats, and it is also the most easily di- 
 gested. The hide not only makes excellent heavy 
 driving gloves and moccasins, but, when it is well 
 dressed and neatly lined, it makes a handsome chair 
 rug. It is in the best condition in November. 
 
 * Whose name is James McCann, a true man of the woods, 
 whose knowledge of Nature, from the humblest flower to the giant 
 trees of the forest, including all the animals great and small that 
 live under their shade, I have found to be like an interesting vol- 
 ume but one not yet published. 
 
CHAPTEK XY. 
 
 A SEMIANNUAL SLEEPER AND A NIGHTLY 
 
 PROWLER. 
 The Woodchuck and Porcupine. 
 
 IF one could shake a red and a gray squirrel to- 
 gether in a bag until they merged into one individual 
 with a coat neither red nor gray, then blow the thing 
 up with the bellows into 
 thrice its former size, 
 jam the face togeth- 
 er, trim down the 
 ears, enlarge 
 
 the tail, and finish The woodchuck. 
 
 by knocking just half 
 
 the life out of it, one would have a fair imitation 
 of the woodchuck or marmot (Arctomys monax)* 
 that grave and indefatigable old burrower who in- 
 habits the field on every farm in the country or 
 
 * His Indian name is Wenusk. 
 
 245 
 
246 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 nearly every farm, for his range extends from the 
 Carolinas to Canada, and from the seaboard to Mis- 
 souri, Iowa, and Minnesota. 
 
 The names of this familiar American animal are 
 both significant and appropriate ; Arctomys comes 
 from the Latin arcto, meaning to draw close together, 
 in allusion to the habit of the animal of gathering 
 himself together in a ball for a long winter's nap. 
 The specific monax means a monk, also remarkably 
 appropriate, for the animal generally lives quite by 
 himself in the deepest seclusion. As for the plain 
 Yankee name of " woodchuck," whatever may be its 
 serious import, there used to be a legend connected 
 with it of expressive interest, which deserves repeti- 
 tion here. 
 
 In olden times probably the time of ^Esop the 
 lesser animals used to live in one happy country with 
 a judge over them the dog. One day a rabbit, 
 whose burrow adjoined that of a marmot, complained 
 to the latter that the little rabbits' eyes were contin- 
 ually filled with the dirt which he carelessly threw 
 out of his burrow. However, the marmot paid no 
 heed to the remonstrance, and the rabbit was com- 
 pelled to appeal to the judge ; he immediately sent 
 word to the offender that he must be more careful in 
 the future. But the insolent marmot, notorious for 
 his incivility and indifference, replied to the messen- 
 
A SEMIANNUAL SLEEPER. 247 
 
 ger that he would chuck his dirt where he d d 
 
 pleased ! That settled it ; the dog has been hunting 
 for the gross offender ever since, and the name 
 " woodchuck " stuck to the whole tribe. 
 
 The general appearance of the animal is not irre- 
 sistibly attractive ; he is grizzly brown over the back 
 and chestnut color beneath ; * his body is about thir- 
 teen and the tail four inches long ; he is so loosely 
 " hung " that apparently he has less bones in his 
 anatomy than a cat. But who does not know the 
 woodchuck well, and what country dog has not soiled 
 his nose in enlarging the endless burrow all to no 
 purpose ? He seems to be an encumbrance on the 
 farm, without attraction or interest except for the 
 small boy and the dog. 
 
 Not many years ago the farmers of New Hamp- 
 shire, finding the woodchuck an unmitigated bore, 
 demanded of the State Legislature some measure to 
 relieve them from the impositions of the beast. Alas 
 for the woodchuck ! a bounty of ten cents was placed 
 upon his devoted head, and he could venture to stick 
 his whiskers beyond the confines of his burrow in 
 safety only on Sunday, because on that day, if his 
 body fell into the hands of the enemy, the devout 
 Legislature refused to allow the bounty. 
 
 * Melanistic that is, black phases of the woodchuck's coat 
 are not uncommon. 
 
FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 But the chairman of the committee appointed to 
 inquire into the moral status of the woodchuck Mr. 
 C. R. Corning was too wise a man not to see the 
 anomalous character of his task. So he turned in a 
 report worthy of a gifted humorist, whose pleasant- 
 ries are instinct with keen wit and harmless satire. 
 Indeed, he most ingeniously aimed over the wood- 
 chuck's shoulder and threw the clown's cap on the 
 farmer's head. So the " beastie " came off easy with 
 the following uncomplimentary comments on his per- 
 son : " Your committee finds the woodchuck destitute 
 of any interesting qualities. . . . The casual observer 
 is not attracted by the brilliancy of his colors. . . . 
 The family was evidently designed and brought forth 
 under conditions of severe simplicity. . . . The crea- 
 ture's only purpose in venturing forth during the 
 day is to get a good ' lay of the land.' Like the bear, 
 the gait of the thing under consideration is plan- 
 tigrade ; but in order occasionally to exercise its 
 toes, it climbs small trees and shrubs ; then, perfectly 
 satisfied that its pedal extremities are in good work- 
 ing trim, it descends to the ground and again resumes 
 its monotonous waddle. The woodchuck, despite its 
 deformities of both mind and body, possesses some of 
 the amenities of a higher civilization. It cleans its 
 face after the manner of a squirrel, and licks its fur 
 after the manner of a cat ; your committee is too 
 
A SEMIANNUAL SLEEPER. 249 
 
 wise, however, to be deceived by this purely super- 
 ficial observance of better habits. . . . The wood- 
 chuck is not only a nuisance but a bore ; it burrows 
 beneath the soil and then chuckles to see a mowing 
 machine, man and all, slump into one of these holes 
 and disappear ! " 
 
 Now this most uninteresting animal is a strict 
 vegetarian ; his home is usually on the border of a 
 fertile field where food is ^gj^^ plenty ; this 
 consists of succulent grasses 
 and herbs, roots, vege- 
 tables, and es- 
 pecially red 
 
 clover - Of 
 
 the last he 
 is particular- 
 ly fond, and 
 
 "On the border of a fertile field." 
 
 wherever there 
 
 is a red-clover field one is pretty sure to see either a 
 
 woodchuck or his burrow. 
 
 Digging out a woodchuck's hole with the expec- 
 tation of finding the occupant, is an undertaking too 
 arduous to find a fit expression in words. The gal- 
 lery slopes off at an angle of about twenty-three de- 
 grees for a length of four feet ; then, at a depth of 
 three sometimes only two feet below the surface, 
 it inclines upward in no settled direction and con- 
 
250 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 tinues for about ten feet, but divided perhaps into 
 two galleries, each of which leads to a circular cham- 
 ber a foot in diameter ; in this there is a snug nest 
 made of dried grasses, leaves, etc. Here the creature 
 dwells with his fields of plenty directly over his head, 
 and one would think that, like the squirrels, when in 
 the midst of abundance he would set by a store of 
 good things for the winter ; but not at all. He is no 
 hand at providing for the future ;* the very nature of 
 his food is perishable, and it is a question whether it 
 would outlast the cold even of a protecting burrow. 
 Yery soon after the autumnal equinox the improvi- 
 dent animal retires to his hole which he has now dug 
 on the sheltering margin of the wood, and he does 
 not venture forth again until the arrival of the spring 
 equinox, which is sometimes coincidental with the so- 
 called " woodchuck's day." f If the weather is still 
 too cold to be springlike, his day which weather- 
 wise folk always insist is a forerunner of six weeks' 
 sunshine will be postponed. 
 
 * I actually found in Brehm's Life of Animals a very good 
 Natural History, by the way the absurdly incorrect statement 
 that the woodchuck in the fall occupies himself in collecting 
 provender for the coming winter ! 
 
 f In different localities the times of the woodchuck are also 
 different ; farther south, he reappears about the middle of March, 
 and in the valley of the Connecticut he remains out until No- 
 vember. 
 
