diff options
Diffstat (limited to '14108-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/14108-h.htm | 6292 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 48846 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 40702 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb3.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42154 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb4.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44011 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb5.jpg | bin | 0 -> 46132 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb6.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51814 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb7.jpg | bin | 0 -> 45672 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/jb8.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43482 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14108-h/images/tp.jpg | bin | 0 -> 9335 bytes |
10 files changed, 6292 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/14108-h/14108-h.htm b/14108-h/14108-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24bf2df --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/14108-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6292 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Catskills, by John Burroughs, et al</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {font-size: 100%; } + p { margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; + text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; } + hr { width: 10%; } + hr.long {width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + p.cap {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; + font-size: 90%; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + p.ar {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; } + p.note {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 90%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0;} + p.foot { margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 15%; text-align: justify; + text-indent: -1em; font-size: 85%; margin-top: 1.5em; } + p.poem {text-indent: -.5em; margin-left: 30%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .25em; } + p.poem2 {text-indent: 3em; margin-left: 30%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .25em;} + p.poem3 {text-indent: 10em; margin-left: 30%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .25em;} + p.toc {text-align: center; text-indent: 0; + font-size: 90%; margin-bottom: .25em; margin-top: .25em; } + p.itoc { text-indent: -1.5em; margin-left: 30%; font-size: 90%; + margin-bottom: .25em; margin-top: .5em; } + center { padding: .5em;} + pre {font-size: 8pt; margin-left: 15%; } + a:link {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + link {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + a:visited {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + a:hover {color: red } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14108 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, In the Catskills, by John Burroughs, et al, +Illustrated by Clifton Johnson</h1> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br><br> + +<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb1.jpg" width="346" height="450" +alt="A Distant View of Slide Mountain +The Highest of the Catskills (page 155) +"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +A DISTANT VIEW OF SLIDE MOUNTAIN <br> +The highest of the Catskills (<a href="#2H_4_0007"><small>Chapter VI</small></a>) +</p> + +<hr class="long"> + +<h1> + IN THE CATSKILLS +</h1> +<br> +<h3> +SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF +</h3> +<h2> +JOHN BURROUGHS +</h2> +<br> +<p class="note"> +WITH<br> +ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS<br> +BY CLIFTON JOHNSON +</p> +<br> + +<a name="image-0002"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" width="89" height="120" +alt="Title Page Decoration"> +</center> + +<h6> +BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY <br> +The Riverside Press Cambridge </h6> +<h5>1910</h5> + +<hr class="long"> + +<h3> CONTENTS </h3> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_INTR"> +INTRODUCTION</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0002"> +I. THE SNOW-WALKERS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0003"> +II. A WHITE DAY AND A RED FOX</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0004"> +III. PHASES OF FARM LIFE</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0005"> +IV. IN THE HEMLOCKS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0006"> +V. BIRDS'-NESTS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0007"> +VI. THE HEART OF THE SOUTHERN CATSKILLS</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0008"> +VII. SPECKLED TROUT</a> +</p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0009"> +VIII. A BED OF BOUGHS</a> +</p> +<br> + +<hr> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0001"> +A DISTANT VIEW OF SLIDE MOUNTAIN</a> <i>Frontispiece</i> + </p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0003"> + THE FOX-HUNTER AND HIS HOUND</a></p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0004"> +AT THE HEADWATERS OF THE DELAWARE</a><br> +Overlooking Mr. Burroughs's boyhood home + </p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0005"> +FINDING A BIRD'S-NEST</a> +</p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0006"> +THE WITTENBERG FROM WOODLAND VALLEY</a> +</p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0007"> +A TROUT STREAM</a> +</p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0008"> +THE BEAVERKILL</a> +</p> +<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0009"> +SOME PEOPLE OF THE CATSKILLS</a> +</p> +<br> +<hr class="long"> + + + +<a name="2H_INTR"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + INTRODUCTION +</h2> +<br> +<p> +The eight essays in this volume all deal with the home region of +their author; for not only did Mr. Burroughs begin life in the +Catskills, and dwell among them until early manhood, but, as he +himself declares, he has never taken root anywhere else. Their +delectable heights and valleys have engaged his deepest affections +as far as locality is concerned, and however widely he journeys and +whatever charms he discovers in nature elsewhere, still the +loveliness of those pastoral boyhood uplands is unsurpassed. +</p> +<p> +The ancestral farm is in Roxbury among the western Catskills, where +the mountains are comparatively gentle in type and always graceful +in contour. Cultivated fields and sunny pastures cling to their +mighty slopes far up toward the summits, there are patches of +woodland including frequent groves of sugar maples, and there are +apple orchards and winding roadways, and endless lines of rude stone +fences, and scattered dwellings. In every hollow runs a clear trout +brook, with its pools and swift shallows and silvery falls. Birds +and other wild creatures abound; for the stony earth and the ledges +that crop out along the hillsides, the thickets and forest patches, +the sheltered glens and windy heights offer great variety in +domicile to animal life. The creatures of the outdoor world are much +in evidence, and at no time do their numbers impress one more than +when in winter one sees the hand-writing of their tracks on the +snow. +</p> +<p> +The work on the farm and the workers are genuinely rustic, but not +nearly so primitive as in the times that Mr. Burroughs most enjoys +recalling. Oxen are of the past, the mowing-machine goes over the +fields where formerly he labored with his scythe, stacks at which +the cattle pull in the winter time are a rarity, and the gray old +barns have given place to modern red ones. It is a dairy country, +and on every farm is found a large herd of cows; but the milk goes +to the creameries. The women, however, still share in the milking, +and there is much of unaffected simplicity in the ways of the +household. On days when work is not pushing, the men are likely to +go hunting or fishing, and they are always alert to observe chances +to take advantage of those little gratuities which nature in the +remoter rural regions is constantly offering, both in the matter of +game and in that of herbs and roots, berries and nuts. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Burroughs's old home has continued in the family, and the house +and its surroundings have in many ways continued essentially +unaltered ever since he can remember. What is most important—the +wide-reaching view down the vales and across to the ridges that +rise height on height until they blend with the sky in the ethereal +distance, is just what it always has been. +</p> +<p> +That the Catskills have proved an inspiration to Mr. Burroughs +cannot be doubted. Possibly we should never have had him as a nature +writer at all, had he spent his impressible youthful years in a less +favored locality. It is, however, a curious fact that the town which +produced this lover of nature also produced one other man of +national fame, who was as different from him as could well be +imagined. I refer to Jay Gould. He was born in the same town and in +the same part of the town, went to the same school, saw the same +scenes, was a farm boy like Burroughs, and had practically the same +experiences. Indeed, the two were a good deal together. But how +different their later lives! It seems easy to grant that environment +helped make the one; but what effect, if any, did that beautiful +Catskill country have on the other? +</p> +<p> +There are two seasons of the year when Mr. Burroughs is particularly +fond of getting back to his old home. The first is in sap-time, when +maple sugar is being made in the little shack on the borders of the +rock-maple grove. The second is in midsummer, when haying is in +progress. Both occasions have exceptional power for arousing +pleasant memories of the past, though such memories have also their +touch of sadness. In his early years he helped materially in the +farm work while on these visits; but latterly he gives his time to +rambling and contemplation. He once said to me, in speaking of a +neighbor: "That man hasn't a lazy bone in his body. But I have lots +of 'em—lots of 'em." +</p> +<p> +This affirmation is not to be interpreted too literally. He has made +a business success in raising small fruits, and his literary output +has been by no means meagre. I might also mention that in youth he +was something of a champion at swinging the scythe, and few could +mow as much in the course of a day. But certainly labor is no fetich +of his, and he has a real genius for loafing. In another man his +leisurely rambling with its pauses to rest on rock or grassy bank or +fallen tree, his mind meanwhile absolutely free from the feeling +that he ought to be up and doing, might be shiftlessness. But how +else could he have acquired his delightful intimacy with the woods +and fields and streams, and with wild life in all its moods? Surely +most of our hustling, untiring workers would be better off if they +had some of this same ability to cast aside care and responsibility +and get back to Nature—the good mother of us all. +</p> +<p class="ar"> +C<small>LIFTON</small> J<small>OHNSON</small>. +</p> +<p> +<i>Hadley, Mass.</i>, 1910. +</p> +<p> +<small>NOTE</small>.—The pictures in this volume were all made in the Catskills +and are the results of several trips to the regions described in the +essays. +</p> +<br> +<hr class="long"> +<br> + +<h2> + IN THE CATSKILLS +</h2> + +<a name="2H_4_0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> +I +</h2> +<h3> +THE SNOW-WALKERS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal +cause for wonder and admiration in winter. It is true the pomp and +the pageantry are swept away, but the essential elements +remain,—the day and the night, the mountain and the valley, the +elemental play and succession and the perpetual presence of the +infinite sky. In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their +fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a +look of a more exalted simplicity. Summer is more wooing and +seductive, more versatile and human, appeals to the affections and +the sentiments, and fosters inquiry and the art impulse. Winter is +of a more heroic cast, and addresses the intellect. The severe +studies and disciplines come easier in winter. One imposes larger +tasks upon himself, and is less tolerant of his own weaknesses. +</p> +<p> +The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in +winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the +bone and sinew to Literature, summer the tissues and blood. +</p> +<p> +The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of nature, +after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple +and austere, is not lost either upon the head or the heart. It is +the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup +of water and a crust of bread. +</p> +<p> +And then this beautiful masquerade of the elements,—the novel +disguises our nearest friends put on! Here is another rain and +another dew, water that will not flow, nor spill, nor receive the +taint of an unclean vessel. And if we see truly, the same old +beneficence and willingness to serve lurk beneath all. +</p> +<p> +Look up at the miracle of the falling snow,—the air a dizzy maze of +whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world, the +exquisite crystals dropping in ditch and gutter, and disguising in +the same suit of spotless livery all objects upon which they fall. +How novel and fine the first drifts! The old, dilapidated fence is +suddenly set off with the most fantastic ruffles, scalloped and +fluted after an unheard-of fashion! Looking down a long line of +decrepit stone wall, in the trimming of which the wind had fairly +run riot, I saw, as for the first time, what a severe yet master +artist old Winter is. Ah, a severe artist! How stern the woods look, +dark and cold and as rigid against the horizon as iron! +</p> +<p> +All life and action upon the snow have an added emphasis and +significance. Every expression is underscored. Summer has few finer +pictures than this winter one of the farmer foddering his cattle +from a stack upon the clean snow,—the movement, the sharply defined +figures, the great green flakes of hay, the long file of patient +cows, the advance just arriving and pressing eagerly for the +choicest morsels, and the bounty and providence it suggests. Or the +chopper in the woods,—the prostrate tree, the white new chips +scattered about, his easy triumph over the cold, his coat hanging to +a limb, and the clear, sharp ring of his axe. The woods are rigid +and tense, keyed up by the frost, and resound like a stringed +instrument. Or the road-breakers, sallying forth with oxen and sleds +in the still, white world, the day after the storm, to restore the +lost track and demolish the beleaguering drifts. +</p> +<p> +All sounds are sharper in winter; the air transmits better. At night +I hear more distinctly the steady roar of the North Mountain. In +summer it is a sort of complacent purr, as the breezes stroke down +its sides; but in winter always the same low, sullen growl. +</p> +<p> +A severe artist! No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the +marble and the chisel. When the nights are calm and the moon full, I +go out to gaze upon the wonderful purity of the moonlight and the +snow. The air is full of latent fire, and the cold warms me—after a +different fashion from that of the kitchen stove. The world lies +about me in a "trance of snow." The clouds are pearly and +iridescent, and seem the farthest possible remove from the +condition of a storm,—the ghosts of clouds, the indwelling beauty +freed from all dross. I see the hills, bulging with great drifts, +lift themselves up cold and white against the sky, the black lines +of fences here and there obliterated by the depth of the snow. +Presently a fox barks away up next the mountain, and I imagine I can +almost see him sitting there, in his furs, upon the illuminated +surface, and looking down in my direction. As I listen, one answers +him from behind the woods in the valley. What a wild winter sound, +wild and weird, up among the ghostly hills! Since the wolf has +ceased to howl upon these mountains, and the panther to scream, +there is nothing to be compared with it. So wild! I get up in the +middle of the night to hear it. It is refreshing to the ear, and one +delights to know that such wild creatures are among us. At this +season Nature makes the most of every throb of life that can +withstand her severity. How heartily she indorses this fox! In what +bold relief stand out the lives of all walkers of the snow! The snow +is a great tell-tale, and blabs as effectually as it obliterates. I +go into the woods, and know all that has happened. I cross the +fields, and if only a mouse has visited his neighbor, the fact is +chronicled. +</p> +<p> +The red fox is the only species that abounds in my locality; the +little gray fox seems to prefer a more rocky and precipitous +country, and a less rigorous climate; the cross fox is occasionally +seen, and there are traditions of the silver gray among the oldest +hunters. But the red fox is the sportsman's prize, and the only +fur-bearer worthy of note in these mountains.<a href="#note-1" name="noteref-1"><small>[1]</small></a> I go out in the +morning, after a fresh fall of snow, and see at all points where he +has crossed the road. Here he has leisurely passed within +rifle-range of the house, evidently reconnoitring the premises with +an eye to the hen-roost. That clear, sharp track,—there is no +mistaking it for the clumsy footprint of a little dog. All his +wildness and agility are photographed in it. Here he has taken +fright, or suddenly recollected an engagement, and in long, graceful +leaps, barely touching the fence, has gone careering up the hill as +fleet as the wind. +</p> +<p> +The wild, buoyant creature, how beautiful he is! I had often seen +his dead carcass, and at a distance had witnessed the hounds drive +him across the upper fields; but the thrill and excitement of +meeting him in his wild freedom in the woods were unknown to me +till, one cold winter day, drawn thither by the baying of a hound, I +stood near the summit of the mountain, waiting a renewal of the +sound, that I might determine the course of the dog and choose my +position,—stimulated by the ambition of all young Nimrods to bag +some notable game. Long I waited, and patiently, till, chilled and +benumbed, I was about to turn back, when, hearing a slight noise, I +looked up and beheld a most superb fox, loping along with inimitable +grace and ease, evidently disturbed, but not pursued by the hound, +and so absorbed in his private meditations that he failed to see me, +though I stood transfixed with amazement and admiration, not ten +yards distant. I took his measure at a glance,—a large male, with +dark legs, and massive tail tipped with white,—a most magnificent +creature; but so astonished and fascinated was I by this sudden +appearance and matchless beauty, that not till I had caught the last +glimpse of him, as he disappeared over a knoll, did I awake to my +duty as a sportsman, and realize what an opportunity to distinguish +myself I had unconsciously let slip. I clutched my gun, half +angrily, as if it was to blame, and went home out of humor with +myself and all fox-kind. But I have since thought better of the +experience, and concluded that I bagged the game after all, the best +part of it, and fleeced Reynard of something more valuable than his +fur, without his knowledge. +</p> +<p> +This is thoroughly a winter sound,—this voice of the hound upon the +mountain,—and one that is music to many ears. The long trumpet-like +bay, heard for a mile or more,—now faintly back in the deep +recesses of the mountain,—now distinct, but still faint, as the +hound comes over some prominent point and the wind favors,—anon +entirely lost in the gully,—then breaking out again much nearer, +and growing more and more pronounced as the dog approaches, till, +when he comes around the brow of the mountain, directly above you, +the barking is loud and sharp. On he goes along the northern spur, +his voice rising and sinking as the wind and the lay of the ground +modify it, till lost to hearing. +</p> +<p> +The fox usually keeps half a mile ahead, regulating his speed by +that of the hound, occasionally pausing a moment to divert himself +with a mouse, or to contemplate the landscape, or to listen for his +pursuer. If the hound press him too closely, he leads off from +mountain to mountain, and so generally escapes the hunter; but if +the pursuit be slow, he plays about some ridge or peak, and falls a +prey, though not an easy one, to the experienced sportsman. +</p> +<p> +A most spirited and exciting chase occurs when the farm-dog gets +close upon one in the open field, as sometimes happens in the early +morning. The fox relies so confidently upon his superior speed, that +I imagine he half tempts the dog to the race. But if the dog be a +smart one, and their course lies down-hill, over smooth ground, +Reynard must put his best foot forward, and then sometimes suffer +the ignominy of being run over by his pursuer, who, however, is +quite unable to pick him up, owing to the speed. But when they +mount the hill, or enter the woods, the superior nimbleness and +agility of the fox tell at once, and he easily leaves the dog far in +his rear. For a cur less than his own size he manifests little fear, +especially if the two meet alone, remote from the house. In such +cases, I have seen first one turn tail, then the other. +</p> +<p> +A novel spectacle often occurs in summer, when the female has young. +You are rambling on the mountain, accompanied by your dog, when you +are startled by that wild, half-threatening squall, and in a moment +perceive your dog, with inverted tail, and shame and confusion in +his looks, sneaking toward you, the old fox but a few rods in his +rear. You speak to him sharply, when he bristles up, turns about, +and, barking, starts off vigorously, as if to wipe out the dishonor; +but in a moment comes sneaking back more abashed than ever, and owns +himself unworthy to be called a dog. The fox fairly shames him out +of the woods. The secret of the matter is her sex, though her +conduct, for the honor of the fox be it said, seems to be prompted +only by solicitude for the safety of her young. +</p> +<p> +One of the most notable features of the fox is his large and massive +tail. Seen running on the snow at a distance, his tail is quite as +conspicuous as his body; and, so far from appearing a burden, seems +to contribute to his lightness and buoyancy. It softens the outline +of his movements, and repeats or continues to the eye the ease and +poise of his carriage. But, pursued by the hound on a wet, thawy +day, it often becomes so heavy and bedraggled as to prove a serious +inconvenience, and compels him to take refuge in his den. He is very +loath to do this; both his pride and the traditions of his race +stimulate him to run it out, and win by fair superiority of wind and +speed; and only a wound or a heavy and moppish tail will drive him +to avoid the issue in this manner. +</p> +<p> +To learn his surpassing shrewdness and cunning, attempt to take him +with a trap. Rogue that he is, he always suspects some trick, and +one must be more of a fox than he is himself to overreach him. At +first sight it would appear easy enough. With apparent indifference +he crosses your path, or walks in your footsteps in the field, or +travels along the beaten highway, or lingers in the vicinity of +stacks and remote barns. Carry the carcass of a pig, or a fowl, or a +dog, to a distant field in midwinter, and in a few nights his tracks +cover the snow about it. +</p> +<p> +The inexperienced country youth, misled by this seeming carelessness +of Reynard, suddenly conceives a project to enrich himself with fur, +and wonders that the idea has not occurred to him before, and to +others. I knew a youthful yeoman of this kind, who imagined he had +found a mine of wealth on discovering on a remote side-hill, between +two woods, a dead porker, upon which it appeared all the foxes of +the neighborhood had nightly banqueted. The clouds were burdened +with snow; and as the first flakes commenced to eddy down, he set +out, trap and broom in hand, already counting over in imagination +the silver quarters he would receive for his first fox-skin. With +the utmost care, and with a palpitating heart, he removed enough of +the trodden snow to allow the trap to sink below the surface. Then, +carefully sifting the light element over it and sweeping his tracks +full, he quickly withdrew, laughing exultingly over the little +surprise he had prepared for the cunning rogue. The elements +conspired to aid him, and the falling snow rapidly obliterated all +vestiges of his work. The next morning at dawn he was on his way to +bring in his fur. The snow had done its work effectually, and, he +believed, had kept his secret well. Arrived in sight of the +locality, he strained his vision to make out his prize lodged +against the fence at the foot of the hill. Approaching nearer, the +surface was unbroken, and doubt usurped the place of certainty in +his mind. A slight mound marked the site of the porker, but there +was no footprint near it. Looking up the hill, he saw where Reynard +had walked leisurely down toward his wonted bacon till within a few +yards of it, when he had wheeled, and with prodigious strides +disappeared in the woods. The young trapper saw at a glance what a +comment this was upon his skill in the art, and, indignantly +exhuming the iron, he walked home with it, the stream of silver +quarters suddenly setting in another direction. +</p> +<p> +The successful trapper commences in the fall, or before the first +deep snow. In a field not too remote, with an old axe he cuts a +small place, say ten inches by fourteen, in the frozen ground, and +removes the earth to the depth of three or four inches, then fills +the cavity with dry ashes, in which are placed bits of roasted +cheese. Reynard is very suspicious at first, and gives the place a +wide berth. It looks like design, and he will see how the thing +behaves before he approaches too near. But the cheese is savory and +the cold severe. He ventures a little closer every night, until he +can reach and pick a piece from the surface. Emboldened by success, +like other mortals, he presently digs freely among the ashes, and, +finding a fresh supply of the delectable morsels every night, is +soon thrown off his guard and his suspicions quite lulled. After a +week of baiting in this manner, and on the eve of a light fall of +snow, the trapper carefully conceals his trap in the bed, first +smoking it thoroughly with hemlock boughs to kill or neutralize the +smell of the iron. If the weather favors and the proper precautions +have been taken, he may succeed, though the chances are still +greatly against him. +</p> +<p> +Reynard is usually caught very lightly, seldom more than the ends +of his toes being between the jaws. He sometimes works so cautiously +as to spring the trap without injury even to his toes, or may remove +the cheese night after night without even springing it. I knew an +old trapper who, on finding himself outwitted in this manner, tied a +bit of cheese to the pan, and next morning had poor Reynard by the +jaw. The trap is not fastened, but only encumbered with a clog, and +is all the more sure in its hold by yielding to every effort of the +animal to extricate himself. +</p> +<p> +When Reynard sees his captor approaching, he would fain drop into a +mouse-hole to render himself invisible. He crouches to the ground +and remains perfectly motionless until he perceives himself +discovered, when he makes one desperate and final effort to escape, +but ceases all struggling as you come up, and behaves in a manner +that stamps him a very timid warrior,—cowering to the earth with a +mingled look of shame, guilt, and abject fear. A young farmer told +me of tracing one with his trap to the border of a wood, where he +discovered the cunning rogue trying to hide by embracing a small +tree. Most animals, when taken in a trap, show fight; but Reynard +has more faith in the nimbleness of his feet than in the terror of +his teeth. +</p> +<p> +Entering the woods, the number and variety of the tracks contrast +strongly with the rigid, frozen aspect of things. Warm jets of life +still shoot and play amid this snowy desolation. Fox-tracks are far +less numerous than in the fields; but those of hares, skunks, +partridges, squirrels, and mice abound. The mice tracks are very +pretty, and look like a sort of fantastic stitching on the coverlid +of the snow. One is curious to know what brings these tiny creatures +from their retreats; they do not seem to be in quest of food, but +rather to be traveling about for pleasure or sociability, though +always going post-haste, and linking stump with stump and tree with +tree by fine, hurried strides. That is when they travel openly; but +they have hidden passages and winding galleries under the snow, +which undoubtedly are their main avenues of communication. Here and +there these passages rise so near the surface as to be covered by +only a frail arch of snow, and a slight ridge betrays their course +to the eye. I know him well. He is known to the farmer as the "deer +mouse," to the naturalist as the white-footed mouse,—a very +beautiful creature, nocturnal in his habits, with large ears, and +large, fine eyes, full of a wild, harmless look. He is daintily +marked, with white feet and a white belly. When disturbed by day he +is very easily captured, having none of the cunning or viciousness +of the common Old World mouse. +</p> +<p> +It is he who, high in the hollow trunk of some tree, lays by a store +of beechnuts for winter use. Every nut is carefully shelled, and the +cavity that serves as storehouse lined with grass and leaves. The +wood-chopper frequently squanders this precious store. I have seen +half a peck taken from one tree, as clean and white as if put up by +the most delicate hands,—as they were. How long it must have taken +the little creature to collect this quantity, to hull them one by +one, and convey them up to his fifth-story chamber! He is not +confined to the woods, but is quite as common in the fields, +particularly in the fall, amid the corn and potatoes. When routed by +the plow, I have seen the old one take flight with half a dozen +young hanging to her teats, and with such reckless speed that some +of the young would lose their hold and fly off amid the weeds. +Taking refuge in a stump with the rest of her family, the anxious +mother would presently come back and hunt up the missing ones. +</p> +<p> +The snow-walkers are mostly night-walkers also, and the record they +leave upon the snow is the main clew one has to their life and +doings. The hare is nocturnal in its habits, and though a very +lively creature at night, with regular courses and run-ways through +the wood, is entirely quiet by day. Timid as he is, he makes little +effort to conceal himself, usually squatting beside a log, stump, or +tree, and seeming to avoid rocks and ledges where he might be +partially housed from the cold and the snow, but where also—and +this consideration undoubtedly determines his choice—he would be +more apt to fall a prey to his enemies. In this, as well as in many +other respects, he differs from the rabbit proper: he never burrows +in the ground, or takes refuge in a den or hole, when pursued. If +caught in the open fields, he is much confused and easily overtaken +by the dog; but in the woods, he leaves him at a bound. In summer, +when first disturbed, he beats the ground violently with his feet, +by which means he would express to you his surprise or displeasure; +it is a dumb way he has of scolding. After leaping a few yards, he +pauses an instant, as if to determine the degree of danger, and then +hurries away with a much lighter tread. +</p> +<p> +His feet are like great pads, and his track has little of the +sharp, articulated expression of Reynard's, or of animals that +climb or dig. Yet it is very pretty like all the rest, and tells +its own tale. There is nothing bold or vicious or vulpine in it, +and his timid, harmless character is published at every leap. He +abounds in dense woods, preferring localities filled with a small +undergrowth of beech and birch, upon the bark of which he feeds. +Nature is rather partial to him, and matches his extreme local +habits and character with a suit that corresponds with his +surroundings,—reddish gray in summer and white in winter. +</p> +<p> +The sharp-rayed track of the partridge adds another figure to this +fantastic embroidery upon the winter snow. Her course is a clear, +strong line, sometimes quite wayward, but generally very direct, +steering for the densest, most impenetrable places,—leading you +over logs and through brush, alert and expectant, till, suddenly, +she bursts up a few yards from you, and goes humming through the +trees,—the complete triumph of endurance and vigor. Hardy native +bird, may your tracks never be fewer, or your visits to the +birch-tree less frequent! +</p> +<p> +The squirrel tracks—sharp, nervous, and wiry—have their histories +also. But how rarely we see squirrels in winter! The naturalists say +they are mostly torpid; yet evidently that little pocket-faced +depredator, the chipmunk, was not carrying buckwheat for so many +days to his hole for nothing: was he anticipating a state of +torpidity, or providing against the demands of a very active +appetite? Red and gray squirrels are more or less active all winter, +though very shy, and, I am inclined to think, partially nocturnal in +their habits. Here a gray one has just passed,—came down that tree +and went up this; there he dug for a beechnut, and left the burr on +the snow. How did he know where to dig? During an unusually severe +winter I have known him to make long journeys to a barn, in a remote +field, where wheat was stored. How did he know there was wheat +there? In attempting to return, the adventurous creature was +frequently run down and caught in the deep snow. +</p> +<p> +His home is in the trunk of some old birch or maple, with an +entrance far up amid the branches. In the spring he builds himself a +summer-house of small leafy twigs in the top of a neighboring beech, +where the young are reared and much of the time is passed. But the +safer retreat in the maple is not abandoned, and both old and young +resort thither in the fall, or when danger threatens. Whether this +temporary residence amid the branches is for elegance or pleasure, +or for sanitary reasons or domestic convenience, the naturalist has +forgotten to mention. +</p> +<p> +The elegant creature, so cleanly in its habits, so graceful in its +carriage, so nimble and daring in its movements, excites feelings of +admiration akin to those awakened by the birds and the fairer forms +of nature. His passage through the trees is almost a flight. Indeed, +the flying squirrel has little or no advantage over him, and in +speed and nimbleness cannot compare with him at all. If he miss his +footing and fall, he is sure to catch on the next branch; if the +connection be broken, he leaps recklessly for the nearest spray or +limb, and secures his hold, even if it be by the aid of his teeth. +</p> +<p> +His career of frolic and festivity begins in the fall, after the +birds have left us and the holiday spirit of nature has commenced to +subside. How absorbing the pastime of the sportsman who goes to the +woods in the still October morning in quest of him! You step +lightly across the threshold of the forest, and sit down upon the +first log or rock to await the signals. It is so still that the ear +suddenly seems to have acquired new powers, and there is no movement +to confuse the eye. Presently you hear the rustling of a branch, and +see it sway or spring as the squirrel leaps from or to it; or else +you hear a disturbance in the dry leaves, and mark one running upon +the ground. He has probably seen the intruder, and, not liking his +stealthy movements, desires to avoid a nearer acquaintance. Now he +mounts a stump to see if the way is clear, then pauses a moment at +the foot of a tree to take his bearings, his tail, as he skims +along, undulating behind him, and adding to the easy grace and +dignity of his movements. Or else you are first advised of his +proximity by the dropping of a false nut, or the fragments of the +shucks rattling upon the leaves. Or, again, after contemplating you +awhile unobserved, and making up his mind that you are not +dangerous, he strikes an attitude on a branch, and commences to +quack and bark, with an accompanying movement of his tail. Late in +the afternoon, when the same stillness reigns, the same scenes are +repeated. There is a black variety, quite rare, but mating freely +with the gray, from which he seems to be distinguished only in +color. +</p> +<p> +The track of the red squirrel may be known by its smaller size. He +is more common and less dignified than the gray, and oftener guilty +of petty larceny about the barns and grain-fields. He is most +abundant in old barkpeelings, and low, dilapidated hemlocks, from +which he makes excursions to the fields and orchards, spinning along +the tops of the fences, which afford not only convenient lines of +communication, but a safe retreat if danger threatens. He loves to +linger about the orchard; and, sitting upright on the topmost stone +in the wall, or on the tallest stake in the fence, chipping up an +apple for the seeds, his tail conforming to the curve of his back, +his paws shifting and turning the apple, he is a pretty sight, and +his bright, pert appearance atones for all the mischief he does. At +home, in the woods, he is the most frolicsome and loquacious. The +appearance of anything unusual, if, after contemplating it a moment, +he concludes it not dangerous, excites his unbounded mirth and +ridicule, and he snickers and chatters, hardly able to contain +himself; now darting up the trunk of a tree and squealing in +derision, then hopping into position on a limb and dancing to the +music of his own cackle, and all for your special benefit. +</p> +<p> +There is something very human in this apparent mirth and mockery of +the squirrels. It seems to be a sort of ironical laughter, and +implies self-conscious pride and exultation in the laugher. "What a +ridiculous thing you are, to be sure!" he seems to say; "how clumsy +and awkward, and what a poor show for a tail! Look at me, look at +me!"