diff options
Diffstat (limited to '6355-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/6355-h.htm | 7712 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/Burroughs and dog.jpg | bin | 0 -> 84856 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/Whip-poor-will.jpg | bin | 0 -> 67801 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/belted kingfisher.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44319 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 337821 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 84856 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image02.jpg | bin | 0 -> 67801 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image03.jpg | bin | 0 -> 83536 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image04.jpg | bin | 0 -> 110292 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image05.jpg | bin | 0 -> 75535 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/image06.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44319 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/ledges.jpg | bin | 0 -> 75535 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 84856 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 67801 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh3.jpg | bin | 0 -> 83536 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh4.jpg | bin | 0 -> 110292 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh5.jpg | bin | 0 -> 75535 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/lh6.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44319 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/trout stream.jpg | bin | 0 -> 83536 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 6355-h/images/yellow birches.jpg | bin | 0 -> 110292 bytes |
20 files changed, 7712 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/6355-h/6355-h.htm b/6355-h/6355-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..364e4d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/6355-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7712 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>Locusts and Wild Honey, by John Burroughs</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Locusts and Wild Honey, by John Burroughs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: Locusts and Wild Honey + +Author: John Burroughs + +Release Date: November 29, 2002 [EBook #6355] +[Most recently updated: January 21, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY *** + + + + +This etext was produced by Jack Eden +HTML markup by Andrew Sly + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<h1>Locusts and Wild Honey</h1> + +<h2>by John Burroughs</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I. THE PASTORAL BEES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II. SHARP EYES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III. STRAWBERRIES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. IS IT GOING TO RAIN?</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V. SPECKLED TROUT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. BIRDS AND BIRDS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. A BED OF BOUGHS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. BIRDS’-NESTING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. THE HALCYON IN CANADA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">INDEX</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h4> + +<table summary="" > + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">JOHN BURROUGHS</a><br/> +From a photograph</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">WHIP-POOR WILL</a><br/> +From a drawing by L. A. Fuertes</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">TROUT STREAM</a><br/> +From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">YELLOW BIRCHES</a><br/> +From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">LEDGES</a><br/> +From a photograph by Herbert W. Gleason</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">KINGFISHER (colored)</a><br/> +From a drawing by L. A. Fuertes</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/image01.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Burroughs and dog" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +I am aware that for the most part the title of my book is an allegory rather +than an actual description; but readers who have followed me heretofore, I +trust, will not be puzzled or misled in the present case by any want of +literalness in the matter of the title. If the name carries with it a +suggestion of the wild and delectable in nature, of the free and ungarnered +harvests which the wilderness everywhere affords to the observing eye and ear, +it will prove sufficiently explicit for my purpose. +</p> + +<p> +ESOPUS-ON-HUDSON, N. Y. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I<br/> +THE PASTORAL BEES</h2> + +<p> +The honey-bee goes forth from the hive in spring like the dove from +Noah’s ark, and it is not till after many days that she brings back the +olive leaf, which in this case is a pellet of golden pollen upon each hip, +usually obtained from the alder or the swamp willow. In a country where maple +sugar is made the bees get their first taste of sweet from the sap as it flows +from the spiles, or as it dries and is condensed upon the sides of the buckets. +They will sometimes, in their eagerness, come about the boiling-place and be +overwhelmed by the steam and the smoke. But bees appear to be more eager for +bread in the spring than for honey: their supply of this article, perhaps, does +not keep as well as their stores of the latter; hence fresh bread, in the shape +of new pollen, is diligently sought for. My bees get their first supplies from +the catkins of the willows. How quickly they find them out! If but one catkin +opens anywhere within range, a bee is on hand that very hour to rifle it, and +it is a most pleasing experience to stand near the hive some mild April day and +see them come pouring in with their little baskets packed with this first +fruitage of the spring. They will have new bread now; they have been to mill in +good earnest; see their dusty coats, and the golden grist they bring home with +them. +</p> + +<p> +When a bee brings pollen into the hive he advances to the cell in which it is +to be deposited and kicks it off, as one might his overalls or rubber boots, +making one foot help the other; then he walks off without ever looking behind +him; another bee, one of the indoor hands, comes along and rams it down with +his head and packs it into the cell, as the dairymaid packs butter into a +firkin with a ladle. +</p> + +<p> +The first spring wild-flowers, whose sly faces among the dry leaves and rocks +are so welcome, are rarely frequented by the bee. The anemone, the hepatica, +the bloodroot, the arbutus, the numerous violets, the spring beauty, the +corydalis, etc., woo all lovers of nature, but seldom woo the honey-loving bee. +The arbutus, lying low and keeping green all winter, attains to perfume and +honey, but only once have I seen it frequented by bees. +</p> + +<p> +The first honey is perhaps obtained from the flowers of the red maple and the +golden willow. The latter sends forth a wild, delicious perfume. The sugar +maple blooms a little later, and from its silken tassels a rich nectar is +gathered. My bees will not label these different varieties for me, as I really +wish they would. Honey from the maple, a tree so clean and wholesome, and full +of such virtues every way, would be something to put one’s tongue to. Or +that from the blossoms of the apple, the peach, the cherry, the quince, the +currant,—one would like a card of each of these varieties to note their +peculiar qualities. The apple-blossom is very important to the bees. A single +swarm has been known to gain twenty pounds in weight during its continuance. +Bees love the ripened fruit, too, and in August and September will such +themselves tipsy upon varieties such as the sops-of-wine. +</p> + +<p> +The interval between the blooming of the fruit-trees and that of the clover and +the raspberry is bridged over in many localities by the honey locust. What a +delightful summer murmur these trees send forth at this season! I know nothing +about the quality of the honey, but it ought to keep well. But when the red +raspberry blooms, the fountains of plenty are unsealed indeed; what a commotion +about the hives then, especially in localities where it is extensively +cultivated, as in places along the Hudson! The delicate white clover, which +begins to bloom about the same time, is neglected; even honey itself is passed +by for this modest, colorless, all but odorless flower. A field of these +berries in June sends forth a continuous murmur like that of an enormous hive. +The honey is not so white as that obtained from clover, but it is easier +gathered; it is in shallow cups, while that of the clover is in deep tubes. The +bees are up and at it before sunrise, and it takes a brisk shower to drive them +in. But the clover blooms later and blooms everywhere, and is the staple source +of supply of the finest quality of honey. The red clover yields up its stores +only to the longer proboscis of the bumblebee, else the bee pasturage of our +agricultural districts would be unequaled. I do not know from what the famous +honey of Chamouni in the Alps is made, but it can hardly surpass our best +products. The snow-white honey of Anatolia in Asiatic Turkey, which is +regularly sent to Constantinople for the use of the grand seignior and the +ladies of his seraglio, is obtained from the cotton plant, which makes me think +that the white clover does not flourish there. The white clover is indigenous +with us; its seeds seem latent in the ground, and the application of certain +stimulants to the soil, such as wood ashes, causes them to germinate and spring +up. +</p> + +<p> +The rose, with all its beauty and perfume, yields no honey to the bee, unless +the wild species be sought by the bumblebee. +</p> + +<p> +Among the humbler plants let me not forget the dandelion that so early dots the +sunny slopes, and upon which the bee languidly grazes, wallowing to his knees +in the golden but not over-succulent pasturage. From the blooming rye and wheat +the bee gathers pollen, also from the obscure blossoms of Indian corn. Among +weeds, catnip is the great favorite. It lasts nearly the whole season and +yields richly. It could no doubt be profitably cultivated in some localities, +and catnip honey would be a novelty in the market. It would probably partake of +the aromatic properties of the plant from which it was derived. +</p> + +<p> +Among your stores of honey gathered before midsummer you may chance upon a +card, or mayhap only a square inch or two of comb, in which the liquid is as +transparent as water, of a delicious quality, with a slight flavor of mint. +This is the product of the linden or basswood, of all the trees in our forest +the one most beloved by the bees. Melissa, the goddess of honey, has placed her +seal upon this tree. The wild swarms in the woods frequently reap a choice +harvest from it. I have seen a mountain-side thickly studded with it, its +straight, tall, smooth, light gray shaft carrying its deep green crown far +aloft, like the tulip-tree or the maple. +</p> + +<p> +In some of the Northwestern States there are large forests of it, and the +amount of honey reported stored by strong swarms in this section during the +time the tree is in bloom is quite incredible. As a shade and ornamental tree +the linden is fully equal to the maple, and, if it were as extensively planted +and cared for, our supplies of virgin honey would be greatly increased. The +famous honey of Lithuania in Russia is the product of the linden. +</p> + +<p> +It is a homely old stanza current among bee folk that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “A swarm of bees in May<br/> + Is worth a load of hay;<br/> + A swarm of bees in June<br/> + Is worth a silver spoon;<br/> + But a swarm in July<br/> + Is not worth a fly.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +A swarm in May is indeed a treasure; it is, like an April baby, sure to thrive, +and will very likely itself send out a swarm a month or two later: but a swarm +in July is not to be despised; it will store no clover or linden honey for the +“grand seignior and the ladies of his seraglio,” but plenty of the +rank and wholesome poor man’s nectar, the sun-tanned product of the +plebeian buckwheat. Buckwheat honey is the black sheep in this white flock, but +there is spirit and character in it. It lays hold of the taste in no equivocal +manner, especially when at a winter breakfast it meets its fellow, the russet +buckwheat cake. Bread with honey to cover it from the same stalk is double good +fortune. It is not black, either, but nut-brown, and belongs to the same class +of goods as Herrick’s +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Nut-brown mirth and russet wit.