A SEMIANNUAL SLEEPER. 251 
 
 He is the most remarkable of all hibernating ani- 
 mals ; no other creature sleeps so profoundly or so 
 long. Only the little flying squirrel is at all like him. 
 The gray squirrel sleeps exclusively through the se- 
 verest part of winter ; the chipmunk wakes up to 
 partake of his plentiful stores, and quite frequently 
 takes a peep at the outside world, and the chickaree 
 is abroad all winter except when it is violently cold. 
 But the woodchuck is a sleeper. All the preparation 
 he makes for the cold and foodless winter is an inor- 
 dinate stuffing of himself with red clover in the latter 
 part of September. He enters his hole, therefore, 
 with excessively sleek and fat sides, and somehow or 
 other lives on his accumulated fat through the long 
 season of ice and snow. In his dormant state the 
 heart action is greatly slackened and respiration is 
 only detected by an instrument designed for the pur- 
 pose, which must be very delicately adjusted. He can 
 be rolled about like a ball without seeming to be in 
 the slightest way inconvenienced or disturbed ; he 
 will awaken in a warm room, but goes to sleep 
 again without an effort. Of course, with warm sur- 
 roundings and plenty of food he will not sleep as 
 he does in a state of Nature ; but his hereditary 
 habit is strong, and he can never be called thor- 
 oughly awake in midwinter under the best of cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
252 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 In September the woodchuck sits by his hole the 
 perfect image of listlessness ; he is as absolutely mo- 
 tionless as a " bump on a log." Possibly he medi- 
 tates upon the changing aspect of Nature, at any rate 
 he does not move a muscle, and it is doubtful whether 
 his mind works. _ Approach him never so 
 
 cautiously and he pops 
 in without a prelimi- 
 nary movement. On 
 one occasion, though, 
 I did actually see 
 / him change his po- 
 
 j\ 
 
 1 sition before he dis- 
 appeared. At first 
 he was upright, then 
 on my nearer ap- 
 proach he dropped 
 horizontally, and when 
 
 I got to within ten feet of him he was gone. Pres- 
 ently I took a harmonicon from my pocket and 
 played softly upon it ; being highly susceptible to 
 the sweet influences of music he reappeared at his 
 doorstep, and, with a slight expression of disturbance 
 on his usually dull countenance, eyed me with some 
 curiosity and disapproval. I imagined if he pos- 
 sessed the power of speech he would have said, 
 " This may be quite a clever performance, sir, but 
 
 " The perfect image of listlessness." 
 
A NIGHTLY PROWLER. 253 
 
 on the whole I'd thank you not to disturb my 
 autumn reverie." 
 
 When the woodchuck is tamed he is not uninter- 
 esting, and there are numerous stories told of his 
 strange habits which are quite amusing. Dr. Kel- 
 logg, in the American Naturalist,* tells of a tame 
 marmot he had which was allowed to sit at table with 
 the family in one of the children's chairs. This he 
 did with all possible decorum ; but when he smelled 
 the sweet cake and other tempting viands, he forgot 
 his manners and manifested his pleasure by singing a 
 purring kind of a song, during the performance of 
 which his lips and nostrils appeared to be slightly agi- 
 tated. When the woodchuck is unexpectedly startled 
 by an approaching footstep he utters a sharp, tremu- 
 lous whistle which reminds one of the agitated voice 
 of the red squirrel. 
 
 The female bears from four to six young about 
 the end of April or the first of May ; these remain 
 with the mother until the latter part of the summer, 
 when they shift for themselves, digging their own 
 holes and hibernating in the winter quite alone. But 
 one adult woodchuck with his mate inhabits a bur- 
 row, not more. 
 
 Quite unlike him in both appearance and habits, 
 
 * Vide American Naturalist for June, 1872, vol. vi. 
 
254: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 the porcupine (Erethizon dorsatus] * nevertheless 
 strongly resembles this meadow burrower in one par- 
 ticular, he is unqualifiedly stupid, 
 far more stupid than any 
 other .//JaK^I^*''p*/j^^g^ beast of the 
 
 Porcupine on the march. 
 
 field. But he can afford to be, for he has few ene- 
 mies ; all creatures except the fisher and the panther 
 let him alone. His fearful quills, which have an 
 awkward way of sticking fast in everything they 
 touch (excepting his own hide), are formidable things 
 
 to deal with when 
 one wants to seize 
 him by the back. 
 There it is ! his 
 back is simply prohibitive ; he can carry it with un- 
 concern as slowly as he pleases, for a more effective 
 armor is not to be found outside of the navy ! 
 
 The porcupine can not even boast of a pleasing 
 countenance. To look one square in the face is to 
 
 * Another significant name, from ep60ia>, erethizo, to irritate 
 or provoke, and from dorsum, a back. Very wrongly the animal 
 is often called a hedgehog. 
 
 The quills. 
 
I* 
 
 & 
 
 P * .=2 
 
 i III 
 
 n o 2 ft 
 
 2 2 J 2 
 
 W W! 
 
 w H .2 3 
 
 S tf W -i 
 
 H W 3 (X, 
 
A NIGHTLY PROWLER. 255 
 
 realize the fact that Nature has somehow or other 
 made a botch of it ; its expression is as grotesque as 
 that which characterizes Mr. Tenniel's Jabberwock in 
 Alice in Wonderland. No wonder then, when we 
 surprise him in the wood shed, his uncanny appear- 
 ance and sluggish movements give us a sort of men- 
 tal shock. He is like some old, 
 suspicious-looking tramp who 
 is always seen at dusk haunt- 
 ing the outskirts of the farm 
 buildings and scaring people 
 more by his looks than his 
 deeds. When he appears in 
 the daytime he is usually " Nature made a botch 
 lodged high up on the limb 
 
 of a tree ; but, as a rule, he remains within his den 
 somewhere beneath a neighboring rocky ledge during 
 the day, and issues forth only at night, when he may 
 be heard gnawing away at the foundations of the old 
 wood shed. He is a nocturnal prowler of the worst 
 kind, doing his deeds of darkness never anything 
 worse than the gnawing of wood in the immediate 
 vicinity of the farmhouse. But he sometimes has a 
 bad habit of girdling and thus ruining the forest 
 trees, especially the spruce. 
 
 He has a most inordinate appetite for salt, and 
 will devour, in time, the whole floor of the wash shed 
 
256 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 if he is given the chance, for the simple reason that 
 it has been well seasoned with salt water from the 
 ice-cream freezer. He does not hibernate like the 
 woodchuck, but goes abroad both winter and summer 
 on the coldest and hottest nights. He is also a strict 
 vegetarian, feeding on succulent 
 bark, the foliage and twigs of 
 trees, buds, and beechnuts ; 
 but he is always ready to 
 gnaw a house down if it con- 
 tains a grain of salt ; and in 
 the dead of the night he at- 
 tacks the woodshed door 
 with the vim of a rat and 
 ten times as much assur- 
 ance, for he can not be 
 driven away with the 
 thundering clatter of old 
 boots and sticks of wood 
 Nine times in ten he will 
 continue to gnaw until some one opens the door 
 and clubs him away with a respectable-sized piece of 
 cord wood ; there is but one thing he heeds, all else 
 fails, that is the firecracker ! Of this mysterious in- 
 vention of a refined civilization he is suspicious; 
 probably the fiery spluttering more than the noise 
 awakens in his dull mind some sense of a danger 
 
 " He is always "* 
 ready to gnaw 
 a house down. 
 
 against the partition. 
 
A NIGHTLY PROWLER. 257 
 
 from which his quills afford no protection, so he 
 moves off. 
 
 I once captured one in my wood shed, which had 
 busied himself for several nights previous by altering 
 the contours of the house and the ice-cream freezer. 
 It was night, I had no heart to kill the creature, so he 
 was left till morning under an inverted wash tub. 
 The next day, after furnishing the family with some 
 entertainment by his enticing looks, queer whining 
 noises (he had a shrill cry), and loudly chattering 
 teeth, he was invited to move on with the aid of a 
 shovel and was dispatched by the farm hand. He 
 weighed fully sixteen pounds. His back was broad, 
 his tail flattened and heavy, and his feet naked like a 
 bear's. His claws were large and curved, and these 
 with his peculiar tail showed very plainly that it 
 was not difficult for him to climb a tree. This pon- 
 derous tail of his is capable of dealing a tremendous 
 stinging blow laterally ; when he hits a dog with it 
 there is an immediate cessation of hostilities, the dog 
 retires with howls of pain, and then, while one de- 
 votes one's attention to extracting the quills in his 
 mouth, the porcupine gets away. These quills * un- 
 der a microscope are minutely rough with a sort of 
 
 * They are artistically used by the Indians in the Northwest 
 for the decoration of birch-bark boxes, buckskin moccasins, leg- 
 gings, etc. ; often they are dyed a variety of colors. 
 18 
 
258 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 bearded formation which points backward ; thus they 
 continually work deeper into the flesh unless immedi- 
 ately withdrawn. On the porcupine's back they in- 
 cline backward, and are raised by a special layer of 
 muscle ; but they are never shot from the hide of the 
 creature, as some people ignorantly assert ; the idea is 
 too absurd to receive a moment's notice, yet there are 
 many who persist in believing in it. 
 