—and he capers about in his best style. Again, he would seem to +tease you and provoke your attention; then suddenly assumes a tone +of good-natured, childlike defiance and derision. That pretty little +imp, the chipmunk, will sit on the stone above his den and defy you, +as plainly as if he said so, to catch him before he can get into his +hole if you can. You hurl a stone at him, and "No you didn't!" comes +up from the depth of his retreat. +</p> +<p> +In February another track appears upon the snow, slender and +delicate, about a third larger than that of the gray squirrel, +indicating no haste or speed, but, on the contrary, denoting the +most imperturbable ease and leisure, the footprints so close +together that the trail appears like a chain of curiously carved +links. Sir <i>Mephitis mephitica</i>, or, in plain English, the skunk, +has awakened from his six weeks' nap, and come out into society +again. He is a nocturnal traveler, very bold and impudent, coming +quite up to the barn and outbuildings, and sometimes taking up his +quarters for the season under the haymow. There is no such word as +hurry in his dictionary, as you may see by his path upon the snow. +He has a very sneaking, insinuating way, and goes creeping about the +fields and woods, never once in a perceptible degree altering his +gait, and, if a fence crosses his course, steers for a break or +opening to avoid climbing. He is too indolent even to dig his own +hole, but appropriates that of a woodchuck, or hunts out a crevice +in the rocks, from which he extends his rambling in all directions, +preferring damp, thawy weather. He has very little discretion or +cunning, and holds a trap in utter contempt, stepping into it as +soon as beside it, relying implicitly for defense against all forms +of danger upon the unsavory punishment he is capable of inflicting. +He is quite indifferent to both man and beast, and will not hurry +himself to get out of the way of either. Walking through the summer +fields at twilight, I have come near stepping upon him, and was much +the more disturbed of the two. When attacked in the open field he +confounds the plans of his enemies by the unheard-of tactics of +exposing his rear rather than his front. "Come if you dare," he +says, and his attitude makes even the farm-dog pause. After a few +encounters of this kind, and if you entertain the usual hostility +towards him, your mode of attack will speedily resolve itself into +moving about him in a circle, the radius of which will be the exact +distance at which you can hurl a stone with accuracy and effect. +</p> +<p> +He has a secret to keep and knows it, and is careful not to betray +himself until he can do so with the most telling effect. I have +known him to preserve his serenity even when caught in a steel trap, +and look the very picture of injured innocence, manœuvring +carefully and deliberately to extricate his foot from the grasp of +the naughty jaws. Do not by any means take pity on him, and lend a +helping hand! +</p> +<p> +How pretty his face and head! How fine and delicate his teeth, like +a weasel's or a cat's! When about a third grown, he looks so well +that one covets him for a pet. He is quite precocious, however and +capable, even at this tender age, of making a very strong appeal to +your sense of smell. +</p> +<p> +No animal is more cleanly in his habits than he. He is not an +awkward boy who cuts his own face with his whip; and neither his +flesh nor his fur hints the weapon with which he is armed. The most +silent creature known to me, he makes no sound, so far as I have +observed, save a diffuse, impatient noise, like that produced by +beating your hand with a whisk-broom, when the farm-dog has +discovered his retreat in the stone fence. He renders himself +obnoxious to the farmer by his partiality for hens' eggs and young +poultry. He is a confirmed epicure, and at plundering hen-roosts an +expert. Not the full-grown fowls are his victims, but the youngest +and most tender. At night Mother Hen receives under her maternal +wings a dozen newly hatched chickens, and with much pride and +satisfaction feels them all safely tucked away in her feathers. In +the morning she is walking about disconsolately, attended by only +two or three of all that pretty brood. What has happened? Where are +they gone? That pickpocket, Sir Mephitis, could solve the mystery. +Quietly has he approached, under cover of darkness, and one by one +relieved her of her precious charge. Look closely and you will see +their little yellow legs and beaks, or part of a mangled form, lying +about on the ground. Or, before the hen has hatched, he may find her +out, and, by the same sleight of hand, remove every egg, leaving +only the empty blood-stained shells to witness against him. The +birds, especially the ground-builders, suffer in like manner from +his plundering propensities. +</p> +<p> +The secretion upon which he relies for defense, and which is the +chief source of his unpopularity, while it affords good reasons +against cultivating him as a pet, and mars his attractiveness as +game, is by no means the greatest indignity that can be offered to a +nose. It is a rank, living smell, and has none of the sickening +qualities of disease or putrefaction. Indeed, I think a good smeller +will enjoy its most refined intensity. It approaches the sublime, +and makes the nose tingle. It is tonic and bracing, and, I can +readily believe, has rare medicinal qualities. I do not recommend +its use as eyewater, though an old farmer assures me it has +undoubted virtues when thus applied. Hearing, one night, a +disturbance among his hens, he rushed suddenly out to catch the +thief, when Sir Mephitis, taken by surprise, and no doubt much +annoyed at being interrupted, discharged the vials of his wrath full +in the farmer's face, and with such admirable effect that, for a few +moments, he was completely blinded, and powerless to revenge himself +upon the rogue, who embraced the opportunity to make good his +escape; but he declared that afterwards his eyes felt as if purged +by fire, and his sight was much clearer. +</p> +<p> +In March that brief summary of a bear, the raccoon, comes out of his +den in the ledges, and leaves his sharp digitigrade track upon the +snow,—traveling not unfrequently in pairs,—a lean, hungry couple, +bent on pillage and plunder. They have an unenviable time of +it,—feasting in the summer and fall, hibernating in winter, and +starving in spring. In April I have found the young of the previous +year creeping about the fields, so reduced by starvation as to be +quite helpless, and offering no resistance to my taking them up by +the tail and carrying them home. +</p> +<p> +The old ones also become very much emaciated, and come boldly up to +the barn or other outbuildings in quest of food. I remember, one +morning in early spring, of hearing old Cuff, the farm-dog, barking +vociferously before it was yet light. When we got up we discovered +him, at the foot of an ash-tree standing about thirty rods from the +house, looking up at some gray object in the leafless branches, and +by his manners and his voice evincing great impatience that we were +so tardy in coming to his assistance. Arrived on the spot, we saw in +the tree a coon of unusual size. One bold climber proposed to go up +and shake him down. This was what old Cuff wanted, and he fairly +bounded with delight as he saw his young master shinning up the +tree. Approaching within eight or ten feet of the coon, he seized +the branch to which it clung and shook long and fiercely. But the +coon was in no danger of losing its hold, and, when the climber +paused to renew his hold, it turned toward him with a growl, and +showed very clearly a purpose to advance to the attack. This caused +his pursuer to descend to the ground with all speed. When the coon +was finally brought down with a gun, he fought the dog, which was a +large, powerful animal, with great fury, returning bite for bite for +some moments; and after a quarter of an hour had elapsed and his +unequal antagonist had shaken him as a terrier does a rat, making +his teeth meet through the small of his back, the coon still showed +fight. +</p> +<p> +They are very tenacious of life, and like the badger will always +whip a dog of their own size and weight. A woodchuck can bite +severely, having teeth that cut like chisels, but a coon has agility +and power of limb as well. +</p> +<p> +They are considered game only in the fall, or towards the close of +summer, when they become fat and their flesh sweet. At this time, +cooning in the remote interior is a famous pastime. As this animal +is entirely nocturnal in its habits, it is hunted only at night. A +piece of corn on some remote side-hill near the mountain, or between +two pieces of woods, is most apt to be frequented by them. While the +corn is yet green they pull the ears down like hogs, and, tearing +open the sheathing of husks, eat the tender, succulent kernels, +bruising and destroying much more than they devour. Sometimes their +ravages are a matter of serious concern to the farmer. But every +such neighborhood has its coon-dog, and the boys and young men +dearly love the sport. The party sets out about eight or nine +o'clock of a dark, moonless night, and stealthily approaches the +cornfield. The dog knows his business, and when he is put into a +patch of corn and told to "hunt them up" he makes a thorough search, +and will not be misled by any other scent. You hear him rattling +through the corn, hither and yon, with great speed. The coons prick +up their ears, and leave on the opposite side of the field. In the +stillness you may sometimes hear a single stone rattle on the wall +as they hurry toward the woods. If the dog finds nothing, he comes +back to his master in a short time, and says in his dumb way, "No +coon there." But if he strikes a trail, you presently hear a louder +rattling on the stone wall, and then a hurried bark as he enters the +woods, followed in a few minutes by loud and repeated barking as he +reaches the foot of the tree in which the coon has taken refuge. +Then follows a pellmell rush of the cooning party up the hill, into +the woods, through the brush and the darkness, falling over +prostrate trees, pitching into gullies and hollows, losing hats and +tearing clothes, till finally, guided by the baying of the faithful +dog, the tree is reached. The first thing now in order is to kindle +a fire, and, if its light reveals the coon, to shoot him; if not, to +fell the tree with an axe. If this happens to be too great a +sacrifice of timber and of strength, to sit down at the foot of the +tree till morning. +</p> +<p> +But with March our interest in these phases of animal life, which +winter has so emphasized and brought out, begins to decline. Vague +rumors are afloat in the air of a great and coming change. We are +eager for Winter to be gone, since he, too, is fugitive and cannot +keep his place. Invisible hands deface his icy statuary; his chisel +has lost its cunning. The drifts, so pure and exquisite, are now +earth-stained and weather-worn,—the flutes and scallops, and fine, +firm lines, all gone; and what was a grace and an ornament to the +hills is now a disfiguration. Like worn and unwashed linen appear +the remains of that spotless robe with which he clothed the world as +his bride. +</p> +<p> +But he will not abdicate without a struggle. Day after day he +rallies his scattered forces, and night after night pitches his +white tents on the hills, and would fain regain his lost ground; +but the young prince in every encounter prevails. Slowly and +reluctantly the gray old hero retreats up the mountain, till finally +the south rain comes in earnest, and in a night he is dead. +</p> +<a name="note-1"><!--Note--></a> +<p class="foot"> + <a href="#noteref-1"><sup>1</sup></a> A spur of the Catskills. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + II +</h2> +<h3> + A WHITE DAY AND A RED FOX +</h3> +<br> +<p> +The day was indeed white, as white as three feet of snow and a +cloudless St. Valentine's sun could make it. The eye could not look +forth without blinking, or veiling itself with tears. The patch of +plowed ground on the top of the hill, where the wind had blown the +snow away, was as welcome to it as water to a parched tongue. It was +the one refreshing oasis in this desert of dazzling light. I sat +down upon it to let the eye bathe and revel in it. It took away the +smart like a poultice. For so gentle and on the whole so beneficent +an element, the snow asserts itself very proudly. It takes the world +quickly and entirely to itself. It makes no concessions or +compromises, but rules despotically. It baffles and bewilders the +eye, and it returns the sun glare for glare. Its coming in our +winter climate is the hand of mercy to the earth and to everything +in its bosom, but it is a barrier and an embargo to everything that +moves above. +</p> +<p> +We toiled up the long steep hill, where only an occasional +mullein-stalk or other tall weed stood above the snow. Near the top +the hill was girded with a bank of snow that blotted out the stone +wall and every vestige of the earth beneath. These hills wear this +belt till May, and sometimes the plow pauses beside them. From the +top of the ridge an immense landscape in immaculate white stretches +before us. Miles upon miles of farms, smoothed and padded by the +stainless element, hang upon the sides of the mountains, or repose +across the long sloping hills. The fences or stone walls show like +half-obliterated black lines. I turn my back to the sun, or shade my +eyes with my hand. Every object or movement in the landscape is +sharply revealed; one could see a fox half a league. The farmer +foddering his cattle, or drawing manure afield, or leading his horse +to water; the pedestrian crossing the hill below; the children +wending their way toward the distant schoolhouse,—the eye cannot +help but note them: they are black specks upon square miles of +luminous white. What a multitude of sins this unstinted charity of +the snow covers! How it flatters the ground! Yonder sterile field +might be a garden, and you would never suspect that that gentle +slope with its pretty dimples and curves was not the smoothest of +meadows, yet it is paved with rocks and stone. +</p> +<p> +But what is that black speck creeping across that cleared field near +the top of the mountain at the head of the valley, three quarters +of a mile away? It is like a fly moving across an illuminated +surface. A distant mellow bay floats to us, and we know it is the +hound. He picked up the trail of the fox half an hour since, where +he had crossed the ridge early in the morning, and now he has routed +him and Reynard is steering for the Big Mountain. We press on and +attain the shoulder of the range, where we strike a trail two or +three days old of some former hunters, which leads us into the woods +along the side of the mountain. We are on the first plateau before +the summit; the snow partly supports us, but when it gives way and +we sound it with our legs, we find it up to our hips. Here we enter +a white world indeed. It is like some conjurer's trick. The very +trees have turned to snow. The smallest branch is like a cluster of +great white antlers. The eye is bewildered by the soft fleecy +labyrinth before it. On the lower ranges the forests were entirely +bare, but now we perceive the summit of every mountain about us runs +up into a kind of arctic region where the trees are loaded with +snow. The beginning of this colder zone is sharply marked all around +the horizon; the line runs as level as the shore line of a lake or +sea; indeed, a warmer aerial sea fills all the valleys, sub-merging +the lower peaks, and making white islands of all the higher ones. +The branches bend with the rime. The winds have not shaken it down. +It adheres to them like a growth. On examination I find the +branches coated with ice, from which shoot slender spikes and +needles that penetrate and hold the cord of snow. It is a new kind +of foliage wrought by the frost and the clouds, and it obscures the +sky, and fills the vistas of the woods nearly as much as the myriad +leaves of summer. The sun blazes, the sky is without a cloud or a +film, yet we walk in a soft white shade. A gentle breeze was blowing +on the open crest of the mountain, but one could carry a lighted +candle through these snow-curtained and snow-canopied chambers. How +shall we see the fox if the hound drives him through this white +obscurity? But we listen in vain for the voice of the dog and press +on. Hares' tracks were numerous. Their great soft pads had left +their imprint everywhere, sometimes showing a clear leap of ten +feet. They had regular circuits which we crossed at intervals. The +woods were well suited to them, low and dense, and, as we saw, +liable at times to wear a livery whiter than their own. +</p> +<p> +The mice, too, how thick their tracks were, that of the white-footed +mouse being most abundant; but occasionally there was a much finer +track, with strides or leaps scarcely more than an inch apart. This +is perhaps the little shrew-mouse of the woods, the body not more +than an inch and a half long, the smallest mole or mouse kind known +to me. Once, while encamping in the woods, one of these tiny shrews +got into an empty pail standing in camp, and died before morning, +either from the cold, or in despair of ever getting out of the pail. +</p> +<p> +At one point, around a small sugar maple, the mice-tracks are +unusually thick. It is doubtless their granary; they have beech-nuts +stored there, I'll warrant. There are two entrances to the cavity of +the tree,—one at the base, and one seven or eight feet up. At the +upper one, which is only just the size of a mouse, a squirrel has +been trying to break in. He has cut and chiseled the solid wood to +the depth of nearly an inch, and his chips strew the snow all about. +He knows what is in there, and the mice know that he knows; hence +their apparent consternation. They have rushed wildly about over the +snow, and, I doubt not, have given the piratical red squirrel a +piece of their minds. A few yards away the mice have a hole down +into the snow, which perhaps leads to some snug den under the +ground. Hither they may have been slyly removing their stores while +the squirrel was at work with his back turned. One more night and he +will effect an entrance: what a good joke upon him if he finds the +cavity empty! These native mice are very provident, and, I imagine, +have to take many precautions to prevent their winter stores being +plundered by the squirrels, who live, as it were, from hand to +mouth. +</p> +<p> +We see several fresh fox-tracks, and wish for the hound, but there +are no tidings of him. After half an hour's floundering and +cautiously picking our way through the woods, we emerge into a +cleared field that stretches up from the valley below, and just laps +over the back of the mountain. It is a broad belt of white that +drops down and down till it joins other fields that sweep along the +base of the mountain, a mile away. To the east, through a deep +defile in the mountains, a landscape in an adjoining county lifts +itself up, like a bank of white and gray clouds. +</p> +<p> +When the experienced fox-hunter comes out upon such an eminence as +this, he always scrutinizes the fields closely that lie beneath him, +and it many times happens that his sharp eye detects Reynard asleep +upon a rock or a stone wall, in which case, if he be armed with a +rifle and his dog be not near, the poor creature never wakens from +his slumber. The fox nearly always takes his nap in the open fields, +along the sides of the ridges, or under the mountain, where he can +look down upon the busy farms beneath and hear their many sounds, +the barking of dogs, the lowing of cattle, the cackling of hens, the +voices of men and boys, or the sound of travel upon the highway. It +is on that side, too, that he keeps the sharpest lookout, and the +appearance of the hunter above and behind him is always a surprise. +</p> +<a name="image-0003"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb2.jpg" width="327" height="450" +alt="The Fox-hunter and his Hound"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +THE FOX-HUNTER AND HIS HOUND +</p> + +<p> +We pause here, and, with alert ears turned toward the Big Mountain +in front of us, listen for the dog. But not a sound is heard. A +flock of snow buntings pass high above us, uttering their contented +twitter, and their white forms seen against the intense blue give +the impression of large snowflakes drifting across the sky. I hear a +purple finch, too, and the feeble lisp of the redpoll. A shrike (the +first I have seen this season) finds occasion to come this way also. +He alights on the tip of a dry limb, and from his perch can see into +the valley on both sides of the mountain. He is prowling about for +chickadees, no doubt, a troop of which I saw coming through the +wood. When pursued by the shrike, the chickadee has been seen to +take refuge in a squirrel-hole in a tree. Hark! Is that the hound, +or doth expectation mock the eager ear? With open mouths and bated +breaths we listen. Yes, it is old "Singer;" he is bringing the fox +over the top of the range toward Butt End, the <i>Ultima Thule</i> of the +hunters' tramps in this section. In a moment or two the dog is lost +to hearing again. We wait for his second turn; then for his third. +</p> +<p> +"He is playing about the summit," says my companion. +</p> +<p> +"Let us go there," say I, and we are off. +</p> +<p> +More dense snow-hung woods beyond the clearing where we begin our +ascent of the Big Mountain,—a chief that carries the range up +several hundred feet higher than the part we have thus far +traversed. We are occasionally to our hips in the snow, but for the +most part the older stratum, a foot or so down, bears us; up and up +we go into the dim, muffled solitudes, our hats and coats powdered +like millers'. A half-hour's heavy tramping brings us to the broad, +level summit, and to where the fox and hound have crossed and +recrossed many times. As we are walking along discussing the matter, +we suddenly hear the dog coming straight on to us. The woods are so +choked with snow that we do not hear him till he breaks up from +under the mountain within a hundred yards of us. +</p> +<p> +"We have turned the fox!" we both exclaim, much put out. +</p> +<p> +Sure enough, we have. The dog appears in sight, is puzzled a moment, +then turns sharply to the left, and is lost to eye and to ear as +quickly as if he had plunged into a cave. The woods are, indeed, a +kind of cave,—a cave of alabaster, with the sun shining upon it. We +take up positions and wait. These old hunters know exactly where to +stand. +</p> +<p> +"If the fox comes back," said my companion, "he will cross up there +or down here," indicating two points not twenty rods asunder. +</p> +<p> +We stood so that each commanded one of the runways indicated. How +light it was, though the sun was hidden! Every branch and twig +beamed in the sun like a lamp. A downy woodpecker below me kept up a +great fuss and clatter,—all for my benefit, I suspected. All about +me were great, soft mounds, where the rocks lay buried. It was a +cemetery of drift boulders. There! that is the hound. Does his voice +come across the valley from the spur off against us, or is it on our +side down under the mountain? After an interval, just as I am +thinking the dog is going away from us along the opposite range, his +voice comes up astonishingly near. A mass of snow falls from a +branch, and makes one start; but it is not the fox. Then through the +white vista below me I catch a glimpse of something red or yellow, +yellowish red or reddish yellow; it emerges from the lower ground, +and, with an easy, jaunty air, draws near. I am ready and just in +the mood to make a good shot. The fox stops just out of range and +listens for the hound. He looks as bright as an autumn leaf upon the +spotless surface. Then he starts on, but he is not coming to me, he +is going to the other man. Oh, foolish fox, you are going straight +into the jaws of death! My comrade stands just there beside that +tree. I would gladly have given Reynard the wink, or signaled to +him, if I could. It did seem a pity to shoot him, now he was out of +my reach. I cringe for him, when crack goes the gun! The fox +squalls, picks himself up, and plunges over the brink of the +mountain. The hunter has not missed his aim, but the oil in his gun, +he says, has weakened the strength of his powder. The hound, hearing +the report, comes like a whirlwind and is off in hot pursuit. Both +fox and dog now bleed,—the dog at his heels, the fox from his +wounds. +</p> +<p> +In a few minutes there came up from under the mountain that long, +peculiar bark which the hound always makes when he has run the fox +in, or when something new and extraordinary has happened. In this +instance he said plainly enough, "The race is up, the coward has +taken to his hole, ho-o-o-le." Plunging down in the direction of the +sound, the snow literally to our waists, we were soon at the spot, a +great ledge thatched over with three or four feet of snow. The dog +was alternately licking his heels and whining and berating the fox. +The opening into which the latter had fled was partially closed, +and, as I scraped out and cleared away the snow, I thought of the +familiar saying, that so far as the sun shines in, the snow will +blow in. The fox, I suspect, has always his house of refuge, or +knows at once where to flee to if hard pressed. This place proved to +be a large vertical seam in the rock, into which the dog, on a +little encouragement from his master, made his way. I thrust my head +into the ledge's mouth, and in the dim light watched the dog. He +progressed slowly and cautiously till only his bleeding heels were +visible. Here some obstacle impeded him a few moments, when he +entirely disappeared and was presently face to face with the fox and +engaged in mortal combat with him. It is a fierce encounter there +beneath the rocks, the fox silent, the dog very vociferous. But +after a time the superior weight and strength of the latter prevails +and the fox is brought to light nearly dead. Reynard winks and eyes +me suspiciously, as I stroke his head and praise his heroic defense; +but the hunter quickly and mercifully puts an end to his fast-ebbing +life. His canine teeth seem unusually large and formidable, and the +dog bears the marks of them in many deep gashes upon his face and +nose. His pelt is quickly stripped off, revealing his lean, sinewy +form. +</p> +<p> +The fox was not as poor in flesh as I expected to see him, though +I'll warrant he had tasted very little food for days, perhaps for +weeks. How his great activity and endurance can be kept up, on the +spare diet he must of necessity be confined to, is a mystery. Snow, +snow everywhere, for weeks and for months, and intense cold, and no +henroost accessible, and no carcass of sheep or pig in the +neighborhood! The hunter, tramping miles and leagues through his +haunts, rarely sees any sign of his having caught anything. Rarely, +though, in the course of many winters, he may have seen evidence of +his having surprised a rabbit or a partridge in the woods. He no +doubt at this season lives largely upon the memory (or the fat) of +the many good dinners he had in the plentiful summer and fall. +</p> +<p> +As we crossed the mountain on our return, we saw at one point +blood-stains upon the snow, and as the fox-tracks were very thick +on and about it, we concluded that a couple of males had had an +encounter there, and a pretty sharp one. Reynard goes a-wooing in +February, and it is to be presumed that, like other dogs, he is a +jealous lover. A crow had alighted and examined the blood-stains, +and now, if he will look a little farther along, upon a flat rock he +will find the flesh he was looking for. Our hound's nose was so +blunted now, speaking without metaphor, that he would not look at +another trail, but hurried home to rest upon his laurels. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + III +</h2> +<h3> + PHASES OF FARM LIFE +</h3> +<br> + +<p> +I have thought that a good test of civilization, perhaps one of the +best, is country life. Where country life is safe and enjoyable, +where many of the conveniences and appliances of the town are joined +to the large freedom and large benefits of the country, a high state +of civilization prevails. Is there any proper country life in Spain, +in Mexico, in the South American States? Man has always dwelt in +cities, but he has not always in the same sense been a dweller in +the country. Rude and barbarous people build cities. Hence, +paradoxical as it may seem, the city is older than the country. +Truly, man made the city, and after he became sufficiently +civilized, not afraid of solitude, and knew on what terms to live +with nature, God promoted him to life in the country. The +necessities of defense, the fear of enemies, built the first city, +built Athens, Rome, Carthage, Paris. The weaker the law, the +stronger the city. After Cain slew Abel he went out and built a +city, and murder or the fear of murder, robbery or the fear of +robbery, have built most of the cities since. Penetrate into the +heart of Africa, and you will find the people, or tribes, all +living in villages or little cities. You step from the jungle or the +forest into the town; there is no country. The best and most hopeful +feature in any people is undoubtedly the instinct that leads them to +the country and to take root there, and not that which sends them +flocking to the town and its distractions. +</p> +<p> +The lighter the snow, the more it drifts; and the more frivolous the +people, the more they are blown by one wind or another into towns +and cities. +</p> +<p> +The only notable exception I recall to city life preceding country +life is furnished by the ancient Germans, of whom Tacitus says that +they had no cities or contiguous settlements. "They dwell scattered +and separate, as a spring, a meadow, or a grove may chance to invite +them. Their villages are laid out, not like ours [the Romans] in +rows of adjoining buildings, but every one surrounds his house with +a vacant space, either by way of security, or against fire, or +through ignorance of the art of building." +</p> +<p> +These ancient Germans were indeed true countrymen. Little wonder +that they overran the empire of the city-loving Romans, and finally +sacked Rome itself. How hairy and hardy and virile they were! In the +same way is the more fresh and vigorous blood of the country always +making eruptions into the city. The Goths and Vandals from the woods +and the farms,—what would Rome do without them, after all? The +city rapidly uses men up; families run out, man becomes +sophisticated and feeble. A fresh stream of humanity is always +setting from the country into the city; a stream not so fresh flows +back again into the country, a stream for the most part of jaded and +pale humanity. It is arterial blood when it flows in, and venous +blood when it comes back. +</p> +<p> +A nation always begins to rot first in its great cities, is indeed +perhaps always rotting there, and is saved only by the antiseptic +virtues of fresh supplies of country blood. +</p> +<hr> +<p> +But it is not of country life in general that I am to speak, but of +some phases of farm life, and of farm life in my native State. +</p> +<p> +Many of the early settlers of New York were from New England, +Connecticut perhaps sending out the most. My own ancestors were from +the latter State. The Connecticut emigrant usually made his first +stop in our river counties, Putnam, Dutchess, or Columbia. If he +failed to find his place there, he made another flight to Orange, to +Delaware, or to Schoharie County, where he generally stuck. But the +State early had one element introduced into its rural and farm life +not found farther east, namely, the Holland Dutch. These gave +features more or less picturesque to the country that are not +observable in New England. The Dutch took root at various points +along the Hudson, and about Albany and in the Mohawk valley, and +remnants of their rural and domestic architecture may still be seen +in these sections of the State. A Dutch barn became proverbial. "As +broad as a Dutch barn" was a phrase that, when applied to the person +of a man or woman, left room for little more to be said. The main +feature of these barns was their enormous expansion of roof. It was +a comfort to look at them, they suggested such shelter and +protection. The eaves were very low and the ridge-pole very high. +Long rafters and short posts gave them a quaint, short-waisted, +grandmotherly look. They were nearly square, and stood very broad +upon the ground. Their form was doubtless suggested by the damper +climate of the Old World, where the grain and hay, instead of being +packed in deep solid mows, used to be spread upon poles and exposed +to the currents of air under the roof. Surface and not cubic +capacity is more important in these matters in Holland than in this +country. Our farmers have found that, in a climate where there is so +much weather as with us, the less roof you have the better. Roofs +will leak, and cured hay will keep sweet in a mow of any depth and +size in our dry atmosphere. +</p> +<p> +The Dutch barn was the most picturesque barn that has been built, +especially when thatched with straw, as they nearly all were, and +forming one side of an inclosure of lower roofs or sheds also +covered with straw, beneath which the cattle took refuge from the +winter storms. Its immense, unpainted gable, cut with holes for the +swallows, was like a section of a respectable-sized hill, and its +roof like its slope. Its great doors always had a hood projecting +over them, and the doors themselves were divided horizontally into +upper and lower halves; the upper halves very frequently being left +open, through which you caught a glimpse of the mows of hay, or the +twinkle of flails when the grain was being threshed. +</p> +<p> +The old Dutch farmhouses, too, were always pleasing to look upon. +They were low, often made of stone, with deep window-jambs and great +family fireplaces. The outside door, like that of the barn, was +always divided into upper and lower halves. When the weather +permitted, the upper half could stand open, giving light and air +without the cold draught over the floor where the children were +playing that our wide-swung doors admit. This feature of the Dutch +house and barn certainly merits preservation in our modern +buildings. +</p> +<p> +The large, unpainted timber barns that succeeded the first Yankee +settlers' log stables were also picturesque, especially when a +lean-to for the cow-stable was added, and the roof carried down with +a long sweep over it; or when the barn was flanked by an open shed +with a hayloft above it, where the hens cackled and hid their +nests, and from the open window of which the hay was always hanging. +</p> +<p> +Then the great timbers of these barns and the Dutch barn, hewn from +maple or birch or oak trees from the primitive woods, and put in +place by the combined strength of all the brawny arms in the +neighborhood when the barn was raised,—timbers strong enough and +heavy enough for docks and quays, and that have absorbed the odors +of the hay and grain until they look ripe and mellow and full of the +pleasing sentiment of the great, sturdy, bountiful interior! The +"big beam" has become smooth and polished from the hay that has been +pitched over it, and the sweaty, sturdy forms that have crossed it. +One feels that he would like a piece of furniture—a chair, or a +table, or a writing-desk, a bedstead, or a wainscoting—made from +these long-seasoned, long-tried, richly toned timbers of the old +barn. But the smart-painted, natty barn that follows the humbler +structure, with its glazed windows, its ornamented ventilator and +gilded weather vane,—who cares to contemplate it? The wise human +eye loves modesty and humility; loves plain, simple structures; +loves the unpainted barn that took no thought of itself, or the +dwelling that looks inward and not outward; is offended when the +farm-buildings get above their business and aspire to be something +on their own account, suggesting, not cattle and crops and plain +living, but the vanities of the town and the pride of dress and +equipage. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, the picturesque in human affairs and occupations is always +born of love and humility, as it is in art or literature; and it +quickly takes to itself wings and flies away at the advent of pride, +or any selfish or unworthy motive. The more directly the farm savors +of the farmer, the more the fields and buildings are redolent of +human care and toil, without any thought of the passer-by, the more +we delight in the contemplation of it. +</p> +<p> +It is unquestionably true that farm life and farm scenes in this +country are less picturesque than they were fifty or one hundred +years ago. This is owing partly to the advent of machinery, which +enables the farmer to do so much of his work by proxy, and hence +removes him farther from the soil, and partly to the growing +distaste for the occupation among our people. The old settlers—our +fathers and grandfathers—loved the farm, and had no thoughts above +it; but the later generations are looking to the town and its +fashions, and only waiting for a chance to flee thither. Then +pioneer life is always more or less picturesque; there is no room +for vain and foolish thoughts; it is a hard battle, and the people +have no time to think about appearances. When my grandfather and +grandmother came into the country where they reared their family and +passed their days, they cut a road through the woods and brought +all their worldly gear on a sled drawn by a yoke of oxen. Their +neighbors helped them build a house of logs, with a roof of +black-ash bark and a floor of hewn white-ash plank. A great stone +chimney and fireplace—the mortar of red clay—gave light and +warmth, and cooked the meat and baked the bread, when there was any +to cook or to bake. Here they lived and reared their family, and +found life sweet. Their unworthy descendant, yielding to the +inherited love of the soil, flees the city and its artificial ways, +and gets a few acres in the country, where he proposes to engage in +the pursuit supposed to be free to every American citizen,—the +pursuit of happiness. The humble old farmhouse is discarded, and a +smart, modern country-house put up. Walks and roads are made and +graveled; trees and hedges are planted; the rustic old barn is +rehabilitated; and, after it is all fixed, the uneasy proprietor +stands off and looks, and calculates by how much he has missed the +picturesque, at which he aimed. Our new houses undoubtedly have +greater comforts and conveniences than the old; and, if we could +keep our pride and vanity in abeyance and forget that all the world +is looking on, they might have beauty also. +</p> +<p> +The man that forgets himself, he is the man we like; and the +dwelling that forgets itself, in its purpose to shelter and protect +its inmates and make them feel at home in it, is the dwelling that +fills the eye. When you see one of the great cathedrals, you know +that it was not pride that animated these builders, but fear and +worship; but when you see the house of the rich farmer, or of the +millionaire from the city, you see the pride of money and the +insolence of social power. +</p> +<p> +Machinery, I say, has taken away some of the picturesque features of +farm life. How much soever we may admire machinery and the faculty +of mechanical invention, there is no machine like a man; and the +work done directly by his hands, the things made or fashioned by +them, have a virtue and a quality that cannot be imparted by +machinery. The line of mowers in the meadows, with the straight +swaths behind them, is more picturesque than the "Clipper" or +"Buckeye" mower, with its team and driver. So are the flails of the +threshers, chasing each other through the air, more pleasing to the +eye and the ear than the machine, with its uproar, its choking +clouds of dust, and its general hurly-burly. +</p> +<p> +Sometimes the threshing was done in the open air, upon a broad rock, +or a smooth, dry plat of greensward; and it is occasionally done +there yet, especially the threshing of the buckwheat crop, by a +farmer who has not a good barn floor, or who cannot afford to hire +the machine. The flail makes a louder <i>thud</i> in the fields than you +would imagine; and in the splendid October weather it is a pleasing +spectacle to behold the gathering of the ruddy crop, and three or +four lithe figures beating out the grain with their flails in some +sheltered nook, or some grassy lane lined with cedars. When there +are three flails beating together, it makes lively music; and when +there are four, they follow each other so fast that it is a +continuous roll of sound, and it requires a very steady stroke not +to hit or get hit by the others. There is just room and time to get +your blow in, and that is all. When one flail is upon the straw, +another has just left it, another is halfway down, and the fourth is +high and straight in the air. It is like a swiftly revolving wheel +that delivers four blows at each revolution. Threshing, like mowing, +goes much easier in company than when alone; yet many a farmer or +laborer spends nearly all the late fall and winter days shut in the +barn, pounding doggedly upon the endless sheaves of oats and rye. +</p> +<p> +When the farmers made "bees," as they did a generation or two ago +much more than they do now, a picturesque element was added. There +was the stone bee, the husking bee, the "raising," the "moving," +etc. When the carpenters had got the timbers of the house or the +barn ready, and the foundation was prepared, then the neighbors for +miles about were invited to come to the "raisin'." The afternoon was +the time chosen. The forenoon was occupied by the carpenter and the +farm hands in putting the sills and "sleepers" in place ("sleepers," +what a good name for those rude hewn timbers that lie under the +floor in the darkness and silence!). When the hands arrived, the +great beams and posts and joists and braces were carried to their +place on the platform, and the first "bent," as it was called, was +put together and pinned by oak pins that the boys brought. Then pike +poles were distributed, the men, fifteen or twenty of them, arranged +in a line abreast of the bent; the boss carpenter steadied and +guided the corner post and gave the word of command,—"Take holt, +boys!" "Now, set her up!" "Up with her!" "Up she goes!" When it gets +shoulder high, it becomes heavy, and there is a pause. The pikes are +brought into requisition; every man gets a good hold and braces +himself, and waits for the words. "All together now!" shouts the +captain; "Heave her up!" "He-o-he!" (heave-all,—heave), "he-o-he," +at the top of his voice, every man doing his best. Slowly the great +timbers go up; louder grows the word of command, till the bent is +up. Then it is plumbed and stay-lathed, and another is put together +and raised in the same way, till they are all up. Then comes the +putting on the great plates,—timbers that run lengthwise of the +building and match the sills below. Then, if there is time, the +putting up of the rafters. +</p> +<p> +In every neighborhood there was always some man who was especially +useful at "raisin's." He was bold and strong and quick. He helped +guide and superintend the work. He was the first one up on the bent, +catching a pin or a brace and putting it in place. He walked the +lofty and perilous plate with the great beetle in hand, put the pins +in the holes, and, swinging the heavy instrument through the air, +drove the pins home. He was as much at home up there as a squirrel. +</p> +<p> +Now that balloon frames are mainly used for houses, and lighter +sawed timbers for barns, the old-fashioned raising is rarely +witnessed. +</p> +<p> +Then the moving was an event, too. A farmer had a barn to move, or +wanted to build a new house on the site of the old one, and the +latter must be drawn to one side. Now this work is done with pulleys +and rollers by a few men and a horse; then the building was drawn by +sheer bovine strength. Every man that had a yoke of cattle in the +country round about was invited to assist. The barn or house was +pried up and great runners, cut in the woods, placed under it, and +under the runners were placed skids. To these runners it was +securely chained and pinned; then the cattle—stags, steers, and +oxen, in two long lines, one at each runner—were hitched fast, and, +while men and boys aided with great levers, the word to go was +given. Slowly the two lines of bulky cattle straightened and settled +into their bows; the big chains that wrapped the runners tightened, +a dozen or more "gads" were flourished, a dozen or more lusty +throats urged their teams at the top of their voices, when there was +a creak or a groan as the building stirred. Then the drivers +redoubled their efforts; there was a perfect Babel of discordant +sounds; the oxen bent to the work, their eyes bulged, their nostrils +distended; the lookers-on cheered, and away went the old house or +barn as nimbly as a boy on a hand-sled. Not always, however; +sometimes the chains would break, or one runner strike a rock, or +bury itself in the earth. There were generally enough mishaps or +delays to make it interesting. +</p> +<p> +In the section of the State of which I write, flax used to be grown, +and cloth for shirts and trousers, and towels and sheets, woven from +it. It was no laughing matter for the farm-boy to break in his shirt +or trousers, those days. The hair shirts in which the old monks used +to mortify the flesh could not have been much before them in this +mortifying particular. But after the bits of shives and sticks were +subdued, and the knots humbled by use