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +How the bees love it, and they bring the delicious odor of the blooming plant +to the hive with them, so that in the moist warm twilight the apiary is +redolent with the perfume of buckwheat. +</p> + +<p> +Yet evidently it is not the perfume of any flower that attracts the bees; they +pay no attention to the sweet-scented lilac, or to heliotrope, but work upon +sumach, silkweed, and the hateful snapdragon. In September they are hard +pressed, and do well if they pick up enough sweet to pay the running expenses +of their establishment. The purple asters and the goldenrod are about all that +remain to them. +</p> + +<p> +Bees will go three or four miles in quest of honey, but it is a great advantage +to move the hive near the good pasturage, as has been the custom from the +earliest times in the Old World. Some enterprising person, taking a hint +perhaps from the ancient Egyptians, who had floating apiaries on the Nile, has +tried the experiment of floating several hundred colonies north on the +Mississippi, starting from New Orleans and following the opening season up, +thus realizing a sort of perpetual May or June, the chief attraction being the +blossoms of the river willow, which yield honey of rare excellence. Some of the +bees were no doubt left behind, but the amount of virgin honey secured must +have been very great. In September they should have begun the return trip, +following the retreating summer south. +</p> + +<p> +It is the making of wax that costs with the bee. As with the poet, the form, +the receptacle, gives him more trouble than the sweet that fills it, though, to +be sure, there is always more or less empty comb in both cases. The honey he +can have for the gathering, but the wax he must make himself,—must evolve +from his own inner consciousness. When wax is to be made, the wax-makers fill +themselves with honey and retire into their chamber for private meditation; it +is like some solemn religious rite: they take hold of hands, or hook themselves +together in long lines that hang in festoons from the top of the hive, and wait +for the miracle to transpire. After about twenty-four hours their patience is +rewarded, the honey is turned into wax, minute scales of which are secreted +from between the rings of the abdomen of each bee; this is taken off and from +it the comb is built up. It is calculated that about twenty-five pounds of +honey are used in elaborating one pound of comb, to say nothing of the time +that is lost. Hence the importance, in an economical point of view, of a recent +device by which the honey is extracted and the comb returned intact to the +bees. But honey without the comb is the perfume without the rose,—it is +sweet merely, and soon degenerates into candy. Half the delectableness is in +breaking down these frail and exquisite walls yourself, and tasting the nectar +before it has lost its freshness by contact with the air. Then the comb is a +sort of shield or foil that prevents the tongue from being overwhelmed by the +first shock of the sweet. +</p> + +<p> +The drones have the least enviable time of it. Their foothold in the hive is +very precarious. They look like the giants, the lords of the swarm, but they +are really the tools. Their loud, threatening hum has no sting to back it up, +and their size and noise make them only the more conspicuous marks for the +birds. They are all candidates for the favors of the queen, a fatal felicity +that is vouchsafed to but one. Fatal, I say, for it is a singular fact in the +history of bees that the fecundation of the queen costs the male his life. Yet +day after day the drones go forth, threading the mazes of the air in hopes of +meeting her whom to meet is death. The queen only leaves the hive once, except +when she leads away the swarm, and as she makes no appointment with the male, +but wanders here and there, drones enough are provided to meet all the +contingencies of the case. +</p> + +<p> +One advantage, at least, results from this system of things: there is no +incontinence among the males in this republic! +</p> + +<p> +Toward the close of the season, say in July or August, the fiat goes forth that +the drones must die; there is no further use for them. Then the poor creatures, +how they are huddled and hustled about, trying to hide in corners and byways! +There is no loud, defiant humming now, but abject fear seizes them. They cower +like hunted criminals. I have seen a dozen or more of them wedge themselves +into a small space between the glass and the comb, where the bees could not get +hold of them, or where they seemed to be overlooked in the general slaughter. +They will also crawl outside and hide under the edges of the hive. But sooner +or later they are all killed or kicked out. The drone makes no resistance, +except to pull back and try to get away; but (putting yourself in his place) +with one bee a-hold of your collar or the hair of your head, and another a-hold +of each arm or leg, and still another feeling for your waistbands with his +sting, the odds are greatly against you. +</p> + +<p> +It is a singular fact, also, that the queen is made, not born. If the entire +population of Spain or Great Britain were the offspring of one mother, it might +be found necessary to hit upon some device by which a royal baby could be +manufactured out of an ordinary one, or else give up the fashion of royalty. +All the bees in the hive have a common parentage, and the queen and the worker +are the same in the egg and in the chick; the patent of royalty is in the cell +and in the food; the cell being much larger, and the food a peculiar +stimulating kind of jelly. In certain contingencies, such as the loss of the +queen with no eggs in the royal cells, the workers take the larva of an +ordinary bee, enlarge the cell by taking in the two adjoining ones, and nurse +it and stuff it and coddle it, till at the end of sixteen days it comes out a +queen. But ordinarily, in the natural course of events, the young queen is kept +a prisoner in her cell till the old queen has left with the swarm. Later on, +the unhatched queen is guarded against the reigning queen, who only wants an +opportunity to murder every royal scion in the hive. At this time both the +queens, the one a prisoner and the other at large, pipe defiance at each other, +a shrill, fine, trumpet-like note that any ear will at once recognize. This +challenge, not being allowed to be accepted by either party, is followed, in a +day or two, by the abdication of the reigning queen; she leads out the swarm, +and her successor is liberated by her keepers, who, in her time, abdicates in +favor of the next younger. When the bees have decided that no more swarms can +issue, the reigning queen is allowed to use her stiletto upon her unhatched +sisters. Cases have been known where two queens issued at the same time, when a +mortal combat ensued, encouraged by the workers, who formed a ring about them, +but showed no preference, and recognized the victor as the lawful sovereign. +For these and many other curious facts we are indebted to the blind Huber. +</p> + +<p> +It is worthy of note that the position of the queen cells is always vertical, +while that of the drones and workers is horizontal; majesty stands on its head, +which fact may be a part of the secret. +</p> + +<p> +The notion has always very generally prevailed that the queen of the bees is an +absolute ruler, and issues her royal orders to willing subjects. Hence Napoleon +the First sprinkled the symbolic bees over the imperial mantle that bore the +arms of his dynasty; and in the country of the Pharaohs the bee was used as the +emblem of a people sweetly submissive to the orders of its king. But the fact +is, a swarm of bees is an absolute democracy, and kings and despots can find no +warrant in their example. The power and authority are entirely vested in the +great mass, the workers. They furnish all the brains and foresight of the +colony, and administer its affairs. Their word is law, and both king and queen +must obey. They regulate the swarming, and give the signal for the swarm to +issue from the hive; they select and make ready the tree in the woods and +conduct the queen to it. +</p> + +<p> +The peculiar office and sacredness of the queen consists in the fact that she +is the mother of the swarm, and the bees love and cherish her as a mother and +not as a sovereign. She is the sole female bee in the hive, and the swarm +clings to her because she is their life. Deprived of their queen, and of all +brood from which to rear one, the swarm loses all heart and soon dies, though +there be an abundance of honey in the hive. +</p> + +<p> +The common bees will never use their sting upon the queen; if she is to be +disposed of, they starve her to death; and the queen herself will sting nothing +but royalty,—nothing but a rival queen. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, I say, is the mother bee; it is undoubtedly complimenting her to +call her a queen and invest her with regal authority, yet she is a superb +creature, and looks every inch a queen. It is an event to distinguish her amid +the mass of bees when the swarm alights; it awakens a thrill Before you have +seen a queen, you wonder if this or that bee, which seems a little larger than +its fellows, is not she, but when you once really set eyes upon her you do not +doubt for a moment. You know <i>that</i> is the queen. That long, elegant, +shining, feminine-looking creature can be none less than royalty. How +beautifully her body tapers, how distinguished she looks, how deliberate her +movements! The bees do not fall down before her, but caress her and touch her +person. The drones, or males, are large bees, too, but coarse, blunt, +broad-shouldered, masculine-looking. There is but one fact or incident in the +life of the queen that looks imperial and authoritative: Huber relates that +when the old queen is restrained in her movements by the workers, and prevented +from destroying the young queens in their cells, she assumes a peculiar +attitude and utters a note that strikes every bee motionless and makes every +head bow; while this sound lasts, not a bee stirs, but all look abashed and +humbled: yet whether the emotion is one of fear, or reverence, or of sympathy +with the distress of the queen mother, is hard to determine. The moment it +ceases and she advances again toward the royal cells, the bees bite and pull +and insult her as before. +</p> + +<p> +I always feel that I have missed some good fortune if I am away from home when +my bees swarm. What a delightful summer sound it is! how they come pouring out +of the hive, twenty or thirty thousand bees, each striving to get out first! It +is as when the dam gives way and lets the waters loose; it is a flood of bees +which breaks upward into the air, and becomes a maze of whirling black lines to +the eye, and a soft chorus of myriad musical sounds to the ear. This way and +that way they drift, now contracting, now expanding, rising, sinking, growing +thick about some branch or bush, then dispersing and massing at some other +point, till finally they begin to alight in earnest, when in a few moments the +whole swarm is collected upon the branch, forming a bunch perhaps as large as a +two-gallon measure. Here they will hang from one to three or four hours or +until a suitable tree in the woods is looked up, when, if they have not been +offered a hive in the mean time, they are up and off. In hiving them, if any +accident happens to the queen the enterprise miscarries at once. One day I +shook a swarm from a small pear-tree into a tin pan, set the pan down on a +shawl spread beneath the tree, and put the hive over it. The bees presently all +crawled up into it, and all seemed to go well for ten or fifteen minutes, when +I observed that something was wrong; the bees began to buzz excitedly and to +rush about in a bewildered manner, then they took to the wing and all returned +to the parent stock. On lifting up the pan, I found beneath it the queen with +three or four other bees. She had been one of the first to fall, had missed the +pan in her descent, and I had set it upon her. I conveyed her tenderly back to +the hive, but either the accident terminated fatally with her, or else the +young queen had been liberated in the interim, and one of them had fallen in +combat, for it was ten days before the swarm issued a second time. +</p> + +<p> +No one, to my knowledge, has ever seen the bees house-hunting in the woods. Yet +there can be no doubt that they look up new quarters either before or on the +day the swarm issues. For all bees are wild bees and incapable of +domestication; that is, the instinct to go back to nature and take up again +their wild abodes in the trees is never eradicated. Years upon years of life in +the apiary