 The porcupine's nest is sometimes in a hollow log, 
 but oftener under the strewn rocks in the forest. 
 The female bears two rarely three young about 
 the first of May ; they are relatively twenty -five times 
 as large as the young of the bear at birth. 
 
"It was not difficult for him to 
 climb a tree." 
 
 Photographed from life by 
 W. Lyman Under wood. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 
 
 The Gray Rabbit, Northern Varying Hare, and the 
 
 Squirrels. 
 
 THE little gray rabbit (Lepus transitionalis*) 
 which often goes by the soubriquet of Mollie Cotton- 
 tail, is a most remarkably prolific animal ; that 
 is the first thing of interest about the creature. 
 The next thing is, that its favorite food unfor- 
 tunately is the buds, young shoots, and bark 
 of apple or peach trees especially those new 
 kinds which one has set out in the orchard. 
 When the moon is shining full over the glit- 
 tering snow, and the winter night is full 
 of witchery and charm, the aesthetic side 
 of Nature appeals to one's highest and 
 - kegt thoughts. But let the two ears of 
 
 The silhouette 
 
 of two ears. bunny appear silhouetted against the 
 
 silvery light, and there is another side 
 
 of Nature revealed which is not quite so charming. 
 
 To the artist the picture is not only still beautiful, 
 
 * Formerly Lepus sylvaticus. 
 
 259 
 
260 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 but the accent of those two black ears is just one 
 more charm which rounds out the " moonlight 
 monotone" to its fullest perfection. 
 
 But to the man who owns the apple orchard, 
 the picture ceases to be beautiful; his eye is ob- 
 scured with the black ' whisperings of vengeance, 
 and thinking only of the danger threatening his 
 new trees, he reaches for his gun, and sallies forth 
 into the night with the intention of making a red 
 mark just under the two black ears. 
 
 Lepus transitionalis, a rabbit of the woods, is quite 
 as frequently a rabbit of the orchard ; and the amount 
 of damage he is capable of doing there is in- 
 calculable. He girdles the trees, gnaws 
 the lower twigs, and even climbs 
 into the environing shrubbery 
 to reach the higher ones and 
 denude them of bark and 
 buds. But besides the 
 apple tree, he feeds on the 
 
 "Mollie Cottontail." 
 
 briers, sumachs, hazels, 
 
 black birches, hickories, and shrubbery in general 
 which he finds on the roadside and in the garden. He 
 has also other enemies than man, chief among which 
 are the fox, ermine, eagle, and great horned owl ; 
 besides these he is subject to attacks by the snowy 
 owl, the larger hawks, the marten, and the mink. 
 
THE GRAY RABBIT. 
 LEPUS TRAXSITIOXALIS. 
 
 " The moonlight monotone." 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 
 
 261 
 
 The readiness, however, with which he can escape 
 from a pursuer in an open chase saves him from easy 
 destruction. For any swift-footed 
 animal to catch a rabbit on the 
 run is a rare thing ; one glance at 
 my sketch of the agile creature's 
 footprints in the snow will show 
 
 what the nature 
 
 of his flight is. 
 
 Evidently it is a 
 
 series of extraor- 
 
 Footprints in the snow. d j nary ^^ ^^ 
 
 almost all of the force of propulsion 
 
 exerted by the hind feet. The hind 
 
 legs of a rabbit move together as pe 
 
 fectly as if they were joined ; the thrust 
 
 is sudden, and so wide that ,the hind 
 
 legs overlap the fore legs, striking the 
 
 snow just beyond and outside of them. In watch- 
 
 ing the leaps of my pet Manx cat, whose hind legs 
 
 were remarkably long ^ and well developed, I 
 
 His enemy 
 Snowy Owl. 
 
 the 
 
 always noticed 
 he ran like a 
 rabbit, and 
 " doubled 
 up" like 
 those run- 
 
 that 
 
 "On the run." 
 
262 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ning horses in Mr. Muy bridge's extraordinary photo- 
 graphs ; consequently he developed a speed not very 
 far short of that of the wild ^fes rabbit. 
 
 s^s&f^d^siy 
 
 The gray rabbit burrows 
 in the earth and in the 
 hollows of decaying trees, and 
 winters in quite a snug retreat ; 
 often he finds the deserted burrow of 
 the woodchuck quite acceptable for 
 a home. The prolific female bears 
 from four to six young, and she rears from three 
 to four families a year. She lines her nest with 
 soft leaves, grasses, and the fur from her own body. 
 In about thirty days the young rabbits are able to 
 shift for themselves. Like the other small animals 
 the rabbit forms regular 
 
 ' Doubled up/' 
 
 Very young Rabbit. Young Rabbit. 
 
 runways, and in these he is easily trapped. He is 
 so common in some localities that he may be seen 
 day and night skipping through the woods, although, 
 as a rule, he is supposed to bo fairly nocturnal in his 
 habits. 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 
 
 263 
 
 ige of 
 
 i 
 
 Northern Varying Hare ; summer coat. 
 
 His greater relative who lives in the North, 
 more particularly among the mountains, is called the 
 American varying hare (Lepus ameri- 
 canus virginianus). This animal is 
 remarkable for his chai 
 color; in summer he is 
 dark-red brown, and 
 winter he is perfectly 
 white. Regarding the 
 nature of this change 
 I must repeat in sub- 
 stance the opinions ex- 
 pressed by Dr. Merriam and Prof. J. A. Allen. 
 Dr. Merriam says that when the change occurs 
 in the fall, the fur lengthens and 
 blanches, the individual hairs 
 changing color after the 
 first fall of 
 snow. Like 
 a majority of 
 the mammals, 
 this hare has two /^f^^SST kinds of fur: an 
 under and soft kind ~|^\|l4 - which covers all 
 parts of the body, and "^^%^ an upper, longer 
 and stiffer kind which is scattered through 
 
 it. This last, which is blackish in summer, becomes 
 in the fall white at the tips first, and fades down- 
 
264: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ward. In spring the process is exactly reversed the 
 exposed portions of the stiff fur become black by the 
 end of March, and while the animal is still white 
 hundreds of the blackish hairs appear scattered over 
 the back, some of which are white in the middle and 
 others white on the tips. In the course of time the 
 white fur loses its vitality, becomes brittle, and is 
 brushed off by the underwood of the forest. 
 
 Professor Allen says that while the change from 
 brown to white in the American varying hare is sup- 
 posed to be largely due to molt, it sometimes ap- 
 pears to take place so suddenly that it is popularly 
 thought to be due in some degree to the blanching of 
 the hair ; but the real nature of the change is not 
 precisely agreed upon by naturalists, it is as yet a 
 matter of dispute. 
 
 We are at liberty, then, to accept any hypothesis 
 of this remarkable change of color which seems most 
 reasonable ; and " who shall decide when doctors 
 disagree ? " 
 
 In summer this varying hare feeds upon leaves, 
 buds, berries, and succulent herbs and grasses. In 
 winter he has to content himself with the bark of 
 young poplars, birches, willows, and such berries as 
 the snow may leave uncovered ; often, too, he gets 
 what he can in the vicinity of the farm by prowling 
 around at night. But his enemies are plenty the 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 265 
 
 same as those of the gray rabbit and he is ever on 
 the alert for an unexpected attack. 
 
 He follows definite paths of his own making, like 
 the gray rabbit, but unlike him he does not inhabit a 
 burrow. His nest is the rather uncertain shelter of a 
 fallen tree, or the covering of some hollowed log. In 
 this he remains most of the day and ventures out for 
 food at night. The female bears from four to six 
 young in the latter part of May. 
 