and the washboard, they were +good garments. If you lost your hold in a tree and your shirt caught +on a knot or limb, it would save you. +</p> +<p> +But when has any one seen a crackle, or a swingling-knife, or a +hetchel, or a distaff, and where can one get some tow for strings or +for gun-wadding, or some swingling-tow for a bonfire? The +quill-wheel, and the spinning-wheel, and the loom are heard no more +among us. The last I knew of a certain hetchel, it was nailed up +behind the old sheep that did the churning; and when he was disposed +to shirk or hang back and stop the machine, it was always ready to +spur him up in no uncertain manner. The old loom became a hen-roost +in an out-building; and the crackle upon which the flax was +broken,—where, oh, where is it? +</p> +<p> +When the produce of the farm was taken a long distance to +market,—that was an event, too; the carrying away of the butter in +the fall, for instance, to the river, a journey that occupied both +ways four days. Then the family marketing was done in a few +groceries. Some cloth, new caps and boots for the boys, and a dress, +or a shawl, or a cloak for the girls were brought back, besides news +and adventure, and strange tidings of the distant world. The farmer +was days in getting ready to start; food was prepared and put in a +box to stand him on the journey, so as to lessen the hotel expenses, +and oats were put up for the horses. The butter was loaded up +overnight, and in the cold November morning, long before it was +light, he was up and off. I seem to hear the wagon yet, its slow +rattle over the frozen ground diminishing in the distance. On the +fourth day toward night all grew expectant of his return, but it was +usually dark before his wagon was heard coming down the hill, or his +voice from before the door summoning a light. When the boys got big +enough, one after the other accompanied him each year, until all had +made the famous journey and seen the great river and the steamboats, +and the thousand and one marvels of the far-away town. When it came +my turn to go, I was in a great state of excitement for a week +beforehand, for fear my clothes would not be ready, or else that it +would be too cold, or else that the world would come to an end +before the time fixed for starting. The day previous I roamed the +woods in quest of game to supply my bill of fare on the way, and was +lucky enough to shoot a partridge and an owl, though the latter I +did not take. Perched high on a "spring-board" I made the journey, +and saw more sights and wonders than I have ever seen on a journey +since, or ever expect to again. +</p> +<p> +But now all this is changed. The railroad has found its way through +or near every settlement, and marvels and wonders are cheap. Still, +the essential charm of the farm remains and always will remain: the +care of crops, and of cattle, and of orchards, bees, and fowls; the +clearing and improving of the ground; the building of barns and +houses; the direct contact with the soil and with the elements; the +watching of the clouds and of the weather; the privacies with +nature, with bird, beast, and plant; and the close acquaintance with +the heart and virtue of the world. The farmer should be the true +naturalist; the book in which it is all written is open before him +night and day, and how sweet and wholesome all his knowledge is! +</p> +<p> +The predominant feature of farm life in New York, as in other +States, is always given by some local industry of one kind or +another. In many of the high, cold counties in the eastern centre +of the State, this ruling industry is hop-growing; in the western, +it is grain and fruit growing; in sections along the Hudson, +it is small-fruit growing, as berries, currants, grapes; in +other counties, it is milk and butter; in others, quarrying +flagging-stone. I recently visited a section of Ulster County, +where everybody seemed getting out hoop-poles and making hoops. +The only talk was of hoops, hoops! Every team that went by had a +load or was going for a load of hoops. The principal fuel was +hoop-shavings or discarded hoop-poles. No man had any money until +he sold his hoops. When a farmer went to town to get some grain, +or a pair of boots, or a dress for his wife, he took a load of +hoops. People stole hoops and poached for hoops, and bought, and +sold, and speculated in hoops. If there was a corner, it was in +hoops; big hoops, little hoops, hoops for kegs, and firkins, and +barrels, and hogsheads, and pipes; hickory hoops, birch hoops, ash +hoops, chestnut hoops, hoops enough to go around the world. +Another place it was shingle, shingle; everybody was shaving +hemlock shingle. +</p> +<p> +In most of the eastern counties of the State, the interest and +profit of the farm revolve about the cow. The dairy is the one great +matter,—for milk, when milk can be shipped to the New York market, +and for butter when it cannot. Great barns and stables and +milking-sheds, and immense meadows and cattle on a thousand hills, +are the prominent agricultural features of these sections of the +country. Good grass and good water are the two indispensables to +successful dairying. And the two generally go together. Where there +are plenty of copious cold springs, there is no dearth of grass. +When the cattle are compelled to browse upon weeds and various wild +growths, the milk and butter will betray it in the flavor. Tender, +juicy grass, the ruddy blossoming clover, or the fragrant, +well-cured hay, make the delicious milk and the sweet butter. Then +there is a charm about a natural pastoral country that belongs to no +other. Go through Orange County in May and see the vivid emerald of +the smooth fields and hills. It is a new experience of the beauty +and effectiveness of simple grass. And this grass has rare virtues, +too, and imparts a flavor to the milk and butter that has made them +famous. +</p> +<p> +Along all the sources of the Delaware the land flows with milk, if +not with honey. The grass is excellent, except in times of +protracted drought, and then the browsings in the beech and birch +woods are a good substitute. Butter is the staple product. Every +housewife is or wants to be a famous butter-maker, and Delaware +County butter rivals that of Orange in market. Delaware is a high, +cool grazing country. The farms lie tilted up against the sides of +the mountain or lapping over the hills, striped or checked with +stone walls, and presenting to the eye long stretches of pasture and +meadow land, alternating with plowed fields and patches of waving +grain. Few of their features are picturesque; they are bare, broad, +and simple. The farmhouse gets itself a coat of white paint, and +green blinds to the windows, and the barn and wagon-house a coat of +red paint with white trimmings, as soon as possible. A penstock +flows by the doorway, rows of tin pans sun themselves in the yard, +and the great wheel of the churning-machine flanks the milk-house, +or rattles behind it. The winters are severe, the snow deep. The +principal fuel is still wood,—beech, birch, and maple. It is hauled +off the mountain in great logs when the first November or December +snows come, and cut up and piled in the wood-houses and under a +shed. Here the axe still rules the winter, and it may be heard all +day and every day upon the wood-pile, or echoing through the +frost-bound wood, the coat of the chopper hanging to a limb, and his +white chips strewing the snow. +</p> +<p> +Many cattle need much hay; hence in dairy sections haying is the +period of "storm and stress" in the farmer's year. To get the hay +in, in good condition, and before the grass gets too ripe, is a +great matter. All the energies and resources of the farm are bent to +this purpose. It is a thirty or forty days' war, in which the farmer +and his "hands" are pitted against the heat and the rain and the +legions of timothy and clover. Everything about it has the urge, the +hurry, the excitement of a battle. Outside help is procured; men +flock in from adjoining counties, where the ruling industry is +something else and is less imperative; coopers, blacksmiths, and +laborers of various kinds drop their tools, and take down their +scythes and go in quest of a job in haying. Every man is expected to +pitch his endeavors in a little higher key than at any other kind of +work. The wages are extra, and the work must correspond. The men are +in the meadow by half-past four or five in the morning, and mow an +hour or two before breakfast. A good mower is proud of his skill. He +does not "lop in," and his "pointing out" is perfect, and you can +hardly see the ribs of his swath. He stands up to his grass and +strikes level and sure. He will turn a double down through the +stoutest grass, and when the hay is raked away you will not find a +spear left standing. The Americans are—or were—the best mowers. A +foreigner could never quite give the masterly touch. The hayfield +has its code. One man must not take another's swath unless he +expects to be crowded. Each expects to take his turn leading the +band. The scythe may be so whetted as to ring out a saucy challenge +to the rest. It is not good manners to mow up too close to your +neighbor, unless you are trying to keep out of the way of the man +behind you. Many a race has been brought on by some one being a +little indiscreet in this respect. Two men may mow all day together +under the impression that each is trying to put the other through. +The one that leads strikes out briskly, and the other, not to be +outdone, follows close. Thus the blood of each is soon up; a little +heat begets more heat, and it is fairly a race before long. It is a +great ignominy to be mowed out of your swath. Hay-gathering is +clean, manly work all through. Young fellows work in haying who do +not do another stroke on the farm the whole year. It is a gymnasium +in the meadows and under the summer sky. How full of pictures, +too!—the smooth slopes dotted with cocks with lengthening shadows; +the great, broad-backed, soft-cheeked loads, moving along the lanes +and brushing under the trees; the unfinished stacks with forkfuls of +hay being handed up its sides to the builder, and when finished the +shape of a great pear, with a pole in the top for the stem. Maybe in +the fall and winter the calves and yearlings will hover around it +and gnaw its base until it overhangs them and shelters them from +the storm. Or the farmer will "fodder" his cows there,—one of the +most picturesque scenes to be witnessed on the farm,—twenty or +thirty or forty milchers filing along toward the stack in the field, +or clustered about it, waiting the promised bite. In great, green +flakes the hay is rolled off, and distributed about in small heaps +upon the unspotted snow. After the cattle have eaten, the +birds—snow buntings and red-polls—come and pick up the crumbs, the +seeds of the grasses and weeds. At night the fox and the owl come +for mice. +</p> +<p> +What a beautiful path the cows make through the snow to the stack or +to the spring under the hill!—always more or less wayward, but +broad and firm, and carved and indented by a multitude of rounded +hoofs. +</p> +<p> +In fact, the cow is the true pathfinder and path-maker. She has the +leisurely, deliberate movement that insures an easy and a safe way. +Follow her trail through the woods, and you have the best, if not +the shortest, course. How she beats down the brush and briers and +wears away even the roots of the trees! A herd of cows left to +themselves fall naturally into single file, and a hundred or more +hoofs are not long in smoothing and compacting almost any surface. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, all the ways and doings of cattle are pleasant to look upon, +whether grazing in the pasture or browsing in the woods, or +ruminating under the trees, or feeding in the stall, or reposing +upon the knolls. There is virtue in the cow; she is full of +goodness; a wholesome odor exhales from her; the whole landscape +looks out of her soft eyes; the quality and the aroma of miles of +meadow and pasture lands are in her presence and products. I had +rather have the care of cattle than be the keeper of the great seal +of the nation. Where the cow is, there is Arcadia; so far as her +influence prevails, there is contentment, humility, and sweet, +homely life. +</p> +<p> +Blessed is he whose youth was passed upon the farm, and if it was a +dairy farm, his memories will be all the more fragrant. The driving +of the cows to and from the pasture, every day and every season for +years,—how much of summer and of nature he got into him on these +journeys! What rambles and excursions did this errand furnish the +excuse for! The birds and birds'-nests, the berries, the squirrels, +the woodchucks, the beech woods with their treasures into which the +cows loved so to wander and to browse, the fragrant wintergreens and +a hundred nameless adventures, all strung upon that brief journey of +half a mile to and from the remote pastures. Sometimes a cow or two +will be missing when the herd is brought home at night; then to hunt +them up is another adventure. My grandfather went out one night to +look up an absentee from the yard, when he heard something in the +brush, and out stepped a bear into the path before him. +</p> +<p> +Every Sunday morning the cows were salted. The farm-boy would take a +pail with three or four quarts of coarse salt, and, followed by the +eager herd, go to the field and deposit the salt in handfuls upon +smooth stones and rocks and upon clean places on the turf. If you +want to know how good salt is, see a cow eat it. She gives the true +saline smack. How she dwells upon it, and gnaws the sward and licks +the stones where it has been deposited! The cow is the most +delightful feeder among animals. It makes one's mouth water to see +her eat pumpkins, and to see her at a pile of apples is distracting. +How she sweeps off the delectable grass! The sound of her grazing is +appetizing; the grass betrays all its sweetness and succulency in +parting under her sickle. +</p> +<p> +The region of which I write abounds in sheep also. Sheep love high, +cool, breezy lands. Their range is generally much above that of +cattle. Their sharp noses will find picking where a cow would fare +poorly indeed. Hence most farmers utilize their high, wild, and +mountain lands by keeping a small flock of sheep. But they are the +outlaws of the farm and are seldom within bounds. They make many +lively expeditions for the farm-boy,—driving them out of mischief, +hunting them up in the mountains, or salting them on the breezy +hills. Then there is the annual sheep-washing, when on a warm day in +May or early June the whole herd is driven a mile or more to a +suitable pool in the creek, and one by one doused and washed and +rinsed in the water. We used to wash below an old grist-mill, and it +was a pleasing spectacle,—the mill, the dam, the overhanging rocks +and trees, the round, deep pool, and the huddled and frightened +sheep. +</p> +<p> +One of the features of farm life peculiar to this country, and one +of the most picturesque of them all, is sugar-making in the maple +woods in spring. This is the first work of the season, and to the +boys is more play than work. In the Old World, and in more simple +and imaginative times, how such an occupation as this would have got +into literature, and how many legends and associations would have +clustered around it! It is woodsy, and savors of the trees; it is an +encampment among the maples. Before the bud swells, before the grass +springs, before the plow is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is +the sequel of the bitter frost; a sap-run is the sweet good-by of +winter. It denotes a certain equipoise of the season; the heat of +the day fully balances the frost of the night. In New York and New +England, the time of the sap hovers about the vernal equinox, +beginning a week or ten days before, and continuing a week or ten +days after. As the days and nights get equal, the heat and cold get +equal, and the sap mounts. A day that brings the bees out of the +hive will bring the sap out of the maple-tree. It is the fruit of +the equal marriage of the sun and the frost. When the frost is all +out of the ground, and all the snow gone from its surface, the flow +stops. The thermometer must not rise above 38° or 40° by day, or +sink below 24° or 25° at night, with wind in the northwest; a +relaxing south wind, and the run is over for the present. Sugar +weather is crisp weather. How the tin buckets glisten in the gray +woods; how the robins laugh; how the nuthatches call; how lightly +the thin blue smoke rises among the trees! The squirrels are out of +their dens; the migrating water-fowls are streaming northward; the +sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare fields; the tide of +the season, in fact, is just beginning to rise. +</p> +<p> +Sap-letting does not seem to be an exhaustive process to the trees, +as the trees of a sugar-bush appear to be as thrifty and as +long-lived as other trees. They come to have a maternal, +large-waisted look, from the wounds of the axe or the auger, and +that is about all. +</p> +<p> +In my sugar-making days, the sap was carried to the boiling-place in +pails by the aid of a neck-yoke and stored in hogsheads, and boiled +or evaporated in immense kettles or caldrons set in huge stone +arches; now, the hogshead goes to the trees hauled upon a sled by a +team, and the sap is evaporated in broad, shallow, sheet-iron +pans,—a great saving of fuel and of labor. +</p> +<p> +Many a farmer sits up all night boiling his sap, when the run has +been an extra good one, and a lonely vigil he has of it amid the +silent trees and beside his wild hearth. If he has a sap-house, as +is now so common, he may make himself fairly comfortable; and if a +companion, he may have a good time or a glorious wake. +</p> +<p> +Maple sugar in its perfection is rarely seen, perhaps never seen, in +the market. When made in large quantities and indifferently, it is +dark and coarse; but when made in small quantities—that is, quickly +from the first run of sap and properly treated—it has a wild +delicacy of flavor that no other sweet can match. What you smell in +freshly cut maple-wood, or taste in the blossom of the tree, is in +it. It is then, indeed, the distilled essence of the tree. Made into +syrup, it is white and clear as clover-honey; and crystallized into +sugar, it is as pure as the wax. The way to attain this result is to +evaporate the sap under cover in an enameled kettle; when reduced +about twelve times, allow it to settle half a day or more; then +clarify with milk or the white of an egg. The product is virgin +syrup, or sugar worthy the table of the gods. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the most heavy and laborious work of the farm in the section +of the State of which I write is fence-building. But it is not +unproductive labor, as in the South or West, for the fence is of +stone, and the capacity of the soil for grass or grain is, of +course, increased by its construction. It is killing two birds with +one stone: a fence is had, the best in the world, while the +available area of the field is enlarged. In fact, if there are ever +sermons in stones, it is when they are built into a stone +wall,—turning your hindrances into helps, shielding your crops +behind the obstacles to your husbandry, making the enemies of the +plow stand guard over its products. This is the kind of farming +worth imitating. A stone wall with a good rock bottom will stand as +long as a man lasts. Its only enemy is the frost, and it works so +gently that it is not till after many years that its effect is +perceptible. An old farmer will walk with you through his fields and +say, "This wall I built at such and such a time, or the first year I +came on the farm, or when I owned such and such a span of horses," +indicating a period thirty, forty, or fifty years back. "This other, +we built the summer so and so worked for me," and he relates some +incident, or mishap, or comical adventures that the memory calls up. +Every line of fence has a history; the mark of his plow or his +crowbar is upon the stones; the sweat of his early manhood put them +in place; in fact, the long black line covered with lichens and in +places tottering to the fall revives long-gone scenes and events in +the life of the farm. +</p> +<p> +The time for fence-building is usually between seed-time and +harvest, May and June; or in the fall after the crops are gathered. +The work has its picturesque features,—the prying of rocks; supple +forms climbing or swinging from the end of the great levers; or the +blasting of the rocks with powder, the hauling of them into position +with oxen or horses, or with both; the picking of the stone from the +greensward; the bending, athletic forms of the wall-layers; the snug +new fence creeping slowly up the hill or across the field, absorbing +the wind-row of loose stones; and, when the work is done, much +ground reclaimed to the plow and the grass, and a strong barrier +erected. +</p> +<p> +It is a common complaint that the farm and farm life are not +appreciated by our people. We long for the more elegant pursuits, or +the ways and fashions of the town. But the farmer has the most sane +and natural occupation, and ought to find life sweeter, if less +highly seasoned, than any other. He alone, strictly speaking, has a +home. How can a man take root and thrive without land? He writes his +history upon his field. How many ties, how many resources, he +has,—his friendships with his cattle, his team, his dog, his trees, +the satisfaction in his growing crops, in his improved fields; his +intimacy with nature, with bird and beast, and with the quickening +elemental forces; his cooperations with the clouds, the sun, the +seasons, heat, wind, rain, frost! Nothing will take the various +social distempers which the city and artificial life breed out of a +man like farming, like direct and loving contact with the soil. It +draws out the poison. It humbles him, teaches him patience and +reverence, and restores the proper tone to his system. +</p> +<p> +Cling to the farm, make much of it, put yourself into it, bestow +your heart and your brain upon it, so that it shall savor of you and +radiate your virtue after your day's work is done! +</p> +<p> +"Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks, and look well to +thy herds. +</p> +<p> +"For riches are not forever; and doth the crown endure to every +generation? +</p> +<p> +"The hay appeareth, and the tender grass showeth itself, and herbs +of the mountains are gathered. +</p> +<p> +"The lambs are for thy clothing, and the goats are the price of the +field. +</p> +<p> +"And thou shalt have goat's milk enough for thy food, for the food +of thy household, and for the maintenance for thy maidens." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + IV +</h2> +<h3> + IN THE HEMLOCKS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +Most people receive with incredulity a statement of the number of +birds that annually visit our climate. Very few even are aware of +half the number that spend the summer in their own immediate +vicinity. We little suspect, when we walk in the woods, whose +privacy we are intruding upon,—what rare and elegant visitants from +Mexico, from Central and South America, and from the islands of the +sea, are holding their reunions in the branches over our heads, or +pursuing their pleasure on the ground before us. +</p> +<p> +I recall the altogether admirable and shining family which Thoreau +dreamed he saw in the upper chambers of Spaulding's woods, which +Spaulding did not know lived there, and which were not put out when +Spaulding, whistling, drove his team through their lower halls. They +did not go into society in the village; they were quite well; they +had sons and daughters; they neither wove nor spun; there was a +sound as of suppressed hilarity. +</p> +<p> +I take it for granted that the forester was only saying a pretty +thing of the birds, though I have observed that it does sometimes +annoy them when Spaulding's cart rumbles through their house. +Generally, however, they are as unconscious of Spaulding as +Spaulding is of them. +</p> +<p> +Walking the other day in an old hemlock wood, I counted over forty +varieties of these summer visitants, many of them common to other +woods in the vicinity, but quite a number peculiar to these ancient +solitudes, and not a few that are rare in any locality. It is quite +unusual to find so large a number abiding in one forest,—and that +not a large one,—most of them nesting and spending the summer +there. Many of those I observed commonly pass this season much +farther north. But the geographical distribution of birds is rather +a climatical one. The same temperature, though under different +parallels, usually attracts the same birds; difference in altitude +being equivalent to the difference in latitude. A given height above +the sea-level under the parallel of thirty degrees may have the same +climate as places under that of thirty-five degrees, and similar +flora and fauna. At the headwaters of the Delaware, where I write, +the latitude is that of Boston, but the region has a much greater +elevation, and hence a climate that compares better with the +northern part of the State and of New England. Half a day's drive to +the southeast brings me down into quite a different temperature, +with an older geological formation, different forest timber, and +different birds,—even with different mammals. Neither the little +gray rabbit nor the little gray fox is found in my locality, but the +great northern hare and the red fox are. In the last century a +colony of beavers dwelt here, though the oldest inhabitant cannot +now point to even the traditional site of their dams. The ancient +hemlocks, whither I propose to take the reader, are rich in many +things besides birds. Indeed, their wealth in this respect is owing +mainly, no doubt, to their rank vegetable growths, their fruitful +swamps, and their dark, sheltered retreats. +</p> +<a name="image-0004"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb3.jpg" width="450" height="319" +alt="At the Headwaters of The Delaware +Overlooking Mr. Burroughs's Boyhood Home"> +</center> + +<p class="cap"> +AT THE HEADWATERS OF THE DELAWARE <br> +Overlooking Mr. Burroughs's boyhood home +</p> + +<p> +Their history is of an heroic cast. Ravished and torn by the tanner +in his thirst for bark, preyed upon by the lumberman, assaulted and +beaten back by the settler, still their spirit has never been +broken, their energies never paralyzed. Not many years ago a public +highway passed through them, but it was at no time a tolerable road; +trees fell across it, mud and limbs choked it up, till finally +travelers took the hint and went around; and now, walking along its +deserted course, I see only the footprints of coons, foxes, and +squirrels. +</p> +<p> +Nature loves such woods, and places her own seal upon them. Here she +shows me what can be done with ferns and mosses and lichens. The +soil is marrowy and full of innumerable forests. Standing in these +fragrant aisles, I feel the strength of the vegetable kingdom, and +am awed by the deep and inscrutable processes of life going on so +silently about me. +</p> +<p> +No hostile forms with axe or spud now visit these solitudes. The +cows have half-hidden ways through them, and know where the best +browsing is to be had. In spring, the farmer repairs to their +bordering of maples to make sugar; in July and August, women and +boys from all the country about penetrate the old Barkpeelings for +raspberries and blackberries; and I know a youth who wonderingly +follows their languid stream casting for trout. +</p> +<p> +In like spirit, alert and buoyant, on this bright June morning go I +also to reap my harvest,—pursuing a sweet more delectable than +sugar, fruit more savory than berries, and game for another palate +than that tickled by trout. +</p> +<p> +June, of all the months, the student of ornithology can least afford +to lose. Most birds are nesting then, and in full song and plumage. +And what is a bird without its song? Do we not wait for the stranger +to speak? It seems to me that I do not know a bird till I have heard +its voice; then I come nearer it at once, and it possesses a human +interest to me. I have met the gray-cheeked thrush in the woods, and +held him in my hand; still I do not know him. The silence of the +cedar-bird throws a mystery about him which neither his good looks +nor his petty larcenies in cherry time can dispel. A bird's song +contains a clew to its life, and establishes a sympathy, an +understanding, between itself and the listener. +</p> +<p> +I descend a steep hill, and approach the hemlocks through a large +sugar-bush. When twenty rods distant, I hear all along the line of +the forest the incessant warble of the red-eyed vireo, cheerful and +happy as the merry whistle of a schoolboy. He is one of our most +common and widely distributed birds. Approach any forest at any hour +of the day, in any kind of weather, from May to August, in any of +the Middle or Eastern districts, and the chances are that the first +note you hear will be his. Rain or shine, before noon or after, in +the deep forest or in the village grove,—when it is too hot for the +thrushes or too cold and windy for the warblers,—it is never out of +time or place for this little minstrel to indulge his cheerful +strain. In the deep wilds of the Adirondacks, where few birds are +seen and fewer heard, his note was almost constantly in my ear. +Always busy, making it a point never to suspend for one moment his +occupation to indulge his musical taste, his lay is that of industry +and contentment. There is nothing plaintive or especially musical in +his performance, but the sentiment expressed is eminently that of +cheerfulness. Indeed, the songs of most birds have some human +significance, which, I think, is the source of the delight we take +in them. The song of the bobolink to me expresses hilarity; the song +sparrow's, faith; the bluebird's, love; the catbird's, pride; the +white-eyed flycatcher's, self-consciousness; that of the hermit +thrush, spiritual serenity: while there is something military in the +call of the robin. +</p> +<p> +The red-eye is classed among the flycatchers by some writers, but is +much more of a worm-eater, and has few of the traits or habits of +the <i>Muscicapa</i> or the true <i>Sylvia</i>. He resembles somewhat the +warbling vireo, and the two birds are often confounded by careless +observers. Both warble in the same cheerful strain, but the latter +more continuously and rapidly. The red-eye is a larger, slimmer +bird, with a faint bluish crown, and a light line over the eye. His +movements are peculiar. You may see him hopping among the limbs, +exploring the under side of the leaves, peering to the right and +left, now flitting a few feet, now hopping as many, and warbling +incessantly, occasionally in a subdued tone, which sounds from a +very indefinite distance. When he has found a worm to his liking, he +turns lengthwise of the limb and bruises its head with his beak +before devouring it. +</p> +<p> +As I enter the woods the slate-colored snowbird starts up before me +and chirps sharply. His protest when thus disturbed is almost +metallic in its sharpness. He breeds here, and is not esteemed a +snowbird at all, as he disappears at the near approach of winter, +and returns again in spring, like the song sparrow, and is not in +any way associated with the cold and the snow. So different are the +habits of birds in different localities. Even the crow does not +winter here, and is seldom seen after December or before March. +</p> +<p> +The snowbird, or "black chipping-bird," as it is known among the +farmers, is the finest architect of any of the ground-builders known +to me. The site of its nest is usually some low bank by the +roadside, near a wood. In a slight excavation, with a partially +concealed entrance, the exquisite structure is placed. Horse and cow +hair are plentifully used, imparting to the interior of the nest +great symmetry and firmness as well as softness. +</p> +<p> +Passing down through the maple arches, barely pausing to observe the +antics of a trio of squirrels,—two gray ones and a black one,—I +cross an ancient brush fence and am fairly within the old hemlocks, +and in one of the most primitive, undisturbed nooks. In the deep +moss I tread as with muffled feet, and the pupils of my eyes dilate +in the dim, almost religious light. The irreverent red squirrels, +however, run and snicker at my approach, or mock the solitude with +their ridiculous chattering and frisking. +</p> +<p> +This nook is the chosen haunt of the winter wren. This is the +only place and these the only woods in which I find him in this +vicinity. His voice fills these dim aisles, as if aided by some +marvelous sounding-board. Indeed, his song is very strong for so +small a bird, and unites in a remarkable degree brilliancy and +plaintiveness. I think of a tremulous vibrating tongue of silver. +You may know it is the song of a wren, from its gushing lyrical +character; but you must needs look sharp to see the little +minstrel, especially while in the act of singing. He is nearly the +color of the ground and the leaves; he never ascends the tall +trees, but keeps low, flitting from stump to stump and from root +to root, dodging in and out of his hiding-places, and watching all +intruders with a suspicious eye. He has a very pert, almost +comical look. His tail stands more than perpendicular: it points +straight toward his head. He is the least ostentatious singer I +know of. He does not strike an attitude, and lift up his head in +preparation, and, as it were, clear his throat; but sits there on +a log and pours out his music, looking straight before him, or +even down at the ground. As a songster, he has but few superiors. +I do not hear him after the first week in July. +</p> +<p> +While sitting on this soft-cushioned log, tasting the pungent +acidulous wood-sorrel, the blossoms of which, large and pink-veined, +rise everywhere above the moss, a rufous-colored bird flies quickly +past, and, alighting on a low limb a few rods off, salutes me with +"Whew! Whew!" or "Whoit! Whoit!" almost as you would whistle for +your dog. I see by his impulsive, graceful movements, and his dimly +speckled breast, that it is a thrush. Presently he utters a few +soft, mellow, flute-like notes, one of the most simple expressions +of melody to be heard, and scuds away, and I see it is the veery, or +Wilson's thrush. He is the least of the thrushes in size, being +about that of the common bluebird, and he may be distinguished from +his relatives by the dimness of the spots upon his breast. The wood +thrush has very clear, distinct oval spots on a white ground; in the +hermit, the spots run more into lines, on a ground of a faint bluish +white; in the veery, the marks are almost obsolete, and a few rods +off his breast presents only a dull yellowish appearance. To get a +good view of him you have only to sit down in his haunts, as in such +cases he seems equally anxious to get a good view of you. +</p> +<p> +From those tall hemlocks proceeds a very fine insect-like warble, +and occasionally I see a spray tremble, or catch the flit of a wing. +I watch and watch till my head grows dizzy and my neck is in danger +of permanent displacement, and still do not get a good view. +Presently the bird darts, or, as it seems, falls down a few feet in +pursuit of a fly or a moth, and I see the whole of it, but in the +dim light am undecided. It is for such emergencies that I have +brought my gun. A bird in the hand is worth half a dozen in the +bush, even for ornithological purposes; and no sure and rapid +progress can be made in the study without taking life, without +procuring specimens. This bird is a warbler, plainly enough, from +his habits and manner; but what kind of warbler? Look on him and +name him: a deep orange or flame-colored throat and breast; the same +color showing also in a line over the eye and in his crown; back +variegated black and white. The female is less marked and brilliant. +The orange-throated warbler would seem to be his right name, his +characteristic cognomen; but no, he is doomed to wear the name of +some discoverer, perhaps the first who rifled his nest or robbed him +of his mate,—Blackburn; hence Blackburnian warbler. The <i>burn</i> +seems appropriate enough, for in these dark evergreens his throat +and breast show like flame. He has a very fine warble, suggesting +that of the redstart, but not especially musical. I find him in no +other woods in this vicinity. +</p> +<p> +I am attracted by another warble in the same locality, and +experience a like difficulty in getting a good view of the author of +it. It is quite a noticeable strain, sharp and sibilant, and sounds +well amid the old trees. In the upland woods of beech and maple it +is a more familiar sound than in these solitudes. On taking the bird +in hand, one cannot help exclaiming, "How beautiful!" So tiny and +elegant, the smallest of the warblers; a delicate blue back, with a +slight bronze-colored triangular spot between the shoulders; upper +mandible black; lower mandible yellow as gold; throat yellow, +becoming a dark bronze on the breast. Blue yellow-back he is called, +though the yellow is much nearer a bronze. He is remarkably delicate +and beautiful,—the handsomest as he is the smallest of the warblers +known to me. It is never without surprise that I find amid these +rugged, savage aspects of nature creatures so fairy and delicate. +But such is the law. Go to the sea or climb the mountain, and with +the ruggedest and the savagest you will find likewise the fairest +and the most delicate. The greatness and the minuteness of nature +pass all understanding. +</p> +<p> +Ever since I entered the woods, even while listening to the lesser +songsters, or contemplating the silent forms about me, 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. I often hear +him thus a long way off, sometimes over a quarter of a mile away, +when only the stronger and more perfect parts of his music reach me; +and through the general chorus of wrens and warblers I detect this +sound rising pure and serene, as if a spirit from some remote height +were slowly chanting a divine accompaniment. This song appeals 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, clear away! O clear up, clear up!" interspersed +with the finest trills and the most delicate preludes. It is not a +proud, gorgeous strain, like the tanager's or the grosbeak's; +suggests no passion or emotion,—nothing personal,—but seems to be +the voice of that calm, sweet solemnity one attains to in his best +moments. It realizes a peace and a deep, solemn joy that only the +finest souls may know. A few nights ago I ascended a mountain to see +the world by moonlight, and when near the summit the hermit +commenced his evening hymn a few rods from me. Listening to this +strain on the lone mountain, with the full moon just rounded from +the horizon, the pomp of your cities and the pride of your +civilization seemed trivial and cheap. +</p> +<p> +I have seldom known two of these birds to be singing at the same +time in the same locality, rivaling each other, like the wood thrush +or the veery. Shooting one from a tree, I have observed another take +up the strain from almost the identical perch in less than ten +minutes afterward. Later in the day, when I had penetrated the heart +of the old Barkpeeling, I came suddenly upon one singing from a low +stump, and for a wonder he did not seem alarmed, but lifted up his +divine voice as if his privacy was undisturbed. I open his beak and +find the inside yellow as gold. I was prepared to find it inlaid +with pearls and diamonds, or to see an angel issue from it. +</p> +<p> +He is not much in the books. Indeed, I am acquainted with scarcely +any writer on ornithology whose head is not muddled on the subject +of our three prevailing song-thrushes, confounding either their +figures or their songs. A writer in the "Atlantic"<a href="#note-2" name="noteref-2"><small>[1]</small></a> gravely tells +us the wood thrush is sometimes called the hermit, and then, after +describing the song of the hermit with great beauty and correctness, +coolly ascribes it to the veery! The new Cyclopædia, fresh from the +study of Audubon, says the hermit's song consists of a single +plaintive note, and that the veery's resembles that of the wood +thrush! The hermit thrush may be easily identified by his color; his +back being a clear olive-brown becoming rufous on his rump and tail. +A quill from his wing placed beside one from his tail on a dark +ground presents quite a marked contrast. +</p> +<p> +I walk along the old road, and note the tracks in the thin layer of +mud. When do these creatures travel here? I have never yet chanced +to meet one. Here a partridge has set its foot; there, a woodcock; +here, a squirrel or mink; there, a skunk; there, a fox. What a +clear, nervous track reynard makes! how easy to distinguish it from +that of a little dog,—it is so sharply cut and defined! A dog's +track is coarse and clumsy beside it. There is as much wildness in +the track of an animal as in its voice. Is a deer's track like a +sheep's or a goat's? What winged-footed fleetness and agility may be +inferred from the sharp, braided track of the gray squirrel upon the +new snow! Ah! in nature is the best discipline. How wood-life +sharpens the senses, giving a new power to the eye, the ear, the +nose! And are not the rarest and most exquisite songsters +wood-birds? +</p> +<p> +Everywhere in these solitudes I am greeted with the pensive, almost +pathetic note of the wood pewee. The pewees are the true +flycatchers, and are easily identified. They are very characteristic +birds, have strong family traits and pugnacious dispositions. They +are the least attractive or elegant birds of our fields or forests. +Sharp-shouldered, big-headed, short-legged, of no particular color, +of little elegance in flight or movement, with a disagreeable flirt +of the tail, always quarreling with their neighbors and with one +another, no birds are so little calculated to excite pleasurable +emotions in the beholder, or to become objects of human interest and +affection. The kingbird is the best dressed member of the family, +but he is a braggart; and, though always snubbing his neighbors, is +an arrant coward, and shows the white feather at the slightest +display of pluck in his antagonist. I have seen him turn tail to a +swallow, and have known the little pewee in question to whip him +beautifully. From the great-crested to the little green flycatcher, +their ways and general habits are the same. Slow in flying from +point to point, they yet have a wonderful quickness, and snap up the +fleetest insects with little apparent effort. There is a constant +play of quick, nervous movements underneath their outer show of +calmness and stolidity. They do not scour the limbs and trees like +the warblers, but, perched upon the middle branches, wait, like true +hunters, for the game to come along. There is often a very audible +snap of the beak as they seize their prey. +</p> +<p> +The wood pewee, the prevailing species in this locality, arrests +your attention by his sweet, pathetic cry. There is room for it also +in the deep woods, as well as for the more prolonged and elevated +strains. +</p> +<p> +Its relative, the phœbe-bird, builds an exquisite nest of moss on +the side of some shelving cliff or overhanging rock. The other day, +passing by a ledge near the top of a mountain in a singularly +desolate locality, my eye rested upon one of these structures, +looking precisely as if it grew there, so in keeping was it with the +mossy character of the rock, and I have had a growing affection for +the bird ever since. The rock seemed to love the nest and to claim +it as its own. I said, what a lesson in architecture is here! Here +is a house that was built, but with such loving care and such +beautiful adaptation of the means to the end, that it looks like a +product of nature. The same wise economy is noticeable in the nests +of all birds. No bird could paint its house white or red, or add +aught for show. +</p> +<p> +At one point in the grayest, most shaggy part of the woods, I come +suddenly upon a brood of screech owls, full grown, sitting together +upon a dry, moss-draped limb, but a few feet from the ground. I +pause within four or five yards of them and am looking about me, +when my eye lights upon these gray, motionless figures. They sit +perfectly upright, some with their backs and some with their breasts +toward me, but every head turned squarely in my direction. Their +eyes are closed to a mere black line; through this crack they are +watching me, evidently thinking themselves unobserved. The spectacle +is weird and grotesque, and suggests something impish and uncanny. +It is a new effect, the night side of the woods by daylight. After +observing them a moment I take a single step toward them, when, +quick as thought, their eyes fly wide open, their attitude is +changed, they bend, some this way, some that, and, instinct with +life and motion, stare wildly around them. Another step, and they +all take flight but one, which stoops low on the branch, and with +the look of a frightened cat regards me for a few seconds over its +shoulder. They fly swiftly and softly, and disperse through the +trees. I shoot one, which is of a tawny red tint, like that figured +by Wilson. It is a singular fact that the plumage of these owls +presents two totally distinct phases, which "have no relation to +sex, age, or season," one being an ashen gray, the other a bright +rufous. +</p> +<p> +Coming to a drier and less mossy place in the woods, I am amused +with the golden-crowned thrush,—which, however, is no thrush at +all, but a warbler. He walks on the ground ahead of me with such an +easy, gliding motion, and with such an unconscious, preoccupied air, +jerking his head like a hen or a partridge, now hurrying, now +slackening his pace, that I pause to observe him. I sit down, he +pauses to observe me, and extends his pretty ramblings on all sides, +apparently very much engrossed with his own affairs, but never +losing sight of me. But few of the birds are walkers, most being +hoppers, like the robin. +</p> +<p> +Satisfied that I have no hostile intentions, the pretty pedestrian +mounts a limb a few feet from the ground, and gives me the benefit +of one of his musical performances, a sort of accelerating chant. +Commencing in a very low key, which makes him seem at a very +uncertain distance, he grows louder and louder till his body quakes +and his chant runs into a shriek, ringing in my ear with a peculiar +sharpness. This lay may be represented thus: "Teacher, <i>teacher</i>, +<small>TEACHER</small>, TEACHER, <i>TEACHER!