seem to have no appreciable effect towards their final, permanent +domestication. That every new swarm contemplates migrating to the woods, seems +confirmed by the fact that they will only come out when the weather is +favorable to such an enterprise, and that a passing cloud, or a sudden wind, +after the bees are in the air, will usually drive them back into the parent +hive. Or an attack upon them with sand or gravel, or loose earth or water, will +quickly cause them to change their plans. I would not even say but that, when +the bees are going off, the apparently absurd practice, now entirely +discredited by regular bee keepers but still resorted to by unscientific folk, +of beating upon tin pans, blowing horns, and creating an uproar generally, +might not be without good results. Certainly not by drowning the +“orders” of the queen, but by impressing the bees, as with some +unusual commotion in nature. Bees are easily alarmed and disconcerted, and I +have known runaway swarms to be brought down by a farmer plowing in the field +who showered them with handfuls of loose soil. +</p> + +<p> +I love to see a swarm go off—if it is not mine, and, if mine must go, I +want to be on hand to see the fun. It is a return to first principles again by +a very direct route. The past season I witnessed two such escapes. One swarm +had come out the day before, and, without alighting, had returned to the parent +hive,—some hitch in the plan, perhaps, or may be the queen had found her +wings too weak. The next day they came out again and were hived. But something +offended them, or else the tree in the woods—perhaps some royal old maple +or birch, holding its head high above all others, with snug, spacious, +irregular chambers and galleries—had too many attractions; for they were +presently discovered filling the air over the garden, and whirling excitedly +around. Gradually they began to drift over the street; a moment more, and they +had become separated from the other bees, and, drawing together in a more +compact mass or cloud, away they went, a humming, flying vortex of bees, the +queen in the centre, and the swarm revolving around her as a pivot,—over +meadows, across creeks and swamps, straight for the heart of the mountain, +about a mile distant,—slow at first, so that the youth who gave chase +kept up with them, but increasing their speed till only a foxhound could have +kept them in sight. I saw their pursuer laboring up the side of the mountain; +saw his white shirtsleeves gleam as he entered the woods; but he returned a few +hours afterward without any clue as to the particular tree in which they had +taken refuge out of the ten thousand that covered the side of the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +The other swarm came out about one o’clock of a hot July day, and at once +showed symptoms that alarmed the keeper, who, however, threw neither dirt nor +water. The house was situated on a steep side-hill. Behind it the ground rose, +for a hundred rods or so, at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, and the +prospect of having to chase them up this hill, if chase them we should, +promised a good trial of wind at least; for it soon became evident that their +course lay in this direction. Determined to have a hand, or rather a foot, in +the chase, I threw off my coat and hurried on, before the swarm was yet fairly +organized and under way. The route soon led me into a field of standing rye, +every spear of which held its head above my own. Plunging recklessly forward, +my course marked to those watching from below by the agitated and wriggling +grain, I emerged from the miniature forest just in time to see the runaways +disappearing over the top of the hill, some fifty rods in advance of me. Lining +them as well as I could, I soon reached the hilltop, my breath utterly gone and +the perspiration streaming from every pore of my skin. On the other side the +country opened deep and wide. A large valley swept around to the north, heavily +wooded at its head and on its sides. It became evident at once that the bees +had made good their escape, and that whether they had stopped on one side of +the valley or the other, or had indeed cleared the opposite mountain and gone +into some unknown forest beyond, was entirely problematical. I turned back, +therefore, thinking of the honey-laden tree that some of these forests would +hold before the falling of the leaf. +</p> + +<p> +I heard of a youth in the neighborhood more lucky than myself on a like +occasion. It seems that he had got well in advance of the swarm, whose route +lay over a hill, as in my case, and as he neared the summit, hat in hand, the +bees had just come up and were all about him. Presently he noticed them +hovering about his straw hat, and alighting on his arm; and in almost as brief +a time as it takes to relate it, the whole swarm had followed the queen into +his hat. Being near a stone wall, he coolly deposited his prize upon it, +quickly disengaged himself from the accommodating bees, and returned for a +hive. The explanation of this singular circumstance no doubt is, that the +queen, unused to such long and heavy flights, was obliged to alight from very +exhaustion. It is not very unusual for swarms to be thus found in remote +fields, collected upon a bush or branch of a tree. +</p> + +<p> +When a swarm migrates to the woods in this manner, the individual bees, as I +have intimated, do not move in right lines or straight forward, like a flock of +birds, but round and round, like chaff in a whirlwind. Unitedly they form a +humming, revolving, nebulous mass, ten or fifteen feet across, which keeps just +high enough to clear all obstacles, except in crossing deep valleys, when, of +course, it may be very high. The swarm seems to be guided by a line of +couriers, which may be seen (at least at the outset) constantly going and +coming. As they take a direct course, there is always some chance of following +them to the tree, unless they go a long distance, and some obstruction, like a +wood or a swamp or a high hill, intervenes,—enough chance, at any rate, +to stimulate the lookers-on to give vigorous chase as long as their wind holds +out. If the bees are successfully followed to their retreat, two plans are +feasible,—either to fell the tree at once, and seek to hive them, perhaps +bring them home in the section of the tree that contains the cavity; or to +leave the tree till fall, then invite your neighbors and go and cut it, and see +the ground flow with honey. The former course is more business-like; but the +latter is the one usually recommended by one’s friends and neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps nearly one third of all the runaway swarms leave when no one is about, +and hence are unseen and unheard, save, perchance, by some distant laborers in +the field, or by some youth plowing on the side of the mountain, who hears an +unusual humming noise, and sees the swarm dimly whirling by overhead, and, +maybe, gives chase; or he may simply catch the sound, when he pauses, looks +quickly around, but sees nothing. When he comes in at night he tells how he +heard or saw a swarm of bees go over; and perhaps from beneath one of the hives +in the garden a black mass of bees has disappeared during the day. +</p> + +<p> +They are not partial as to the kind of tree,—pine, hemlock, elm, birch, +maple, hickory,—any tree with a good cavity high up or low down. A swarm +of mine ran away from the new patent hive I gave them, and took up their +quarters in the hollow trunk of an old apple-tree across an adjoining field. +The entrance was a mouse-hole near the ground. Another swarm in the +neighborhood deserted their keeper, and went into the cornice of an out-house +that stood amid evergreens in the rear of a large mansion. But there is no +accounting for the taste of bees, as Samson found when he discovered the swarm +in the carcass, or more probably the skeleton, of the lion he had slain. +</p> + +<p> +In any given locality, especially in the more wooded and mountainous districts, +the number of swarms that thus assert their independence forms quite a large +per cent. In the Northern States these swarms very often perish before spring; +but in such a country as Florida they seem to multiply, till bee-trees are very +common. In the West, also, wild honey is often gathered in large quantities. I +noticed, not long since, that some wood-choppers on the west slope of the Coast +Range felled a tree that had several pailfuls in it. +</p> + +<p> +One night on the Potomac a party of us unwittingly made our camp near the foot +of a bee-tree, which next day the winds of heaven blew down, for our special +delectation, at least so we read the sign. Another time, while sitting by a +waterfall in the leafless April woods, I discovered a swarm in the top of a +large hickory. I had the season before remarked the tree as a likely place for +bees, but the screen of leaves concealed them from me. This time my former +presentiment occurred to me, and, looking sharply, sure enough there were the +bees, going out and in a large, irregular opening. In June a violent tempest of +wind and rain demolished the tree, and the honey was all lost in the creek into +which it fell. I happened along that way two or three days after the tornado, +when I saw a remnant of the swarm, those, doubtless, that escaped the flood and +those that were away when the disaster came, hanging in a small black mass to a +branch high up near where their home used to be. They looked forlorn enough. If +the queen was saved, the remnant probably sought another tree; otherwise the +bees soon died. +</p> + +<p> +I have seen bees desert their hive in the spring when it was infested with +worms, or when the honey was exhausted; at such times the swarm seems to wander +aimlessly, alighting here and there, and perhaps in the end uniting with some +other colony. In case of such union, it would be curious to know if +negotiations were first opened between the parties, and if the houseless bees +are admitted at once to all the rights and franchises of their benefactors. It +would be very like the bees to have some preliminary plan and understanding +about the matter on both sides. +</p> + +<p> +Bees will accommodate themselves to almost any quarters, yet no hive seems to +please them so well as a section of a hollow tree,—“gums,” as +they are called in the South and West where the sweet gum grows. In some +European countries the hive is always made from the trunk of a tree, a suitable +cavity being formed by boring. The old-fashioned straw hive is picturesque, and +a great favorite with the bees also. +</p> + +<p> +The life of a swarm of bees is like an active and hazardous campaign of an +army; the ranks are being continually depleted, and continually recruited. What +adventures they have by flood and field, and what hairbreadth escapes! A strong +swarm during the honey season loses, on an average, about four or five thousand +a month, or one hundred and fifty a day. They are overwhelmed by wind and rain, +caught by spiders, benumbed by cold, crushed by cattle, drowned in rivers and +ponds, and in many nameless ways cut off or disabled. In the spring the +principal mortality is from the cold. As the sun declines they get chilled +before they can reach home. Many fall down outside the hive, unable to get in +with their burden. One may see them come utterly spent and drop hopelessly into +the grass in front of their very doors. Before they can rest the cold has +stiffened them. I go out in April and May and pick them up by the handfuls, +their baskets loaded with pollen, and warm them in the sun or in the house, or +by the simple warmth of my hand, until they can crawl into the hive. Heat is +their life, and an apparently lifeless bee may be revived by warming him. I +have also picked them up while rowing on the river and seen them safely to +shore. It is amusing to see them come hurrying home when there is a +thunder-storm approaching. They come piling in till the rain is upon them. +Those that are overtaken by the storm doubtless weather it as best they can in +the sheltering trees or grass. It is not probable that a bee ever gets lost by +wandering into strange and unknown parts. With their myriad eyes they see +everything; and then their sense of locality is very acute, is, indeed, one of +their ruling traits. When a bee marks the place of his hive, or of a bit of +good pasturage in the fields or swamps, or of the bee-hunter’s box of +honey on the hills or in the woods, he returns to it as unerringly as fate. +</p> + +<p> +Honey was a much more important article of food with the ancients than it is +with us. As they appear to have been unacquainted with sugar, honey, no doubt, +stood them instead. It is too rank and pungent for the modern taste; it soon +cloys upon the palate. It demands the appetite of youth, and the strong, robust +digestion of people who live much in the open air. It is a more wholesome food +than sugar, and modern confectionery is poison beside it. Besides grape sugar, +honey contains manna, mucilage, pollen, acid, and other vegetable odoriferous +substances and juices. It is a sugar with a kind of wild natural bread added. +The manna of itself is both food and medicine, and the pungent vegetable +extracts have rare virtues. Honey promotes the excretions, and dissolves the +glutinous and starchy impedimenta of the system. +</p> + +<p> +Hence it is not without reason that with the ancients a land flowing with milk +and honey should mean a land abounding in all good things; and the queen in the +nursery rhyme, who lingered in the kitchen to eat “bread and honey” +while the “king was in the parlor counting out his money,” was +doing a very sensible thing. Epaminondas is said to have rarely eaten anything +but bread and honey. The Emperor Augustus one day inquired of a centenarian how +he had kept his vigor of mind and body so long; to which the veteran replied +that it was by “oil without and honey within.” Cicero, in his +“Old Age,” classes honey with meat and milk and cheese as among the +staple articles with which a well-kept farmhouse will be supplied. +</p> + +<p> +Italy and Greece, in fact all the Mediterranean countries, appear to have been +famous lands for honey. Mount Hymettus, Mount Hybla, and Mount Ida produced +what may be called the classic honey of antiquity, an article doubtless in no +wise superior to our best products. Leigh Hunt’s “Jar of +Honey” is mainly distilled from Sicilian history and literature, +Theocritus furnishing the best yield. Sicily has always been rich in bees. +Swinburne (the traveler of a hundred years ago) says the woods on this island +abounded in wild honey, and that the people also had many hives near their +houses. The idyls of Theocritus are native to the island in this respect, and +abound in bees—“flat-nosed bees,” as he calls them in the +Seventh Idyl—and comparisons in which comb-honey is the standard of the +most delectable of this world’s goods. His goatherds can think of no +greater bliss than that the mouth be filled with honeycombs, or to be inclosed +in a chest like Daphnis and fed on the combs of bees; and among the delectables +with which Arsinoë cherishes Adonis are “honey-cakes,” and other +tidbits made of “sweet honey.” In the country of Theocritus this +custom is said still to prevail: when a couple are married, the attendants +place honey in their mouths, by which they would symbolize the hope that their +love may be as sweet to their souls as honey to the palate. +</p> + +<p> +It was fabled that Homer was suckled by a priestess whose breasts distilled +honey; and that once, when Pindar lay asleep, the bees dropped honey upon his +lips. In the Old Testament the food of the promised Immanuel was to be butter +and honey (there is much doubt about the butter in the original), that he might +know good from evil; and Jonathan’s eyes were enlightened by partaking of +some wood or wild honey: “See, I pray you, how mine eyes have been +enlightened, because I tasted a little of this honey.” So far as this +part of his diet was concerned, therefore, John the Baptist, during his sojourn +in the wilderness, his divinity-school days in the mountains and plains of +Judea, fared extremely well. About the other part, the locusts, or, not to put +too fine a point on it, the grasshoppers, as much cannot be said, though they +were among the creeping and leaping things the children of Israel were +permitted to eat. They were probably not eaten raw, but roasted in that most +primitive of ovens, a hole in the ground made hot by building a fire in it. The +locusts and honey may have been served together, as the Bedas of Ceylon are +said to season their meat with honey. At any rate, as the locust is often a +great plague in Palestine, the prophet in eating them found his account in the +general weal, and in the profit of the pastoral bees; the fewer locusts, the +more flowers. Owing to its numerous wild-flowers, and flowering shrubs, +Palestine has always been a famous country for bees. They deposit their honey +in hollow trees, as our bees do when they escape from the hive, and in holes in +the rocks, as ours do not. In a tropical or semi-tropical climate, bees are +quite apt to take refuge in the rocks; but where ice and snow prevail, as with +us, they are much safer high up in the trunk of a forest tree. +</p> + +<p> +The best honey is the product of the milder parts of the temperate zone. There +are too many rank and poisonous plants in the tropics. Honey from certain +districts of Turkey produces headache and vomiting, and that from Brazil is +used chiefly as medicine. The honey of Mount Hymettus owes its fine quality to +wild thyme. The best honey in Persia and in Florida is collected from the +orange blossom. The celebrated honey of Narbonne in the south of France is +obtained from a species of rosemary. In Scotland good honey is made from the +blossoming heather. +</p> + +<p> +California honey is white and delicate and highly perfumed, and now takes the +lead in the market. But honey is honey the world over; and the bee is the bee +still. “Men may degenerate,” says an old traveler, “may +forget the arts by which they acquired renown; manufactures may fail, and +commodities be debased; but the sweets of the wild-flowers of the wilderness, +the industry and natural mechanics of the bee, will continue without change or +derogation.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II<br/> +SHARP EYES</h2> + +<p> +Noting how one eye seconds and reinforces the other, I have often amused myself +by wondering what the effect would be if one could go on opening eye after eye +to the number say of a dozen or more. What would he see? Perhaps not the +invisible,—not the odors of flowers or the fever germs in the +air,—not the infinitely small of the microscope or the infinitely distant +of the telescope. This would require, not more eyes so much as an eye +constructed with more and different lenses; but would he not see with augmented +power within the natural limits of vision? At any rate, some persons seem to +have opened more eyes than others, they see with such force and distinctness; +their vision penetrates the tangle and obscurity where that of others fails +like a spent or impotent bullet. How many eyes did Gilbert White open? how many +did Henry Thoreau? how many did Audubon? how many does the hunter, matching his +sight against the keen and alert sense of a deer or a moose, or fox or a wolf? +Not outward eyes, but inward. We open another eye whenever we see beyond the +first general features or outlines of things,—whenever we grasp the +special details and characteristic markings that this mask covers. Science +confers new powers of vision. Whenever you have learned to discriminate the +birds, or the plants, or the geological features of a country, it is as if new +and keener eyes were added. +</p> + +<p> +Of course one must not only see sharply, but read aright what he sees. The +facts in the life of Nature that are transpiring about us are like written +words that the observer is to arrange into sentences. Or the writing is in +cipher and he must furnish the key. A female oriole was one day observed very +much preoccupied under a shed where the refuse from the horse stable was +thrown. She hopped about among the barn fowls, scolding them sharply when they +came too near her. The stable, dark and cavernous, was just beyond. The bird, +not finding what she wanted outside, boldly ventured into the stable, and was +presently captured by the farmer. What did she want? was the query. What but a +horsehair for her nest which was in an apple-tree near by? and she was so bent +on having one that I have no doubt she would have tweaked one out of the +horse’s tail had he been in the stable. Later in the season I examined +her nest, and found it sewed through and through with several long horsehairs, +so that the bird persisted in her search till the hair was found. +</p> + +<p> +Little dramas and tragedies and comedies, little characteristic scenes, are +always being enacted in the lives of the birds, if our eyes are sharp enough to +see them. Some clever observer saw this little comedy played among some English +sparrows, and wrote an account of it in his newspaper; it is too good not to be +true: A male bird brought to his box a large, fine goose feather, which is a +great find for a sparrow and much coveted. After he had deposited his prize and +chattered his gratulations over it, he went away in quest of his mate. His +next-door neighbor, a female bird, seeing her chance, quickly slipped in and +seized the feather; and here the wit of the bird came out, for instead of +carrying it into her own box she flew with it to a near tree and hid it in a +fork of the branches, then went home, and when her neighbor returned with his +mate was innocently employed about her own affairs. The proud male, finding his +feather gone, came out of his box in a high state of excitement, and, with +wrath in his manner and accusation on his tongue, rushed into the cote of the +female. Not finding his goods and chattels there as he had expected, he stormed +around awhile, abusing everybody in general and his neighbor in particular, +then went away as if to repair the loss. As soon as he was out of sight, the +shrewd thief went and brought the feather home and lined her own domicile with +it. +</p> + +<p> +I was much amused one summer day in seeing a bluebird feeding her young one in +the shaded street of a large town. She had captured a cicada or harvest-fly, +and, after bruising it awhile on the ground, flew with it to a tree and placed +it in the beak of the young bird. It was a large morsel, and the mother seemed +to have doubts of her chick’s ability to dispose of it, for she stood +near and watched its efforts with great solicitude. The young bird struggled +valiantly with the cicada, but made no headway in swallowing it, when the +mother took it from him and flew to the sidewalk, and proceeded to break and +bruise it more thoroughly. Then she again placed it in his beak, and seemed to +say, “There, try it now,” and sympathized so thoroughly with his +efforts that she repeated many of his motions and contortions. But the great +fly was unyielding, and, indeed, seemed ridiculously disproportioned to the +beak that held it. The young bird fluttered and fluttered, and screamed, +“I’m stuck, I’m stuck!” till the anxious parent again +seized the morsel and carried it to an iron railing, where she came down upon +it for the space of a minute with all the force and momentum her beak could +command. Then she offered it to her young a third time, but with the same +result as before, except that this time the bird dropped it; but she reached +the ground as soon as the cicada did, and taking it in her beak flew some +distance to a high board fence, where she sat motionless for some moments. +While pondering the problem how that fly should be broken, the male bluebird +approached her, and said very plainly, and I thought rather curtly, “Give +me that bug,” but she quickly resented his interference and flew farther +away, where she sat apparently quite discouraged when I last saw her. +</p> + +<p> +The bluebird is a home bird, and I am never tired of recurring to him. His +coming or reappearance in the spring marks a new chapter in the progress of the +season; things are never quite the same after one has heard that note. The past +spring the males came about a week in advance of the females. A fine male +lingered about my grounds and orchard all that time, apparently waiting the +arrival of his mate. He called and warbled every day, as if he felt sure she +was within ear-shot and could be hurried up. Now he warbled half-angrily or +upbraidingly, then coaxingly, then cheerily and confidently, the next moment in +a plaintive, far-away manner. He would half open his wings, and twinkle them +caressingly, as if beckoning his mate to his heart. One morning she had come, +but was shy and reserved. The fond male flew to a knothole in an old +apple-tree, and coaxed her to his side. I heard a fine confidential +warble,—the old, old story. But the female flew to a near tree, and +uttered her plaintive, homesick note. The male went and got some dry grass or +bark in his beak, and flew again to the hole in the old tree, and promised +unremitting devotion, but the other said, “Nay,” and flew away in +the distance. When he saw her going, or rather heard her distant note, he +dropped his stuff, and cried out in a tone that said plainly enough, +“Wait a minute. One word, please,” and flew swiftly in pursuit. He +won her before long, however, and early in April the pair were established in +one of the four or five boxes I had put up for them, but not until they had +changed