 This hare is very common in the North country, 
 and is sought in the early winter by sportsmen, who 
 consider his flesh the best of eating. Many of the 
 animals find their way to the Boston market, and a 
 well-conditioned one, which may weigh from four to 
 nearly five pounds, makes a savory stew fit for the 
 table of an epicure. In parts of northern Maine, 
 New Hampshire, and Vermont, this hare is abundant ; 
 and in the vicinity of Nipigon, Ontario, during the 
 fall and winter, many of the poor things are killed 
 in the night by the passing trains of the Canadian 
 Pacific Railroad. Mr. Gr. S. Miller, Jr., writing of 
 the varying hare which he found plentiful just north 
 of Lake Superior, says that one was taken on the 5th 
 of October at Peninsular Harbor, the winter pelage 
 of which was just beginning to appear on the ears 
 and buttocks ; but on certain others taken two weeks 
 later the winter coat was nearly complete. 
 
266 FAMILIAR LIF3 IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Inhabiting the same wood with the varying hare, 
 but far more active than he is in every motion of the 
 body, the sauciest scamp in the forest glade, and a 
 notorious little villain for stealing a march on birds' 
 nests, the red squirrel, or chickaree (Sciurus hudsoni- 
 cus hudsonicus, Sciurus hudsonius of Allen), is per- 
 haps the most familiar phase of wild life in the forest 
 or on the highway. But some of his tricks and man- 
 ners are not thoroughly well known. 
 
 He is a perfect nuisance to the trapper, as he 
 continually springs the traps set for martens and 
 minks, and quite often gets caught him- 
 self. But his hide is not 
 worth a cent, so the trap- 
 per is disgusted. As for his 
 habit of robbing birds' 
 
 The Red Squirrel. 
 
 nests, that is fairly 
 well known by every 
 
 one wno li yes m * ne 
 country in June. Last 
 
 . . 
 
 spring a pair 01 robins 
 built their nest close to my cottage in a butternut 
 tree, around the trunk of which I had built a rustic 
 arbor, and all went on without disturbance until the 
 young birds were hatched, when, late one afternoon, a 
 red squirrel appeared, and in a very unconcerned way 
 began to ascend the tree ostensibly to see how the 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 267 
 
 butternuts were getting on. I knew very well what 
 he was after, however, and noticed how slyly he 
 sprang to one of the lower limbs which led in the di- 
 rection of the nest. 'No sooner had he done this than 
 the father bird, who was at least thirty yards away 
 in a maple tree, made for him, and immediately there 
 was a great commotion among the butternut leaves. 
 In the midst of it the mother bird appeared with a 
 hard-shelled bug in her mouth, which she dropped, 
 and I heard it rattle down the arbor roof. Up and 
 down, in and out among the leaves the birds chased 
 the little scamp, and still he tried to elude the sharp 
 bills, but vainly ; it was perfectly plain that the 
 birds had the best of it, and that bunny's agility was 
 no match for such a terrific winged onslaught. He 
 fled at last in great confusion ; but the birds did not 
 desist, and in his frantic attempts to defend himself 
 he lost his hold and fell from limb to limb, until he 
 landed on the arbor roof. Before he could recover 
 himself the robins were at him again, and it was a 
 running fight all the way to the neighboring pasture 
 bars, where the birds gave up the chase and returned 
 to their tree. It was amusing directly after to see 
 the male bird station himself like a sentinel in a 
 maple that adjoined the butternut. But it was just 
 as well, for he had to defend the nest a third time 
 before the fledglings were flown. 
 
268 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 The red squirrel is also a thief. He frequently 
 has an encounter with a chipmunk at the latter's door- 
 step, and I have caught him in 
 the act of 
 
 stealing the 
 
 , , . 
 stores of his 
 
 The Chipmunk scolding. more ^^ 
 
 dent cousin. A chipmunk has his hole just beneath 
 a pine tree outside of my garden fence, and most of 
 
 travels back 
 and the kitch- 
 (he has large 
 full of prov- 
 while there 
 
 the time the little creature 
 and forth between this 
 en door with his cheeks 
 pouches in them) stuffed 
 ender. Every once in a 
 is a squabble under the 
 pine tree, and I well 
 know what it means 
 the red squirrel is 
 there, thieving, per- 
 haps. He is a good deal of 
 a bully, and when it suits his 
 fancy he attacks the hoards of 
 the field mouse, which are care- 
 fully tucked away under some de- 
 caying stump, and, utterly regard- 
 less of the agitation he is creating " He attacks the 
 
 hoards of the 
 
 among the proprietors, who survey field mouse." 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 269 
 
 his deeds with squealing disapproval, tears their home 
 asunder and eats their stores before their eyes, con- 
 temptuously scattering the beechnut shells and the 
 half -gnawed acorns over the snow under their very 
 noses. 
 
 In the autumn I have seen him among the top- 
 most branches of a butternut shaking the nuts down 
 and nipping at the stems of the more tenacious ones. 
 One day last October I heard the continuous thump, 
 thump, thump of the dropping nuts, and stepping out 
 of my studio to see why they should fall when there 
 was not a breath of air stirring, caught him at his 
 work ; then I took a mean advantage of his industry, 
 and sent the children out to gather the nuts. He 
 surveyed their actions with the disapproval of a much- 
 abused but helpless owner, and scolded most vocifer- 
 ously. He is extraordinarily busy all through the 
 months of September and October, and the stores of 
 beechnuts, butternuts, acorns, and hazels he gathers 
 would, if they were all piled together, astonish one be- 
 yond measure. Why, when he gathers so much for 
 himself, he must needs steal from his neighbors, it is 
 difficult to understand. He has the keenest sense of 
 the exact locality of a nut, and I am certain that he 
 is led to attack the nest of a mouse more by his 
 nostrils than his eyes. The keenness of his scent is 
 proved by a bit of calculation which he did one win- 
 
270 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 ter in my closed-up cottage. A bushel basket filled 
 with butternuts was placed close against the surbase 
 in one of the rooms adjoining the attic. There was 
 no possible way for the squirrel either to enter or see 
 inside the room ; yet he smelled those nuts, and en- 
 tering the attic, gnawed his way through the parti- 
 tion, and entered the room through the surbase ex- 
 actly at a point opposite the center of the basket ! 
 
 His food in winter, though, is not wholly confined 
 to nuts ; he eats the buds of the maple, oak, and 
 
 birch, and any seeds or 
 dried berries which he 
 can find. He attacks the 
 .farmer's corn barn, and, 
 unless the corner posts 
 are well protected with 
 slippery tin, effects an en- 
 trance and carries off the 
 grain. A careful examina- 
 tion of the kernel shows 
 
 that he eats the germ and leaves the rest. In the 
 evergreen forest he will deftly handle a pine cone, 
 and inverting it cut away scale after scale and devour 
 the seeds hidden between ; in the same manner he 
 demolishes a spruce cone. He does not hibernate, 
 but keeps thus busy all winter long. 
 
 He is. an excellent swimmer, and crosses the pond 
 
 " He will deftly handle a cone." 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 271 
 
 in midsummer when it is too troublesome to go 
 around. But I notice that he avoids the colder water 
 of the river. The forest he claims for his own, and 
 any one who dares to disturb its quiet and seclusion 
 he hails with a storm of chattering, whistling invec- 
 tive, the meaning of which may be fairly summed up 
 into two words " Get out ! " His squeaky voice, not 
 very different in tone and quality 
 
 " The wrathful creature jerks fearfully." 
 
 from the raspings of an old violin in the hands of 
 an amateur, strikes harshly upon the ear. All the 
 while the body of the wrathful creature jerks fear- 
 fully from head to tail ! 
 
 The nest of the red squirrel is usually in the hole 
 of a tree ; sometimes, farther South, it is constructed 
 of soft, shreddy bark, and hidden in the thick upper 
 branches of the spruce or the red cedar ; in this case 
 it is spherical, and the opening is near the bottom. 
 The female bears from four to six young about the 
 first of April. She has few enemies to fear, the 
 owl and the hawk being the only ones of serious con- 
 sequence. 
 
272 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOEEST. 
 
 The red squirrel is reddish brown throughout the 
 summer ; but twice in the year he sheds his hair, and 
 during the winter his aspect is much duller, and the 
 red is not nearly so pronounced. Beneath he is white, 
 and there is a dark line where this white meets the 
 red on the sides. In winter the white is toned with 
 brown gray, and the dark dividing line disappears. 
 