</i>"— +the accent on the first +syllable and each word uttered with increased force and shrillness. +No writer with whom I am acquainted gives him credit for more +musical ability than is displayed in this strain. Yet in this the +half is not told. He has a far rarer song, which he reserves for +some nymph whom he meets in the air. Mounting by easy flights to the +top of the tallest tree, he launches into the air with a sort of +suspended, hovering flight, like certain of the finches, and bursts +into a perfect ecstasy of song,—clear, ringing, copious, rivaling +the goldfinch's in vivacity, and the linnet's in melody. This strain +is one of the rarest bits of bird melody to be heard, and is +oftenest indulged in late in the afternoon or after sundown. Over +the woods, hid from view, the ecstatic singer warbles his finest +strain. In this song you instantly detect his relationship to the +water-wagtail,—erroneously called water-thrush,—whose song is +likewise a sudden burst, full and ringing, and with a tone of +youthful joyousness in it, as if the bird had just had some +unexpected good fortune. For nearly two years this strain of the +pretty walker was little more than a disembodied voice to me, and I +was puzzled by it as Thoreau by his mysterious night-warbler, which, +by the way, I suspect was no new bird at all, but one he was +otherwise familiar with. The little bird himself seems disposed to +keep the matter a secret, and improves every opportunity to repeat +before you his shrill, accelerating lay, as if this were quite +enough and all he laid claim to. Still, I trust I am betraying no +confidence in making the matter public here. I think this is +preeminently his love-song, as I hear it oftenest about the mating +season. I have caught half-suppressed bursts of it from two males +chasing each other with fearful speed through the forest. +</p> +<p> +Turning to the left from the old road, I wander over soft logs and +gray yielding debris, across the little trout brook, until I emerge +in the overgrown Barkpeeling,—pausing now and then on the way to +admire a small, solitary white flower which rises above the moss, +with radical, heart-shaped leaves, and a blossom precisely like the +liverwort except in color, but which is not put down in my +botany,—or to observe the ferns, of which I count six varieties, +some gigantic ones nearly shoulder-high. +</p> +<p> +At the foot of a rough, scraggy yellow birch, on a bank of +club-moss, so richly inlaid with partridge-berry and curious +shining leaves—with here and there in the bordering a spire of the +false wintergreen strung with faint pink flowers and exhaling the +breath of a May orchard—that it looks too costly a couch for such +an idler, I recline to note what transpires. The sun is just past +the meridian, and the afternoon chorus is not yet in full tune. Most +birds sing with the greatest spirit and vivacity in the forenoon, +though there are occasional bursts later in the day in which nearly +all voices join; while it is not till the twilight that the full +power and solemnity of the thrush's hymn is felt. +</p> +<p> +My attention is soon arrested by a pair of hummingbirds, the +ruby-throated, disporting themselves in a low bush a few yards from +me. The female takes shelter amid the branches, and squeaks +exultingly as the male, circling above, dives down as if to dislodge +her. Seeing me, he drops like a feather on a slender twig, and in a +moment both are gone. Then, as if by a preconcerted signal, the +throats are all atune. I lie on my back with eyes half closed, and +analyze the chorus of warblers, thrushes, finches, and flycatchers; +while, soaring above all, a little withdrawn and alone rises the +divine contralto of the hermit. That richly modulated warble +proceeding from the top of yonder birch, and which unpracticed ears +would mistake for the voice of the scarlet tanager, comes from that +rare visitant, the rose-breasted grosbeak. It is a strong, vivacious +strain, a bright noonday song, full of health and assurance, +indicating fine talents in the performer, but not genius. As I come +up under the tree he casts his eye down at me, but continues his +song. This bird is said to be quite common in the Northwest, but he +is rare in the Eastern districts. His beak is disproportionately +large and heavy, like a huge nose, which slightly mars his good +looks; but Nature has made it up to him in a blush rose upon his +breast, and the most delicate of pink linings to the under side of +his wings. His back is variegated black and white, and when flying +low the white shows conspicuously. If he passed over your head, you +would note the delicate flush under his wings. +</p> +<p> +That bit of bright scarlet on yonder dead hemlock, glowing like a +live coal against the dark background, seeming almost too brilliant +for the severe northern climate, is his relative, the scarlet +tanager. I occasionally meet him in the deep hemlocks, and know no +stronger contrast in nature. I almost fear he will kindle the dry +limb on which he alights. He is quite a solitary bird, and in this +section seems to prefer the high, remote woods, even going quite to +the mountain's top. Indeed, the event of my last visit to the +mountain was meeting one of these brilliant creatures near the +summit, in full song. The breeze carried the notes far and wide. He +seemed to enjoy the elevation, and I imagined his song had more +scope and freedom than usual. When he had flown far down the +mountain-side, the breeze still brought me his finest notes. In +plumage he is the most brilliant bird we have. The bluebird is not +entirely blue; nor will the indigo-bird bear a close inspection, +nor the goldfinch, nor the summer redbird. But the tanager loses +nothing by a near view; the deep scarlet of his body and the black +of his wings and tail are quite perfect. This is his holiday suit; +in the fall he becomes a dull yellowish green,—the color of the +female the whole season. +</p> +<p> +One of the leading songsters in this choir of the old Barkpeeling is +the purple finch or linnet. He sits somewhat apart, usually on a +dead hemlock, and warbles most exquisitely. He is one of our finest +songsters, and stands at the head of the finches, as the hermit at +the head of the thrushes. His song approaches an ecstasy, and, with +the exception of the winter wren's, is the most rapid and copious +strain to be heard in these woods. It is quite destitute of the +trills and the liquid, silvery, bubbling notes that characterize the +wren's; but there runs through it a round, richly modulated whistle, +very sweet and very pleasing. The call of the robin is brought in at +a certain point with marked effect, and, throughout, the variety is +so great and the strain so rapid that the impression is as of two or +three birds singing at the same time. He is not common here, and I +only find him in these or similar woods. His color is peculiar, and +looks as if it might have been imparted by dipping a brown bird in +diluted pokeberry juice. Two or three more dippings would have made +the purple complete. The female is the color of the song sparrow, a +little larger, with heavier beak, and tail much more forked. +</p> +<p> +In a little opening quite free from brush and trees, I step down to +bathe my hands in the brook, when a small, light slate-colored bird +flutters out of the bank, not three feet from my head, as I stoop +down, and, as if severely lamed or injured, flutters through the +grass and into the nearest bush. As I do not follow, but remain near +the nest, she <i>chips</i> sharply, which brings the male, and I see it +is the speckled Canada warbler. I find no authority in the books for +this bird to build upon the ground, yet here is the nest, made +chiefly of dry grass, set in a slight excavation in the bank not two +feet from the water, and looking a little perilous to anything but +ducklings or sandpipers. There are two young birds and one little +speckled egg just pipped. But how is this? what mystery is here? One +nestling is much larger than the other, monopolizes most of the +nest, and lifts its open mouth far above that of its companion, +though obviously both are of the same age, not more than a day old. +Ah! I see; the old trick of the cow bunting, with a stinging human +significance. Taking the interloper by the nape of the neck, I +deliberately drop it into the water, but not without a pang, as I +see its naked form, convulsed with chills, float downstream. Cruel? +So is Nature cruel. I take one life to save two. In less than two +days this pot-bellied intruder would have caused the death of the +two rightful occupants of the nest; so I step in and turn things +into their proper channel again. +</p> +<p> +It is a singular freak of nature, this instinct which prompts one +bird to lay its eggs in the nests of others, and thus shirk the +responsibility of rearing its own young. The cow buntings always +resort to this cunning trick; and when one reflects upon their +numbers, it is evident that these little tragedies are quite +frequent. In Europe the parallel case is that of the cuckoo, and +occasionally our own cuckoo imposes upon a robin or a thrush in the +same manner. The cow bunting seems to have no conscience about the +matter, and, so far as I have observed, invariably selects the nest +of a bird smaller than itself. Its egg is usually the first to +hatch; its young overreaches all the rest when food is brought; it +grows with great rapidity, spreads and fills the nest, and the +starved and crowded occupants soon perish, when the parent bird +removes their dead bodies, giving its whole energy and care to the +foster-child. +</p> +<p> +The warblers and smaller flycatchers are generally the sufferers, +though I sometimes see the slate-colored snowbird unconsciously +duped in like manner; and the other day, in a tall tree in the +woods, I discovered the black-throated green-backed warbler devoting +itself to this dusky, overgrown foundling. An old farmer to whom I +pointed out the fact was much surprised that such things should +happen in his woods without his knowledge. +</p> +<p> +These birds may be seen prowling through all parts of the woods at +this season, watching for an opportunity to steal their egg into +some nest. One day while sitting on a log I saw one moving by short +flights through the trees and gradually nearing the ground. Its +movements were hurried and stealthy. About fifty yards from me it +disappeared behind some low brush, and had evidently alighted upon +the ground. +</p> +<p> +After waiting a few moments I cautiously walked in the direction. +When about halfway I accidentally made a slight noise, when the bird +flew up, and seeing me, hurried off out of the woods. Arrived at the +place, I found a simple nest of dry grass and leaves partially +concealed under a prostrate branch. I took it to be the nest of a +sparrow. There were three eggs in the nest, and one lying about a +foot below it as if it had been rolled out, as of course it had. It +suggested the thought that perhaps, when the cowbird finds the full +complement of eggs in a nest, it throws out one and deposits its own +instead. I revisited the nest a few days afterward and found an egg +again cast out, but none had been put in its place. The nest had +been abandoned by its owner and the eggs were stale. +</p> +<p> +In all cases where I have found this egg, I have observed both male +and female of the cowbird lingering near, the former uttering his +peculiar liquid, glassy note from the tops of the trees. +</p> +<p> +In July, the young which have been reared in the same neighborhood, +and which are now of a dull fawn color, begin to collect in small +flocks, which grow to be quite large in autumn. +</p> +<p> +The speckled Canada is a very superior warbler, having a lively, +animated strain, reminding you of certain parts of the canary's, +though quite broken and incomplete; the bird, the while, hopping +amid the branches with increased liveliness, and indulging in fine +sibilant chirps, too happy to keep silent. +</p> +<p> +His manners are quite marked. He has a habit of courtesying when he +discovers you which is very pretty. In form he is an elegant bird, +somewhat slender, his back of a bluish lead-color becoming nearly +black on his crown: the under part of his body, from his throat +down, is of a light, delicate yellow, with a belt of black dots +across his breast. He has a fine eye, surrounded by a light yellow +ring. +</p> +<p> +The parent birds are much disturbed by my presence, and keep up a +loud emphatic chirping, which attracts the attention of their +sympathetic neighbors, and one after another they come to see what +has happened. The chestnut-sided and the Blackburnian come in +company. The black and yellow warbler pauses a moment and hastens +away; the Maryland yellow-throat peeps shyly from the lower bushes +and utters his "Fip! fip!" in sympathy; the wood pewee comes +straight to the tree overhead, and the red-eyed vireo lingers and +lingers, eying me with a curious, innocent look, evidently much +puzzled. But all disappear again, one by one, apparently without a +word of condolence or encouragement to the distressed pair. I have +often noticed among birds this show of sympathy,—if indeed it be +sympathy, and not merely curiosity, or desire to be forewarned of +the approach of a common danger. +</p> +<p> +An hour afterward I approach the place, find all still, and the +mother bird upon the nest. As I draw near she seems to sit closer, +her eyes growing large with an inexpressibly wild, beautiful look. +She keeps her place till I am within two paces of her, when she +flutters away as at first. In the brief interval the remaining egg +has hatched, and the two little nestlings lift their heads without +being jostled or overreached by any strange bedfellow. A week +afterward and they were flown away,—so brief is the infancy of +birds. And the wonder is that they escape, even for this short time, +the skunks and minks and muskrats that abound here, and that have a +decided partiality for such tidbits. +</p> +<p> +I pass on through the old Barkpeeling, now threading an obscure +cow-path or an overgrown wood-road; now clambering over soft and +decayed logs, or forcing my way through a network of briers and +hazels; now entering a perfect bower of wild cherry, beech, and soft +maple; now emerging into a little grassy lane, golden with +buttercups or white with daisies, or wading waist-deep in the red +raspberry-bushes. +</p> +<p> +Whir! whir! whir! and a brood of half-grown partridges start up like +an explosion, a few paces from me, and, scattering, disappear in the +bushes on all sides. Let me sit down here behind the screen of ferns +and briers, and hear this wild hen of the woods call together her +brood. At what an early age the partridge flies! Nature seems to +concentrate her energies on the wing, making the safety of the bird +a point to be looked after first; and while the body is covered with +down, and no signs of feathers are visible, the wing-quills sprout +and unfold, and in an incredibly short time the young make fair +headway in flying. +</p> +<p> +The same rapid development of wing may be observed in chickens and +turkeys, but not in water-fowls, nor in birds that are safely housed +in the nest till full-fledged. The other day, by a brook, I came +suddenly upon a young sandpiper, a most beautiful creature, +enveloped in a soft gray down, swift and nimble and apparently a +week or two old, but with no signs of plumage either of body or +wing. And it needed none, for it escaped me by taking to the water +as readily as if it had flown with wings. +</p> +<p> +Hark! there arises over there in the brush a soft, persuasive +cooing, a sound so subtle and wild and unobtrusive that it requires +the most alert and watchful ear to hear it. How gentle and +solicitous and full of yearning love! It is the voice of the mother +hen. Presently a faint timid "Yeap!" which almost eludes the ear, is +heard in various directions,—the young responding. As no danger +seems near, the cooing of the parent bird is soon a very audible +clucking call, and the young move cautiously in the direction. Let +me step never so carefully from my hiding-place, and all sounds +instantly cease, and I search in vain for either parent or young. +</p> +<p> +The partridge is one of our most native and characteristic birds. +The woods seem good to be in where I find him. He gives a habitable +air to the forest, and one feels as if the rightful occupant was +really at home. The woods where I do not find him seem to want +something, as if suffering from some neglect of Nature. And then he +is such a splendid success, so hardy and vigorous. I think he enjoys +the cold and the snow. His wings seem to rustle with more fervency +in midwinter. If the snow falls very fast, and promises a heavy +storm, he will complacently sit down and allow himself to be snowed +under. Approaching him at such times, he suddenly bursts out of the +snow at your feet, scattering the flakes in all directions, and goes +humming away through the woods like a bombshell,—a picture of +native spirit and success. +</p> +<p> +His drum is one of the most welcome and beautiful sounds of spring. +Scarcely have the trees expanded their buds, when, in the still +April mornings, or toward nightfall, you hear the hum of his devoted +wings. He selects not, as you would predict, a dry and resinous log, +but a decayed and crumbling one, seeming to give the preference to +old oak-logs that are partly blended with the soil. If a log to his +taste cannot be found, he sets up his altar on a rock, which becomes +resonant beneath his fervent blows. Who has seen the partridge drum? +It is the next thing to catching a weasel asleep, though by much +caution and tact it may be done. He does not hug the log, but stands +very erect, expands his ruff, gives two introductory blows, pauses +half a second, and then resumes, striking faster and faster till the +sound becomes a continuous, unbroken whir, the whole lasting less +than half a minute. The tips of his wings barely brush the log, so +that the sound is produced rather by the force of the blows upon the +air and upon his own body as in flying. One log will be used for +many years, though not by the same drummer. It seems to be a sort of +temple and held in great respect. The bird always approaches on +foot, and leaves it in the same quiet manner, unless rudely +disturbed. He is very cunning, though his wit is not profound. It is +difficult to approach him by stealth; you will try many times before +succeeding; but seem to pass by him in a great hurry, making all +the noise possible, and with plumage furled he stands as immovable +as a knot, allowing you a good view, and a good shot if you are a +sportsman. +</p> +<p> +Passing along one of the old Barkpeelers' roads which wander +aimlessly about, I am attracted by a singularly brilliant and +emphatic warble, proceeding from the low bushes, and quickly +suggesting the voice of the Maryland yellow-throat. Presently the +singer hops up on a dry twig, and gives me a good view: lead-colored +head and neck, becoming nearly black on the breast; clear +olive-green back, and yellow belly. From his habit of keeping near +the ground, even hopping upon it occasionally, I know him to be a +ground warbler; from his dark breast the ornithologist has added the +expletive mourning, hence the mourning ground warbler. +</p> +<p> +Of this bird both Wilson and Audubon confessed their comparative +ignorance, neither ever having seen its nest or become acquainted +with its haunts and general habits. Its song is quite striking and +novel, though its voice at once suggests the class of warblers to +which it belongs. It is very shy and wary, flying but a few feet at +a time, and studiously concealing itself from your view. I discover +but one pair here. The female has food in her beak, but carefully +avoids betraying the locality of her nest. The ground warblers all +have one notable feature,—very beautiful legs, as white and +delicate as if they had always worn silk stockings and satin +slippers. High tree warblers have dark brown or black legs and more +brilliant plumage, but less musical ability. +</p> +<p> +The chestnut-sided belongs to the latter class. He is quite common +in these woods, as in all the woods about. He is one of the rarest +and handsomest of the warblers; his white breast and throat, +chestnut sides, and yellow crown show conspicuously. Last year I +found the nest of one in an uplying beech wood, in a low bush near +the roadside, where cows passed and browsed daily. Things went on +smoothly till the cow bunting stole her egg into it, when other +mishaps followed, and the nest was soon empty. A characteristic +attitude of the male during this season is a slight drooping of the +wings, and tail a little elevated, which gives him a very smart, +bantam-like appearance. His song is fine and hurried, and not much +of itself, but has its place in the general chorus. +</p> +<p> +A far sweeter strain, falling on the ear with the true sylvan +cadence, is that of the black-throated green-backed warbler, whom I +meet at various points. He has no superiors among the true <i>Sylvia</i>. +His song is very plain and simple, but remarkably pure and tender, +and might be indicated by straight lines, thus, —— —— <b>√¯¯</b>; +the first two marks representing two sweet, silvery notes, in the same +pitch of voice, and quite unaccented; the latter marks, the +concluding notes, wherein the tone and inflection are changed. The +throat and breast of the male are a rich black like velvet, his face +yellow, and his back a yellowish green. +</p> +<p> +Beyond the Barkpeeling, where the woods are mingled hemlock, beech, +and birch, the languid midsummer note of the black-throated +blue-back falls on my ear. "Twea, twea, twea-e-e!" in the upward +slide, and with the peculiar <i>z-ing</i> of summer insects, but not +destitute of a certain plaintive cadence. It is one of the most +languid, unhurried sounds in all the woods. I feel like reclining +upon the dry leaves at once. Audubon says he has never heard his +love-song; but this is all the love-song he has, and he is evidently +a very plain hero with his little brown mistress. He assumes few +attitudes, and is not a bold and striking gymnast, like many of his +kindred. He has a preference for dense woods of beech and maple, +moves slowly amid the lower branches and smaller growths, keeping +from eight to ten feet from the ground, and repeating now and then +his listless, indolent strain. His back and crown are dark blue; his +throat and breast, black; his belly, pure white; and he has a white +spot on each wing. +</p> +<p> +Here and there I meet the black and white creeping warbler, whose +fine strain reminds me of hair-wire. It is unquestionably the finest +bird-song to be heard. Few insect strains will compare with it in +this respect; while it has none of the harsh, brassy character of +the latter, being very delicate and tender. +</p> +<p> +That sharp, uninterrupted, but still continued warble, which, before +one has learned to discriminate closely, he is apt to confound with +the red-eyed vireo's, is that of the solitary warbling vireo,—a +bird slightly larger, much rarer, and with a louder, less cheerful +and happy strain. I see him hopping along lengthwise of the limbs, +and note the orange tinge of his breast and sides and the white +circle around his eye. +</p> +<p> +But the declining sun and the deepening shadows admonish me that +this ramble must be brought to a close, even though only the leading +characters in this chorus of forty songsters have been described, +and only a small portion of the venerable old woods explored. In a +secluded swampy corner of the old Barkpeeling, where I find the +great purple orchis in bloom, and where the foot of man or beast +seems never to have trod, I linger long, contemplating the wonderful +display of lichens and mosses that overrun both the smaller and the +larger growths. Every bush and branch and sprig is dressed up in the +most rich and fantastic of liveries; and, crowning all, the long +bearded moss festoons the branches or sways gracefully from the +limbs. Every twig looks a century old, though green leaves tip the +end of it. A young yellow birch has a venerable, patriarchal look, +and seems ill at ease under such premature honors. A decayed hemlock +is draped as if by hands for some solemn festival. +</p> +<p> +Mounting toward the upland again, I pause reverently as the hush and +stillness of twilight come upon the woods. It is the sweetest, +ripest hour of the day. And as the hermit's evening hymn goes up +from the deep solitude below me, I experience that serene exaltation +of sentiment of which music, literature, and religion are but the +faint types and symbols. +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +1865. +</p> +<a name="note-2"><!--Note--></a> +<p class="foot"> + <a href="#noteref-2"><sup>1</sup></a> For December, 1858. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + V +</h2> +<h3> + BIRDS'-NESTS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +How alert and vigilant the birds are, even when absorbed in building +their nests! In an open space in the woods I see a pair of +cedar-birds collecting moss from the top of a dead tree. Following +the direction in which they fly, I soon discover the nest placed in +the fork of a small soft maple, which stands amid a thick growth of +wild cherry-trees and young beeches. Carefully concealing myself +beneath it, without any fear that the workmen will hit me with a +chip or let fall a tool, I await the return of the busy pair. +Presently I hear the well-known note, and the female sweeps down and +settles unsuspectingly into the half-finished structure. Hardly have +her wings rested before her eye has penetrated my screen, and with a +hurried movement of alarm she darts away. In a moment the male, with +a tuft of wool in his beak (for there is a sheep pasture near), +joins her, and the two reconnoitre the premises from the surrounding +bushes. With their beaks still loaded, they move around with a +frightened look, and refuse to approach the nest till I have moved +off and lain down behind a log. Then one of them ventures to alight +upon the nest, but, still suspecting all is not right, quickly darts +away again. Then they both together come, and after much peeping and +spying about, and apparently much anxious consultation, cautiously +proceed to work. In less than half an hour it would seem that wool +enough has been brought to supply the whole family, real and +prospective, with socks, if needles and fingers could be found fine +enough to knit it up. In less than a week the female has begun to +deposit her eggs,—four of them in as many days,—white tinged with +purple, with black spots on the larger end. After two weeks of +incubation the young are out. +</p> +<p> +Excepting the American goldfinch, this bird builds later in the +spring than any other,—its nest, in our northern climate, seldom +being undertaken till July. As with the goldfinch, the reason is, +probably, that suitable food for the young cannot be had at an +earlier period. +</p> +<a name="image-0005"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb4.jpg" width="450" height="321" +alt="Finding a Bird's-Nest"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +FINDING A BIRD'S-NEST +</p> + + +<p> +Like most of our common species, as the robin, sparrow, bluebird, +pewee, wren, etc., this bird sometimes seeks wild, remote localities +in which to rear its young; at others, takes up its abode near that +of man. I knew a pair of cedar-birds, one season, to build in an +apple-tree, the branches of which rubbed against the house. For a +day or two before the first straw was laid, I noticed the pair +carefully exploring every branch of the tree, the female taking +the lead, the male following her with an anxious note and look. It +was evident that the wife was to have her choice this time; and, +like one who thoroughly knew her mind, she was proceeding to take +it. Finally the site was chosen upon a high branch, extending over +one low wing of the house. Mutual congratulations and caresses +followed, when both birds flew away in quest of building material. +That most freely used is a sort of cotton-bearing plant which grows +in old wornout fields. The nest is large for the size of the bird, +and very soft. It is in every respect a first-class domicile. +</p> +<p> +On another occasion, while walking or rather sauntering in the woods +(for I have discovered that one cannot run and read the book of +nature), my attention was arrested by a dull hammering, evidently +but a few rods off. I said to myself, "Some one is building a +house." From what I had previously seen, I suspected the builder to +be a red-headed woodpecker in the top of a dead oak stub near by. +Moving cautiously in that direction, I perceived a round hole, about +the size of that made by an inch-and-a-half auger, near the top of +the decayed trunk, and the white chips of the workman strewing the +ground beneath. When but a few paces from the tree, my foot pressed +upon a dry twig, which gave forth a very slight snap. Instantly the +hammering ceased, and a scarlet head appeared at the door. Though I +remained perfectly motionless, forbearing even to wink till my eyes +smarted, the bird refused to go on with his work, but flew quietly +off to a neighboring tree. What surprised me was, that, amid his +busy occupation down in the heart of the old tree, he should have +been so alert and watchful as to catch the slightest sound from +without. +</p> +<p> +The woodpeckers all build in about the same manner, excavating the +trunk or branch of a decayed tree and depositing the eggs on the +fine fragments of wood at the bottom of the cavity. Though the nest +is not especially an artistic work,—requiring strength rather than +skill,—yet the eggs and the young of few other birds are so +completely housed from the elements, or protected from their natural +enemies, the jays, crows, hawks, and owls. A tree with a natural +cavity is never selected, but one which has been dead just long +enough to have become soft and brittle throughout. The bird goes in +horizontally for a few inches, making a hole perfectly round and +smooth and adapted to his size, then turns downward, gradually +enlarging the hole, as he proceeds, to the depth of ten, fifteen, +twenty inches, according to the softness of the tree and the urgency +of the mother bird to deposit her eggs. While excavating, male and +female work alternately. After one has been engaged fifteen or +twenty minutes, drilling and carrying out chips, it ascends to an +upper limb, utters a loud call or two, when its mate soon appears, +and, alighting near it on the branch, the pair chatter and caress a +moment, then the fresh one enters the cavity and the other flies +away. +</p> +<p> +A few days since I climbed up to the nest of the downy woodpecker, +in the decayed top of a sugar maple. For better protection against +driving rains, the hole, which was rather more than an inch in +diameter, was made immediately beneath a branch which stretched out +almost horizontally from the main stem. It appeared merely a deeper +shadow upon the dark and mottled surface of the bark with which the +branches were covered, and could not be detected by the eye until +one was within a few feet of it. The young chirped vociferously as I +approached the nest, thinking it was the old one with food; but the +clamor suddenly ceased as I put my hand on that part of the trunk in +which they were concealed, the unusual jarring and rustling alarming +them into silence. The cavity, which was about fifteen inches deep, +was gourd-shaped, and was wrought out with great skill and +regularity. The walls were quite smooth and clean and new. +</p> +<p> +I shall never forget the circumstance of observing a pair of +yellow-bellied woodpeckers—the most rare and secluded, and, next to +the red-headed, the most beautiful species found in our +woods—breeding in an old, truncated beech in the Beaverkill +Mountains, an offshoot of the Catskills. We had been traveling, +three of us, all day in search of a trout lake, which lay far in +among the mountains, had twice lost our course in the trackless +forest, and, weary and hungry, had sat down to rest upon a decayed +log. The chattering of the young, and the passing to and fro of the +parent birds, soon arrested my attention. The entrance to the nest +was on the east side of the tree, about twenty-five feet from the +ground. At intervals of scarcely a minute, the old birds, one after +the other, would alight upon the edge of the hole with a grub or +worm in their beaks; then each in turn would make a bow or two, cast +an eye quickly around, and by a single movement place itself in the +neck of the passage. Here it would pause a moment, as if to +determine in which expectant mouth to place the morsel, and then +disappear within. In about half a minute, during which time the +chattering of the young gradually subsided, the bird would again +emerge, but this time bearing in its beak the ordure of one of the +helpless family. Flying away very slowly with head lowered and +extended, as if anxious to hold the offensive object as far from its +plumage as possible, the bird dropped the unsavory morsel in the +course of a few yards, and, alighting on a tree, wiped its bill on +the bark and moss. This seems to be the order all day,—carrying in +and carrying out. I watched the birds for an hour, while my +companions were taking their turn in exploring the lay of the land +around us, and noted no variation in the programme. It would be +curious to know if the young are fed and waited upon in regular +order, and how, amid the darkness and the crowded state of the +apartment, the matter is so neatly managed. But ornithologists are +all silent upon the subject. +</p> +<p> +This practice of the birds is not so uncommon as it might at first +seem. It is indeed almost an invariable rule among all land birds. +With woodpeckers and kindred species, and with birds that burrow in +the ground, as bank swallows, king-fishers, etc., it is a necessity. +The accumulation of the excrement in the nest would prove most fatal +to the young. +</p> +<p> +But even among birds that neither bore nor mine, but which build a +shallow nest on the branch of a tree or upon the ground, as the +robin, the finches, the buntings, etc., the ordure of the young is +removed to a distance by the parent bird. When the robin is seen +going away from its brood with a slow, heavy flight, entirely +different from its manner a moment before on approaching the nest +with a cherry or worm, it is certain to be engaged in this office. +One may observe the social sparrow, when feeding its young, pause a +moment after the worm has been given and hop around on the brink of +the nest observing the movements within. +</p> +<p> +The instinct of cleanliness no doubt prompts the action in all +cases, though the disposition to secrecy or concealment may not be +unmixed with it. +</p> +<p> +The swallows form an exception to the rule, the excrement being +voided by the young over the brink of the nest. They form an +exception, also, to the rule of secrecy, aiming not so much to +conceal the nest as to render it inaccessible. +</p> +<p> +Other exceptions are the pigeons, hawks, and water-fowls. +</p> +<p> +But to return. Having a good chance to note the color and markings +of the woodpeckers as they passed in and out at the opening of the +nest, I saw that Audubon had made a mistake in figuring or +describing the female of this species with the red spot upon the +head. I have seen a number of pairs of them, and in no instance have +I seen the mother bird marked with red. +</p> +<p> +The male was in full plumage, and I reluctantly shot him for a +specimen. Passing by the place again next day, I paused a moment to +note how matters stood. I confess it was not without some +compunctions that I heard the cries of the young birds, and saw the +widowed mother, her cares now doubled, hastening to and fro in the +solitary woods. She would occasionally pause expectantly on the +trunk of a tree and utter a loud call. +</p> +<p> +It usually happens, when the male of any species is killed during +the breeding season, that the female soon procures another mate. +There are, most likely, always a few unmated birds of both sexes +within a given range, and through these the broken links may be +restored. Audubon or Wilson, I forget which, tells of a pair of fish +hawks, or ospreys, that built their nest in an ancient oak. The male +was so zealous in the defense of the young that he actually attacked +with beak and claw a person who attempted to climb into his nest, +putting his face and eyes in great jeopardy. Arming himself with a +heavy club, the climber felled the gallant bird to the ground and +killed him. In the course of a few days the female had procured +another mate. But naturally enough the stepfather showed none of the +spirit and pluck in defense of the brood that had been displayed by +the original parent. When danger was nigh he was seen afar off, +sailing around in placid unconcern. +</p> +<p> +It is generally known that when either the wild turkey or domestic +turkey begins to lay, and afterwards to sit and rear the brood, she +secludes herself from the male, who then, very sensibly, herds with +others of his sex, and betakes himself to haunts of his own till +male and female, old and young, meet again on common ground, late in +the fall. But rob the sitting bird of her eggs, or destroy her +tender young, and she immediately sets out in quest of a male, who +is no laggard when he hears her call. The same is true of ducks and +other aquatic fowls. The propagating instinct is strong, and +surmounts all ordinary difficulties. No doubt the widowhood I had +caused in the case of the woodpeckers was of short duration, and +chance brought, or the widow drummed up, some forlorn male, who was +not dismayed by the prospect of having a large family of half-grown +birds on his hands at the outset. +</p> +<p> +I have seen a fine cock robin paying assiduous addresses to a female +bird as late as the middle of July; and I have no doubt that his +intentions were honorable. I watched the pair for half an hour. The +hen, I took it, was in the market for the second time that season; +but the cock, from his bright, unfaded plumage, looked like a new +arrival. The hen resented every advance of the male. In vain he +strutted around her and displayed his fine feathers; every now and +then she would make at him in a most spiteful manner. He followed +her to the ground, poured into her ear a fine, half-suppressed +warble, offered her a worm, flew back to the tree again with a great +spread of plumage, hopped around her on the branches, chirruped, +chattered, flew gallantly at an intruder, and was back in an instant +at her side. No use,—she cut him short at every turn. +</p> +<p> +The <i>dénouement</i> I cannot relate, as the artful bird, followed by +her ardent suitor, soon flew away beyond my sight. It may not be +rash to conclude, however, that she held out no longer than was +prudent. +</p> +<p> +On the whole, there seems to be a system of Women's Rights +prevailing among the birds, which, contemplated from the standpoint +of the male, is quite admirable. In almost all cases of joint +interest, the female bird is the most active. She determines the +site of the nest, and is usually the most absorbed in its +construction. Generally, she is more vigilant in caring for the +young, and manifests the most concern when danger threatens. Hour +after hour I have seen the mother of a brood of blue grosbeaks pass +from the nearest meadow to the tree that held her nest, with a +cricket or grasshopper in her bill, while her better-dressed half +was singing serenely on a distant tree or pursuing his pleasure amid +the branches. +</p> +<p> +Yet among the majority of our song-birds the male is most +conspicuous both by his color and manners and by his song, and is to +that extent a shield to the female. It is thought that the female is +humbler clad for her better concealment during incubation. But this +is not satisfactory, as in some cases she is relieved from time to +time by the male. In the case of the domestic dove, for instance, +promptly at midday the cock is found upon the nest. I should say +that the dull or neutral tints of the female were a provision of +nature for her greater safety at all times, as her life is far more +precious to the species than that of the male. The indispensable +office of the male reduces itself to little more than a moment of +time, while that of his mate extends over days and weeks, if not +months.