their minds several times. As soon as the first brood had flown, and +while they were yet under their parents’ care, they began another nest in +one of the other boxes, the female, as usual, doing all the work, and the male +all the complimenting. A source of occasional great distress to the mother bird +was a white cat that sometimes followed me about. The cat had never been known +to catch a bird, but she had a way of watching them that was very embarrassing +to the bird. Whenever she appeared, the mother bluebird would set up that +pitiful melodious plaint. One morning the cat was standing by me, when the bird +came with her beak loaded with building material, and alighted above me to +survey the place before going into the box. When she saw the cat she was +greatly disturbed, and in her agitation could not keep her hold upon all her +material. Straw after straw came eddying down, till not half her original +burden remained. After the cat had gone away the bird’s alarm subsided, +till presently, seeing the coast clear, she flew quickly to the box and pitched +in her remaining straws with the greatest precipitation, and, without going in +to arrange them, as was her wont, flew away in evident relief. +</p> + +<p> +In the cavity of an apple-tree but a few yards off, and much nearer the house +than they usually build, a pair of high-holes, or golden-shafted woodpeckers, +took up their abode. A knothole which led to the decayed interior was enlarged, +the live wood being cut away as clean as a squirrel would have done it. The +inside preparations I could not witness, but day after day, as I passed near, I +heard the bird hammering away, evidently beating down obstructions and shaping +and enlarging the cavity. The chips were not brought out, but were used rather +to floor the interior. The woodpeckers are not nest-builders, but rather +nest-carvers. +</p> + +<p> +The time seemed very short before the voices of the young were heard in the +heart of the old tree,—at first feebly, but waxing stronger day by day +until they could be heard many rods distant. When I put my hand upon the trunk +of the tree, they would set up an eager, expectant chattering; but if I climbed +up it toward the opening, they soon detected the unusual sound and would hush +quickly, only now and then uttering a warning note. Long before they were fully +fledged they clambered up to the orifice to receive their food. As but one +could stand in the opening at a time, there was a good deal of elbowing and +struggling for this position. It was a very desirable one aside from the +advantages it had when food was served; it looked out upon the great, shining +world, into which the young birds seemed never tired of gazing. The fresh air +must have been a consideration also, for the interior of a high-hole’s +dwelling is not sweet. When the parent birds came with food, the young one in +the opening did not get it all, but after he had received a portion, either on +his own motion or on a hint from the old one, he would give place to the one +behind him. Still, one bird evidently outstripped his fellows, and in the race +of life was two or three days in advance of them. His voice was loudest and his +head oftenest at the window. But I noticed that, when he had kept the position +too long, the others evidently made it uncomfortable in his rear, and, after +“fidgeting” about awhile, he would be compelled to “back +down.” But retaliation was then easy, and I fear his mates spent few easy +moments at that lookout. They would close their eyes and slide back into the +cavity as if the world had suddenly lost all its charms for them. +</p> + +<p> +This bird was, of course, the first to leave the nest. For two days before that +event he kept his position in the opening most of the time and sent forth his +strong voice incessantly. The old ones abstained from feeding him almost +entirely, no doubt to encourage his exit. As I stood looking at him one +afternoon and noting his progress, he suddenly reached a +resolution,—seconded, I have no doubt, from the rear,—and launched +forth upon his untried wings. They served him well, and carried him about fifty +yards up-hill the first heat. The second day after, the next in size and spirit +left in the same manner; then another, till only one remained. The parent birds +ceased their visits to him, and for one day he called and called till our ears +were tired of the sound. His was the faintest heart of all. Then he had none to +encourage him from behind. He left the nest and clung to the outer bole of the +tree, and yelped and piped for an hour longer; then he committed himself to his +wings and went his way like the rest. +</p> + +<p> +A young farmer in the western part of New York, who has a sharp, discriminating +eye, sends me some interesting notes about a tame high-hole he once had. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever notice,” says he, “that the high-hole never +eats anything that he cannot pick up with his tongue? At least this was the +case with a young one I took from the nest and tamed. He could thrust out his +tongue two or three inches, and it was amusing to see his efforts to eat +currants from the hand. He would run out his tongue and try to stick it to the +currant; failing in that, he would bend his tongue around it like a hook and +try to raise it by a sudden jerk. But he never succeeded, the round fruit would +roll and slip away every time. He never seemed to think of taking it in his +beak. His tongue was in constant use to find out the nature of everything he +saw; a nail-hole in a board or any similar hole was carefully explored. If he +was held near the face he would soon be attracted by the eye and thrust his +tongue into it. In this way he gained the respect of a number of half-grown +cats that were around the house. I wished to make them familiar to each other, +so there would be less danger of their killing him. So I would take them both +on my knee, when the bird would soon notice the kitten’s eyes, and, +leveling his bill as carefully as a marksman levels his rifle, he would remain +so a minute, when he would dart his tongue into the cat’s eye. This was +held by the cats to be very mysterious: being struck in the eye by something +invisible to them. They soon acquired such a terror of him that they would +avoid him and run away whenever they saw his bill turned in their direction. He +never would swallow a grasshopper even when it was placed in his throat; he +would shake himself until he had thrown it out of his mouth. His ‘best +hold’ was ants. He never was surprised at anything, and never was afraid +of anything. He would drive the turkey gobbler and the rooster. He would +advance upon them holding one wing up as high as possible, as if to strike with +it, and shuffle along the ground toward them, scolding all the while in a harsh +voice. I feared at first that they might kill him, but I soon found that he was +able to take care of himself. I would turn over stones and dig into ant-hills +for him, and he would lick up the ants so fast that a stream of them seemed +going into his mouth unceasingly. I kept him till late in the fall, when he +disappeared, probably going south, and I never saw him again.” My +correspondent also sends me some interesting observations about the cuckoo. He +says a large gooseberry-bush standing in the border of an old hedge-row, in the +midst of open fields, and not far from his house, was occupied by a pair of +cuckoos for two seasons in succession, and, after an interval of a year, for +two seasons more. This gave him a good chance to observe them. He says the +mother bird lays a single egg, and sits upon it a number of days before laying +the second, so that he has seen one young bird nearly grown, a second just +hatched, and a whole egg, all in the nest at once. “So far as I have +seen, this is the settled practice,—the young leaving the nest one at a +time to the number of six or eight. The young have quite the look of the young +of the dove in many respects. When nearly grown they are covered with long blue +pin-feathers as long as darning-needles, without a bit of plumage on them. They +part on the back and hang down on each side by their own weight. With its +curious feathers and misshapen body, the young bird is anything but handsome. +They never open their mouths when approached, as many young birds do, but sit +perfectly still, hardly moving when touched.” He also notes the unnatural +indifference of the mother bird when her nest and young are approached. She +makes no sound, but sits quietly on a near branch in apparent perfect +unconcern. +</p> + +<p> +These observations, together with the fact that the egg of the cuckoo is +occasionally found in the nests of other birds, raise the inquiry whether our +bird is slowly relapsing into the habit of the European species, which always +foists its egg upon other birds; or whether, on the other hand, it is not +mending its manners in this respect. It has but little to unlearn or to forget +in the one case, but great progress to make in the other. How far is its +rudimentary nest—a mere platform of coarse twigs and dry stalks of +weeds—from the deep, compact, finely woven and finely modeled nest of the +goldfinch or the kingbird, and what a gulf between its indifference toward its +young and their solicitude! Its irregular manner of laying also seems better +suited to a parasite like our cowbird, or the European cuckoo, than to a +regular nest-builder. +</p> + +<p> +This observer, like most sharp-eyed persons, sees plenty of interesting things +as he goes about his work. He one day saw a white swallow, which is of rare +occurrence. He saw a bird, a sparrow he thinks, fly against the side of a horse +and fill his beak with hair from the loosened coat of the animal. He saw a +shrike pursue a chickadee, when the latter escaped by taking refuge in a small +hole in a tree. One day in early spring he saw two hen-hawks, that were +circling and screaming high in air, approach each other, extend a claw, and, +clasping them together, fall toward the earth, flapping and struggling as if +they were tied together; on nearing the ground they separated and soared aloft +again. He supposed that it was not a passage of war but of love, and that the +hawks were toying fondly with each other. +</p> + +<p> +He further relates a curious circumstance of finding a hummingbird in the upper +part of a barn with its bill stuck fast in a crack of one of the large timbers, +dead, of course, with wings extended, and as dry as a chip. The bird seems to +have died, as it had lived, on the wing, and its last act was indeed a ghastly +parody of its living career. Fancy this nimble, flashing sprite, whose life was +passed probing the honeyed depths of flowers, at last thrusting its bill into a +crack in a dry timber in a hay-loft, and, with spread wings, ending its +existence! +</p> + +<p> +When the air is damp and heavy, swallows frequently hawk for insects about +cattle and moving herds in the field. My farmer describes how they attended him +one foggy day, as he was mowing in the meadow with a mowing-machine. It had +been foggy for two days, and the swallows were very hungry, and the insects +stupid and inert. When the sound of his machine was heard, the swallows +appeared and attended him like a brood of hungry chickens. He says there was a +continued rush of purple wings over the “cut-bar,” and just where +it was causing the grass to tremble and fall. Without his assistance the +swallows would doubtless have gone hungry yet another day. +</p> + +<p> +Of the hen-hawk, he has observed that both male and female take part in +incubation. “I was rather surprised,” he says, “on one +occasion, to see how quickly they change places on the nest. The nest was in a +tall beech, and the leaves were not yet fully out. I could see the head and +neck of the hawk over the edge of the nest, when I saw the other hawk coming +down through the air at full speed. I expected he would alight near by, but +instead of that he struck directly upon the nest, his mate getting out of the +way barely in time to avoid being hit; it seemed almost as if he had knocked +her off the nest. I hardly see how they can make such a rush on the nest +without danger to the eggs.” +</p> + +<p> +The kingbird will worry the hawk as a whiffet dog will worry a bear. It is by +his persistence and audacity, not by any injury he is capable of dealing his +great antagonist. The kingbird seldom more than dogs the hawk, keeping above +and between his wings, and making a great ado; but my correspondent says he +once “saw a kingbird riding on a hawk’s back. The hawk flew as fast +as possible, and the kingbird sat upon his shoulders in triumph until they had +passed out of sight,”—tweaking his feathers, no doubt, and +threatening to scalp him the next moment. +</p> + +<p> +That near relative of the kingbird, the great