 The chipmunk (Tamias listerii, formerly Tamias 
 striatus) is the red squirrel's cousin ; but they have 
 little to do with each other, and 
 avoid all unnecessary meetings. 
 A Western species of 
 this genus, Tamias neg- 
 lectusf which is com- 
 mon in northern Mich- 
 
 The Chipmunk. 
 
 igan, "Wisconsin, and 
 
 Minnesota, is distinguished by the four stripes on 
 its back instead of the three which characterize the 
 more Eastern species striatus. The stripes, except 
 the black, dorsal one, are white in the middle and 
 bordered on either side with black. This Western 
 chipmunk only hibernates when his food supply is 
 cut off by the snow ; he will remain out when the 
 temperature is as low as 15. North Bay, Lake 
 Nipissing, Canada, is the most easterly point where 
 he has been found. 
 
 * Formerly Tamias quadrivitatus. 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 273 
 
 The Eastern chipmunk takes to his winter bed in 
 the ground as soon as the cold and frosty nights of 
 October come, and reappears again in March or 
 April. He is not a profound sleeper, however, and 
 often wakes up to "eat a bit." His abundant store 
 of nuts,* seeds, corn, and buckwheat is tucked away 
 underground where the red squirrel can not get at it, 
 and he passes the winter in peace and plenty, only 
 popping his nose above ground when the weather is 
 warm, to make sure that the world still " wags on." 
 
 The tail of this little fellow is insignificant, his 
 body is much less athletic in its lines than that of the 
 red squirrel, and in every way he shows himself not a 
 climber. If he is scared in the forest, and takes ref- 
 uge in a maple, he clings helplessly to the bark some- 
 where about fifteen feet above the ground, and waits 
 without a motion for the danger to pass, descending 
 again spirally. 
 
 He is not very timid, but I do not know that he is 
 very easily domesticated. He is constantly about in 
 my garden while I am at work there ; he feeds on the 
 sunflower seeds in the autumn while I stand within 
 five feet of him, and the children frequently feed him 
 with crusts of bread and cake at a respectful but 
 
 * It is a matter of some surprise to me that he cares for the 
 clumsy big butternut ; but he often tackles one, and even carries 
 it to his hole. As a rule, however, he prefers seeds to nuts. 
 19 
 
274 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 of a few / 
 sions to 
 
 gate, he 
 pouches 
 
 moderate distance. He also hangs around the kitchen 
 way, and not infrequently enters the door in search 
 fallen crumbs. On all his excur- 
 his burrow, not far from the front 
 appears with his cheek 
 so stuffed out that his 
 eyes are half closed, 
 but on his return his 
 physiognomy has re- 
 sumed its normal propor- 
 tions. 
 
 He is quite the opposite of 
 the red squirrel in one re- 
 spect he is quiet. Rarely he raises his voice above 
 a scolding murmur, which sounds like chip-chip-ur- 
 r . r 
 
 ' He feeds on the sunflower 
 seeds." 
 
 The nest of the chip- 
 munk is in a hollow 
 chamber about as large as a 
 cocoanut at the end of a tunnel 
 about two feet long, and six- 
 teen inches below the surface 
 of the ground. The female 
 bears from four to six young 
 about the latter part of April. 
 
 One of the prettiest of our squirrels is the little, 
 soft-eyed, velvet-coated flying squirrel (Sciuropterus 
 
 The children frequently feed 
 him with crusts of bread.' 1 
 
CHIPMUNK. 
 TAMIAS LISTERII. 
 
 "He is the red squirrel's 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 
 
 2T5 
 
 volans volans, Sciuropterus volucella, Geoffrey) ; 
 but he is out only after sunset, and does not often 
 appear on the highway. His ^^}ij^ color is a 
 brownish gray, and his skin is ^^Sm^!.i so loose- 
 ly adjusted to his body that he 
 can spread it out in a wide ex- 
 panse and slide through the 
 air from tree to tree on 
 a flying leap of fully 
 fifty feet. It is said 
 that on extra occasions 
 he can stretch this dis- 
 tance tO One hundred The Flying Squirrel. 
 
 and fifty feet ; but I am confident of the fact that 
 
 this is merely a fall, after the fashion of a parachute. 
 
 Even the red squirrel can fall a matter of thirty feet 
 
 with no inconvenience to his anat- 
 
 A flying leap. 
 
 omy, and there is no doubt but that a flying squirrel 
 can sail a hundred feet or so through the air with all 
 the semblance of a long leap, but in reality the dis- 
 tance covered laterally is not so very great. This 
 
276 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 little creature is common all over the country, from 
 the East to the West, as far as the plains. I have 
 often seen him in Holderness, N. PI., and he is com- 
 mon at Profile Lake, Franconia Notch, N. H. 
 
 The nest of the flying squirrel is in a hole in a 
 tree. The female bears from four to six young 
 about the first of April or later. When captured 
 and tamed the little ones make most charming pets. 
 Next to the woodchuck, the flying squirrel 
 is one of the most profound 
 sleepers of all hibernating 
 animals. He retires to 
 his nest early in Novem- 
 ber, and does not reap- 
 pear until the latter part of 
 March. 
 
 The big relative of the 
 red squirrel an animal 
 made of coarser clay- 
 is the Northern gray 
 squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis leucotis). This active 
 fellow, familiar in many of the city parks, hibernates 
 only when the weather is extremely cold, and then 
 for no great length of time. So long as the mercury 
 will stand above 16 the gray squirrel will venture out 
 in the cold ; but when it drops below that, and the 
 chances of food on the snow -covered ground are 
 
 The Gray Squirrel. 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 277 
 
 scarce, he seeks the warmth and seclusion of his 
 nest in the hollow of a tree, and stays there until 
 the weather moderates. He is undoubtedly the most 
 easily tamed of all our squirrels, and it takes only a 
 small amount of patient waiting and quiet behavior 
 to gain his confidence in the wild wood. A pocket- 
 ful of nuts is one of the surest means 
 of establishing an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with him ; and if one is careful 
 not to move suddenly and noisily, he 
 
 Music! 
 
 will approach and take a nut irom the 
 hand. He is also susceptible to the charms of music, 
 which may be amply proved by carrying a small 
 music-box in the pocket for his especial 
 entertainment. 
 
 The nest of the gray squirrel is usually 
 built in the crotch 
 of a tree or in the 
 hollow of a part- 
 ly decayed limb. 
 The female bears 
 _ from three to five 
 
 The Black Squirrel. ' ^^S^- , , , ,.,,, 
 
 helpless little ones, 
 which are at first quite blind and hairless ; they re- 
 main with the mother two months. Sometimes, far- 
 ther South, the female will raise two litters in a year. 
 The black squirrel is not a different species ; his 
 
278 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 darker fur is simply a phase or variation of the ani- 
 mal's more common condition in life this dark 
 color, in fact, is simply a case of melanism. 
 
 It is very important in the study of wild life that 
 we should recognize the exact relationship of the ani- 
 mals, just as it is of like importance that we should 
 know the affinities of plants. Without this knowl- 
 edge one studies Nature at an immense disadvantage. 
 It is a good beginning, for instance, to learn that we 
 have really but two species of the fox in this country, 
 and that there is an affinity between the little sundew 
 plant and the larger pitcher plant. At present, even 
 the botanists do not fully recognize the relationship 
 between these two insect-catching characters of the 
 vegetable world ; but they will surely do so some 
 time in the future. 
 
 As for the animal world, naturalists have not yet 
 done with it, or at least with that part of it which is 
 on this side of the Atlantic. Our black squirrel and 
 gray squirrel are one species ; our weasels are none of 
 them the ermine ; our black bear and cinnamon bear 
 are two of a kind Ursus americanus and our 
 Northern and Southern green snakes are unrelated 
 excepting in color. 
 
 To tell the truth, naturalists are still busily " sort- 
 ing things out," and several of them say that they 
 have not yet nearly finished ; but I have given the 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 279 
 
 latest facts as I found them, and it is to be hoped 
 
278 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST, 
 darker fur is simply a phase or variation of the ani- 
 
SMALL FOLK WITH LIVELY FEET. 279 
 
 latest facts as I found them, and it is to be hoped 
 that some of the last naines to come in will not leave 
 us before this book becomes ancient history ! But 
 then T&mpv.& est omnibus rebus. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Acer rubrum, 15. 
 
 Acris gryllus, 7, 11, 24. 
 
 Acris gryllus crepitans, 8. 
 
 Acris gryllus gryllus, 8. 
 
 Adder, Blowing, 59, 79. 
 
 Adder, Deaf, 79. 
 