<a href="#note-3" name="noteref-3"><small>[1]</small></a> +</p> +<p> +In migrating northward, the males precede the females by eight or +ten days; returning in the fall, the females and young precede the +males by about the same time. +</p> +<p> +After the woodpeckers have abandoned their nests, or rather +chambers, which they do after the first season, their cousins, the +nuthatches, chickadees, and brown creepers, fall heir to them. These +birds, especially the creepers and nuthatches, have many of the +habits of the <i>Picidæ</i>, but lack their powers of bill, and so are +unable to excavate a nest for themselves. Their habitation, +therefore, is always second-hand. But each species carries in some +soft material of various kinds, or, in other words, furnishes the +tenement to its liking. The chickadee arranges in the bottom of the +cavity a little mat of a light felt-like substance, which looks as +if it came from the hatter's, but which is probably the work of +numerous worms or caterpillars. On this soft lining the female +deposits six speckled eggs. +</p> +<p> +I recently discovered one of these nests in a most interesting +situation. The tree containing it, a variety of the wild cherry, +stood upon the brink of the bald summit of a high mountain. Gray, +time-worn rocks lay piled loosely about, or overtoppled the just +visible byways of the red fox. The trees had a half-scared look, and +that indescribable wildness which lurks about the tops of all remote +mountains possessed the place. Standing there, I looked down upon +the back of the red-tailed hawk as he flew out over the earth +beneath me. Following him, my eye also took in farms and settlements +and villages and other mountain ranges that grew blue in the +distance. +</p> +<p> +The parent birds attracted my attention by appearing with food in +their beaks, and by seeming much put out. Yet so wary were they of +revealing the locality of their brood, or even of the precise tree +that held them, that I lurked around over an hour without gaining a +point on them. Finally a bright and curious boy who accompanied me +secreted himself under a low, projecting rock close to the tree in +which we supposed the nest to be, while I moved off around the +mountain-side. It was not long before the youth had their secret. +The tree, which was low and wide-branching, and overrun with +lichens, appeared at a cursory glance to contain not one dry or +decayed limb. Yet there was one a few feet long, in which, when my +eyes were piloted thither, I detected a small round orifice. +</p> +<p> +As my weight began to shake the branches, the consternation of both +old and young was great. The stump of a limb that held the nest was +about three inches thick, and at the bottom of the tunnel was +excavated quite to the bark. With my thumb I broke in the thin wall, +and the young, which were full-fledged, looked out upon the world +for the first time. Presently one of them, with a significant chirp, +as much as to say, "It is time we were out of this," began to climb +up toward the proper entrance. Placing himself in the hole, he +looked around without manifesting any surprise at the grand scene +that lay spread out before him. He was taking his bearings, and +determining how far he could trust the power of his untried wings to +take him out of harm's way. After a moment's pause, with a loud +chirrup, he launched out and made tolerable headway. The others +rapidly followed. Each one, as it started upward, from a sudden +impulse, contemptuously saluted the abandoned nest with its +excrement. +</p> +<p> +Though generally regular in their habits and instincts, yet the +birds sometimes seem as whimsical and capricious as superior +beings. One is not safe, for instance, in making any absolute +assertion as to their place or mode of building. Ground-builders +often get up into a bush, and tree-builders sometimes get upon the +ground or into a tussock of grass. The song sparrow, which is a +ground builder, has been known to build in the knothole of a fence +rail; and a chimney swallow once got tired of soot and smoke, and +fastened its nest on a rafter in a hay barn. A friend tells me of a +pair of barn swallows which, taking a fanciful turn, saddled their +nest in the loop of a rope that was pendent from a peg in the peak, +and liked it so well that they repeated the experiment next year. I +have known the social sparrow, or "hairbird," to build under a shed, +in a tuft of hay that hung down, through the loose flooring, from +the mow above. It usually contents itself with half a dozen stalks +of dry grass and a few long hairs from a cow's tail loosely arranged +on the branch of an apple-tree. The rough-winged swallow builds in +the wall and in old stone-heaps, and I have seen the robin build in +similar localities. Others have found its nest in old, abandoned +wells. The house wren will build in anything that has an accessible +cavity, from an old boot to a bombshell. A pair of them once +persisted in building their nest in the top of a certain pump-tree, +getting in through the opening above the handle. The pump being in +daily use, the nest was destroyed more than a score of times. This +jealous little wretch has the wise forethought, when the box in +which he builds contains two compartments, to fill up one of them, +so as to avoid the risk of troublesome neighbors. +</p> +<p> +The less skillful builders sometimes depart from their usual habit, +and take up with the abandoned nest of some other species. The blue +jay now and then lays in an old crow's nest or cuckoo's nest. The +crow blackbird, seized with a fit of indolence, drops its eggs +in the cavity of a decayed branch. I heard of a cuckoo that +dispossessed a robin of its nest; of another that set a blue jay +adrift. Large, loose structures, like the nests of the osprey and +certain of the herons, have been found with half a dozen nests of +the blackbirds set in the outer edges, like so many parasites, or, +as Audubon says, like the retainers about the rude court of a feudal +baron. +</p> +<p> +The same birds breeding in a southern climate construct far less +elaborate nests than when breeding in a northern climate. Certain +species of water-fowl, that abandon their eggs to the sand and the +sun in the warmer zones, build a nest and sit in the usual way in +Labrador. In Georgia, the Baltimore oriole places its nest upon the +north side of the tree; in the Middle and Eastern States, it fixes +it upon the south or east side, and makes it much thicker and +warmer. I have seen one from the South that had some kind of coarse +reed or sedge woven into it, giving it an open-work appearance, like +a basket. +</p> +<p> +Very few species use the same material uniformly. I have seen the +nest of the robin quite destitute of mud. In one instance it was +composed mainly of long black horse-hairs, arranged in a circular +manner, with a lining of fine yellow grass; the whole presenting +quite a novel appearance. In another case the nest was chiefly +constructed of a species of rock moss. +</p> +<p> +The nest for the second brood during the same season is often a mere +makeshift. The haste of the female to deposit her eggs as the season +advances seems very great, and the structure is apt to be +prematurely finished. I was recently reminded of this fact by +happening, about the last of July, to meet with several nests of the +wood or bush sparrow in a remote blackberry field. The nests with +eggs were far less elaborate and compact than the earlier nests, +from which the young had flown. +</p> +<p> +Day after day, as I go to a certain piece of woods, I observe a male +indigo-bird sitting on precisely the same part of a high branch, and +singing in his most vivacious style. As I approach he ceases to +sing, and, flirting his tail right and left with marked emphasis, +chirps sharply. In a low bush near by, I come upon the object of his +solicitude,—a thick, compact nest composed largely of dry leaves +and fine grass, in which a plain brown bird is sitting upon four +pale blue eggs. +</p> +<p> +The wonder is that a bird will leave the apparent security of the +treetops to place its nest in the way of the many dangers that walk +and crawl upon the ground. There, far up out of reach, sings the +bird; here, not three feet from the ground, are its eggs or helpless +young. The truth is, birds are the greatest enemies of birds, and it +is with reference to this fact that many of the smaller species +build. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the greatest proportion of birds breed along highways. I +have known the ruffed grouse to come out of a dense wood and make +its nest at the root of a tree within ten paces of the road, where, +no doubt, hawks and crows, as well as skunks and foxes, would be +less likely to find it out. Traversing remote mountain-roads through +dense woods, I have repeatedly seen the veery, or Wilson's thrush, +sitting upon her nest, so near me that I could almost take her from +it by stretching out my hand. Birds of prey show none of this +confidence in man, and, when locating their nests, avoid rather than +seek his haunts. +</p> +<p> +In a certain locality in the interior of New York, I know, every +season, where I am sure to find a nest or two of the slate-colored +snowbird. It is under the brink of a low mossy bank, so near the +highway that it could be reached from a passing vehicle with a whip. +Every horse or wagon or foot passenger disturbs the sitting bird. +She awaits the near approach of the sound of feet or wheels, and +then darts quickly across the road, barely clearing the ground, and +disappears amid the bushes on the opposite side. +</p> +<p> +In the trees that line one of the main streets and fashionable +drives leading out of Washington city and less than half a mile from +the boundary, I have counted the nests of five different species at +one time, and that without any very close scrutiny of the foliage, +while, in many acres of woodland half a mile off, I searched in vain +for a single nest. Among the five, the nest that interested me most +was that of the blue grosbeak. Here this bird, which, according to +Audubon's observations in Louisiana, is shy and recluse, affecting +remote marshes and the borders of large ponds of stagnant water, had +placed its nest in the lowest twig of the lowest branch of a large +sycamore, immediately over a great thoroughfare, and so near the +ground that a person standing in a cart or sitting on a horse could +have reached it with his hand. The nest was composed mainly of +fragments of newspaper and stalks of grass, and, though so low, was +remarkably well concealed by one of the peculiar clusters of twigs +and leaves which characterize this tree. The nest contained young +when I discovered it, and, though the parent birds were much annoyed +by my loitering about beneath the tree, they paid little attention +to the stream of vehicles that was constantly passing. It was a +wonder to me when the birds could have built it, for they are much +shyer when building than at other times. No doubt they worked mostly +in the morning, having the early hours all to themselves. +</p> +<p> +Another pair of blue grosbeaks built in a grave-yard within the city +limits. The nest was placed in a low bush, and the male continued to +sing at intervals till the young were ready to fly. The song of this +bird is a rapid, intricate warble, like that of the indigo-bird, +though stronger and louder. Indeed, these two birds so much resemble +each other in color, form, manner, voice, and general habits that, +were it not for the difference in size,—the grosbeak being nearly +as large again as the indigo-bird,—it would be a hard matter to +tell them apart. The females of both species are clad in the same +reddish-brown suits. So are the young the first season. +</p> +<p> +Of course in the deep, primitive woods, also, are nests; but how +rarely we find them! The simple art of the bird consists in choosing +common, neutral-tinted material, as moss, dry leaves, twigs, and +various odds and ends, and placing the structure on a convenient +branch, where it blends in color with its surroundings; but how +consummate is this art, and how skillfully is the nest concealed! We +occasionally light upon it, but who, unaided by the movements of +the bird, could find it out? During the present season I went to the +woods nearly every day for a fortnight without making any +discoveries of this kind, till one day, paying them a farewell +visit, I chanced to come upon several nests. A black and white +creeping warbler suddenly became much alarmed as I approached a +crumbling old stump in a dense part of the forest. He alighted upon +it, chirped sharply, ran up and down its sides, and finally left it +with much reluctance. The nest, which contained three young birds +nearly fledged, was placed upon the ground, at the foot of the +stump, and in such a position that the color of the young harmonized +perfectly with the bits of bark, sticks, etc., lying about. My eye +rested upon them for the second time before I made them out. They +hugged the nest very closely, but as I put down my hand they all +scampered off with loud cries for help, which caused the parent +birds to place themselves almost within my reach. The nest was +merely a little dry grass arranged in a thick bed of dry leaves. +</p> +<p> +This was amid a thick undergrowth. Moving on into a passage of large +stately hemlocks, with only here and there a small beech or maple +rising up into the perennial twilight, I paused to make out a note +which was entirely new to me. It is still in my ear. Though +unmistakably a bird note, it yet suggested the bleating of a tiny +lambkin. Presently the birds appeared,—a pair of the solitary +vireo. They came flitting from point to point, alighting only for a +moment at a time, the male silent, but the female uttering this +strange, tender note. It was a rendering into some new sylvan +dialect of the human sentiment of maidenly love. It was really +pathetic in its sweetness and childlike confidence and joy. I soon +discovered that the pair were building a nest upon a low branch a +few yards from me. The male flew cautiously to the spot and adjusted +something, and the twain moved on, the female calling to her mate at +intervals, <i>love-e, love-e</i>, with a cadence and tenderness in the +tone that rang in the ear long afterward. The nest was suspended to +the fork of a small branch, as is usual with the vireos, plentifully +lined with lichens, and bound and rebound with masses of coarse +spider-webs. There was no attempt at concealment except in the +neutral tints, which made it look like a natural growth of the dim, +gray woods. +</p> +<p> +Continuing my random walk, I next paused in a low part of the woods, +where the larger trees began to give place to a thick second-growth +that covered an old Barkpeeling. I was standing by a large maple, +when a small bird darted quickly away from it, as if it might have +come out of a hole near its base. As the bird paused a few yards +from me, and began to chirp uneasily, my curiosity was at once +excited. When I saw it was the female mourning ground warbler, and +remembered that the nest of this bird had not yet been seen by any +naturalist,—that not even Dr. Brewer had ever seen the eggs,—I +felt that here was something worth looking for. So I carefully began +the search, exploring inch by inch the ground, the base and roots of +the tree, and the various shrubby growths about it, till, finding +nothing and fearing I might really put my foot in it, I bethought me +to withdraw to a distance and after some delay return again, and, +thus forewarned, note the exact point from which the bird flew. This +I did, and, returning, had little difficulty in discovering the +nest. It was placed but a few feet from the maple-tree, in a bunch +of ferns, and about six inches from the ground. It was quite a +massive nest, composed entirely of the stalks and leaves of dry +grass, with an inner lining of fine, dark brown roots. The eggs, +three in number, were of light flesh-color, uniformly specked with +fine brown specks. The cavity of the nest was so deep that the back +of the sitting bird sank below the edge. +</p> +<p> +In the top of a tall tree, a short distance farther on, I saw the +nest of the red-tailed hawk,—a large mass of twigs and dry sticks. +The young had flown, but still lingered in the vicinity, and, as I +approached, the mother bird flew about over me, squealing in a very +angry, savage manner. Tufts of the hair and other indigestible +material of the common meadow mouse lay around on the ground +beneath the nest. +</p> +<p> +As I was about leaving the woods, my hat almost brushed the nest of +the red-eyed vireo, which hung basket-like on the end of a low, +drooping branch of the beech. I should never have seen it had the +bird kept her place. It contained three eggs of the bird's own, and +one of the cow bunting. The strange egg was only just perceptibly +larger than the others, yet three days after, when I looked into the +nest again and found all but one egg hatched, the young interloper +was at least four times as large as either of the others, and with +such a superabundance of bowels as to almost smother his bedfellows +beneath them. That the intruder should fare the same as the rightful +occupants, and thrive with them, was more than ordinary potluck; but +that it alone should thrive, devouring, as it were, all the rest, is +one of those freaks of Nature in which she would seem to discourage +the homely virtues of prudence and honesty. Weeds and parasites have +the odds greatly against them, yet they wage a very successful war +nevertheless. +</p> +<p> +The woods hold not such another gem as the nest of the hummingbird. +The finding of one is an event to date from. It is the next best +thing to finding an eagle's nest. I have met with but two, both by +chance. One was placed on the horizontal branch of a chestnut-tree, +with a solitary green leaf, forming a complete canopy, about an +inch and a half above it. The repeated spiteful dartings of the bird +past my ears, as I stood under the tree, caused me to suspect that I +was intruding upon some one's privacy; and, following it with my +eye, I soon saw the nest, which was in process of construction. +Adopting my usual tactics of secreting myself near by, I had the +satisfaction of seeing the tiny artist at work. It was the female, +unassisted by her mate. At intervals of two or three minutes she +would appear with a small tuft of some cottony substance in her +beak, dart a few times through and around the tree, and alighting +quickly in the nest, arrange the material she had brought, using her +breast as a model. +</p> +<p> +The other nest I discovered in a dense forest on the side of a +mountain. The sitting bird was disturbed as I passed beneath her. +The whirring of her wings arrested my attention, when, after a short +pause, I had the good luck to see, through an opening in the leaves, +the bird return to her nest, which appeared like a mere wart or +excrescence on a small branch. The hummingbird, unlike all others, +does not alight upon the nest, but flies into it. She enters it as +quick as a flash, but as light as any feather. Two eggs are the +complement. They are perfectly white, and so frail that only a +woman's fingers may touch them. Incubation lasts about ten days. In +a week the young have flown. +</p> +<p> +The only nest like the hummingbird's, and comparable to it in +neatness and symmetry, is that of the blue-gray gnatcatcher. This is +often saddled upon the limb in the same manner, though it is +generally more or less pendent; it is deep and soft, composed mostly +of some vegetable down covered all over with delicate tree-lichens, +and, except that it is much larger, appears almost identical with +the nest of the hummingbird. +</p> +<p> +But the nest of nests, the ideal nest, after we have left the deep +woods, is unquestionably that of the Baltimore oriole. It is the +only perfectly pensile nest we have. The nest of the orchard oriole +is indeed mainly so, but this bird generally builds lower and +shallower, more after the manner of the vireos. +</p> +<p> +The Baltimore oriole loves to attach its nest to the swaying +branches of the tallest elms, making no attempt at concealment, but +satisfied if the position be high and the branch pendent. This nest +would seem to cost more time and skill than any other bird +structure. A peculiar flax-like substance seems to be always sought +after and always found. The nest when completed assumes the form of +a large, suspended gourd. The walls are thin but firm, and proof +against the most driving rain. The mouth is hemmed or overhanded +with horse-hair, and the sides are usually sewed through and through +with the same. +</p> +<p> +Not particular as to the matter of secrecy, the bird is not +particular as to material, so that it be of the nature of strings or +threads. A lady friend once told me that, while working by an open +window, one of these birds approached during her momentary absence, +and, seizing a skein of some kind of thread or yarn, made off with +it to its half-finished nest. But the perverse yarn caught fast in +the branches, and, in the bird's effort to extricate it, got +hopelessly tangled. She tugged away at it all day, but was finally +obliged to content herself with a few detached portions. The +fluttering strings were an eyesore to her ever after, and, passing +and repassing, she would give them a spiteful jerk, as much as to +say, "There is that confounded yarn that gave me so much trouble." +</p> +<p> +From Pennsylvania, Vincent Barnard (to whom I am indebted for other +curious facts) sent me this interesting story of an oriole. He says +a friend of his curious in such things, on observing the bird +beginning to build, hung out near the prospective nest skeins of +many-colored zephyr yarn, which the eager artist readily +appropriated. He managed it so that the bird used nearly equal +quantities of various high, bright colors. The nest was made +unusually deep and capacious, and it may be questioned if such a +thing of beauty was ever before woven by the cunning of a bird. +</p> +<p> +Nuttall, by far the most genial of American ornithologists, relates +the following:— +</p> +<p> +"A female (oriole), which I observed attentively, carried off to +her nest a piece of lamp-wick ten or twelve feet long. This long +string and many other shorter ones were left hanging out for about a +week before both the ends were wattled into the sides of the nest. +Some other little birds, making use of similar materials, at times +twitched these flowing ends, and generally brought out the busy +Baltimore from her occupation in great anger. +</p> +<p> +"I may perhaps claim indulgence for adding a little more of the +biography of this particular bird, as a representative also of the +instincts of her race. She completed the nest in about a week's +time, without any aid from her mate, who indeed appeared but seldom +in her company and was now become nearly silent. For fibrous +materials she broke, hackled, and gathered the flax of the asclepias +and hibiscus stalks, tearing off long strings and flying with them +to the scene of her labors. She appeared very eager and hasty in her +pursuits, and collected her materials without fear or restraint +while three men were working in the neighboring walks and many +persons visiting the garden. Her courage and perseverance were +indeed truly admirable. If watched too narrowly, she saluted with +her usual scolding, <i>tshrr, tshrr, tshrr</i>, seeing no reason, +probably, why she should be interrupted in her indispensable +occupation. +</p> +<p> +"Though the males were now comparatively silent on the arrival of +their busy mates, I could not help observing this female and a +second, continually vociferating, apparently in strife. At last she +was observed to attack this <i>second</i> female very fiercely, who slyly +intruded herself at times into the same tree where she was building. +These contests were angry and often repeated. To account for this +animosity, I now recollected that <i>two</i> fine males had been killed +in our vicinity, and I therefore concluded the intruder to be left +without a mate; yet she had gained the affections of the consort of +the busy female, and thus the cause of their jealous quarrel became +apparent. Having obtained the confidence of her faithless paramour, +the <i>second</i> female began preparing to weave a nest in an adjoining +elm by tying together certain pendent twigs as a foundation. The +male now associated chiefly with the intruder, whom he even assisted +in her labor, yet did not wholly forget his first partner, who +called on him one evening in a low, affectionate tone, which was +answered in the same strain. While they were thus engaged in +friendly whispers, suddenly appeared the rival, and a violent +<i>rencontre</i> ensued, so that one of the females appeared to be +greatly agitated, and fluttered with spreading wings as if +considerably hurt. The male, though prudently neutral in the +contest, showed his culpable partiality by flying off with his +paramour, and for the rest of the evening left the tree to his +pugnacious consort. Cares of another kind, more imperious and +tender, at length reconciled, or at least terminated, these disputes +with the jealous females; and by the aid of the neighboring +bachelors, who are never wanting among these and other birds, peace +was at length completely restored by the restitution of the quiet +and happy condition of monogamy." +</p> +<p> +Let me not forget to mention the nest under the mountain ledge, the +nest of the common pewee,—a modest mossy structure, with four +pearl-white eggs,—looking out upon some wild scene and over-hung by +beetling crags. After all has been said about the elaborate, +high-hung structures, few nests perhaps awaken more pleasant +emotions in the mind of the beholder than this of the pewee,—the +gray, silent rocks, with caverns and dens where the fox and the wolf +lurk, and just out of their reach, in a little niche, as if it grew +there, the mossy tenement! +</p> +<p> +Nearly every high projecting rock in my range has one of these +nests. Following a trout stream up a wild mountain gorge, not long +since, I counted five in the distance of a mile, all within easy +reach, but safe from the minks and the skunks, and well housed from +the storms. In my native town I know a pine and oak clad hill, +round-topped, with a bold, precipitous front extending halfway +around it. Near the top, and along this front or side, there crops +out a ledge of rocks unusually high and cavernous. One immense +layer projects many feet, allowing a person or many persons, +standing upright, to move freely beneath it. There is a delicious +spring of water there, and plenty of wild, cool air. The floor is of +loose stone, now trod by sheep and foxes, once by the Indian and the +wolf. How I have delighted from boyhood to spend a summer day in +this retreat, or take refuge there from a sudden shower! Always the +freshness and coolness, and always the delicate mossy nest of the +phœbe-bird! The bird keeps her place till you are within a few +feet of her, when she flits to a near branch, and, with many +oscillations of her tail, observes you anxiously. Since the country +has become settled, this pewee has fallen into the strange practice +of occasionally placing its nest under a bridge, hay-shed, or other +artificial structure, where it is subject to all kinds of +interruptions and annoyances. When placed thus, the nest is larger +and coarser. I know a hay-loft beneath which a pair has regularly +placed its nest for several successive seasons. Arranged along on a +single pole, which sags down a few inches from the flooring it was +intended to help support, are three of these structures, marking the +number of years the birds have nested there. The foundation is of +mud with a superstructure of moss, elaborately lined with hair and +feathers. Nothing can be more perfect and exquisite than the +interior of one of these nests, yet a new one is built every +season. Three broods, however, are frequently reared in it. +</p> +<p> +The pewees, as a class, are the best architects we have. The +kingbird builds a nest altogether admirable, using various soft +cotton and woolen substances, and sparing neither time nor material +to make it substantial and warm. The green-crested pewee builds its +nest in many instances wholly of the blossoms of the white oak. The +wood pewee builds a neat, compact, socket-shaped nest of moss and +lichens on a horizontal branch. There is never a loose end or shred +about it. The sitting bird is largely visible above the rim. She +moves her head freely about and seems entirely at her ease,—a +circumstance which I have never observed in any other species. The +nest of the great-crested flycatcher is seldom free from snake +skins, three or four being sometimes woven into it. +</p> +<p> +About the thinnest, shallowest nest, for its situation, that can be +found is that of the turtle-dove. A few sticks and straws are +carelessly thrown together, hardly sufficient to prevent the eggs +from falling through or rolling off. The nest of the passenger +pigeon is equally hasty and insufficient, and the squabs often fall +to the ground and perish. The other extreme among our common birds +is furnished by the ferruginous thrush, which collects together a +mass of material that would fill a half-bushel measure; or by the +fish hawk, which adds to and repairs its nest year after year, till +the whole would make a cart-load. +</p> +<p> +One of the rarest of nests is that of the eagle, because the eagle +is one of the rarest of birds. Indeed, so seldom is the eagle seen +that its presence always seems accidental. It appears as if merely +pausing on the way, while bound for some distant unknown region. One +September, while a youth, I saw the ring-tailed eagle, the young of +the golden eagle, an immense, dusky bird, the sight of which filled +me with awe. It lingered about the hills for two days. Some young +cattle, a two-year-old colt, and half a dozen sheep were at pasture +on a high ridge that led up to the mountain, and in plain view of +the house. On the second day this dusky monarch was seen flying +about above them. Presently he began to hover over them, after the +manner of a hawk watching for mice. He then with extended legs let +himself slowly down upon them, actually grappling the backs of the +young cattle, and frightening the creatures so that they rushed +about the field in great consternation; and finally, as he grew +bolder and more frequent in his descents, the whole herd broke over +the fence and came tearing down to the house "like mad." It did not +seem to be an assault with intent to kill, but was perhaps a +stratagem resorted to in order to separate the herd and expose the +lambs, which hugged the cattle very closely. When he occasionally +alighted upon the oaks that stood near, the branch could be seen to +sway and bend beneath him. Finally, as a rifleman started out in +pursuit of him, he launched into the air, set his wings, and sailed +away southward. A few years afterward, in January, another eagle +passed through the same locality, alighting in a field near some +dead animal, but tarried briefly. +</p> +<p> +So much by way of identification. The golden eagle is common to the +northern parts of both hemispheres, and places its eyrie on high +precipitous rocks. A pair built on an inaccessible shelf of rock +along the Hudson for eight successive years. A squad of +Revolutionary soldiers, also, as related by Audubon, found a nest +along this river, and had an adventure with the bird that came near +costing one of their number his life. His comrades let him down by a +rope to secure the eggs or young, when he was attacked by the female +eagle with such fury that he was obliged to defend himself with his +knife. In doing so, by a misstroke, he nearly severed the rope that +held him, and was drawn up by a single strand from his perilous +position. +</p> +<p> +The bald eagle, also, builds on high rocks, according to Audubon, +though Wilson describes the nest of one which he saw near Great Egg +Harbor, in the top of a large yellow pine. It was a vast pile of +sticks, sods, sedge, grass, reeds, etc., five or six feet high by +four broad, and with little or no concavity. It had been used for +many years, and he was told that the eagles made it a sort of home +or lodging-place in all seasons. +</p> +<p> +The eagle in all cases uses one nest, with more or less repair, for +several years. Many of our common birds do the same. The birds may +be divided, with respect to this and kindred points, into five +general classes. First, those that repair or appropriate the last +year's nest, as the wren, swallow, bluebird, great-crested +flycatcher, owls, eagles, fish hawk, and a few others. Secondly, +those that build anew each season, though frequently rearing more +than one brood in the same nest. Of these the phœbe-bird is a +well-known example. Thirdly, those that build a new nest for each +brood, which includes by far the greatest number of species. +Fourthly, a limited number that make no nest of their own, but +appropriate the abandoned nests of other birds. Finally, those who +use no nest at all, but deposit their eggs in the sand, which is the +case with a large number of aquatic fowls. +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +1866. +</p> +<a name="note-3"><!--Note--></a> +<p class="foot"> +<a href="#noteref-3"><sup>1</sup></a> A recent English writer upon this subject presents an +array of facts and considerations that do not support this view. +He says that, with very few exceptions, it is the rule that, when +both sexes are of strikingly gay and conspicuous colors, the nest +is such as to conceal the sitting bird; while, whenever there is a +striking contrast of colors, the male being gay and conspicuous, +the female dull and obscure, the nest is open and the sitting bird +exposed to view. The exceptions to this rule among European birds +appear to be very few. Among our own birds, the cuckoos and blue +jays build open nests, without presenting any noticeable +difference in the coloring of the two sexes. The same is true of +the pewees, the kingbird, and the sparrows, while the common +bluebird, the oriole, and orchard starling afford examples the +other way. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + VI +</h2> +<h3> + THE HEART OF THE SOUTHERN CATSKILLS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +On looking at the southern and more distant Catskills from the +Hudson River on the east, or on looking at them from the west from +some point of vantage in Delaware County, you see, amid the group of +mountains, one that looks like the back and shoulders of a gigantic +horse. The horse has got his head down grazing; the shoulders are +high, and the descent from them down his neck very steep; if he were +to lift up his head, one sees that it would be carried far above all +other peaks, and that the noble beast might gaze straight to his +peers in the Adirondacks or the White Mountains. But the lowered +head never comes up; some spell or enchantment keeps it down there +amid the mighty herd; and the high round shoulders and the smooth +strong back of the steed are alone visible. The peak to which I +refer is Slide Mountain, the highest of the Catskills by some two +hundred feet, and probably the most inaccessible; certainly the +hardest to get a view of, it is hedged about so completely by other +peaks,—the greatest mountain of them all, and apparently the least +willing to be seen; only at a distance of thirty or forty miles is +it seen to stand up above all other peaks. It takes its name from a +landslide which occurred many years ago down its steep northern +side, or down the neck of the grazing steed. The mane of spruce and +balsam fir was stripped away for many hundred feet, leaving a long +gray streak visible from afar. +</p> +<p> +Slide Mountain is the centre and the chief of the southern +Catskills. Streams flow from its base, and from the base of its +subordinates, to all points of the compass,—the Rondout and the +Neversink to the south; the Beaverkill to the west; the Esopus to +the north; and several lesser streams to the east. With its summit +as the centre, a radius of ten miles would include within the circle +described but very little cultivated land; only a few poor, wild +farms in some of the numerous valleys. The soil is poor, a mixture +of gravel and clay, and is subject to slides. It lies in the valleys +in ridges and small hillocks, as if dumped there from a huge cart. +The tops of the southern Catskills are all capped with a kind of +conglomerate, or "pudden stone,"—a rock of cemented quartz pebbles +which underlies the coal measures. This rock disintegrates under the +action of the elements, and the sand and gravel which result are +carried into the valleys and make up the most of the soil. From the +northern Catskills, so far as I know them, this rock has been swept +clean. Low down in the valleys the old red sandstone crops out, +and, as you go west into Delaware County, in many places it alone +remains and makes up most of the soil, all the superincumbent rock +having been carried away. +</p> +<p> +Slide Mountain had been a summons and a challenge to me for many +years. I had fished every stream that it nourished, and had camped +in the wilderness on all sides of it, and whenever I had caught a +glimpse of its summit I had promised myself to set foot there before +another season should pass. But the seasons came and went, and my +feet got no nimbler, and Slide Mountain no lower, until finally, one +July, seconded by an energetic friend, we thought to bring Slide to +terms by approaching him through the mountains on the east. With a +farmer's son for guide we struck in by way of Weaver Hollow, and, +after a long and desperate climb, contented ourselves with the +Wittenberg, instead of Slide. The view from the Wittenberg is in +many respects more striking, as you are perched immediately above a +broader and more distant sweep of country, and are only about two +hundred feet lower. You are here on the eastern brink of the +southern Catskills, and the earth falls away at your feet and curves +down through an immense stretch of forest till it joins the plain of +Shokan, and thence sweeps away to the Hudson and beyond. Slide is +southwest of you, six or seven miles distant, but is visible only +when you climb into a treetop. I climbed and saluted him, and +promised to call next time. +</p> +<p> +We passed the night on the Wittenberg, sleeping on the moss, between +two decayed logs, with balsam boughs thrust into the ground and +meeting and forming a canopy over us. In coming off the mountain in +the morning we ran upon a huge porcupine, and I learned for the +first time that the tail of a porcupine goes with a spring like a +trap. It seems to be a set-lock; and you no sooner touch with the +weight of a hair one of the quills than the tail leaps up in a most +surprising manner, and the laugh is not on your side. The beast +cantered along the path in my front, and I threw myself upon him, +shielded by my roll of blankets. He submitted quietly to the +indignity, and lay very still under my blankets, with his broad tail +pressed close to the ground. This I proceeded to investigate, but +had not fairly made a beginning when it went off like a trap, and my +hand and wrist were full of quills. This caused me to let up on the +creature, when it lumbered away till it tumbled down a precipice. +The quills were quickly removed from my hand, when we gave chase. +When we came up to him, he had wedged himself in between the rocks +so that he presented only a back bristling with quills, with the +tail lying in ambush below. He had chosen his position well, and +seemed to defy us. After amusing ourselves by repeatedly springing +his tail and receiving the quills in a rotten stick, we made a +slip-noose out of a spruce root, and, after much manœuvring, got +it over his head and led him forth. In what a peevish, injured tone +the creature did complain of our unfair tactics! He protested and +protested, and whimpered and scolded like some infirm old man +tormented by boys. His game after we led him forth was to keep +himself as much as possible in the shape of a ball, but with two +sticks and the cord we finally threw him over on his back and +exposed his quill-less and vulnerable under side, when he fairly +surrendered and seemed to say, "Now you may do with me as you like." +His great chisel-like teeth, which are quite as formidable as those +of the woodchuck, he does not appear to use at all in his defense, +but relies entirely upon his quills, and when those fail him, he is +done for. +</p> +<a name="image-0006"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb5.jpg" width="450" height="326" +alt="The Wittenberg from Woodland Valley"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +THE WITTENBERG FROM WOODLAND VALLEY +</p> + + +<p> +After amusing ourselves with him awhile longer, we released him and +went on our way. The trail to which we had committed ourselves led +us down into Woodland Valley, a retreat which so took my eye by its +fine trout brook, its superb mountain scenery, and its sweet +seclusion, that I marked it for my own, and promised myself a return +to it at no distant day. This promise I kept, and pitched my tent +there twice during that season. Both occasions were a sort of laying +siege to Slide, but we only skirmished with him at a distance; the +actual assault was not undertaken. But the following year, +reinforced by two other brave climbers, we determined upon the +assault, and upon making it from this the most difficult side. The +regular way is by Big Ingin Valley, where the climb is comparatively +easy, and where it is often made by women. But from Woodland Valley +only men may essay the ascent. Larkins is the upper inhabitant, and +from our camping-ground near his clearing we set out early one June +morning. +</p> +<p> +One would think nothing could be easier to find than a big mountain, +especially when one is encamped upon a stream which he knows springs +out of its very loins. But for some reason or other we had got an +idea that Slide Mountain was a very slippery customer and must be +approached cautiously. We had tried from several points in the +valley to get a view of it, but were not quite sure we had seen its +very head. When on the Wittenberg, a neighboring peak, the year +before, I had caught a brief glimpse of it only by climbing a dead +tree and craning up for a moment from its topmost branch. It would +seem as if the mountain had taken every precaution to shut itself +off from a near view. It was a shy mountain, and we were about to +stalk it through six or seven miles of primitive woods, and we +seemed to have some unreasonable fear that it might elude us. We had +been told of parties who had essayed the ascent from this side, and +had returned baffled and bewildered. In a tangle of primitive +woods, the very bigness of the mountain baffles one. It is all +mountain; whichever way you turn—and one turns sometimes in such +cases before he knows it—the foot finds a steep and rugged ascent. +</p> +<p> +The eye is of little service; one must be sure of his bearings and +push boldly on and up. One is not unlike a flea upon a great shaggy +beast, looking for the animal's head; or even like a much smaller +and much less nimble creature,—he may waste his time and steps, and +think he has reached the head when he is only upon the rump. Hence I +questioned our host, who had several times made the ascent, closely. +Larkins laid his old felt hat upon the table, and, placing one hand +upon one side of it and the other upon the other, said: "There Slide +lies, between the two forks of the stream, just as my hat lies +between my two hands. David will go with you to the forks, and then +you will push right on up." But Larkins was not right, though he had +traversed all those mountains many times over. The peak we were +about to set out for did not lie between the forks, but exactly at +the head of one of them; the beginnings of the stream are in the +very path of the slide, as we afterward found. We broke camp early +in the morning, and with our blankets strapped to our backs and +rations in our pockets for two days, set out along an ancient and in +places an obliterated bark road that followed and crossed and +recrossed the stream. The morning was bright and warm, but the wind +was fitful and petulant, and I predicted rain. What a forest +solitude our obstructed and dilapidated wood-road led us through! +five miles of primitive woods before we came to the forks, three +miles before we came to the "burnt shanty," a name merely,—no +shanty there now for twenty-five years past. The ravages of the +barkpeelers were still visible, now in a space thickly strewn with +the soft and decayed trunks of hemlock-trees, and overgrown with +wild cherry, then in huge mossy logs scattered through the beech and +maple woods. Some of these logs were so soft and mossy that one +could sit or recline upon them as upon a sofa. +</p> +<p> +But the prettiest thing was the stream soliloquizing in such musical +tones there amid the moss-covered rocks and boulders. How clean it +looked, what purity! Civilization corrupts the streams as it +corrupts the Indian; only in such remote woods can you now see a +brook in all its original freshness and beauty. Only the sea and the +mountain forest brook are pure; all between is contaminated more or +less by the work of man. An ideal trout brook was this, now +hurrying, now loitering, now deepening around a great boulder, now +gliding evenly over a pavement of green-gray stone and pebbles; no +sediment or stain of any kind, but white and sparkling as +snow-water, and nearly as cool. Indeed, the water of all this +Catskill region is the best in the world. For the first few days, +one feels as if he could almost live on the water alone; he cannot +drink enough of it. In this particular it is indeed the good Bible +land, "a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that +spring out of valleys and hills." +</p> +<p> +Near the forks we caught, or thought we caught, through an opening, +a glimpse of Slide. Was it Slide? was it the head, or the rump, or +the shoulder of the shaggy monster we were in quest of? At the forks +there was a bewildering maze of underbrush and great trees, and the +way did not seem at all certain; nor was David, who was then at the +end of his reckoning, able to reassure us. But in assaulting a +mountain, as in assaulting a fort, boldness is the watchword. We +pressed forward, following a line of blazed trees for nearly a mile, +then, turning to the left, began the ascent of the mountain. It was +steep, hard climbing. We saw numerous marks of both bears and deer; +but no birds, save at long intervals the winter wren flitting here +and there, and darting under logs and rubbish like a mouse. +Occasionally its gushing, lyrical song would break the silence. +After we had climbed an hour or two, the clouds began to gather, and +presently the rain began to come down. This was discouraging; but we +put our backs up against trees and rocks, and waited for the shower +to pass. +</p> +<p> +"They were wet with the showers of the mountain, and embraced the +rocks for want of shelter," as they did in Job's time. But the +shower was light and brief, and we were soon under way again. Three +hours from the forks brought us out on the broad level back of the +mountain upon which Slide, considered as an isolated peak, is +reared. After a time we entered a dense growth of spruce which +covered a slight depression in the table of the mountain. The moss +was deep, the ground spongy, the light dim, the air hushed. The +transition from the open, leafy woods to this dim, silent, weird +grove was very marked. It was like the passage from the street into +the temple. Here we paused awhile and ate our lunch, and refreshed +ourselves with water gathered from a little well sunk in the moss. +</p> +<p> +The quiet and repose of this spruce grove proved to be the calm that +goes before the storm. As we passed out of it, we came plump upon +the almost perpendicular battlements of Slide. The mountain rose +like a huge, rock-bound fortress from this plain-like expanse. It +was ledge upon ledge, precipice upon precipice, up which and over +which we made our way slowly and with great labor, now pulling +ourselves up by our hands, then cautiously finding niches for our +feet and zigzagging right and left from shelf to shelf. This +northern side of the mountain was thickly covered with moss and +lichens, like the north side of a tree. This made it soft to the +foot, and broke many a slip and fall. Everywhere a stunted growth of +yellow birch, mountain-ash, and spruce and fir opposed our progress. +The ascent at such an angle with a roll of blankets on your back is +not unlike climbing a tree: every limb resists your progress and +pushes you back; so that when we at last reached the summit, after +twelve or fifteen hundred feet of this sort of work, the fight was +about all out of the best of us. It was then nearly two o'clock, so +that we had been about seven hours in coming seven miles. +</p> +<p> +Here on the top of the mountain we overtook spring, which had been +gone from the valley nearly a month. Red clover was opening in the +valley below, and wild strawberries just ripening; on the summit the +yellow birch was just hanging out its catkins, and the claytonia, or +spring-beauty, was in bloom. The leaf-buds of the trees were just +bursting, making a faint mist of green, which, as the eye swept +downward, gradually deepened until it became a dense, massive cloud +in the valleys. At the foot of the mountain the clintonia, or +northern green lily, and the low shadbush were showing their +berries, but long before the top was reached they were found in +bloom. I had never before stood amid blooming claytonia, a flower of +April, and looked down upon a field that held ripening strawberries. +Every thousand feet elevation seemed to make about ten days' +difference in the vegetation, so that the season was a month or more +later on the top of the mountain than at its base. A very pretty +flower which we began to meet with well up on the mountain-side was +the painted trillium, the petals white, veined with pink. +</p> +<p> +The low, stunted growth of spruce and fir which clothes the top of +Slide has been cut away over a small space on the highest point, +laying open the view on nearly all sides. Here we sat down and +enjoyed our triumph. We saw the world as the hawk or the balloonist +sees it when he is three thousand feet in the air. How soft and +flowing all the outlines of the hills and mountains beneath us +looked! The forests dropped down and undulated away over them, +covering them like a carpet. To the east we looked over the near-by +Wittenberg range to the Hudson and beyond; to the south, +Peak-o'-Moose, with its sharp crest, and Table Mountain, with its +long level top, were the two conspicuous objects; in the west, Mt. +Graham and Double Top, about three thousand eight hundred feet each, +arrested the eye; while in our front to the north we looked over the +top of Panther Mountain to the multitudinous peaks of the northern +Catskills. All was mountain and forest on every hand. Civilization +seemed to have done little more than to have scratched this rough, +shaggy surface of the earth here and there. In any such view, the +wild, the aboriginal, the geographical greatly predominate. The +works of man dwindle, and the original features of the huge globe +come out. Every single object or point is dwarfed; the valley of the +Hudson is only a wrinkle in the earth's surface. You discover with +a feeling of surprise that the great thing is the earth itself, +which stretches away on every hand so far beyond your ken. +</p> +<p> +The Arabs believe that the mountains steady the earth and hold it +together; but they have only to get on the top of a high one to see +how insignificant mountains are, and how adequate the earth looks to +get along without them. To the imaginative Oriental people, +mountains seemed to mean much more than they do to us. They were +sacred; they were the abodes of their divinities. They offered their +sacrifices upon them. In the Bible, mountains are used as a symbol +of that which is great and holy. Jerusalem is spoken of as a holy +mountain. The Syrians were beaten by the Children of Israel because, +said they, "their gods are gods of the hills; therefore were they +stronger than we." It was on Mount Horeb that God appeared to Moses +in the burning bush, and on Sinai that He delivered to him the law. +Josephus says that the Hebrew shepherds never pasture their flocks +on Sinai, believing it to be the abode of Jehovah. The solitude of +mountain-tops is peculiarly impressive, and it is certainly easier +to believe the Deity appeared in a burning bush there than in the +valley below. When the clouds of heaven, too, come down and envelop +the top of the mountain,—how such a circumstance must have +impressed the old God-fearing Hebrews! Moses knew well how to +surround the law with the pomp and circumstance that would inspire +the deepest awe and reverence. +</p> +<p> +But when the clouds came down and enveloped us on Slide Mountain, +the grandeur, the solemnity, were gone in a twinkling; the +portentous-looking clouds proved to be nothing but base fog that wet +us and extinguished the world for us. How tame, and prosy, and +humdrum the scene instantly became! But when the fog lifted, and we +looked from under it as from under a just-raised lid, and the eye +plunged again like an escaped bird into those vast gulfs of space +that opened at our feet, the feeling of grandeur and solemnity +quickly came back. +</p> +<p> +The first want we felt on the top of Slide, after we had got some +rest, was a want of water. Several of us cast about, right and left, +but no sign of water was found. But water must be had, so we all +started off deliberately to hunt it up. We had not gone many hundred +yards before we chanced upon an ice-cave beneath some rocks,—vast +masses of ice, with crystal pools of water near. This was good luck, +indeed, and put a new and a brighter face on the situation. +</p> +<p> +Slide Mountain enjoys a distinction which no other mountain in the +State, so far as is known, does,—it has a thrush peculiar to +itself. This thrush was discovered and described by Eugene P. +Bicknell, of New York, in 1880, and has been named Bicknell's +thrush. A better name would have been Slide Mountain thrush, as the +bird so far has been found only on this mountain.<a href="#note-4" name="noteref-4"><small>[1]</small></a> I did not see +or hear it upon the Wittenberg, which is only a few miles distant, +and only two hundred feet lower. In its appearance to the eye among +the trees, one would not distinguish it from the gray-cheeked thrush +of Baird, or the olive-backed thrush, but its song is totally +different. The moment I heard it I said, "There is a new bird, a new +thrush," for the quality of all thrush songs is the same. A moment +more, and I knew it was Bicknell's thrush. The song is in a minor +key, finer, more attenuated, and more under the breath than that of +any other thrush. It seemed as if the bird was blowing in a +delicate, slender, golden tube, so fine and yet so flute-like and +resonant the song appeared. At times it was like a musical whisper +of great sweetness and power. The birds were numerous about the +summit, but we saw them nowhere else. No other thrush was seen, +though a few times during our stay I caught a mere echo of the +hermit's song far down the mountain-side. A bird I was not prepared +to see or to hear was the black-poll warbler, a bird usually found +much farther north, but here it was, amid the balsam firs, uttering +its simple, lisping song. +</p> +<p> +The rocks on the tops of these mountains are quite sure to attract +one's attention, even if he have no eye for such things. They are +masses of light reddish conglomerate, composed of round wave-worn +quartz pebbles. Every pebble has been shaped and polished upon some +ancient seacoast, probably the Devonian. The rock disintegrates +where it is most exposed to the weather, and forms a loose sandy and +pebbly soil. These rocks form the floor of the coal formation, but +in the Catskill region only the floor remains; the superstructure +has never existed, or has been swept away; hence one would look for +a coal mine here over his head in the air, rather than under his +feet. +</p> +<p> +This rock did not have to climb up here as we did; the mountain +stooped and took it upon its back in the bottom of the old seas, and +then got lifted up again. This happened so long ago that the memory +of the oldest inhabitants of these parts yields no clew to the time. +</p> +<p> +A pleasant task we had in reflooring and reroofing the log-hut with +balsam boughs against the night. Plenty of small balsams grew all +about, and we soon had a huge pile of their branches in the old hut. +What a transformation, this fresh green carpet and our fragrant bed, +like the deep-furred robe of some huge animal, wrought in that dingy +interior! Two or three things disturbed our sleep. A cup of strong +beef-tea taken for supper disturbed mine; then the porcupines kept +up such a grunting and chattering near our heads, just on the other +side of the log, that sleep was difficult. In my wakeful mood I was +a good deal annoyed by a little rabbit that kept whipping in at our +dilapidated door and nibbling at our bread and hardtack. He +persisted even after the gray of the morning appeared. Then about +four o'clock it began gently to rain. I think I heard the first drop +that fell. My companions were all in sound sleep. The rain +increased, and gradually the sleepers awoke. It was like the tread +of an advancing enemy which every ear had been expecting. The roof +over us was of the poorest, and we had no confidence in it. It was +made of the thin bark of spruce and balsam, and was full of hollows +and depressions. Presently these hollows got full of water, when +there was a simultaneous downpour of bigger and lesser rills upon +the sleepers beneath. Said sleepers, as one man, sprang up, each +taking his blanket with him; but by the time some of the party had +got themselves stowed away under the adjacent rock, the rain ceased. +It was little more than the dissolving of the nightcap of fog which +so often hangs about these heights. With the first appearance of the +dawn I had heard the new thrush in the scattered trees near the +hut,—a strain as fine as if blown upon a fairy flute, a suppressed +musical whisper from out the tops of the dark spruces. Probably +never did there go up from the top of a great mountain a smaller +song to greet the day, albeit it was of the purest harmony. It +seemed to have in a more marked degree the quality of interior +reverberation than any other thrush song I had ever heard. Would the +altitude or the situation account for its minor key? Loudness would +avail little in such a place. Sounds are not far heard on a +mountain-top; they are lost in the abyss of vacant air. But amid +these low, dense, dark spruces, which make a sort of canopied +privacy of every square rod of ground, what could be more in keeping +than this delicate musical whisper? It was but the soft hum of the +balsams, interpreted and embodied in a bird's voice. +</p> +<p> +It was the plan of two of our companions to go from Slide over into +the head of the Rondout, and thence out to the railroad at the +little village of Shokan, an unknown way to them, involving nearly +an all-day pull the first day through a pathless wilderness. We +ascended to the topmost floor of the tower, and from my knowledge of +the topography of the country I pointed out to them their course, +and where the valley of the Rondout must lie. The vast stretch of +woods, when it came into view from under the foot of Slide, seemed +from our point of view very uniform. It swept away to the southeast, +rising gently toward the ridge that separates Lone Mountain from +Peak-o'-Moose, and presented a comparatively easy problem. As a clew +to the course, the line where the dark belt or saddle-cloth of +spruce, which covered the top of the ridge they were to skirt, +ended, and the deciduous woods began, a sharp, well-defined line was +pointed out as the course to be followed. It led straight to the top +of the broad level-backed ridge which connected two higher peaks, +and immediately behind which lay the headwaters of the Rondout. +Having studied the map thoroughly, and possessed themselves of the +points, they rolled up their blankets about nine o'clock, and were +off, my friend and I purposing to spend yet another day and night on +Slide. As our friends plunged down into that fearful abyss, we +shouted to them the old classic caution, "Be bold, be bold, <i>be not +too</i> bold." It required courage to make such a leap into the +unknown, as I knew those young men were making, and it required +prudence. A faint heart or a bewildered head, and serious +consequences might have resulted. The theory of a thing is so much +easier than the practice! The theory is in the air, the practice is +in the woods; the eye, the thought, travel easily where the foot +halts and stumbles. However, our friends made the theory and the +fact coincide; they kept the dividing line between the spruce and +the birches, and passed over the ridge into the valley safely; but +they were torn and bruised and wet by the showers, and made the last +few miles of their journey on will and pluck alone, their last pound +of positive strength having been exhausted in making the descent +through the chaos of rocks and logs into the head of the valley. In +such emergencies one overdraws his account; he travels on the credit +of the strength he expects to gain when he gets his dinner and some +sleep. Unless one has made such a trip himself (and I have several +times in my life), he can form but a faint idea what it is +like,—what a trial it is to the body, and what a trial it is to the +mind. You are fighting a battle with an enemy in ambush. How those +miles and leagues which your feet must compass lie hidden there in +that wilderness; how they seem to multiply themselves; how they are +fortified with logs, and rocks, and fallen trees; how they take +refuge in deep gullies, and skulk behind unexpected eminences! Your +body not only feels the fatigue of the battle, your mind feels the +strain of the undertaking; you may miss your mark; the mountains may +outmanœuvre you. All that day, whenever I looked upon that +treacherous wilderness, I thought with misgivings of those two +friends groping their way there, and would have given much to know +how it fared with them. Their concern was probably less than my own, +because they were more ignorant of what was before them. Then there +was just a slight shadow of a fear in my mind that I might have been +in error about some points of the geography I had pointed out to +them. But all was well, and the victory was won according to the +campaign which I had planned. When we saluted our friends upon their +own doorstep a week afterward, the wounds were nearly healed and +the rents all mended. +</p> +<p> +When one is on a mountain-top, he spends most of the time in looking +at the show he has been at such pains to see. About every hour we +would ascend the rude lookout to take a fresh observation. With a +glass I could see my native hills forty miles away to the northwest. +I was now upon the back of the horse, yea, upon the highest point of +his shoulders, which had so many times attracted my attention as a +boy. We could look along his balsam-covered back to his rump, from +which the eye glanced away down into the forests of the Neversink, +and on the other hand plump down into the gulf where his head was +grazing or drinking. During the day there was a grand procession of +thunderclouds filing along over the northern Catskills, and letting +down veils of rain and enveloping them. From such an elevation one +has the same view of the clouds that he does from the prairie or the +ocean. They do not seem to rest across and to be upborne by the +hills, but they emerge out of the dim west, thin and vague, and grow +and stand up as they get nearer and roll by him, on a level but +invisible highway, huge chariots of wind and storm. +</p> +<p> +In the afternoon a thick cloud threatened us, but it proved to be +the condensation of vapor that announces a cold wave. There was soon +a marked fall in the temperature, and as night drew near it became +pretty certain that we were going to have a cold time of it. The +wind rose, the vapor above us thickened and came nearer, until it +began to drive across the summit in slender wraiths, which curled +over the brink and shut out the view. We became very diligent in +getting in our night wood, and in gathering more boughs to calk up +the openings in the hut. The wood we scraped together was a sorry +lot, roots and stumps and branches of decayed spruce, such as we +could collect without an axe, and some rags and tags of birch bark. +The fire was built in one corner of the shanty, the smoke finding +easy egress through large openings on the east side and in the roof +over it. We doubled up the bed, making it thicker and more +nest-like, and as darkness set in, stowed ourselves into it beneath +our blankets. The searching wind found out every crevice about our +heads and shoulders, and it was icy cold. Yet we fell asleep, and +had slept about an hour when my companion sprang up in an unwonted +state of excitement for so placid a man. His excitement was +occasioned by the sudden discovery that what appeared to be a bar of +ice was fast taking the place of his backbone. His teeth chattered, +and he was convulsed with ague. I advised him to replenish the fire, +and to wrap himself in his blanket and cut the liveliest capers he +was capable of in so circumscribed a place. This he promptly did, +and the thought of his wild and desperate dance there in the dim +light, his tall form, his blanket flapping, his teeth chattering, +the porcupines outside marking time with their squeals and grunts, +still provokes a smile, though it was a serious enough matter at the +time. After a while, the warmth came back to him, but he dared not +trust himself again to the boughs; he fought the cold all night as +one might fight a besieging foe. By carefully husbanding the fuel, +the beleaguering enemy was kept at bay till morning came; but when +morning did come, even the huge root he had used as a chair was +consumed. Rolled in my blanket beneath a foot or more of balsam +boughs, I had got some fairly good sleep, and was most of the time +oblivious of the melancholy vigil of my friend. As we had but a few +morsels of food left, and had been on rather short rations the day +before, hunger was added to his other discomforts. At that time a +letter was on the way to him from his wife, which contained this +prophetic sentence: "I hope thee is not suffering with cold and +hunger on some lone mountain-top." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Bicknell's thrush struck up again at the first signs of dawn, +notwithstanding the cold. I could hear his penetrating and melodious +whisper as I lay buried beneath the boughs. Presently I arose and +invited my friend to turn in for a brief nap, while I gathered some +wood and set the coffee brewing. With a brisk, roaring fire on, I +left for the spring to fetch some water, and to make my toilet. The +leaves of the mountain goldenrod, which everywhere covered the +ground in the opening, were covered with frozen particles of vapor, +and the scene, shut in by fog, was chill and dreary enough. +</p> +<p> +We were now not long in squaring an account with Slide, and making +ready to leave. Round pellets of snow began to fall, and we came off +the mountain on the 10th of June in a November storm and +temperature. Our purpose was to return by the same valley we had +come. A well-defined trail led off the summit to the north; to this +we committed ourselves. In a few minutes we emerged at the head of +the slide that had given the mountain its name. This was the path +made by visitors to the scene; when it ended, the track of the +avalanche began; no bigger than your hand, apparently, had it been +at first, but it rapidly grew, until it became several rods in +width. It dropped down from our feet straight as an arrow until it +was lost in the fog, and looked perilously steep. The dark forms of +the spruce were clinging to the edge of it, as if reaching out to +their fellows to save them. We hesitated on the brink, but finally +cautiously began the descent. The rock was quite naked and slippery, +and only on the margin of the slide were there any boulders to stay +the foot, or bushy growths to aid the hand. As we paused, after some +minutes, to select our course, one of the finest surprises of the +trip awaited us: the fog in our front was swiftly whirled up by the +breeze, like the drop-curtain at the theatre, only much more +rapidly, and in a twinkling the vast gulf opened before us. It was +so sudden as to be almost bewildering. The world opened like a book, +and there were the pictures; the spaces were without a film, the +forests and mountains looked surprisingly near; in the heart of the +northern Catskills a wild valley was seen flooded with sunlight. +Then the curtain ran down again, and nothing was left but the gray +strip of rock to which we clung, plunging down into the obscurity. +Down and down we made our way. Then the fog lifted again. It was +Jack and his beanstalk renewed; new wonders, new views, awaited us +every few moments, till at last the whole valley below us stood in +the clear sunshine. We passed down a precipice, and there was a rill +of water, the beginning of the creek that wound through the valley +below; farther on, in a deep depression, lay the remains of an old +snow-bank; Winter had made his last stand here, and April flowers +were springing up almost amid his very bones. We did not find a +palace, and a hungry giant, and a princess, at the end of our +beanstalk, but we found a humble roof and the hospitable heart of +Mrs. Larkins, which answered our purpose better. And we were in the +mood, too, to have undertaken an eating-bout with any giant Jack +ever discovered. +</p> +<p> +Of all the retreats I have found amid the Catskills, there is no +other that possesses quite so many charms for me as this valley, +wherein stands Larkins's humble dwelling; it is so wild, so quiet, +and has such superb mountain views. In coming up the valley, you +have apparently reached the head of civilization a mile or more +lower down; here the rude little houses end, and you turn to the +left into the woods. Presently you emerge into a clearing again, and +before you rises the rugged and indented crest of Panther Mountain, +and near at hand, on a low plateau, rises the humble roof of +Larkins,—you get a picture of the Panther and of the homestead at +one glance. Above the house hangs a high, bold cliff covered with +forest, with a broad fringe of blackened and blasted tree-trunks, +where the cackling of the great pileated woodpecker may be heard; on +the left a dense forest sweeps up to the sharp spruce-covered cone +of the Wittenberg, nearly four thousand feet high, while at the head +of the valley rises Slide over all. From a meadow just back of +Larkins's barn, a view may be had of all these mountains, while the +terraced side of Cross Mountain bounds the view immediately to the +east. Running from the top of Panther toward Slide one sees a +gigantic wall of rock, crowned with a dark line of fir. The forest +abruptly ends, and in its stead rises the face of this colossal +rocky escarpment, like some barrier built by the mountain gods. +Eagles might nest here. It breaks the monotony of the world of +woods very impressively. +</p> +<p> +I delight in sitting on a rock in one of these upper fields, and +seeing the sun go down behind Panther. The rapid-flowing brook below +me fills all the valley with a soft murmur. There is no breeze, but +the great atmospheric tide flows slowly in toward the cooling +forest; one can see it by the motes in the air illuminated by the +setting sun: presently, as the air cools a little, the tide turns +and flows slowly out. The long, winding valley up to the foot of +Slide, five miles of primitive woods, how wild and cool it looks, +its one voice the murmur of the creek! On the Wittenberg the +sunshine lingers long; now it stands up like an island in a sea of +shadows, then slowly sinks beneath the wave. The evening call of a +robin or a veery at his vespers makes a marked impression on the +silence and the solitude. +</p> +<p> +The following day my friend and I pitched our tent in the woods +beside the stream where I had pitched it twice before, and passed +several delightful days, with trout in abundance and wild +strawberries at intervals. Mrs. Larkins's cream-pot, butter-jar, and +bread-box were within easy reach. Near the camp was an unusually +large spring, of icy coldness, which served as our refrigerator. +Trout or milk immersed in this spring in a tin pail would keep sweet +four or five days. One night some creature, probably a lynx or a +raccoon, came and lifted the stone from the pail that held the +trout and took out a fine string of them, and ate them up on the +spot, leaving only the string and one head. In August bears come +down to an ancient and now brushy bark-peeling near by for +blackberries. But the creature that most infests these backwoods is +the porcupine. He is as stupid and indifferent as the skunk; his +broad, blunt nose points a witless head. They are great gnawers, and +will gnaw your house down if you do not look out. Of a summer +evening they will walk coolly into your open door if not prevented. +The most annoying animal to the camper-out in this region, and the +one he needs to be most on the lookout for, is the cow. Backwoods +cows and young cattle seem always to be famished for salt, and they +will fairly lick the fisherman's clothes off his back, and his tent +and equipage out of existence, if you give them a chance. On one +occasion some wood-ranging heifers and steers that had been hovering +around our camp for some days made a raid upon it when we were +absent. The tent was shut and everything snugged up, but they ran +their long tongues under the tent, and, tasting something savory, +hooked out John Stuart Mill's "Essays on Religion," which one of us +had brought along, thinking to read in the woods. They mouthed the +volume around a good deal, but its logic was too tough for them, and +they contented themselves with devouring the paper in which it was +wrapped. If the cattle had not been surprised at just that point, +it is probable the tent would have gone down before their eager +curiosity and thirst for salt. +</p> +<p> +The raid which Larkins's dog made upon our camp was amusing rather +than annoying. He was a very friendly and intelligent shepherd dog, +probably a collie. Hardly had we sat down to our first lunch in camp +before he called on us. But as he was disposed to be too friendly, +and to claim too large a share of the lunch, we rather gave him the +cold shoulder. He did not come again; but a few evenings afterward, +as we sauntered over to the house on some trifling errand, the dog +suddenly conceived a bright little project. He seemed to say to +himself, on seeing us, "There come both of them now, just as I have +been hoping they would; now, while they are away, I will run quickly +over and know what they have got that a dog can eat." My companion +saw the dog get up on our arrival, and go quickly in the direction +of our camp, and he said something in the cur's manner suggested to +him the object of his hurried departure. He called my attention to +the fact, and we hastened back. On cautiously nearing camp, the dog +was seen amid the pails in the shallow water of the creek +investigating them. He had uncovered the butter, and was about to +taste it, when we shouted, and he made quick steps for home, with a +very "kill-sheep" look. When we again met him at the house next day, +he could not look us in the face, but sneaked off, utterly +crest-fallen. This was a clear case of reasoning on the part of +the dog, and afterward a clear case of a sense of guilt from +wrong-doing. The dog will probably be a man before any other animal. +</p> + +<a name="note-4"><!--Note--></a> +<p class="foot"> +<a href="#noteref-4"><sup>1</sup></a> Bicknell's thrush turns out to be the more southern form of +the gray-cheeked thrush, and is found on the higher mountains of +New York and New England. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + VII +</h2> +<h3> + SPECKLED TROUT +</h3> +<br> +<h4> +I +</h4> +<p> +The legend of the wary trout, hinted at in the last sketch, is to be +further illustrated in this and some following chapters. We shall +get at more of the meaning of those dark water-lines, and I hope, +also, not entirely miss the significance of the gold and silver +spots and the glancing iridescent hues. The trout is dark and +obscure above, but behind this foil there are wondrous tints that +reward the believing eye. Those who seek him in his wild remote +haunts are quite sure to get the full force of the sombre and +uninviting aspects,—the wet, the cold, the toil, the broken rest, +and the huge, savage, uncompromising nature,—but the true angler +sees farther than these, and is never thwarted of his legitimate +reward by them. +</p> +<p> +I have been a seeker of trout from my boyhood, and on all the +expeditions in which this fish has been the ostensible purpose I +have brought home more game than my creel showed. In fact, in my +mature years I find I got more of nature into me, more of the woods, +the wild, nearer to bird and beast, while threading my native +streams for trout, than in almost any other way. It furnished a good +excuse to go forth; it pitched one in the right key; it sent one +through the fat and marrowy places of field and wood. Then the +fisherman has a harmless, preoccupied look; he is a kind of vagrant +that nothing fears. He blends himself with the trees and the +shadows. All his approaches are gentle and indirect. He times +himself to the meandering, soliloquizing stream; its impulse bears +him along. At the foot of the waterfall he sits sequestered and +hidden in its volume of sound. The birds know he has no designs upon +them, and the animals see that his mind is in the creek. His +enthusiasm anneals him, and makes him pliable to the scenes and +influences he moves among. +</p> +<p> +Then what acquaintance he makes with the stream! He addresses +himself to it as a lover to his mistress; he wooes it and stays with +it till he knows its most hidden secrets. It runs through his +thoughts not less than through its banks there; he feels the fret +and thrust of every bar and boulder. Where it deepens, his purpose +deepens; where it is shallow, he is indifferent. He knows how to +interpret its every glance and dimple; its beauty haunts him for +days. +</p> +<a name="image-0007"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb6.jpg" width="319" height="450" +alt="A Trout Stream"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +A TROUT STREAM +</p> + + +<p> +I am sure I run no risk of overpraising the charm and attractiveness +of a well-fed trout stream, every drop of water in it as bright and +pure as if the nymphs had brought it all the way from its source +in crystal goblets, and as cool as if it had been hatched beneath a +glacier. When the heated and soiled and jaded refugee from the city +first sees one, he feels as if he would like to turn it into his +bosom and let it flow through him a few hours, it suggests such +healing freshness and newness. How his roily thoughts would run +clear; how the sediment would go downstream! Could he ever have an +impure or an unwholesome wish afterward? The next best thing he can +do is to tramp along its banks and surrender himself to its +influence. If he reads it intently enough, he will, in a measure, be +taking it into his mind and heart, and experiencing its salutary +ministrations. +</p> +<p> +Trout streams coursed through every valley my boyhood knew. I +crossed them, and was often lured and detained by them, on my way to +and from school. We bathed in them during the long summer noons, and +felt for the trout under their banks. A holiday was a holiday indeed +that brought permission to go fishing over on Rose's Brook, or up +Hardscrabble, or in Meeker's Hollow; all-day trips, from morning +till night, through meadows and pastures and beechen woods, wherever +the shy, limpid stream led. What an appetite it developed! a hunger +that was fierce and aboriginal, and that the wild strawberries we +plucked as we crossed the hill teased rather than allayed. When but +a few hours could be had, gained perhaps by doing some piece of +work about the farm or garden in half the allotted time, the little +creek that headed in the paternal domain was handy; when half a day +was at one's disposal, there were the hemlocks, less than a mile +distant, with their loitering, meditative, log-impeded stream and +their dusky, fragrant depths. Alert and wide-eyed, one picked his +way along, startled now and then by the sudden bursting-up of the +partridge, or by the whistling wings of the "dropping snipe," +pressing through the brush and the briers, or finding an easy +passage over the trunk of a prostrate tree, carefully letting his +hook down through some tangle into a still pool, or standing in some +high, sombre avenue and watching his line float in and out amid the +moss-covered boulders. In my first essayings I used to go to the +edge of these hemlocks, seldom dipping into them beyond the first +pool where the stream swept under the roots of two large trees. From +this point I could look back into the sunlit fields where the cattle +were grazing; beyond, all was gloom and mystery; the trout were +black, and to my young imagination the silence and the shadows were +blacker. But gradually I yielded to the fascination and penetrated +the woods farther and farther on each expedition, till the heart of +the mystery was fairly plucked out. During the second or third year +of my piscatorial experience I went through them, and through the +pasture and meadow beyond, and through another strip of hemlocks, +to where the little stream joined the main creek of the valley. +</p> +<p> +In June, when my trout fever ran pretty high, and an auspicious day +arrived, I would make a trip to a stream a couple of miles distant, +that came down out of a comparatively new settlement. It was a rapid +mountain brook presenting many difficult problems to the young +angler, but a very enticing stream for all that, with its two +saw-mill dams, its pretty cascades, its high, shelving rocks +sheltering the mossy nests of the phœbe-bird, and its general +wild and forbidding aspects. +</p> +<p> +But a meadow brook was always a favorite. The trout like meadows; +doubtless their food is more abundant there, and, usually, the good +hiding-places are more numerous. As soon as you strike a meadow the +character of the creek changes: it goes slower and lies deeper; it +tarries to enjoy the high, cool banks and to half hide beneath them; +it loves the willows, or rather the willows love it and shelter it +from the sun; its spring runs are kept cool by the overhanging +grass, and the heavy turf that faces its open banks is not cut away +by the sharp hoofs of the grazing cattle. Then there are the +bobolinks and the starlings and the meadowlarks, always interested +spectators of the angler; there are also the marsh marigolds, the +buttercups, or the spotted lilies, and the good angler is always an +interested spectator of them. In fact, the patches of meadow land +that lie in the angler's course are like the happy experiences in +his own life, or like the fine passages in the poem he is reading; +the pasture oftener contains the shallow and monotonous places. In +the small streams the cattle scare the fish, and soil their element +and break down their retreats under the banks. Woodland alternates +the best with meadow: the creek loves to burrow under the roots of a +great tree, to scoop out a pool after leaping over the prostrate +trunk of one, and to pause at the foot of a ledge of moss-covered +rocks, with ice-cold water dripping down. How straight the current +goes for the rock! Note its corrugated, muscular appearance; it +strikes and glances off, but accumulates, deepens with well-defined +eddies above and to one side; on the edge of these the trout lurk +and spring upon their prey. +</p> +<p> +The angler learns that it is generally some obstacle or hindrance +that makes a deep place in the creek, as in a brave life; and his +ideal brook is one that lies in deep, well-defined banks, yet makes +many a shift from right to left, meets with many rebuffs and +adventures, hurled back upon itself by rocks, waylaid by snags and +trees, tripped up by precipices, but sooner or later reposing under +meadow banks, deepening and eddying beneath bridges, or prosperous +and strong in some level stretch of cultivated land with great elms +shading it here and there. +</p> +<p> +But I early learned that from almost any stream in a trout country +the true angler could take trout, and that the great secret was +this, that, whatever bait you used, worm, grasshopper, grub, or fly, +there was one thing you must always put upon your hook, namely, your +heart: when you bait your hook with your heart the fish always bite; +they will jump clear from the water after it; they will dispute with +each other over it; it is a morsel they love above everything else. +With such bait I have seen the born angler (my grandfather was one) +take a noble string of trout from the most unpromising waters, and +on the most unpromising day. He used his hook so coyly and tenderly, +he approached the fish with such address and insinuation, he divined +the exact spot where they lay: if they were not eager, he humored +them and seemed to steal by them; if they were playful and +coquettish, he would suit his mood to theirs; if they were frank and +sincere, he met them halfway; he was so patient and considerate, so +entirely devoted to pleasing the critical trout, and so successful +in his efforts,—surely his heart was upon his hook, and it was a +tender, unctuous heart, too, as that of every angler is. How nicely +he would measure the distance! how dexterously he would avoid an +overhanging limb or bush and drop the line exactly in the right +spot! Of course there was a pulse of feeling and sympathy to the +extremity of that line. If your heart is a stone, however, or an +empty husk, there is no use to put it upon your hook; it will not +tempt the fish; the bait must be quick and fresh. Indeed, a certain +quality of youth is indispensable to the successful angler, a +certain unworldliness and readiness to invest yourself in an +enterprise that doesn't pay in the current coin. Not only is the +angler, like the poet, born and not made, as Walton says, but there +is a deal of the poet in him, and he is to be judged no more +harshly; he is the victim of his genius: those wild streams, how +they haunt him! he will play truant to dull care, and flee to them; +their waters impart somewhat of their own perpetual youth to him. My +grandfather when he was eighty years old would take down his pole as +eagerly as any boy, and step off with wonderful elasticity toward +the beloved streams; it used to try my young legs a good deal to +follow him, specially on the return trip. And no poet was ever more +innocent of worldly success or ambition. For, to paraphrase +Tennyson,— +</p> +<p class="poem2"> + "Lusty trout to him were scrip and share,<br> + And babbling waters more than cent for cent." +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +He laid up treasures, but they were not in this world. In fact, +though the kindest of husbands, I fear he was not what the country +people call a "good provider," except in providing trout in their +season, though it is doubtful if there was always fat in the house +to fry them in. But he could tell you they were worse off than that +at Valley Forge, and that trout, or any other fish, were good +roasted in the ashes under the coals. He had the Walton requisite of +loving quietness and contemplation, and was devout withal. Indeed, +in many ways he was akin to those Galilee fishermen who were called +to be fishers of men. How he read the Book and pored over it, even +at times, I suspect, nodding over it, and laying it down only to +take up his rod, over which, unless the trout were very dilatory and +the journey very fatiguing, he never nodded! +</p> +<h4> +II +</h4> +<p> +The Delaware is one of our minor rivers, but it is a stream beloved +of the trout. Nearly all its remote branches head in mountain +springs, and its collected waters, even when warmed by the summer +sun, are as sweet and wholesome as dew swept from the grass. The +Hudson wins from it two streams that are fathered by the mountains +from whose loins most of its beginnings issue, namely, the Rondout +and the Esopus. These swell a more illustrious current than the +Delaware, but the Rondout, one of the finest trout streams in the +world, makes an uncanny alliance before it reaches its destination, +namely, with the malarious Wallkill. +</p> +<p> +In the same nest of mountains from which they start are born the +Neversink and the Beaverkill, streams of wondrous beauty that flow +south and west into the Delaware. From my native hills I could +catch glimpses of the mountains in whose laps these creeks were +cradled, but it was not till after many years, and after dwelling in +a country where trout are not found, that I returned to pay my +respects to them as an angler. +</p> +<p> +My first acquaintance with the Neversink was made in company with +some friends in 1869. We passed up the valley of the Big Ingin, +marveling at its copious ice-cold springs, and its immense sweep of +heavy-timbered mountain-sides. Crossing the range at its head, we +struck the Neversink quite unexpectedly about the middle of the +afternoon, at a point where it was a good-sized trout stream. It +proved to be one of those black mountain brooks born of innumerable +ice-cold springs, nourished in the shade, and shod, as it were, with +thick-matted moss, that every camper-out remembers. The fish are as +black as the stream and very wild. They dart from beneath the +fringed rocks, or dive with the hook into the dusky depths,—an +integral part of the silence and the shadows. The spell of the moss +is over all. The fisherman's tread is noiseless, as he leaps from +stone to stone and from ledge to ledge along the bed of the stream. +How cool it is! He looks up the dark, silent defile, hears the +solitary voice of the water, sees the decayed trunks of fallen trees +bridging the stream, and all he has dreamed, when a boy, of the +haunts of beasts of prey—the crouching feline tribes, especially if +it be near nightfall and the gloom already deepening in the +woods—comes freshly to mind, and he presses on, wary and alert, and +speaking to his companions in low tones. +</p> +<p> +After an hour or so the trout became less abundant, and with nearly +a hundred of the black sprites in our baskets we turned back. Here +and there I saw the abandoned nests of the pigeons, sometimes half a +dozen in one tree. In a yellow birch which the floods had uprooted, +a number of nests were still in place, little shelves or platforms +of twigs loosely arranged, and affording little or no protection to +the eggs or the young birds against inclement weather. +</p> +<p> +Before we had reached our companions the rain set in again and +forced us to take shelter under a balsam. When it slackened we moved +on and soon came up with Aaron, who had caught his first trout, and, +considerably drenched, was making his way toward camp, which one of +the party had gone forward to build. After traveling less than a +mile, we saw a smoke struggling up through the dripping trees, and +in a few moments were all standing round a blazing fire. But the +rain now commenced again, and fairly poured down through the trees, +rendering the prospect of cooking and eating our supper there in the +woods, and of passing the night on the ground without tent or cover +of any kind, rather disheartening. We had been told of a bark +shanty a couple of miles farther down the creek, and thitherward we +speedily took up our line of march. When we were on the point of +discontinuing the search, thinking we had been misinformed or had +passed it by, we came in sight of a bark-peeling, in the midst of +which a small log house lifted its naked rafters toward the now +breaking sky. It had neither floor nor roof, and was less inviting +on first sight than the open woods. But a board partition was still +standing, out of which we built a rude porch on the east side of the +house, large enough for us all to sleep under if well packed, and +eat under if we stood up. There was plenty of well-seasoned timber +lying about, and a fire was soon burning in front of our quarters +that made the scene social and picturesque, especially when the +frying-pans were brought into requisition, and the coffee, in charge +of Aaron, who was an artist in this line, mingled its aroma with the +wild-wood air. At dusk a balsam was felled, and the tips of the +branches used to make a bed, which was more fragrant than soft; +hemlock is better, because its needles are finer and its branches +more elastic. +</p> +<p> +There was a spirt or two of rain during the night, but not enough to +find out the leaks in our roof. It took the shower or series of +showers of the next day to do that. They commenced about two o'clock +in the afternoon. The forenoon had been fine, and we had brought +into camp nearly three hundred trout; but before they were half +dressed, or the first panfuls fried, the rain set in. First came +short, sharp dashes, then a gleam of treacherous sunshine, followed +by more and heavier dashes. The wind was in the southwest, and to +rain seemed the easiest thing in the world. From fitful dashes to a +steady pour the transition was natural. We stood huddled together, +stark and grim, under our cover, like hens under a cart. The fire +fought bravely for a time, and retaliated with sparks and spiteful +tongues of flame; but gradually its spirit was broken, only a heavy +body of coal and half-consumed logs in the centre holding out +against all odds. The simmering fish were soon floating about in a +yellow liquid that did not look in the least appetizing. Point after +point gave way in our cover, till standing between the drops was no +longer possible. The water coursed down the underside of the boards, +and dripped in our necks and formed puddles on our hat-brims. We +shifted our guns and traps and viands, till there was no longer any +choice of position, when the loaves and the fishes, the salt and the +sugar, the pork and the butter, shared the same watery fate. The +fire was gasping its last. Little rivulets coursed about it, and +bore away the quenched but steaming coals on their bosoms. The +spring run in the rear of our camp swelled so rapidly that part of +the trout that had been hastily left lying on its banks again found +themselves quite at home. For over two hours the floods came down. +About four o'clock Orville, who had not yet come from the day's +sport, appeared. To say Orville was wet is not much; he was better +than that,—he had been washed and rinsed in at least half a dozen +waters, and the trout that he bore dangling at the end of a string +hardly knew that they had been out of their proper element. +</p> +<p> +But he brought welcome news. He had been two or three miles down the +creek, and had seen a log building,—whether house or stable he did +not know, but it had the appearance of having a good roof, which was +inducement enough for us instantly to leave our present quarters. +Our course lay along an old wood-road, and much of the time we were +to our knees in water. The woods were literally flooded everywhere. +Every little rill and springlet ran like a mill-tail, while the main +stream rushed and roared, foaming, leaping, lashing, its volume +increased fifty-fold. The water was not roily, but of a rich +coffee-color, from the leachings of the woods. No more trout for the +next three days! we thought, as we looked upon the rampant stream. +</p> +<p> +After we had labored and floundered along for about an hour, the +road turned to the left, and in a little stumpy clearing near the +creek a gable uprose on our view. It did not prove to be just such a +place as poets love to contemplate. It required a greater effort of +the imagination than any of us were then capable of to believe it +had ever been a favorite resort of wood-nymphs or sylvan deities. +It savored rather of the equine and the bovine. The bark-men had +kept their teams there, horses on the one side and oxen on the +other, and no Hercules had ever done duty in cleansing the stables. +But there was a dry loft overhead with some straw, where we might +get some sleep, in spite of the rain and the midges; a double layer +of boards, standing at a very acute angle, would keep off the +former, while the mingled refuse hay and muck beneath would nurse a +smoke that would prove a thorough protection against the latter. And +then, when Jim, the two-handed, mounting the trunk of a prostrate +maple near by, had severed it thrice with easy and familiar stroke, +and, rolling the logs in front of the shanty, had kindled a fire, +which, getting the better of the dampness, soon cast a bright glow +over all, shedding warmth and light even into the dingy stable, I +consented to unsling my knapsack and accept the situation. The rain +had ceased, and the sun shone out behind the woods. We had trout +sufficient for present needs; and after my first meal in an +ox-stall, I strolled out on the rude log bridge to watch the angry +Neversink rush by. Its waters fell quite as rapidly as they rose, +and before sundown it looked as if we might have fishing again on +the morrow. We had better sleep that night than either night before, +though there were two disturbing causes,—the smoke in the early +part of it, and the cold in the latter. The "no-see-ems" left in +disgust; and, though disgusted myself, I swallowed the smoke as best +I could, and hugged my pallet of straw the closer. But the day +dawned bright, and a plunge in the Neversink set me all right again. +The creek, to our surprise and gratification, was only a little +higher than before the rain, and some of the finest trout we had yet +seen we caught that morning near camp. +</p> +<p> +We tarried yet another day and night at the old stable, but taking +our meals outside squatted on the ground, which had now become quite +dry. Part of the day I spent strolling about the woods, looking up +old acquaintances among the birds, and, as always, half expectant of +making some new ones. Curiously enough, the most abundant species +were among those I had found rare in most other localities, namely, +the small water-wagtail, the mourning ground warbler, and the +yellow-bellied woodpecker. The latter seems to be the prevailing +woodpecker through the woods of this region. +</p> +<p> +That night the midges, those motes that sting, held high carnival. +We learned afterward, in the settlement below and from the +barkpeelers, that it was the worst night ever experienced in that +valley. We had done no fishing during the day, but had anticipated +some fine sport about sundown. Accordingly Aaron and I started off +between six and seven o'clock, one going upstream and the other +down. The scene was charming. The sun shot up great spokes of light +from behind the woods, and beauty, like a presence, pervaded the +atmosphere. But torment, multiplied as the sands of the seashore, +lurked in every tangle and thicket. In a thoughtless moment I +removed my shoes and socks, and waded in the water to secure a fine +trout that had accidentally slipped from my string and was +helplessly floating with the current. This caused some delay and +gave the gnats time to accumulate. Before I had got one foot half +dressed I was enveloped in a black mist that settled upon my hands +and neck and face, filling my ears with infinitesimal pipings and +covering my flesh with infinitesimal bitings. I thought I should +have to flee to the friendly fumes of the old stable, with "one +stocking off and one stocking on;" but I got my shoe on at last, +though not without many amusing interruptions and digressions. +</p> +<p> +In a few moments after this adventure I was in rapid retreat toward +camp. Just as I reached the path leading from the shanty to the +creek, my companion in the same ignoble flight reached it also, his +hat broken and rumpled, and his sanguine countenance looking more +sanguinary than I had ever before seen it, and his speech, also, in +the highest degree inflammatory. His face and forehead were as +blotched and swollen as if he had just run his head into a hornets' +nest, and his manner as precipitate as if the whole swarm was still +at his back. +</p> +<p> +No smoke or smudge which we ourselves could endure was sufficient in +the earlier part of that evening to prevent serious annoyance from +the same cause; but later a respite was granted us. +</p> +<p> +About ten o'clock, as we stood round our camp-fire, we were startled +by a brief but striking display of the aurora borealis. My +imagination had already been excited by talk of legends and of weird +shapes and appearances, and when, on looking up toward the sky, I +saw those pale, phantasmal waves of magnetic light chasing each +other across the little opening above our heads, and at first sight +seeming barely to clear the treetops, I was as vividly impressed as +if I had caught a glimpse of a veritable spectre of the Neversink. +The sky shook and trembled like a great white curtain. +</p> +<p> +After we had climbed to our loft and had lain down to sleep, another +adventure befell us. This time a new and uninviting customer +appeared upon the scene, the <i>genius loci</i> of the old stable, +namely, the "fretful porcupine." We had seen the marks and work of +these animals about the shanty, and had been careful each night to +hang our traps, guns, etc., beyond their reach, but of the prickly +night-walker himself we feared we should not get a view. +</p> +<p> +We had lain down some half hour, and I was just on the threshold of +sleep, ready, as it were, to pass through the open door into the +land of dreams, when I heard outside somewhere that curious +sound,—a sound which I had heard every night I spent in these +woods, not only on this but on former expeditions, and which I had +settled in my mind as proceeding from the porcupine, since I knew +the sounds our other common animals were likely to make,—a sound +that might be either a gnawing on some hard, dry substance, or a +grating of teeth, or a shrill grunting. +</p> +<p> +Orville heard it also, and, raising up on his elbow, asked, "What is +that?" +</p> +<p> +"What the hunters call a 'porcupig,'" said I. +</p> +<p> +"Sure?" +</p> +<p> +"Entirely so." +</p> +<p> +"Why does he make that noise?" +</p> +<p> +"It is a way he has of cursing our fire," I replied. "I heard him +last night also." +</p> +<p> +"Where do you suppose he is?" inquired my companion, showing a +disposition to look him up. +</p> +<p> +"Not far off, perhaps fifteen or twenty yards from our fire, where +the shadows begin to deepen." +</p> +<p> +Orville slipped into his trousers, felt for my gun, and in a moment +had disappeared down through the scuttle hole. I had no disposition +to follow him, but was rather annoyed than otherwise at the +disturbance. Getting the direction of the sound, he went picking his +way over the rough, uneven ground, and, when he got where the light +failed him, poking every doubtful object with the end of his gun. +Presently he poked a light grayish object, like a large round stone, +which surprised him by moving off. On this hint he fired, making an +incurable wound in the "porcupig," which, nevertheless, tried harder +than ever to escape. I lay listening, when, close on the heels of +the report of the gun, came excited shouts for a revolver. Snatching +up my Smith and Wesson, I hastened, shoeless and hatless, to the +scene of action, wondering what was up. I found my companion +struggling to detain, with the end of the gun, an uncertain object +that was trying to crawl off into the darkness. "Look out!" said +Orville, as he saw my bare feet, "the quills are lying thick around +here." +</p> +<p> +And so they were; he had blown or beaten them nearly all off the +poor creature's back, and was in a fair way completely to disable my +gun, the ramrod of which was already broken and splintered clubbing +his victim. But a couple of shots from the revolver, sighted by a +lighted match, at the head of the animal, quickly settled him. +</p> +<p> +He proved to be an unusually large Canada porcupine,—an old +patriarch, gray and venerable, with spines three inches long, and +weighing, I should say, twenty pounds. The build of this animal is +much like that of the woodchuck, that is, heavy and pouchy. The nose +is blunter than that of the woodchuck, the limbs stronger, and the +tail broader and heavier. Indeed, the latter appendage is quite +club-like, and the animal can, no doubt, deal a smart blow with it. +An old hunter with whom I talked thought it aided them in climbing. +They are inveterate gnawers, and spend much of their time in trees +gnawing the bark. In winter one will take up its abode in a hemlock, +and continue there till the tree is quite denuded. The carcass +emitted a peculiar, offensive odor, and, though very fat, was not in +the least inviting as game. If it is part of the economy of nature +for one animal to prey upon some other beneath it, then the poor +devil has indeed a mouthful that makes a meal off the porcupine. +Panthers and lynxes have essayed it, but have invariably left off at +the first course, and have afterwards been found dead, or nearly so, +with their heads puffed up like a pincushion, and the quills +protruding on all sides. A dog that understands the business will +manœuvre round the porcupine till he gets an opportunity to throw +it over on its back, when he fastens on its quilless underbody. +Aaron was puzzled to know how long-parted friends could embrace, +when it was suggested that the quills could be depressed or elevated +at pleasure. +</p> +<p> +The next morning boded rain; but we had become thoroughly sated with +the delights of our present quarters, outside and in, and packed up +our traps to leave. Before we had reached the clearing, three miles +below, the rain set in, keeping up a lazy, monotonous drizzle till +the afternoon. +</p> +<p> +The clearing was quite a recent one, made mostly by barkpeelers, who +followed their calling in the mountains round about in summer, and +worked in their shops making shingle in winter. The Biscuit Brook +came in here from the west,—a fine, rapid trout stream six or eight +miles in length, with plenty of deer in the mountains about its +head. On its banks we found the house of an old woodman, to whom we +had been directed for information about the section we proposed to +traverse. +</p> +<p> +"Is the way very difficult," we inquired, "across from the Neversink +into the head of the Beaverkill?" +</p> +<p> +"Not to me; I could go it the darkest night ever was. And I can +direct you so you can find the way without any trouble. You go down +the Neversink about a mile, when you come to Highfall Brook, the +first stream that comes down on the right. Follow up it to Jim +Reed's shanty, about three miles. Then cross the stream, and on the +left bank, pretty well up on the side of the mountain, you will find +a wood-road, which was made by a fellow below here who stole some +ash logs off the top of the ridge last winter and drew them out on +the snow. When the road first begins to tilt over the mountain, +strike down to your left, and you can reach the Beaverkill before +sundown." +</p> +<p> +As it was then after two o'clock, and as the distance was six or +eight of these terrible hunters' miles, we concluded to take a whole +day to it, and wait till next morning. The Beaverkill flowed west, +the Neversink south, and I had a mortal dread of getting entangled +amid the mountains and valleys that lie in either angle. +</p> +<p> +Besides, I was glad of another and final opportunity to pay my +respects to the finny tribes of the Neversink. At this point it was +one of the finest trout streams I had ever beheld. It was so +sparkling, its bed so free from sediment or impurities of any kind, +that it had a new look, as if it had just come from the hand of its +Creator. I tramped along its margin upward of a mile that afternoon, +part of the time wading to my knees, and casting my hook, baited +only with a trout's fin, to the opposite bank. Trout are real +cannibals, and make no bones, and break none either, in lunching on +each other. A friend of mine had several in his spring, when one day +a large female trout gulped down one of her male friends, nearly one +third her own size, and went around for two days with the tail of +her liege lord protruding from her mouth! A fish's eye will do for +bait, though the anal fin is better. One of the natives here told me +that when he wished to catch large trout (and I judged he never +fished for any other,—I never do), he used for bait the bullhead, +or dart, a little fish an inch and a half or two inches long, that +rests on the pebbles near shore and darts quickly, when disturbed, +from point to point. "Put that on your hook," said he, "and if there +is a big fish in the creek, he is bound to have it." But the darts +were not easily found; the big fish, I concluded, had cleaned them +all out; and, then, it was easy enough to supply our wants with a +fin. +</p> +<p> +Declining the hospitable offers of the settlers, we spread our +blankets that night in a dilapidated shingle-shop on the banks of +the Biscuit Brook, first flooring the damp ground with the new +shingle that lay piled in one corner. The place had a great-throated +chimney with a tremendous expanse of fireplace within, that cried +"More!" at every morsel of wood we gave it. +</p> +<p> +But I must hasten over this part of the ground, nor let the +delicious flavor of the milk we had that morning for breakfast, and +that was so delectable after four days of fish, linger on my tongue; +nor yet tarry to set down the talk of that honest, weather-worn +passer-by who paused before our door, and every moment on the point +of resuming his way, yet stood for an hour and recited his +adventures hunting deer and bears on these mountains. Having +replenished our stock of bread and salt pork at the house of one of +the settlers, midday found us at Reed's shanty,—one of those +temporary structures erected by the bark jobber to lodge and board +his "hands" near their work. Jim not being at home, we could gain +no information from the "women folks" about the way, nor from the +men who had just come in to dinner; so we pushed on, as near as we +could, according to the instructions we had previously received. +Crossing the creek, we forced our way up the side of the mountain, +through a perfect <i>cheval-de-frise</i> of fallen and peeled hemlocks, +and, entering the dense woods above, began to look anxiously about +for the wood-road. My companions at first could see no trace of it; +but knowing that a casual wood-road cut in winter, when there was +likely to be two or three feet of snow on the ground, would present +only the slightest indications to the eye in summer, I looked a +little closer, and could make out a mark or two here and there. The +larger trees had been avoided, and the axe used only on the small +saplings and underbrush, which had been lopped off a couple of feet +from the ground. By being constantly on the alert, we followed it +till near the top of the mountain; but, when looking to see it +"tilt" over the other side, it disappeared altogether. Some stumps +of the black cherry were found, and a solitary pair of snow-shoes +was hanging high and dry on a branch, but no further trace of human +hands could we see. While we were resting here a couple of hermit +thrushes, one of them with some sad defect in his vocal powers which +barred him from uttering more than a few notes of his song, gave +voice to the solitude of the place. This was the second instance in +which I have observed a song-bird with apparently some organic +defect in its instrument. The other case was that of a bobolink, +which, hover in mid-air and inflate its throat as it might, could +only force out a few incoherent notes. But the bird in each case +presented this striking contrast to human examples of the kind, that +it was apparently just as proud of itself, and just as well +satisfied with its performance, as were its more successful rivals. +</p> +<p> +After deliberating some time over a pocket compass which I carried, +we decided upon our course, and held on to the west. The descent was +very gradual. Traces of bear and deer were noted at different +points, but not a live animal was seen. +</p> +<p> +About four o'clock we reached the bank of a stream flowing west. +Hail to the Beaverkill! and we pushed on along its banks. The trout +were plenty, and rose quickly to the hook; but we held on our way, +designing to go into camp about six o'clock. Many inviting places, +first on one bank, then on the other, made us linger, till finally +we reached a smooth, dry place overshadowed by balsam and hemlock, +where the creek bent around a little flat, which was so entirely to +our fancy that we unslung our knapsacks at once. While my companions +were cutting wood and making other preparations for the night, it +fell to my lot, as the most successful angler, to provide the +trout for supper and breakfast. How shall I describe that wild, +beautiful stream, with features so like those of all other +mountain streams? And yet, as I saw it in the deep twilight of those +woods on that June afternoon, with its steady, even flow, and its +tranquil, many-voiced murmur, it made an impression upon my mind +distinct and peculiar, fraught in an eminent degree with the charm +of seclusion and remoteness. The solitude was perfect, and I felt +that strangeness and insignificance which the civilized man must +always feel when opposing himself to such a vast scene of silence +and wildness. The trout were quite black, like all wood trout, and +took the bait eagerly. I followed the stream till the deepening +shadows warned me to turn back. As I neared camp, the fire shone far +through the trees, dispelling the gathering gloom, but blinding my +eyes to all obstacles at my feet. I was seriously disturbed on +arriving to find that one of my companions had cut an ugly gash in +his shin with the axe while felling a tree. As we did not carry a +fifth wheel, it was not just the time or place to have any of our +members crippled, and I had bodings of evil. But, thanks to the +healing virtues of the balsam which must have adhered to the blade +of the axe, and double thanks to the court-plaster with which +Orville had supplied himself before leaving home, the wounded leg, +by being favored that night and the next day, gave us little +trouble. +</p> +<a name="image-0008"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb7.jpg" width="315" height="450" +alt="The Beaverkill"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +THE BEAVERKILL +</p> + + +<p> +That night we had our first fair and square camping out,—that is, +sleeping on the ground with no shelter over us but the trees,—and +it was in many respects the pleasantest night we spent in the woods. +The weather was perfect and the place was perfect, and for the +first time we were exempt from the midges and smoke; and then we +appreciated the clean new page we had to work on. Nothing is so +acceptable to the camper-out as a pure article in the way of woods +and waters. Any admixture of human relics mars the spirit of the +scene. Yet I am willing to confess that, before we were through +those woods, the marks of an axe in a tree were a welcome sight. On +resuming our march next day we followed the right bank of the +Beaverkill, in order to strike a stream which flowed in from the +north, and which was the outlet of Balsam Lake, the objective point +of that day's march. The distance to the lake from our camp could +not have been over six or seven miles; yet, traveling as we did, +without path or guide, climbing up banks, plunging into ravines, +making detours around swampy places, and forcing our way through +woods choked up with much fallen and decayed timber, it seemed at +least twice that distance, and the mid-afternoon sun was shining +when we emerged into what is called the "Quaker Clearing," ground +that I had been over nine years before, and that lies about two +miles south of the lake. From this point we had a well-worn path +that led us up a sharp rise of ground, then through level woods +till we saw the bright gleam of the water through the trees. +</p> +<p> +I am always struck, on approaching these little mountain lakes, with +the extensive preparation that is made for them in the conformation +of the ground. I am thinking of a depression, or natural basin, in +the side of the mountain or on its top, the brink of which I shall +reach after a little steep climbing; but instead of that, after I +have accomplished the ascent, I find a broad sweep of level or +gently undulating woodland that brings me after a half hour or so to +the lake, which lies in this vast lap like a drop of water in the +palm of a man's hand. +</p> +<p> +Balsam Lake was oval-shaped, scarcely more than half a mile long and +a quarter of a mile wide, but presented a charming picture, with a +group of dark gray hemlocks filling the valley about its head, and +the mountains rising above and beyond. We found a bough house in +good repair, also a dug-out and paddle and several floats of logs. +In the dug-out I was soon creeping along the shady side of the lake, +where the trout were incessantly jumping for a species of black fly, +that, sheltered from the slight breeze, were dancing in swarms just +above the surface of the water. The gnats were there in swarms also, +and did their best toward balancing the accounts by preying upon me +while I preyed upon the trout which preyed upon the flies. But by +dint of keeping my hands, face, and neck constantly wet, I am +convinced that the balance of blood was on my side. The trout jumped +most within a foot or two of shore, where the water was only a few +inches deep. The shallowness of the water, perhaps, accounted for +the inability of the fish to do more than lift their heads above the +surface. They came up mouths wide open, and dropped back again in +the most impotent manner. Where there is any depth of water, a trout +will jump several feet into the air; and where there is a solid, +unbroken sheet or column, they will scale falls and dams fifteen +feet high. +</p> +<p> +We had the very cream and flower of our trout-fishing at this lake. +For the first time we could use the fly to advantage; and then the +contrast between laborious tramping along shore, on the one hand, +and sitting in one end of a dug-out and casting your line right and +left with no fear of entanglement in brush or branch, while you were +gently propelled along, on the other, was of the most pleasing +character. +</p> +<p> +There were two varieties of trout in the lake,—what it seems proper +to call silver trout and golden trout; the former were the slimmer, +and seemed to keep apart from the latter. Starting from the outlet +and working round on the eastern side toward the head, we invariably +caught these first. They glanced in the sun like bars of silver. +Their sides and bellies were indeed as white as new silver. As we +neared the head, and especially as we came near a space occupied by +some kind of watergrass that grew in the deeper part of the lake, +the other variety would begin to take the hook, their bellies a +bright gold color, which became a deep orange on their fins; and as +we returned to the place of departure with the bottom of the boat +strewn with these bright forms intermingled, it was a sight not soon +to be forgotten. It pleased my eye so, that I would fain linger over +them, arranging them in rows and studying the various hues and +tints. They were of nearly a uniform size, rarely one over ten or +under eight inches in length, and it seemed as if the hues of all +the precious metals and stones were reflected from their sides. The +flesh was deep salmon-color; that of brook trout is generally much +lighter. Some hunters and fishers from the valley of the Mill Brook, +whom we met here, told us the trout were much larger in the lake, +though far less numerous than they used to be. Brook trout do not +grow large till they become scarce. It is only in streams that have +been long and much fished that I have caught them as much as sixteen +inches in length. +</p> +<p> +The "porcupigs" were numerous about the lake, and not at all shy. +One night the heat became so intolerable in our oven-shaped bough +house that I was obliged to withdraw from under its cover and lie +down a little to one side. Just at daybreak, as I lay rolled in my +blanket, something awoke me. Lifting up my head, there was a +porcupine with his forepaws on my hips. He was apparently as much +surprised as I was; and to my inquiry as to what he at that moment +might be looking for, he did not pause to reply, but hitting me a +slap with his tail which left three or four quills in my blanket, he +scampered off down the hill into the brush. +</p> +<p> +Being an observer of the birds, of course every curious incident +connected with them fell under my notice. Hence, as we stood about +our camp-fire one afternoon looking out over the lake, I was the +only one to see a little commotion in the water, half hidden by the +near branches, as of some tiny swimmer struggling to reach the +shore. Rushing to its rescue in the canoe, I found a yellow-rumped +warbler, quite exhausted, clinging to a twig that hung down into the +water. I brought the drenched and helpless thing to camp, and, +putting it into a basket, hung it up to dry. An hour or two +afterward I heard it fluttering in its prison, and, cautiously +lifting the lid to get a better glimpse of the lucky captive, it +darted out and was gone in a twinkling. How came it in the water? +That was my wonder, and I can only guess that it was a young bird +that had never before flown over a pond of water, and, seeing the +clouds and blue sky so perfect down there, thought it was a vast +opening or gateway into another summer land, perhaps a short cut to +the tropics, and so got itself into trouble. How my eye was +delighted also with the redbird that alighted for a moment on a dry +branch above the lake, just where a ray of light from the setting +sun fell full upon it! A mere crimson point, and yet how it offset +that dark, sombre background! +</p> +<hr> +<p> +I have thus run over some of the features of an ordinary trouting +excursion to the woods. People inexperienced in such matters, +sitting in their rooms and thinking of these things, of all the +poets have sung and romancers written, are apt to get sadly taken in +when they attempt to realize their dreams. They expect to enter a +sylvan paradise of trout, cool retreats, laughing brooks, +picturesque views, and balsamic couches, instead of which they find +hunger, rain, smoke, toil, gnats, mosquitoes, dirt, broken rest, +vulgar guides, and salt pork; and they are very apt not to see where +the fun comes in. But he who goes in a right spirit will not be +disappointed, and will find the taste of this kind of life better, +though bitterer, than the writers have described. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div> + +<h2> + VIII +</h2> +<h3> + A BED OF BOUGHS +</h3> +<br> +<p> +When Aaron came again to camp and tramp with me, or, as he wrote, +"to eat locusts and wild honey with me in the wilderness," it was +past the middle of August, and the festival of the season neared its +close. We were belated guests, but perhaps all the more eager on +that account, especially as the country was suffering from a +terrible drought, and the only promise of anything fresh or tonic or +cool was in primitive woods and mountain passes. +</p> +<p> +"Now, my friend," said I, "we can go to Canada, or to the Maine +woods, or to the Adirondacks, and thus have a whole loaf and a big +loaf of this bread which you know as well as I will have heavy +streaks in it, and will not be uniformly sweet; or we can seek +nearer woods, and content ourselves with one week instead of four, +with the prospect of a keen relish to the last. Four sylvan weeks +sound well, but the poetry is mainly confined to the first one. We +can take another slice or two of the Catskills, can we not, without +being sated with kills and dividing ridges?" +</p> +<p> +"Anywhere," replied Aaron, "so that we have a good tramp and plenty +of primitive woods. No doubt we should find good browsing on +Peakamoose, and trout enough in the streams at its base." +</p> +<p> +So without further ado we made ready, and in due time found +ourselves, with our packs on our backs, entering upon a pass in the +mountains that led to the valley of the Rondout. +</p> +<p> +The scenery was wild and desolate in the extreme, the mountains on +either hand looking as if they had been swept by a tornado of stone. +Stone avalanches hung suspended on their sides, or had shot down +into the chasm below. It was a kind of Alpine scenery, where crushed +and broken boulders covered the earth instead of snow. +</p> +<p> +In the depressions in the mountains the rocky fragments seemed to +have accumulated, and to have formed what might be called stone +glaciers that were creeping slowly down. +</p> +<p> +Two hours' march brought us into heavy timber where the stone +cataclysm had not reached, and before long the soft voice of the +Rondout was heard in the gulf below us. We paused at a spring run, +and I followed it a few yards down its mountain stairway, carpeted +with black moss, and had my first glimpse of the unknown stream. I +stood upon rocks and looked many feet down into a still, sunlit pool +and saw the trout disporting themselves in the transparent water, +and I was ready to encamp at once; but my companion, who had not +been tempted by the view, insisted upon holding to our original +purpose, which was to go farther up the stream. We passed a +clearing with three or four houses and a saw-mill. The dam of the +latter was filled with such clear water that it seemed very shallow, +and not ten or twelve feet deep, as it really was. The fish were as +conspicuous as if they had been in a pail. +</p> +<p> +Two miles farther up we suited ourselves and went into camp. +</p> +<p> +If there ever was a stream cradled in the rocks, detained lovingly +by them, held and fondled in a rocky lap or tossed in rocky arms, +that stream is the Rondout. Its course for several miles from its +head is over the stratified rock, and into this it has worn a +channel that presents most striking and peculiar features. Now it +comes silently along on the top of the rock, spread out and flowing +over that thick, dark green moss that is found only in the coldest +streams; then drawn into a narrow canal only four or five feet wide, +through which it shoots, black and rigid, to be presently caught in +a deep basin with shelving, overhanging rocks, beneath which the +phœbe-bird builds in security, and upon which the fisherman +stands and casts his twenty or thirty feet of line without fear of +being thwarted by the brush; then into a black, well-like pool, ten +or fifteen feet deep, with a smooth, circular wall of rock on one +side worn by the water through long ages; or else into a deep, +oblong pocket, into which and out of which the water glides without +a ripple. +</p> +<p> +The surface rock is a coarse sandstone superincumbent upon a +lighter-colored conglomerate that looks like Shawangunk grits, and +when this latter is reached by the water it seems to be rapidly +disintegrated by it, thus forming the deep excavations alluded to. +</p> +<p> +My eyes had never before beheld such beauty in a mountain stream. +The water was almost as transparent as the air,—was, indeed, like +liquid air; and as it lay in these wells and pits enveloped in +shadow, or lit up by a chance ray of the vertical sun, it was a +perpetual feast to the eye,—so cool, so deep, so pure; every reach +and pool like a vast spring. You lay down and drank or dipped the +water up in your cup, and found it just the right degree of +refreshing coldness. One is never prepared for the clearness of the +water in these streams. It is always a surprise. See them every year +for a dozen years, and yet, when you first come upon one, you will +utter an exclamation. I saw nothing like it in the Adirondacks, nor +in Canada. Absolutely without stain or hint of impurity, it seems to +magnify like a lens, so that the bed of the stream and the fish in +it appear deceptively near. It is rare to find even a trout stream +that is not a little "off color," as they say of diamonds, but the +waters in the section of which I am writing have the genuine ray; it +is the undimmed and untarnished diamond. +</p> +<p> +If I were a trout, I should ascend every stream till I found the +Rondout. It is the ideal brook. What homes these fish have, what +retreats under the rocks, what paved or flagged courts and areas, +what crystal depths where no net or snare can reach them!—no mud, +no sediment, but here and there in the clefts and seams of the rock +patches of white gravel,—spawning-beds ready-made. +</p> +<p> +The finishing touch is given by the moss with which the rock is +everywhere carpeted. Even in the narrow grooves or channels where +the water runs the swiftest, the green lining is unbroken. It sweeps +down under the stream and up again on the other side, like some +firmly woven texture. It softens every outline and cushions every +stone. At a certain depth in the great basins and wells it of course +ceases, and only the smooth-swept flagging of the place-rock is +visible. +</p> +<p> +The trees are kept well back from the margin of the stream by the +want of soil, and the large ones unite their branches far above it, +thus forming a high winding gallery, along which the fisherman +passes and makes his long casts with scarcely an interruption from +branch or twig. In a few places he makes no cast, but sees from his +rocky perch the water twenty feet below him, and drops his hook into +it as into a well. +</p> +<p> +We made camp at a bend in the creek where there was a large surface +of mossy rock uncovered by the shrunken stream,—a clean, free space +left for us in the wilderness that was faultless as a kitchen and +dining-room, and a marvel of beauty as a lounging-room, or an open +court, or what you will. An obsolete wood or bark road conducted us +to it, and disappeared up the hill in the woods beyond. A loose +boulder lay in the middle, and on the edge next the stream were +three or four large natural wash-basins scooped out of the rock, and +ever filled ready for use. Our lair we carved out of the thick brush +under a large birch on the bank. Here we planted our flag of smoke +and feathered our nest with balsam and hemlock boughs and ferns, and +laughed at your four walls and pillows of down. +</p> +<p> +Wherever one encamps in the woods, there is home, and every object +and feature about the place take on a new interest and assume a near +and friendly relation to one. +</p> +<p> +We were at the head of the best fishing. There was an old +bark-clearing not far off which afforded us a daily dessert of most +delicious blackberries,—an important item in the woods,—and then +all the features of the place—a sort of cave above ground—were of +the right kind. +</p> +<p> +There was not a mosquito, or gnat, or other pest in the woods, the +cool nights having already cut them off. The trout were sufficiently +abundant, and afforded us a few hours' sport daily to supply our +wants. The only drawback was, that they were out of season, and +only palatable to a woodman's keen appetite. What is this about +trout spawning in October and November, and in some cases not till +March? These trout had all spawned in August, every one of them. The +coldness and purity of the water evidently made them that much +earlier. The game laws of the State protect the fish after September +1, proceeding upon the theory that its spawning season is later than +that,—as it is in many cases, but not in all, as we found out. +</p> +<p> +The fish are small in these streams, seldom weighing over a few +ounces. Occasionally a large one is seen of a pound or pound and a +half weight. I remember one such, as black as night, that ran under +a black rock. But I remember much more distinctly a still larger one +that I caught and lost one eventful day. +</p> +<p> +I had him on my hook ten minutes, and actually got my thumb in his +mouth, and yet he escaped. +</p> +<p> +It was only the over-eagerness of the sportsman. I imagined I could +hold him by the teeth. +</p> +<p> +The place where I struck him was a deep well-hole, and I was perched +upon a log that spanned it ten or twelve feet above the water. The +situation was all the more interesting because I saw no possible way +to land my fish. I could not lead him ashore, and my frail tackle +could not be trusted to lift him sheer from that pit to my +precarious perch. What should I do? call for help? but no help was +near. I had a revolver in my pocket and might have shot him through +and through, but that novel proceeding did not occur to me until it +was too late. I would have taken a Sam Patch leap into the water, +and have wrestled with my antagonist in his own element, but I knew +the slack, thus sure to occur, would probably free him; so I peered +down upon the beautiful creature and enjoyed my triumph as far as it +went. He was caught very lightly through his upper jaw, and I +expected every struggle and somersault would break the hold. +Presently I saw a place in the rocks where I thought it possible, +with such an incentive, to get down within reach of the water: by +careful manœuvring I slipped my pole behind me and got hold of +the line, which I cut and wound around my finger; then I made my way +toward the end of the log and the place in the rocks, leading my +fish along much exhausted on the top of the water. By an effort +worthy the occasion I got down within reach of the fish, and, as I +have already confessed, thrust my thumb into his mouth and pinched +his cheek; he made a spring and was free from my hand and the hook +at the same time; for a moment he lay panting on the top of the +water, then, recovering himself slowly, made his way down through +the clear, cruel element beyond all hope of recapture. My blind +impulse to follow and try to seize him was very strong, but I kept +my hold and peered and peered long after the fish was lost to view, +then looked my mortification in the face and laughed a bitter laugh. +</p> +<p> +"But, hang it! I had all the fun of catching the fish, and only miss +the pleasure of eating him, which at this time would not be great." +</p> +<p> +"The fun, I take it," said my soldier, "is in triumphing, and not in +being beaten at the last." +</p> +<p> +"Well, have it so; but I would not exchange those ten or fifteen +minutes with that trout for the tame two hours you have spent in +catching that string of thirty. To <i>see</i> a big fish after days of +small fry is an event; to have a jump from one is a glimpse of the +sportsman's paradise; and to hook one, and actually have him under +your control for ten minutes,—why, that is paradise itself as long +as it lasts." +</p> +<p> +One day I went down to the house of a settler a mile below, and +engaged the good dame to make us a couple of loaves of bread, and in +the evening we went down after them. How elastic and exhilarating +the walk was through the cool, transparent shadows! The sun was +gilding the mountains, and its yellow light seemed to be reflected +through all the woods. At one point we looked through and along a +valley of deep shadow upon a broad sweep of mountain quite near and +densely clothed with woods, flooded from base to summit by the +setting sun. It was a wild, memorable scene. What power and +effectiveness in Nature, I thought, and how rarely an artist +catches her touch! Looking down upon or squarely into a mountain +covered with a heavy growth of birch and maple, and shone upon by +the sun, is a sight peculiarly agreeable to me. How closely the +swelling umbrageous heads of the trees fit together, and how the eye +revels in the flowing and easy uniformity, while the mind feels the +ruggedness and terrible power beneath! +</p> +<p> +As we came back, the light yet lingered on the top of Slide +Mountain. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'The last that parleys with the setting sun,'" +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +said I, quoting Wordsworth. +</p> +<p> +"That line is almost Shakespearean," said my companion. "It suggests +that great hand at least, though it has not the grit and virility of +the more primitive bard. What triumph and fresh morning power in +Shakespeare's lines that will occur to us at sunrise to-morrow!— +</p> +<p class="poem3"> + "'And jocund day<br> + Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.' +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +"Or in this:— +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br> + Flatter the mountain tops with sovran eye.' +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +"There is savage, perennial beauty there, the quality that Wordsworth +and nearly all the modern poets lack." +</p> +<p> +"But Wordsworth is the poet of the mountains," said I, "and of +lonely peaks. True, he does not express the power and aboriginal +grace there is in them, nor toy with them and pluck them up by the +hair of their heads, as Shakespeare does. There is something in +Peakamoose yonder, as we see it from this point, cutting the blue +vault with its dark, serrated edge, not in the bard of Grasmere; but +he expresses the feeling of loneliness and insignificance that the +cultivated man has in the presence of mountains, and the burden of +solemn emotion they give rise to. Then there is something much more +wild and merciless, much more remote from human interests and ends, +in our long, high, wooded ranges than is expressed by the peaks and +scarred groups of the lake country of Britain. These mountains we +behold and cross are not picturesque,—they are wild and inhuman as +the sea. In them you are in a maze, in a weltering world of woods; +you can see neither the earth nor the sky, but a confusion of the +growth and decay of centuries, and must traverse them by your +compass or your science of woodcraft,—a rift through the trees +giving one a glimpse of the opposite range or of the valley beneath, +and he is more at sea than ever; one does not know his own farm or +settlement when framed in these mountain treetops; all look alike +unfamiliar." +</p> +<p> +Not the least of the charm of camping out is your camp-fire at +night. What an artist! What pictures are boldly thrown or faintly +outlined upon the canvas of the night! Every object, every attitude +of your companion is striking and memorable. You see effects and +groups every moment that you would give money to be able to carry +away with you in enduring form. How the shadows leap, and skulk, and +hover about! Light and darkness are in perpetual tilt and warfare, +with first the one unhorsed, then the other. The friendly and +cheering fire, what acquaintance we make with it! We had almost +forgotten there was such an element, we had so long known only its +dark offspring, heat. Now we see the wild beauty uncaged and note +its manner and temper. How surely it creates its own draught and +sets the currents going, as force and enthusiasm always will! It +carves itself a chimney out of the fluid and houseless air. A +friend, a ministering angel, in subjection; a fiend, a fury, a +monster, ready to devour the world, if ungoverned. By day it burrows +in the ashes and sleeps; at night it comes forth and sits upon its +throne of rude logs, and rules the camp, a sovereign queen. +</p> +<p> +Near camp stood a tall, ragged yellow birch, its partially cast-off +bark hanging in crisp sheets or dense rolls. +</p> +<p> +"That tree needs the barber," we said, "and shall have a call from +him to-night." +</p> +<p> +So after dark I touched a match into it, and we saw the flames creep +up and wax in fury until the whole tree and its main branches stood +wrapped in a sheet of roaring flame. It was a wild and striking +spectacle, and must have advertised our camp to every nocturnal +creature in the forest. +</p> +<p> +What does the camper think about when lounging around the fire at +night? Not much,—of the sport of the day, of the big fish he lost +and might have saved, of the distant settlement, of to-morrow's +plans. An owl hoots off in the mountain and he thinks of him; if a +wolf were to howl or a panther to scream, he would think of him the +rest of the night. As it is, things flicker and hover through his +mind, and he hardly knows whether it is the past or the present that +possesses him. Certain it is, he feels the hush and solitude of the +great forest, and, whether he will or not, all his musings are in +some way cast upon that huge background of the night. Unless he is +an old camper-out, there will be an undercurrent of dread or half +fear. My companion said he could not help but feel all the time that +there ought to be a sentinel out there pacing up and down. One seems +to require less sleep in the woods, as if the ground and the +untempered air rested and refreshed him sooner. The balsam and the +hemlock heal his aches very quickly. If one is awakened often during +the night, as he invariably is, he does not feel that sediment of +sleep in his mind next day that he does when the same interruption +occurs at home; the boughs have drawn it all out of him. +</p> +<p> +And it is wonderful how rarely any of the housed and tender white +man's colds or influenzas come through these open doors and windows +of the woods. It is our partial isolation from Nature that is +dangerous; throw yourself unreservedly upon her and she rarely +betrays you. +</p> +<p> +If one takes anything to the woods to read, he seldom reads it; it +does not taste good with such primitive air. +</p> +<p> +There are very few camp poems that I know of, poems that would be at +home with one on such an expedition; there is plenty that is weird +and spectral, as in Poe, but little that is woody and wild as this +scene is. I recall a Canadian poem by the late C.D. Shanly—the only +one, I believe, the author ever wrote—that fits well the distended +pupil of the mind's eye about the camp-fire at night. It was printed +many years ago in the "Atlantic Monthly," and is called "The Walker +of the Snow;" it begins thus:— +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Speed on, speed on, good master;<br> + The camp lies far away;<br> + We must cross the haunted valley <br> + Before the close of day.'" +</p> +<p> +"That has a Canadian sound," said Aaron; "give us more of it." +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'How the snow-blight came upon me <br> + I will tell you as we go,—<br> + The blight of the shadow hunter <br> + Who walks the midnight snow.'" +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +And so on. The intent seems to be to personify the fearful cold +that overtakes and benumbs the traveler in the great Canadian +forests in winter. This stanza brings out the silence or desolation +of the scene very effectively,—a scene without sound or motion:— +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Save the wailing of the moose-bird <br> + With a plaintive note and low;<br> + And the skating of the red leaf <br> + Upon the frozen snow.' +</p> +<p> +"The rest of the poem runs thus:— +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'And said I, Though dark is falling, <br> + And far the camp must be,<br> + Yet my heart it would be lightsome <br> + If I had but company. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'And then I sang and shouted, <br> + Keeping measure as I sped, <br> + To the harp-twang of the snow-shoe<br> + As it sprang beneath my tread. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Nor far into the valley <br> + Had I dipped upon my way,<br> + When a dusky figure joined me<br> + In a capuchin of gray, +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Bending upon the snow-shoes <br> + With a long and limber stride; <br> + And I hailed the dusky stranger,<br> + As we traveled side by side. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'But no token of communion <br> + Gave he by word or look,<br> + And the fear-chill fell upon me<br> + At the crossing of the brook. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'For I saw by the sickly moonlight, <br> + As I followed, bending low, <br> + That the walking of the stranger<br> + Left no foot-marks on the snow. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Then the fear-chill gathered o'er me, <br> + Like a shroud around me cast,<br> + As I sank upon the snow-drift<br> + Where the shadow hunter passed. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'And the otter-trappers found me,<br> + Before the break of day,<br> + With my dark hair blanched and whitened<br> + As the snow in which I lay. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'But they spoke not as they raised me;<br> + For they knew that in the night<br> + I had seen the shadow hunter<br> + And had withered in his sight. +</p> +<p class="poem"> + "'Sancta Maria speed us!<br> + The sun is fallen low:<br> + Before us lies the valley<br> + Of the Walker of the Snow!'" +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" exclaimed my companion. "Let us pile on more of those dry +birch-logs; I feel both the 'fear-chill' and the 'cold-chill' +creeping over me. How far is it to the valley of the Neversink?" +</p> +<p> +"About three or four hours' march, the man said." +</p> +<p> +"I hope we have no haunted valleys to cross?" +</p> +<p> +"None," said I, "but we pass an old log cabin about which there +hangs a ghostly superstition. At a certain hour in the night, during +the time the bark is loose on the hemlock, a female form is said to +steal from it and grope its way into the wilderness. The tradition +runs that her lover, who was a bark-peeler and wielded the spud, was +killed by his rival, who felled a tree upon him while they were at +work. The girl, who helped her mother cook for the 'hands,' was +crazed by the shock, and that night stole forth into the woods and +was never seen or heard of more. There are old hunters who aver that +her cry may still be heard at night at the head of the valley +whenever a tree falls in the stillness of the forest." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I heard a tree fall not ten minutes ago," said Aaron; "a +distant, rushing sound with a subdued crash at the end of it, and +the only answering cry I heard was the shrill voice of the screech +owl off yonder against the mountain. But maybe it was not an owl," +said he after a moment; "let us help the legend along by believing +it was the voice of the lost maiden." +</p> +<p> +"By the way," continued he, "do you remember the pretty creature we +saw seven years ago in the shanty on the West Branch, who was really +helping her mother cook for the hands, a slip of a girl twelve or +thirteen years old, with eyes as beautiful and bewitching as the +waters that flowed by her cabin? I was wrapped in admiration till +she spoke; then how the spell was broken! Such a voice! It was like +the sound of pots and pans when you expected to hear a lute." +</p> +<p> +The next day we bade farewell to the Rondout, and set out to cross +the mountain to the east branch of the Neversink. +</p> +<p> +"We shall find tame waters compared with these, I fear,—a shriveled +stream brawling along over loose stones, with few pools or deep +places." +</p> +<p> +Our course was along the trail of the bark-men who had pursued the +doomed hemlock to the last tree at the head of the valley. As we +passed along, a red steer stepped out of the bushes into the road +ahead of us, where the sunshine fell full upon him, and, with a +half-scared, beautiful look, begged alms of salt. We passed the +Haunted Shanty; but both it and the legend about it looked very tame +at ten o'clock in the morning. After the road had faded out, we took +to the bed of the stream to avoid the gauntlet of the underbrush, +skipping up the mountain from boulder to boulder. Up and up we went, +with frequent pauses and copious quaffing of the cold water. My +soldier declared a "haunted valley" would be a godsend; anything +but endless dragging of one's self up such an Alpine stairway. The +winter wren, common all through the woods, peeped and scolded at us +as we sat blowing near the summit, and the oven-bird, not quite sure +as to what manner of creatures we were, hopped down a limb to within +a few feet of us and had a good look, then darted off into the +woods to tell the news. I also noted the Canada warbler, the +chestnut-sided warbler, and the black-throated blue-back,—the +latter most abundant of all. Up these mountain brooks, too, goes the +belted kingfisher, swooping around through the woods when he spies +the fisherman, then wheeling into the open space of the stream and +literally making a "blue streak" down under the branches. +</p> +<p> +At last the stream which had been our guide was lost under the +rocks, and before long the top was gained. These mountains are +horse-shaped. There is always a broad, smooth back, more or less +depressed, which the hunter aims to bestride; rising rapidly from +this is pretty sure to be a rough, curving ridge that carries the +forest up to some highest peak. We were lucky in hitting the saddle, +but we could see a little to the south the sharp, steep neck of the +steed sweeping up toward the sky with an erect mane of balsam fir. +</p> +<p> +These mountains are steed-like in other respects: any timid and +vacillating course with them is sure to get you into trouble. One +must strike out boldly, and not be disturbed by the curveting and +shying; the valley you want lies squarely behind them, but farther +off than you think, and if you do not go for it resolutely, you will +get bewildered and the mountain will play you a trick. +</p> +<p> +I may say that Aaron and I kept a tight rein and a good pace till we +struck a water-course on the other side, and that we clattered down +it with no want of decision till it emptied into a larger stream +which we knew must be the East Branch. An abandoned fishpole lay on +the stones, marking the farthest point reached by some fisherman. +According to our reckoning, we were five or six miles above the +settlement, with a good depth of primitive woods all about us. +</p> +<p> +We kept on down the stream, now and then pausing at a likely place +to take some trout for dinner, and with an eye out for a good +camping-ground. Many of the trout were full of ripe spawn, and a few +had spawned, the season with them being a little later than on the +stream we had left, perhaps because the water was less cold. Neither +had the creek here any such eventful and startling career. It led, +indeed, quite a humdrum sort of life under the roots and fallen +treetops and among the loose stones. At rare intervals it beamed +upon us from some still reach or dark cover, and won from us our +best attention in return. +</p> +<p> +The day was quite spent before we had pitched our air-woven tent +and prepared our dinner, and we gathered boughs for our bed in the +gloaming. Breakfast had to be caught in the morning and was not +served early, so that it was nine o'clock before we were in motion. +A little bird, the red-eyed vireo, warbled most cheerily in the +trees above our camp, and, as Aaron said, "gave us a good send-off." +We kept down the stream, following the inevitable bark road. +</p> +<p> +My companion had refused to look at another "dividing ridge" that +had neither path nor way, and henceforth I must keep to the open +road or travel alone. Two hours' tramp brought us to an old clearing +with some rude, tumble-down log buildings that many years before had +been occupied by the bark and lumber men. The prospect for trout was +so good in the stream hereabouts, and the scene so peaceful and +inviting, shone upon by the dreamy August sun, that we concluded to +tarry here until the next day. It was a page of pioneer history +opened to quite unexpectedly. A dim footpath led us a few yards to a +superb spring, in which a trout from the near creek had taken up his +abode. We took possession of what had been a shingle-shop, attracted +by its huge fireplace. We floored it with balsam boughs, hung its +walls with our "traps," and sent the smoke curling again from its +disused chimney. +</p> +<p> +The most musical and startling sound we heard in the woods greeted +our ears that evening about sundown as we sat on a log in front of +our quarters,—the sound of slow, measured pounding in the valley +below us. We did not know how near we were to human habitations, and +the report of the lumberman's mallet, like the hammering of a great +woodpecker, was music to the ear and news to the mind. The air was +still and dense, and the silence such as alone broods over these +little openings in the primitive woods. My soldier started as if he +had heard a signal-gun. The sound, coming so far through the forest, +sweeping over those great wind-harps of trees, became wild and +legendary, though probably made by a lumberman driving a wedge or +working about his mill. +</p> +<p> +We expected a friendly visit from porcupines that night, as we saw +where they had freshly gnawed all about us; hence, when a red +squirrel came and looked in upon us very early in the morning and +awoke us by his snickering and giggling, my comrade cried out, +"There is your porcupig." How the frisking red rogue seemed to enjoy +what he had found! He looked in at the door and snickered, then in +at the window, then peeked down from between the rafters and +cachinnated till his sides must have ached; then struck an attitude +upon the chimney, and fairly squealed with mirth and ridicule. In +fact, he grew so obstreperous, and so disturbed our repose, that we +had to "shoo" him away with one of our boots. He declared most +plainly that he had never before seen so preposterous a figure as we +cut lying there in the corner of that old shanty. +</p> +<p> +The morning boded rain, the week to which we had limited ourselves +drew near its close, and we concluded to finish our holiday worthily +by a good square tramp to the railroad station, twenty-three miles +distant, as it proved. Two miles brought us to stumpy fields, and to +the house of the upper inhabitant. They told us there was a short +cut across the mountain, but my soldier shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Better twenty miles of Europe," said he, getting Tennyson a little +mixed, "than one of Cathay, or Slide Mountain either." +</p> +<p> +Drops of the much-needed rain began to come down, and I hesitated in +front of the woodshed. +</p> +<p> +"Sprinkling weather always comes to some bad end," said Aaron, with +a reminiscence of an old couplet in his mind, and so it proved, for +it did not get beyond a sprinkle, and the sun shone out before noon. +</p> +<p> +In the next woods I picked up from the middle of the road the tail +and one hind leg of one of our native rats, the first I had ever +seen except in a museum. An owl or fox had doubtless left it the +night before. It was evident the fragments had once formed part of a +very elegant and slender creature. The fur that remained (for it was +not hair) was tipped with red. My reader doubtless knows that the +common rat is an importation, and that there is a native American +rat, usually found much farther south than the locality of which I +am writing, that lives in the woods,—a sylvan rat, very wild and +nocturnal in his habits, and seldom seen even by hunters or woodmen. +Its eyes are large and fine, and its form slender. It looks like +only a far-off undegenerate cousin of the filthy creature that has +come to us from the long-peopled Old World. Some creature ran +between my feet and the fire toward morning, the last night we slept +in the woods, and I have little doubt it was one of these wood-rats. +</p> +<p> +The people in these back settlements are almost as shy and furtive +as the animals. Even the men look a little scared when you stop them +by your questions. The children dart behind their parents when you +look at them. As we sat on a bridge resting,—for our packs still +weighed fifteen or twenty pounds each,—two women passed us with +pails on their arms, going for blackberries. They filed by with +their eyes down like two abashed nuns. +</p> +<a name="image-0009"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/jb8.jpg" width="324" height="450" +alt="Some People of the Catskills"> +</center> +<p class="cap"> +SOME PEOPLE OF THE CATSKILLS +</p> + + +<p> +In due time we found an old road, to which we had been directed, +that led over the mountain to the West Branch. It was a hard pull, +sweetened by blackberries and a fine prospect. The snowbird was +common along the way, and a solitary wild pigeon shot through the +woods in front of us, recalling the nests we had seen on the East +Branch,—little scaffoldings of twigs scattered all through the +trees. +</p> +<p> +It was nearly noon when we struck the West Branch, and the sun was +scalding hot. We knew that two and three pound trout had been taken +there, and yet we wet not a line in its waters. The scene was +primitive, and carried one back to the days of his grandfather, +stumpy fields, log fences, log houses and barns. A boy twelve or +thirteen years old came out of a house ahead of us eating a piece of +bread and butter. We soon overtook him and held converse with him. +He knew the land well, and what there was in the woods and the +waters. He had walked out to the railroad station, fourteen miles +distant, to see the cars, and back the same day. I asked him about +the flies and mosquitoes, etc. He said they were all gone except the +"blunder-heads;" there were some of them left yet. +</p> +<p> +"What are blunder-heads?" I inquired, sniffing new game. +</p> +<p> +"The pesky little fly that gets into your eye when you are +a-fishing." +</p> +<p> +Ah, yes! I knew him well. We had got acquainted some days before, +and I thanked the boy for the name. It is an insect that hovers +before your eye as you thread the streams, and you are forever +vaguely brushing at it under the delusion that it is a little spider +suspended from your hat-brim; and just as you want to see clearest, +into your eye it goes, head and ears, and is caught between the +lids. You miss your cast, but you catch a "blunder-head." +</p> +<p> +We paused under a bridge at the mouth of Biscuit Brook and ate our +lunch, and I can recommend it to be as good a wayside inn as the +pedestrian need look for. Better bread and milk than we had there I +never expect to find. The milk was indeed so good that Aaron went +down to the little log house under the hill a mile farther on and +asked for more; and being told they had no cow, he lingered five +minutes on the doorstone with his sooty pail in his hand, putting +idle questions about the way and distance to the mother while +he refreshed himself with the sight of a well-dressed and +comely-looking young girl, her daughter. +</p> +<p> +"I got no milk," said he, hurrying on after me, "but I got something +better, only I cannot divide it." +</p> +<p> +"I know what it is," replied I; "I heard her voice." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, and it was a good one, too. The sweetest sound I ever heard," +he went on, "was a girl's voice after I had been four years in the +army, and, by Jove! if I didn't experience something of the same +pleasure in hearing this young girl speak after a week in the woods. +She had evidently been out in the world and was home on a visit. It +was a different look she gave me from that of the natives. This is +better than fishing for trout," said he. "You drop in at the next +house." +</p> +<p> +But the next house looked too unpromising. +</p> +<p> +"There is no milk there," said I, "unless they keep a goat." +</p> +<p> +"But could we not," said my facetious companion, "go it on that?" +</p> +<p> +A couple of miles beyond I stopped at a house that enjoyed the +distinction of being clapboarded, and had the good fortune to find +both the milk and the young lady. A mother and her daughter were +again the only occupants save a babe in the cradle, which the young +woman quickly took occasion to disclaim. +</p> +<p> +"It has not opened its dear eyes before since its mother left. Come +to aunty," and she put out her hands. +</p> +<p> +The daughter filled my pail and the mother replenished our stock of +bread. They asked me to sit and cool myself, and seemed glad of a +stranger to talk with. They had come from an adjoining county five +years before, and had carved their little clearing out of the solid +woods. +</p> +<p> +"The men folks," the mother said, "came on ahead and built the house +right among the big trees," pointing to the stumps near the door. +</p> +<p> +One no sooner sets out with his pack upon his back to tramp through +the land than all objects and persons by the way have a new and +curious interest to him. The tone of his entire being is not a +little elevated, and all his perceptions and susceptibilities +quickened. I feel that some such statement is necessary to justify +the interest that I felt in this backwoods maiden. A slightly pale +face it was, strong and well arched, with a tender, wistful +expression not easy to forget. +</p> +<p> +I had surely seen that face many times before in towns and cities, +and in other lands, but I hardly expected to meet it here amid the +stumps. What were the agencies that had given it its fine lines and +its gracious intelligence amid these simple, primitive scenes? What +did my heroine read, or think? or what were her unfulfilled +destinies? She wore a sprig of prince's pine in her hair, which gave +a touch peculiarly welcome. +</p> +<p> +"Pretty lonely," she said, in answer to my inquiry; "only an +occasional fisherman in summer, and in winter—nobody at all." +</p> +<p> +And the little new schoolhouse in the woods farther on, with its +half-dozen scholars and the girlish face of the teacher seen through +the open door,—nothing less than the exhilaration of a journey on +foot could have made it seem the interesting object it was. Two of +the little girls had been to the spring after a pail of water, and +came struggling out of the woods into the road with it as we passed. +They set down their pail and regarded us with a half-curious, +half-alarmed look. +</p> +<p> +"What is your teacher's name?" asked one of us. +</p> +<p> +"Miss Lucinde Josephine—" began the red-haired one, then hesitated, +bewildered, when the bright, dark-eyed one cut her short with "Miss +Simms," and taking hold of the pail said, "Come on." +</p> +<p> +"Are there any scholars from above here?" I inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, Bobbie and Matie," and they hastened toward the door. +</p> +<p> +We once more stopped under a bridge for refreshments, and took our +time, knowing the train would not go on without us. By four o'clock +we were across the mountain, having passed from the water-shed of +the Delaware into that of the Hudson. The next eight miles we had a +down grade but a rough road, and during the last half of it we had +blisters on the bottoms of our feet. It is one of the rewards of the +pedestrian that, however tired he may be, he is always more or less +refreshed by his journey. His physical tenement has taken an airing. +His respiration has been deepened, his circulation quickened. A good +draught has carried off the fumes and the vapors. One's quality is +intensified; the color strikes in. At noon that day I was much +fatigued; at night I was leg-weary and footsore, but a fresh, hardy +feeling had taken possession of me that lasted for weeks. +</p> + +<br><br><br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14108 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb1.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5df0a40 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb1.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb2.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..216ddf1 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb2.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb3.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a02b90 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb3.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb4.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e5b13e --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb4.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb5.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd9e5d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb5.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb6.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..97744e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb6.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb7.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b87cf0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb7.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/jb8.jpg b/14108-h/images/jb8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..210431b --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/jb8.jpg diff --git a/14108-h/images/tp.jpg b/14108-h/images/tp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..79100a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14108-h/images/tp.jpg |