crested flycatcher, has one +well-known peculiarity: he appears never to consider his nest finished until it +contains a cast-off snake-skin. My alert correspondent one day saw him eagerly +catch up an onion skin and make off with it, either deceived by it or else +thinking it a good substitute for the coveted material. +</p> + +<p> +One day in May, walking in the woods, I came upon the nest of a whip-poor-will, +or rather its eggs, for it builds no nest,—two elliptical whitish spotted +eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot was within a yard of the mother bird +before she flew. I wondered what a sharp eye would detect curious or +characteristic in the ways of the bird, so I came to the place many times and +had a look. It was always a task to separate the bird from her surroundings, +though I stood within a few feet of her, and knew exactly where to look. One +had to bear on with his eye, as it were, and refuse to be baffled. The sticks +and leaves, and bits of black or dark brown bark, were all exactly copied in +the bird’s plumage. And then she did sit so close, and simulate so well a +shapeless, decaying piece of wood or bark! Twice I brought a companion, and, +guiding his eye to the spot, noted how difficult it was for him to make out +there, in full view upon the dry leaves, any semblance to a bird. When the bird +returned after being disturbed, she would alight within a few inches of her +eggs, and then, after a moment’s pause, hobble awkwardly upon them. +</p> + +<p> +After the young had appeared, all the wit of the bird came into play. I was on +hand the next day, I think. The mother bird sprang up when I was within a pace +of her, and in doing so fanned the leaves with her wings till they sprang up, +too; as the leaves started the young started, and, being of the same color, to +tell which was the leaf and which the bird was a trying task to any eye. I came +the next day, when the same tactics were repeated. Once a leaf fell upon one of +the young birds and nearly hid it. The young are covered with a reddish down, +like a young partridge, and soon follow their mother about. When disturbed, +they gave but one leap, then settled down, perfectly motionless and stupid, +with eyes closed. The parent bird, on these occasions, made frantic efforts to +decoy me away from her young. She would fly a few paces and fall upon her +breast, and a spasm, like that of death, would run through her tremulous +outstretched wings and prostrate body. She kept a sharp eye out the meanwhile +to see if the ruse took, and, if it did not, she was quickly cured, and, moving +about to some other point, tried to draw my attention as before. When followed +she always alighted upon the ground, dropping down in a sudden peculiar way. +The second or third day both old and young had disappeared. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/image02.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="Whip-poor-will" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<p> +The whip-poor-will walks as awkwardly as a swallow, which is as awkward as a +man in a bag, and yet she manages to lead her young about the woods. The +latter, I think, move by leaps and sudden spurts, their protective coloring +shielding them most effectively. Wilson once came upon the mother bird and her +brood in the woods, and, though they were at his very feet, was so baffled by +the concealment of the young that he was about to give up the search, much +disappointed, when he perceived something “like a slight mouldiness among +the withered leaves, and, on stooping down, discovered it to be a young +whip-poor-will, seemingly asleep.” Wilson’s description of the +young is very accurate, as its downy covering does look precisely like a +“slight mouldiness.” Returning a few moments afterward to the spot +to get a pencil he had forgotten, he could find neither old nor young. +</p> + +<p> +It takes an eye to see a partridge in the woods, motionless upon the leaves; +this sense needs to be as sharp as that of smell in hounds and pointers, and +yet I know an unkempt youth that seldom fails to see the bird and to shoot it +before it takes wing. I think he sees it as soon as it sees him, and before it +suspects itself seen. What a training to the eye is hunting! to pick out the +game from its surroundings, the grouse from the leaves, the gray squirrel from +the mossy oak limb it hugs so closely, the red fox from the ruddy or brown or +gray field, the rabbit from the stubble, or the white hare from the snow, +requires the best powers of this sense. A woodchuck motionless in the fields or +upon a rock looks very much like a large stone or boulder, yet a keen eye knows +the difference at a glance, a quarter of a mile away. +</p> + +<p> +A man has a sharper eye than a dog, or a fox, or than any of the wild +creatures, but not so sharp an ear or nose. But in the birds he finds his +match. How quickly the old turkey discovers the hawk, a mere speck against the +sky, and how quickly the hawk discovers you if you happen to be secreted in the +bushes, or behind the fence near which he alights! One advantage the bird +surely has, and that is, owing to the form, structure, and position of the eye, +it has a much larger field of vision,—indeed, can probably see in nearly +every direction at the same instant, behind as well as before. Man’s +field of vision embraces less than half a circle horizontally, and still less +vertically; his brow and brain prevent him from seeing within many degrees of +the zenith without a movement of the head; the bird, on the other hand, takes +in nearly the whole sphere at a glance. +</p> + +<p> +I find I see, almost without effort, nearly every bird within sight in the +field or wood I pass through (a flit of the wing, a flirt of the tail are +enough, though the flickering leaves do all conspire to hide them), and that +with like ease the birds see me, though unquestionably the chances are +immensely in their favor. The eye sees what it has the means of seeing, truly. +You must have the bird in your heart before you can find it in the bush. The +eye must have purpose and aim. No one ever yet found the walking fern who did +not have the walking fern in his mind. A person whose eye is full of Indian +relics picks them up in every field he walks through. +</p> + +<p> +One season I was interested in the tree-frogs, especially the tiny piper that +one hears about the woods and brushy fields,—the hyla of the swamps +become a denizen of the trees; I had never seen him in this new role. But this +season, having hylas in mind, or rather being ripe for them, I several times +came across them. One Sunday, walking amid some bushes, I captured two. They +leaped before me, as doubtless they had done many times before; but though not +looking for or thinking of them, yet they were quickly recognized, because the +eye had been commissioned to find them. On another occasion, not long +afterward, I was hurriedly loading my gun in the October woods in hopes of +overtaking a gray squirrel that was fast escaping through the treetops, when +one of these lilliput frogs, the color of the fast-yellowing leaves, leaped +near me. I saw him only out of the corner of my eye and yet bagged him, because +I had already made him my own. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless the habit of observation is the habit of clear and decisive +gazing: not by a first casual glance, but by a steady, deliberate aim of the +eye, are the rare and characteristic things discovered. You must look intently, +and hold your eye firmly to the spot, to see more than do the rank and file of +mankind. The sharpshooter picks out his man, and knows him with fatal certainty +from a stump, or a rock, or a cap on a pole. The phrenologists do well to +locate, not only form, color, and weight, in the region of the eye, but also a +faculty which they call individuality,—that which separates, +discriminates, and sees in every object its essential character. This is just +as necessary to the naturalist as to the artist or the poet. The sharp eye +notes specific points and differences,—it seizes upon and preserves the +individuality of the thing. +</p> + +<p> +Persons frequently describe to me some bird they have seen or heard, and ask me +to name it, but in most cases the bird might be any one of a dozen, or else it +is totally unlike any bird found on this continent. They have either seen +falsely or else vaguely. Not so the farm youth who wrote me one winter day that +he had seen a single pair of strange birds, which he describes as follows: +“They were about the size of the ‘chippie;’ the tops of their +heads were red, and the breast of the male was of the same color, while that of +the female was much lighter; their rumps were also faintly tinged with red. If +I have described them so that you would know them, please write me their +names.” There can be little doubt but the young observer had, seen a pair +of redpolls,—a bird related to the goldfinch, and that occasionally comes +down to us in the winter from the far north. Another time, the same youth wrote +that he had seen a strange bird, the color of a sparrow, that alighted on +fences and buildings as well as upon the ground, and that walked. This last +fact showed the youth’s discriminating eye and settled the case. From +this and the season, and the size and color of the bird, I knew he had seen the +pipit or titlark. But how many persons would have observed that the bird walked +instead of hopped? +</p> + +<p> +Some friends of mine who lived in the country tried to describe to me a bird +that built a nest in a tree within a few feet of the house. As it was a brown +bird, I should have taken it for a wood thrush, had not the nest been described +as so thin and loose that from beneath the eggs could be distinctly seen. The +most pronounced feature in the description was the barred appearance of the +under side of the bird’s tail. I was quite at sea, until one day, when we +were driving out, a cuckoo flew across the road in front of us, when my friends +exclaimed, “There is our bird!” I had never known a cuckoo to build +near a house, and I had never noted the appearance the tail presents when +viewed from beneath; but if the bird had been described in its most obvious +features, as slender, with a long tail, cinnamon brown above and white beneath, +with a curved bill, any one who knew the bird would have recognized the +portrait. +</p> + +<p> +We think we have looked at a thing sharply until we are asked for its specific +features. I thought I knew exactly the form of the leaf of the tulip-tree, +until one day a lady asked me to draw the outlines of one. A good observer is +quick to take a hint and to follow it up. Most of the facts of nature, +especially in the life of the birds and animals, are well screened. We do not +see the play because we do not look intently enough. The other day I was +sitting with a friend upon a high rock in the woods, near a small stream, when +we saw a water-snake swimming across a pool toward the opposite bank. Any eye +would have noted it, perhaps nothing more. A little closer and sharper gaze +revealed the fact that the snake bore something in its mouth, which, as we went +down to investigate, proved to be a small catfish, three or four inches long. +The snake had captured it in the pool, and, like any other fisherman, wanted to +get its prey to dry land, although it itself lived mostly in the water. Here, +we said, is being enacted a little tragedy that would have escaped any but +sharp eyes. The snake, which was itself small, had the fish by the throat, the +hold of vantage among all creatures, and clung to it with great tenacity. The +snake knew that its best tactics was to get upon dry land as soon as possible. +It could not swallow its victim alive, and it could not strangle it in the +water. For a while it tried to kill its game by holding it up out of the water, +but the fish grew heavy, and every few moments its struggles brought down the +snake’s head. This would not do. Compressing the fish’s throat +would not shut off its breath under such circumstances, so the wily serpent +tried to get ashore with it, and after several attempts succeeded in effecting +a landing on a flat rock. But the fish died hard. Catfish do not give up the +ghost in a hurry. Its throat was becoming congested, but the snake’s +distended jaws must have ached. It was like a petrified gape. Then the +spectators became very curious and close in their scrutiny, and the snake +determined to withdraw from the public gaze and finish the business in hand to +its own notions. But, when gently but firmly remonstrated with by my friend +with his walking-stick, it dropped the fish and retreated in high dudgeon +beneath a stone in the bed of the creek. The fish, with a swollen and angry +throat, went its way also. +</p> + +<p> +Birds, I say, have wonderfully keen