 Adder, Spotted, 70. 
 
 Adder, Water, 77. 
 
 Adirondack Mountains, N. Y., 49, 59, 
 
 182. 
 Adirondack Wilderness or Woods, 
 
 102.118,124,149,155,183,231. 
 Alleghany Mountains, 55, 74. 
 Amblystoma punctatum, 39. 
 Amblystoma tigrinum, 40. 
 Amphiuma means, 50. 
 Ancistrodon contortrix, 68. 
 Antlers. Deer, 237. 
 Arbor vitse, 232. 
 Arctomys monax, 245. 
 Arctostaphylos Uva-Ursi, 186. 
 Atlantic City, N. J., 41. 
 Ausable River, 124. 
 
 Badger, 154. 
 
 Baltimore oriole, 84. 
 
 Barney Butts's, Cairo, N. Y., 184. 
 
 Bartlett's, Adirondacks, 231. 
 
 Bascanium constrictor, 73. 
 
 Bay field, Mo., 155. 
 
 Bearberry, 186. 
 
 Bear, Black, 180. 
 
 Bear, Cinnamon, 187, 278. 
 
 Bittern, 96. 
 
 Black cat, 116. 
 
 Black Mountain, Lake George, 191. 
 Black Mountains, N. C., 54. 
 Bonasa umbellus, 106. 
 Botaurus lentiginosus, 96. 
 Bubo virginianus, 100. 
 Bufo americanus, 18. 
 Bullfrog. 13, 23, 29. 
 Bunchberry, 234. 
 
 Cambarus, 156. 
 
 Campton, N. H., 14, 54, 83. 
 
 Cants lupus, 225. 
 
 Carcajou, 115. 
 
 Cariacus virginianus, 229. 
 
 Carphophiops amcenus, 68. 
 
 Carphophiops vermis, 69. 
 
 Carpodacus purpureus, 6. 
 
 Catskill Mountains, N. Y., 44, 46, 49, 
 
 59, 182. 
 
 Chickadee, 95. 
 Chickaree, 251, 266. 
 Chiogenes serpi/lli folia, 110. 
 Chipmunk, 204, 251, 268, 272. 
 Chorophilus triseriatus, 10. 
 Clonophis kirtlandi, 77. 
 Coccyzus erythrophthalmus, 05. 
 Colaptes auratus, opposite page 87. 
 Coluber obsoletus obsoletus, 72. 
 Coluber vulpinus, 72. 
 Conocephalus ensiger, 67. 
 Contopus virens, 94. 
 Crayfish, 156. 
 Crotalus horridus, 66. 
 Crow, 85. 
 
 Cryptobranchus ciUegheinensis, 38. 
 281 
 
282 FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Cuckoo, Black-billed, 85. 
 Cyclophis cestivus, 72. 
 Cyclophis vernalis, 71. 
 
 Deer, Virginia, 228. 
 Desmognathus fusca, 53. 
 Desmognathus nigra, 55. 
 Desmognathus ochrophcea, 54. 
 Diadophis punctatus, 71. 
 
 Erethizon dorsatus, 254. 
 Eutoenia radix, 74. 
 Eutcenia saurita, 74. 
 Eutcenia sirtalis dorsalis, 76. 
 Eutcenia sirtalis sirtalis, 75. 
 
 Felis concolor, 242. 
 
 Fiber zibethicus, opposite page 2. 
 
 Field mouse, 204, 268. 
 
 Fisher, 116, 195. 
 
 Flycatcher, Crested, 78. 
 
 Fourth Lake, Adirondacks, 189. 
 
 Fox, Black, or Silver, or Silver Gray, 
 
 224, 226. 
 
 Fox, Cross, 224, 227. 
 Fox, English, 216. 
 Fox, Gray, 223. 
 Fox, Red, 195, 204, 213. 
 Fox, Western, 224. 
 Frog, Green, 23, 27. 
 Frog, Leopard, 23. 
 Frog, Northern, 26. 
 Frog, Savannah cricket, 2, 7. 
 Frog, Three-striped, 11. 
 Frog, Wood, 23, 26, 33. 
 
 Gaultheria procumbens, 110, 186, 233. 
 Grasshopper, Cone-headed, 67. 
 Green Mountains, 182. 
 Gulo luscus, 113. 
 
 Hare, American Varying, 263. 
 Harvard Botanical Garden, Cam- 
 bridge, 84. 
 Hellbender, 38. 
 Hepatica triloba, 1. 
 Heterodon platyrhinus, 79. 
 Heterodon simus, 79. 
 
 Holderness, N. H., 276. 
 Hoosac Hills, Mass., 112. 
 Hyla andersonii, 13. 
 Hyla, Anderson's, 29. 
 Hyla picker ingii. 2, 11, 28. 
 Hyla, Pickering's, 2, 49. 
 Hyla versicolor, 5, 8, 14. 
 
 Icterus galbula, 84. 
 
 Lake Cham plain, 44, 59, 76. 
 
 Lake George, 59, 191. 
 
 Lake Mahopac, N. Y., 75. 
 
 Lake Nipissing, Canada, 272. 
 
 Lake Superior, 118, 125, 155, 265. 
 
 Lake Umbagog, 125, 155. 
 
 Lakewood, N. J., 12. 
 
 Lepus americanus virginianus, 263. 
 
 Lepus sylvaticus, 259. 
 
 Lepus transition-alls, 259. 
 
 Ley den, N. Y., 183. 
 
 Liopeltis vernalis, 71. 
 
 Livermore Falls, N. H., 149. 
 
 Liverwort, 1. 
 
 Loon, 101. 
 
 Lutra canadensis, 155. 
 
 Lutra hudsonica, opposite page 157. 
 
 Lycopodium clavatum, 232. 
 
 Lycopodium complanatum, 233. 
 
 Lycopodium obscurum, 232. 
 
 Manx cat, 72, 261. 
 Maple swamp, 15. 
 Marmot, 245. 
 Marten, Pennant's, 116. 
 Marten, Pine, 121. 
 May's Lake, Adirondacks, 157. 
 Mephitis mephitica, 153, 161. 
 Merganser americanus, 105. 
 Merganser serrator, 104. 
 \ferula migratoria, 81. 
 Mink, 147. 
 
 Mitchella repens, 110. 
 lollie Cottontail, 259. 
 lount Chocorua, "White Mountains, 
 183. 
 
 Mount Tom, Mass. , 73. 
 luskrat, 2, 153. 
 lustela americana, 116, 121. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 283 
 
 Must ela pennant i, 116. 
 Myiarchus crinitus, 78. 
 Natrix fasciata sipedon, 77. 
 Matrix leberis, 78. 
 Necturus maculatus, 37. 
 Necturus, Spotted, 37. 
 Nerodia sipedon, 77. 
 New Haven, Conn., 8. 
 Nipigon, Ontario, 124, 265. 
 Norway, Me., 14. 
 
 Odocoileus virginianus, opposite 
 
 Ophibolus doliatus triangulus, 70. 
 
 Ophibolus getulus getulus, 69. 
 
 Otter, 155. 
 
 Owl, Great horned, 99, 260. 
 
 Owl, Screech, 101. 
 
 Owl, Snowy, 260. 
 
 Panther, 242. 
 
 Partridge, 106. 
 
 Partridge berry, 110. 
 
 Paul Smith's, Adirondacks, 231. 
 
 Pecan, 116. 
 
 Peeper, Spring, 2. 
 
 Pemigewasset River Valley, N. H., 
 
 104, 132, 188, 219. 
 Peninsular Harbor, 265. 
 Pickerel weed, 233. 
 Pine Hill, N Y., 44. 
 Pityophis melanoleucus, 73. 
 Plethodon cinereus, 42. 
 Plethodon cinereus erythronotus, 43. 
 Plethodon glutinosus, 44. 
 Porcupine, 117, 204, 254. 
 Portland, Me., 14. 
 Procyon lotor, 202. 
 Profile Lake, Franconia Notch, N. H., 
 
 276. 
 
 Purple finch, 6. 
 Putorius cicognani, 128. 
 Putorius erminea, 129, 136. 
 Putorius nigripes, 139. 
 Putorius noveboracensis, 129, 136. 
 Putorius rixosus. 130. 
 Putorius visor, 147. 
 Putorius vulgaris, 128. 
 
 Rabbit, Gray, 246, 259. 
 