eyes. Throw a fresh bone or a piece of meat +upon the snow in winter, and see how soon the crows will discover it and be on +hand. If it be near the house or barn, the crow that first discovers it will +alight near it, to make sure he is not deceived; then he will go away, and soon +return with a companion. The two alight a few yards from the bone, and after +some delay, during which the vicinity is sharply scrutinized, one of the crows +advances boldly to within a few feet of the coveted prize. Here he pauses, and +if no trick is discovered, and the meat be indeed meat, he seizes it and makes +off. +</p> + +<p> +One midwinter I cleared away the snow under an apple-tree near the house and +scattered some corn there. I had not seen a blue jay for weeks, yet that very +day one found my corn, and after that several came daily and partook of it, +holding the kernels under their feet upon the limbs of the trees and pecking +them vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +Of course the woodpecker and his kind have sharp eyes, still I was surprised to +see how quickly Downy found out some bones that were placed in a convenient +place under the shed to be pounded up for the hens. In going out to the barn I +often disturbed him making a meal off the bits of meat that still adhered to +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Look intently enough at anything,” said a poet to me one day, +“and you will see something that would otherwise escape you.” I +thought of the remark as I sat on a stump in an opening of the woods one spring +day. I saw a small hawk approaching; he flew to a tall tulip-tree, and alighted +on a large limb near the top. He eyed me and I eyed him. Then the bird +disclosed a trait that was new to me: he hopped along the limb to a small +cavity near the trunk, when he thrust in his head and pulled out some small +object and fell to eating it. After he had partaken of it for some minutes he +put the remainder back in his larder and flew away. I had seen something like +feathers eddying slowly down as the hawk ate, and on approaching the spot found +the feathers of a sparrow here and there clinging to the bushes beneath the +tree. The hawk, then,—commonly called the chicken hawk,—is as +provident as a mouse or a squirrel, and lays by a store against a time of need, +but I should not have discovered the fact had I not held my eye on him. +</p> + +<p> +An observer of the birds is attracted by any unusual sound or commotion among +them. In May or June, when other birds are most vocal, the jay is a silent +bird; he goes sneaking about the orchards and the groves as silent as a +pickpocket; he is robbing birds’-nests, and he is very anxious that +nothing should be said about it, but in the fall none so quick and loud to cry +“Thief, thief!” as he. One December morning a troop of jays +discovered a little screech owl secreted in the hollow trunk of an old +apple-tree near my house. How they found the owl out is a mystery, since it +never ventures forth in the light of day; but they did, and proclaimed the fact +with great emphasis. I suspect the bluebirds first told them, for these birds +are constantly peeping into holes and crannies both spring and fall. Some +unsuspecting bird had probably entered the cavity prospecting for a place for +next year’s nest, or else looking out a likely place to pass a cold +night, and then had rushed out with important news. A boy who should +unwittingly venture into a bear’s den when Bruin was at home could not be +more astonished and alarmed than a bluebird would be on finding itself in a +cavity of a decayed tree with an owl. At any rate, the bluebirds joined the +jays in calling the attention of all whom it might concern to the fact that a +culprit of some sort was hiding from the light of day in the old apple-tree. I +heard the notes of warning and alarm and approached to within eyeshot. The +bluebirds were cautious and hovered about uttering their peculiar twittering +calls; but the jays were bolder and took turns looking in at the cavity, and +deriding the poor, shrinking owl. A jay would alight in the entrance of the +hole, and flirt and peer and attitudinize, and then fly away crying +“Thief, thief, thief!” at the top of his voice. +</p> + +<p> +I climbed up and peered into the opening, and could just descry the owl +clinging to the inside of the tree. I reached in and took him out, giving +little heed to the threatening snapping of his beak. He was as red as a fox and +as yellow-eyed as a cat. He made no effort to escape, but planted his claws in +my forefinger and clung there with a grip that soon grew uncomfortable. I +placed him in the loft of an outhouse, in hopes of getting better acquainted +with him. By day he was a very willing prisoner, scarcely moving at all, even +when approached and touched with the hand, but looking out upon the world with +half-closed, sleepy eyes. But at night what a change! how alert, how wild, how +active! He was like another bird; he darted about with wide, fearful eyes, and +regarded me like a cornered cat. I opened the window, and swiftly, but as +silent as a shadow, he glided out into the congenial darkness, and perhaps, ere +this, has revenged himself upon the sleeping jay or bluebird that first +betrayed his hiding-place. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III<br/> +STRAWBERRIES</h2> + +<p> +Was it old Dr. Parr who said or sighed in his last illness, “Oh, if I can +only live till strawberries come!” The old scholar imagined that, if he +could weather it till then, the berries would carry him through. No doubt he +had turned from the drugs and the nostrums, or from the hateful food, to the +memory of the pungent, penetrating, and unspeakably fresh quality of the +strawberry with the deepest longing. The very thought of these crimson lobes, +embodying as it were the first glow and ardor of the young summer, and with +their power to unsheathe the taste and spur the nagging appetite, made life +seem possible and desirable to him. +</p> + +<p> +The strawberry is always the hope of the invalid, and sometimes, no doubt, his +salvation. It is the first and finest relish among fruits, and well merits Dr. +Boteler’s memorable saying, that “doubtless God could have made a +better berry, but doubtless God never did.” +</p> + +<p> +On the threshold of summer, Nature proffers us this her virgin fruit; more rich +and sumptuous are to follow, but the wild delicacy and fillip of the strawberry +are never repeated,—that keen feathered edge greets the tongue in nothing +else. +</p> + +<p> +Let me not be afraid of overpraising it, but probe and probe for words to hint +its surprising virtues. We may well celebrate it with festivals and music. It +has that indescribable quality of all first things,—that shy, uncloying, +provoking barbed sweetness. It is eager and sanguine as youth. It is born of +the copious dews, the fragrant nights, the tender skies, the plentiful rains of +the early season. The singing of birds is in it, and the health and frolic of +lusty Nature. It is the product of liquid May touched by the June sun. It has +the tartness, the briskness, the unruliness of spring, and the aroma and +intensity of summer. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, the strawberry days! how vividly they come back to one! The smell of clover +in the fields, of blooming rye on the hills, of the wild grape beside the +woods, and of the sweet honeysuckle and the spiræa about the house. The first +hot, moist days. The daisies and the buttercups; the songs of the birds, their +first reckless jollity and love-making over; the full tender foliage of the +trees; the bees swarming, and the air strung with resonant musical chords. The +time of the sweetest and most, succulent grass, when the cows come home with +aching udders. Indeed, the strawberry belongs to the juiciest time of the year. +</p> + +<p> +What a challenge it is to the taste! how it bites back again! and is there any +other sound like the snap and crackle with which it salutes the ear on being +plucked from the stems? It is a threat to one sense that the other is soon to +verify. It snaps to the ear as it smacks to the tongue. All other berries are +tame beside it. +</p> + +<p> +The plant is almost an evergreen; it loves the coverlid of the snow, and will +keep fresh through the severest winters with a slight protection. The frost +leaves its virtues in it. The berry is a kind of vegetable snow. How cool, how +tonic, how melting, and how perishable! It is almost as easy to keep frost. +Heat kills it, and sugar quickly breaks up its cells. +</p> + +<p> +Is there anything like the odor of strawberries? The next best thing to tasting +them is to smell them; one may put his nose to the dish while the fruit is yet +too rare and choice for his fingers. Touch not and taste not, but take a good +smell and go mad! Last fall I potted some of the Downer, and in the winter grew +them in the house. In March the berries were ripe, only four or five on a +plant, just enough, all told, to make one consider whether it were not worth +while to kill off the rest of the household, so that the berries need not be +divided. But if every tongue could not have a feast, every nose banqueted daily +upon them. They filled the house with perfume. The Downer is remarkable in this +respect. Grown in the open field, it surpasses in its odor any strawberry of my +acquaintance. And it is scarcely less agreeable to the taste. It is a very +beautiful berry to look upon, round, light pink, with a delicate, fine-grained +expression. Some berries shine, the Downer glows as if there were a red bloom +upon it. Its core is firm and white, its skin thick and easily bruised, which +makes it a poor market berry, but, with its high flavor and productiveness, an +admirable one for home use. It seems to be as easily grown as the Wilson, while +it is much more palatable. The great trouble with the Wilson, as everybody +knows, is its rank acidity. When it first comes, it is difficult to eat it +without making faces. It is crabbed and acrimonious. Like some persons, the +Wilson will not ripen and sweeten till its old age. Its largest and finest +crop, if allowed to remain on the vines, will soften and fail unregenerated, or +with all its sins upon it. But wait till toward the end of the season, after +the plant gets over its hurry and takes time to ripen its fruit. The berry will +then face the sun for days, and, if the weather is not too wet, instead of +softening will turn dark and grow rich. Out of its crabbedness and spitefulness +come the finest, choicest flavors. It is an astonishing berry. It lays hold of +the taste in a way that the aristocratic berries, like the Jocunda or the +Triumph, cannot approximate to. Its quality is as penetrating as that of ants +and wasps, but sweet. It is, indeed, a wild bee turned into a berry, with the +sting mollified and the honey disguised. A quart of these rare-ripes I venture +to say contains more of the peculiar virtue and excellence of the strawberry +kind than can be had in twice the same quantity of any other cultivated +variety. Take these berries in a bowl of rich milk with some bread,—ah, +what a dish!