 Raccoon, 119, 202. 
 
 Rana catesbiana, 13, 23, 29. 
 
 Rana clamata, 23, 27. 
 
 Rana halecina, 23, 24. 
 
 Rana palustris, 23, 25. 
 
 Rana septentrionalis, 23, 26. 
 
 Rana sylvatica, 23, 25, 33. 
 
 Rana virescens, 23, 24. 
 
 Rana virescens virescens, 23. 
 
 Raquette Lake, Adirondacks, 112. 
 
 Rattlesnake, Northern, 58, 66, 74, 241. 
 
 Red Rock, New Brunswick, Canada, 
 
 190. 
 
 Redstart, 93. 
 Regina leberis, 78. 
 Robin, 81. 
 Rooster's crow. 86. 
 
 Sable. American, 121. 
 Salamander, Black. 55. 
 Salamander, Ocher-colored, 54. 
 Salamander, Red, 47. 
 Salamander, Red-backed, 43. 
 Salamander, Sticky, 44. 
 Salamander, Tiger-spotted, 40. 
 Salamander, Two-striped, 45. 
 Salamander, Violet, 39. 
 Sandwich Dome, White Mountains, 
 
 188. 
 
 Sapsucker. 204. 
 
 Sciuropterus volans volans, 275. 
 Sciuropterus volucella, 275. 
 Sciurus carolinensis leucotis, 276. 
 Sciurus hudsonius, 266. 
 Sciurus hudsonicus hudsonicus, 266. 
 Setophaga ruticilla, 93. 
 Seventh Lake, Adirondacks, 149. 
 Sheldrake, Red-breasted, 104. 
 Skunk, 153, 161. 
 Skunk perfume, 173. 
 Slide Mountain, Catskills, 197. 
 Snake, Black, 73. 
 Snake, Brown, 76. 
 Snake, Bull, 73. 
 Snake, Chain, 69. 
 Snake, Copperhead, 58, 68. 
 Snake, Fox, 72. 
 
284: FAMILIAR LIFE IN FIELD AND FOREST. 
 
 Snake, Garter, 75. 
 
 Snake, Grass, 71. 
 
 Snake, Green, 59, 71. 
 
 Snake, Ground, 68. 
 
 Snake, Hognose, 79. 
 
 Snake, House, 70. 
 
 Snake, King, 70. 
 
 Snake, KirtlandX 77. 
 
 Snake, Milk, 70. 
 
 Snake, Mountain black, 72. 
 
 Snake, Pilot, 72. 
 
 Snake, Pine, 73. 
 
 Snake, Queen, 78. 
 
 Snake, Racer, 59, 73. 
 
 Snake, Rattle-, 58, 66, 74. 
 
 Snake, Red bellied, 76. 
 
 Snake, Ribbon, 74. 
 
 Snake, Ring- necked, 71. 
 
 Snake, Southern green, 72. 
 
 Snake, Spotted, 76. 
 
 Snake, Striped, 74. 
 
 Snake, Water, 59, 77. 
 
 Snake, Western garter, 74. 
 
 Snake, Worm, 69. 
 
 Snowberry, Creeping, 110, 188. 
 
 Spelerpes bilineatus, 45. 
 
 Spelerpes rubra, 47. 
 
 Squara Lake, 46. 
 
 Squirrel, Black, 277. 
 
 Squirrel, Flying, 251, 274. 
 
 Squirrel, Ground, 134. 
 
 Squirrel, Northern gray, 251, 276. 
 
 Squirrel, Red, 208, 266. 
 
 Stake-driver, 96. 
 
 Stoat, 136. 
 
 Storeria dekayi, 76. 
 
 Storeria occipitomaculata, 76. 
 
 Tamias listerii, 272. 
 Tamias neglect us, 272. 
 Tamias quadrivitatus, 272. 
 Tamias striatus, 272. 
 Taxidea americana, 154. 
 
 Thrush, Hermit, 88. 
 
 Thuja occidentalis, 232. 
 
 Toad, Common, 18. 
 
 Toad, Tree, 5, 8, 14. 
 
 Trenton, N. J., 219. 
 
 Tropidoclonium kirtlandi, 77. 
 
 Trout Lake, St. Lawrence County, 
 N. Y., 102. 
 
 Turdus aonalaschkcK pallasii, 88. 
 
 Turdus fuscescens, 91. 
 
 Turtle. 204. 
 
 Twin Mountain House, White Moun- 
 tains, 183. 
 
 Urinator imber, 101. 
 
 Urocyon cinereo-argenteus, 223. 
 
 Ursus americanus, 180. 
 
 Veery, 91. 
 
 Vulpes argentatus, 224. 
 Vulpes decussatus, 224. 
 Vulpes macrurus, 224. 
 Vulpes pennsylvanicus, 213. 
 Vulpes vulpes, 216. 
 
 Waterville, N. H., 187. 
 
 Weasel, Larger, 129, 136. 
 
 Weasel, Little brown, 128, 204. 
 
 Wenusk, 245. 
 
 White Mountains, N. H., 47, 59, 182, 
 
 190, 235. 
 
 Wintergreen, 110, 186, 233. 
 Wolf, 225. 
 Wolverene, 113. 
 Woodchuck, 204, 245. 
 Woodchuck's day, 250. 
 Woodpecker, Golden-winged, 87. 
 Wood pewee, 94. 
 
 Yellow-hammer, 87. 
 Yellowstone Park, 192. 
 
 Zoological Garden, Cincinnati, 193. 
 
 THE END. 
 
F 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 AM I LIAR FLOWERS OF FIELD AND 
 GARDEN. By F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS. Illustrated with 
 200 Drawings by the Author, and containing an elaborate Index 
 showing at a glance the botanical and popular names, family, 
 color, locality, environment, and time of bloom of several hun- 
 dred flowers. I2mo. Library Edition, cloth, $1.75 ; Pocket 
 Edition, flexible covers, $2.25. 
 
 In this convenient and useful volume the flowers which one finds in the fields are 
 identified, illustrated, and described in familiar language. Their connection with gar- 
 den flowers is made clear. Particular attention is drawn to the beautiful ones which 
 have come under cultivation, and, as the title indicates, the book furnishes a ready 
 guide to a knowledge of wild and cultivated flowers alike. 
 
 " I have examined Mr. Mathews's little book upon ' Familiar Flowers of Field and 
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 and the freshness of the text. We have lo.ig needed some botany from the hand of an 
 artist, who sees form and color without the formality of the scientist. The book deserves 
 a reputation."/,. H. Bailey, Professor of Horticulture, Cornell University. 
 
 " I am much pleased with your 'Familiar Flowers of Field and Garden.' It is a 
 useful and handsomely prepared handbook, and the elaborate index is an especially 
 valuable part of it. Taken in connection with the many careful drawings, it would 
 seem as though your little volume thoroughly covers its subject." Louis Prang. 
 
 " The author describes in a most interesting and charming manner many familiar 
 wild and cultivated plants, enlivening his remarks by crisp epigrams, and rendering 
 identification of the subjects described simple by means of some two hundred draw- 
 ings from Nature, made by his own pen. . . . The book will do much to more fully 
 acquaint the reader with those plants of field and garden treated upon with which he 
 may be but partly familiar, and go a long way toward correcting many popular 
 errors existing in the matter of colors of their flowers, a subject to which Mr. Mathews 
 has devoted much attention, and on which he is now a recognized authority in the 
 trade." New York Florists' Exchange. 
 
 "A book of much value and interest, admirably arranged for the student and the 
 lover of flowers. . . . The text is full of compact information, well selected and interest- 
 ingly presented. ... It seems to us to be a most attractive handbook of its kind." 
 New York Sun. 
 
 "A delightful book and very useful. Its language is plain and familiar, and the 
 illustrations are dainty works of art. It is just the book for those who want to be 
 familiar with the well-known flowers, those that grow in the cultivated gardens as well 
 as those that blossom in the fields." Newark Daily Advertiser. 
 
 "Seasonable and valuable. The young botanist and the lover of flowers, who have 
 only studied from Nature, will be greatly aided by this work." Pittsburg Post. 
 
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 " One need not be deeply read in floral lore to be interested in what Mr. Mathews 
 has written, and the more proficient one is therein the greater his satisfaction is likely 
 to be." New York Mail and Express. 
 
 " Mr. F. Schnyler Mathews's careful description and graceful drawings of our 
 ' Familiar Flowers of Field and Garden ' are fitted to make them familiar even to those 
 who have not before made their acquaintance." New York Evening Post. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 AM I LIAR TREES AND THEIR LEAVES. 
 
 *- By F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS, author of "Familiar Flowers of 
 Field and Garden," " The Beautiful Flower Garden," etc. Il- 
 lustrated with over 200 Drawings from Nature by the Author 
 I2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 "It is not often that we find a book which deserves such unreserved commendation 
 It is commendable for several reasons : it is a book that has been needed for a long 
 time, it is written in a popular and attractive style, it is accurately and profusely illus- 
 trated, and it is by an authority on the subject ot which it treats." Public Opinion. 
 
 " Most readers of the book will find a world of information they never dreamed of 
 about leaves that have long been familiar with them. The study will open to them 
 new sources of pleasure in every tiee around their houses, and prove interesting as well 
 as instructive." San Francisco Call. 
 
 "A revelation of the sweets and joys of natural things that we are too apt to pass 
 by with but little or no thought. The book is somewhat more than an ordinary botan- 
 ical treatise on leaves and trees. It is a heart-to heart talk with Nature, a true appre- 
 ciation of the beauty and the real usefulness of leaves and trees." Boston Courier. 
 
 "Has about it a simplicity and a directness of purpose that appeal at once to every 
 lover of Nature." New York Mail and Express. 
 
 " Mr. Mathews's book is just what is needed to open our eyes. His text is charm- 
 ing, and displays a loving and intimate acquaintance with tree life, while the drawings 
 of foliage are beautifully executed. We commend the volume as a welcome companion 
 in country walks." Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " The book is one to read, and then to keep at hand for continual reference." 
 Chicago Dial. 
 
 " The unscientific lover of Nature will find this book a source of enjoyment as well 
 as of instruction, and it will be a valuable introduction to the more scientific study of 
 the subject." Cleveland Plain Dealer. 
 
 " This book will be found most satisfactory. It is a book which is needed, written 
 by one who knows trees as he knows people." Minneapolis Journal. 
 
 " A book of large value to the student. The reader gathers a wide and valuable 
 knowledge which will awaken new interest in every tramp through the forest." Chi- 
 cag) Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " A most admirable volume in many ways. It meets a distinct and widely felt 
 want; the work is excellently done ; its appearance is very timely. . . . Written in a 
 clear and simple style, and requires no previous technical knowledge of botany to under- 
 stand it." Baltimore News. 
 
 " This very valuable book will be prized by all who love Nature." The Churchman, 
 
 "Of the many Nature books that are constantly inviting the reader to leave pave- 
 ment and wander in country bypaths, this one, with its scientific foundation, and its 
 simplicity and clearness of style, is among the most alluring." St. Paul Pioneer-Press. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 F 
 
 AM I LIAR FEATURES OF THE ROAD- 
 SIDE. By F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS, author of " Familiar 
 Flowers of Field and Garden," "Familiar Trees and their 
 Leaves," etc. With 130 Illustrations by the Author. I2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " A faithful guide-book for our roadsides. . . . Can be unhesitatingly commended 
 for summer strolls." New York Evening Post, 
 
 " One who rides, drives, or walks into the country, particularly in these days of 
 bicycling, will find this book an invaluable and incessant source of elevating amuse- 
 ment." Philadelphia Press. 
 
 " Deserves to be the guide-book par excellence of the familiar wayside. . . . His 
 book, taken as a whole, is a treasure." New York Times. 
 
 " An admirable book for Nature lovers to take with them to the country, for it 
 exqi 
 
 reveals in a delightful way many mysteries of insect and floral life, and comes as an 
 juisite refreshment and welcome instructor." Boston Times. 
 
 everyday life with which they are often unacquainted, because they have never stopped 
 to give them attention." Jersey City Evening 'Journal. 
 
 " A delightful study of Nature in her manifold forms. . . . Take this trip on the road 
 with Mr. Mathews, for he is a very entertaining lecturer, and has personal acquaint- 
 ance with buds and flowers." Minneapolis Journal. 
 
 " The book is certainly a charming one for all lowers of Nature, and can but inspire 
 a love of the waysides for any into whose hands it shall come." Boston Saturday 
 Evening Gazette. 
 
 It is such a book as will direct the attention of its readers to those features of 
 yday life with which they are often unacquainte 
 to give them attention." Jersey City Evening Jo 
 
 "A beautiful book, and as interesting and instructive as it is beautiful. . . . The 
 lessons of the book are enforced so pleasingly as to make every page fascinating." 
 Chicago Inter- Ocean. 
 
 " A book to carry through one's summer wanderings, to quicken one's appreciation 
 of common beauties."- Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " A book that ought to be in the satchel of every one who takes a vacation ; and 
 even stay-at-homes will find a new interest in their surroundings through its perusal." 
 Chicago Advance. 
 
 "A thoroughly charming book alike for the amateur naturalist and the lover of out- 
 door life." Boston Beacon. 
 
 "It is impossible to express the fascination of such a book as this." New York 
 Commercial A dvertiser. 
 
 " The book is one for people who are fond of the country. It is not merely in- 
 structive, but is suggestive and stimulating, and helps people to use their own eyes to 
 advantage." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " An introduction to a boundless world for which every lover of Nature will be 
 deeply grateful luminous, learned, appreciative. ... A valuable and delightful 
 book." New Haven Leader. 
 
 " The book is most interesting and instructive, and will be found to impart useful 
 knowledge in a most entertaining manner." Hartford Post. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 
 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 DIRD-LIFE. A Guide to the Study of our Common 
 Birds. By FRANK M. CHAPMAN, Assistant Curator of Mam- 
 malogy and Ornithology, American Museum of Natural His- 
 tory ; Author of " Handbook of Birds of Eastern North Amer- 
 ica." With 75 full-page Plates and numerous Text Drawings 
 by Ernest Seton Thompson. I2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " ' Bird-Life ' is different Irom other books. It deals with birds that are familiar, or 
 half familiar ; it interests the ignorant reader at once, and it makes the relations between 
 birds and men seem more intimate. The economic value ot birds will be better appre- 
 ciated after reading this book." Boston Herald. 
 
 " Contains more information about birds, in the same space, attractively as well as 
 concisely stated, than can be found in any other book with which we are acquainted. 
 ... A delightful, valuable, instiuctive, entertaining, beautiful book." Brooklyn 
 Sta nda rd- Unto . 
 
 " Most heartily can ' Bird-Life' be commended. It is by a practical ornithologist, 
 but it is simple and comprehensible. It is compact, pointed, clear. . . . The work is 
 perfectly reliable. . . . The author uses every line to give information. A straightfor- 
 ward and very compact guide-book to bird-land." Hartford Post. 
 
 " An intelligent consideration of the book will add to the reader's pleasure in his 
 walks in field and wood, quicken his ear, make him hear and see things which before 
 went unnoticed. . . . Gives the student an introduction to ornithology, which places 
 him on the threshold of the entrance to the innermost circles of bird-life." Boston 
 Times. 
 
 n the average household 
 
 " Mr. Chapman's book ought to be as greatly in demand i 
 as a history of one's country." Providence Journal. 
 
 " The illustrations are undoubtedly the best bird drawings ever produced in Amer- 
 ica." Recreation . 
 
 "A comprehensive book, one that is sufficient for all the ordinary needs of the 
 amateur ornithologist. It is satisfactory in every detail, and arranged with a care and 
 method that will draw praise from the highest sources. Every lover of outdoor life will 
 find this book a delightful companion and an invaluable aid." Buffalo Enquirer. 
 
 "A volume exceptionally well adapted to the requirements of people who wish to 
 study common birds in the simplest and most profitable manner possible. . . . As a 
 readily intelligible and authoritative guide this manual has qualities that will commend 
 it at once to the attention of the discerning student." Boston Beaccn. 
 
 " Such a study as every intelligent reader will desire to make, even the busiest of 
 them. . . . The author is in every way fitted for the task he has taken, and his book 
 abounds in its facts of value, and they are pleasingly and gracefully told." Chicago 
 Inter- Ocean. 
 
 "An interesting mass of data collected through years of study and observation. . . . 
 While accurate from a scientific point of view, it makes delightful reading for those who 
 will soon be among the flowers and the fields. 1 ' Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.