—too good to set before a king! I suspect this was the food +of Adam in Paradise, only Adam did not have the Wilson strawberry; he had the +wild strawberry that Eve plucked in their hill-meadow and “hulled” +with her own hands, and that, take it all in all, even surpasses the +late-ripened Wilson. +</p> + +<p> +Adam is still extant in the taste and the appetite of most country boys; lives +there a country boy who does not like wild strawberries and milk,—yea, +prefer it to any other known dish? I am not thinking of a dessert of +strawberries and cream; this the city boy may have, too, after a sort; but +bread-and-milk, with the addition of wild strawberries, is peculiarly a country +dish, and is to the taste what a wild bird’s song is to the ear. When I +was a lad, and went afield with my hoe or with the cows, during the strawberry +season, I was sure to return at meal-time with a lining of berries in the top +of my straw hat. They were my daily food, and I could taste the liquid and +gurgling notes of the bobolink in every spoonful of them; and to this day, to +make a dinner or supper off a bowl of milk with bread and +strawberries,—plenty of strawberries,—well, is as near to being a +boy again as I ever expect to come. The golden age draws sensibly near. +Appetite becomes a kind of delicious thirst,—a gentle and subtle craving +of all parts of the mouth and throat,—and those nerves of taste that +occupy, as it were, a back seat, and take little cognizance of grosser foods, +come forth, and are played upon and set vibrating. Indeed, I think, if there is +ever rejoicing throughout one’s alimentary household,—if ever that +much-abused servant, the stomach, says Amen, or those faithful handmaidens, the +liver and spleen, nudge each other delightedly, it must be when one on a torrid +summer day passes by the solid and carnal dinner for this simple Arcadian dish. +</p> + +<p> +The wild strawberry, like the wild apple, is spicy and high-flavored, but, +unlike the apple, it is also mild and delicious. It has the true rustic +sweetness and piquancy. What it lacks in size, when compared with the garden +berry, it makes up in intensity. It is never dropsical or overgrown, but +firm-fleshed and hardy. Its great enemies are the plow, gypsum, and the +horse-rake. It dislikes a limestone soil, but seems to prefer the detritus of +the stratified rock. Where the sugar maple abounds, I have always found plenty +of wild strawberries. We have two kinds,—the wood berry and the field +berry. The former is as wild as a partridge. It is found in open places in the +woods and along the borders, growing beside stumps and rocks, never in +abundance, but very sparsely. It is small, cone-shaped, dark red, shiny, and +pimply. It looks woody, and tastes so. It has never reached the table, nor made +the acquaintance of cream. A quart of them, at a fair price for human labor, +would be worth their weight in silver at least. (Yet a careful observer writes +me that in certain sections in the western part of New York they are very +plentiful.) +</p> + +<p> +Ovid mentions the wood strawberry, which would lead one to infer that they were +more abundant in his time and country than in ours. +</p> + +<p> +This is, perhaps, the same as the alpine strawberry, which is said to grow in +the mountains of Greece, and thence northward. This was probably the first +variety cultivated, though our native species would seem as unpromising a +subject for the garden as club-moss or wintergreens. +</p> + +<p> +Of the field strawberry there are a great many varieties,—some growing in +meadows, some in pastures, and some upon mountain-tops. Some are round, and +stick close to the calyx or hull; some are long and pointed, with long, +tapering necks. These usually grow upon tall stems. They are, indeed, of the +slim, linear kind. Your corpulent berry keeps close to the ground; its stem and +foot-stalk are short, and neck it has none. Its color is deeper than that of +its tall brother, and of course it has more juice. You are more apt to find the +tall varieties upon knolls in low, wet meadows, and again upon mountain-tops, +growing in tussocks of wild grass about the open summits. These latter ripen in +July, and give one his last taste of strawberries for the season. +</p> + +<p> +But the favorite haunt of the wild strawberry is an uplying meadow that has +been exempt from the plow for five or six years, and that has little timothy +and much daisy. When you go a-berrying, turn your steps toward the milk-white +meadows. The slightly bitter odor of the daisies is very agreeable to the +smell, and affords a good background for the perfume of the fruit. The +strawberry cannot cope with the rank and deep-rooted clover, and seldom appears +in a field till the clover has had its day. But the daisy with its slender +stalk does not crowd or obstruct the plant, while its broad white flower is +like a light parasol that tempers and softens the too strong sunlight. Indeed, +daisies and strawberries are generally associated. Nature fills her dish with +the berries, then covers them with the white and yellow of milk and cream, thus +suggesting a combination we are quick to follow. Milk alone, after it loses its +animal heat, is a clod, and begets torpidity of the brain; the berries lighten +it, give wings to it, and one is fed as by the air he breathes or the water he +drinks. +</p> + +<p> +Then the delight of “picking” the wild berries! It is one of the +fragrant memories of boyhood. Indeed, for boy or man to go a-berrying in a +certain pastoral country I know of, where a passer-by along the highway is +often regaled by a breeze loaded with a perfume of the o’er-ripe fruit, +is to get nearer to June than by almost any course I know of. Your errand is so +private and confidential! You stoop low. You part away the grass and the +daisies, and would lay bare the inmost secrets of the meadow. Everything is yet +tender and succulent; the very air is bright and new; the warm breath of the +meadow comes up in your face; to your knees you are in a sea of daisies and +clover; from your knees up, you are in a sea of solar light and warmth. Now you +are prostrate like a swimmer, or like a surf-bather reaching for pebbles or +shells, the white and green spray breaks above you; then, like a devotee before +a shrine or naming his beads, your rosary strung with luscious berries; anon +you are a grazing Nebuchadnezzar, or an artist taking an inverted view of the +landscape. +</p> + +<p> +The birds are alarmed by your close scrutiny of their domain. They hardly know +whether to sing or to cry, and do a little of both. The bobolink follows you +and circles above and in advance of you, and is ready to give you a triumphal +exit from the field, if you will only depart. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “Ye boys that gather flowers and strawberries,<br/> + Lo, hid within the grass, an adder lies,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Warton makes Virgil sing; and Montaigne, in his “Journey to Italy,” +says: “The children very often are afraid, on account of the snakes, to +go and pick the strawberries that grow in quantities on the mountains and among +bushes.” But there is no serpent here,—at worst, only a +bumblebee’s or yellow-jacket’s nest. You soon find out the spring +in the corner of the field under the beechen tree. While you wipe your brow and +thank the Lord for spring water, you glance at the initials in the bark, some +of them so old that they seem runic and legendary. You find out, also, how +gregarious the strawberry is,—that the different varieties exist in +little colonies about the field. When you strike the outskirts of one of these +plantations, how quickly you work toward the centre of it, and then from the +centre out, then circumnavigate it, and follow up all its branchings and +windings! +</p> + +<p> +Then the delight in the abstract and in the concrete of strolling and lounging +about the June meadows; of lying in pickle for half a day or more in this +pastoral sea, laved by the great tide, shone upon by the virile sun, drenched +to the very marrow of your being with the warm and wooing influences of the +young summer! +</p> + +<p> +I was a famous berry-picker when a boy. It was near enough to hunting and +fishing to enlist me. Mother would always send me in preference to any of the +rest of the boys. I got the biggest berries and the most of them. There was +something of the excitement of the chase in the occupation, and something of +the charm and preciousness of game about the trophies. The pursuit had its +surprises, its expectancies, its sudden disclosures,—in fact, its +uncertainties. I went forth adventurously. I could wander free as the wind. +Then there were moments of inspiration, for it always seemed a felicitous +stroke to light upon a particularly fine spot, as it does when one takes an old +and wary trout. You discovered the game where it was hidden. Your genius +prompted you. Another had passed that way and had missed the prize. Indeed, the +successful berry-picker, like Walton’s angler, is born, not made. It is +only another kind of angling. In the same field one boy gets big berries and +plenty of them; another wanders up and down, and finds only a few little ones. +He cannot see them; he does not know how to divine them where they lurk under +the leaves and vines. The berry-grower knows that in the cultivated patch his +pickers are very unequal, the baskets of one boy or girl having so inferior a +look that it does not seem possible they could have been filled from the same +vines with certain others. But neither blunt fingers nor blunt eyes are hard to +find; and as there are those who can see nothing clearly, so there are those +who can touch nothing deftly or gently. +</p> + +<p> +The cultivation of the strawberry is thought to be comparatively modern. The +ancients appear to have been a carnivorous race: they gorged themselves with +meat; while the modern man makes larger and larger use of fruits and +vegetables, until this generation is doubtless better fed than any that has +preceded it. The strawberry and the apple, and such vegetables as celery, ought +to lengthen human life,—at least to correct its biliousness and make it +more sweet and sanguine. +</p> + +<p> +The first impetus to strawberry culture seems to have been given by the +introduction of our field berry (<i>Fragaria Virginiana</i>) into England in +the seventeenth century, though not much progress was made till the eighteenth. +This variety is much more fragrant and aromatic than the native berry of +Europe, though less so in that climate than when grown here. Many new seedlings +sprang from it, and it was the prevailing berry in English and French gardens, +says Fuller, until the South American species, <i>grandiflora,</i> was +introduced and supplanted it. This berry is naturally much larger and sweeter, +and better adapted to the English climate, than our <i>Virginiana.</i> Hence +the English strawberries of to-day surpass ours in these respects, but are +wanting in that aromatic pungency that characterizes most of our berries. +</p> + +<p> +The Jocunda, Triumph, Victoria, are foreign varieties of the Grandiflora +species; while the Hovey, the Boston Pine, the Downer, are natives of this +country. +</p> + +<p> +The strawberry, in the main, repeats the form of the human heart, and perhaps, +of all the small fruits known to man, none other is so deeply and fondly +cherished, or hailed with such universal delight, as this lowly but +youth-renewing berry. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV<br/> +IS IT GOING TO RAIN?</h2> + +<p> +I suspect that, like most countrymen, I was born with a chronic anxiety about +the weather. Is it going to rain or snow, be hot or cold, wet or dry?—are +inquiries upon which I would fain get the views of every man I meet, and I find +that most men are fired with the same desire to get my views upon the same set +of subjects. To a countryman the weather means something,—to a farmer +especially. The farmer has sowed and planted and reaped and vended nothing but +weather all his life. The weather must lift the mortgage on his farm, and pay +his taxes, and feed and clothe his family. Of what use is his labor unless +seconded by the weather? Hence there is speculation in his eye whenever he +looks at the clouds, or the moon, or the sunset, or the stars; for even the +Milky Way, in his view, may point the direction of the wind to-morrow, and +hence is closely related to the price of butter. He may not take the +sage’s advice to “hitch his wagon to a star,” but he pins his +hopes to the moon, and plants and sows by its phases. +</p> + +<p> +Then the weather is that phase of Nature in which she appears not the immutable +fate we are so wont to regard her, but on the contrary something quite human +and changeable, not to say womanish,—a creature of moods, of caprices, of +cross purposes; gloomy and downcast to-day, and all light and joy to-morrow; +caressing and tender one moment, and severe and frigid the next; one day iron, +the next day vapor; inconsistent, inconstant, incalculable; full of genius, +full of folly, full of extremes; to be read and understood, not by rule, but by +subtle signs and indirections,—by a look, a glance, a presence, as we +read and understand a man or a woman. Some days are like a rare poetic mood. +There is a felicity and an exhilaration about them from morning till night. +They are positive and fill one with celestial fire. Other days are negative and +drain one of his electricity. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the elements show a marked genius for fair weather, as in the fall +and early winter of 1877, when October, grown only a little stern, lasted till +January. Every shuffle of the cards brought these mild, brilliant days +uppermost. There was not enough frost to stop the plow, save once perhaps, till +the new year set in. Occasionally a fruit-tree put out a blossom and developed +young fruit. The warring of the elements was chiefly done on the other side of +the globe, where it formed an accompaniment to the human war raging there. In +our usually merciless skies was written only peace and good-will to men, for +months. +</p> + +<p> +What a creature of habit, too, Nature is as she appears in the weather! If she +miscarry once she will twice and thrice, and a dozen times. In a wet time it +rains to-day because it rained yesterday, and will rain to-morrow because it +rained to-day. Are the crops in any part of the country drowning? They shall +continue to drown. Are they burning up? They shall continue to burn. The +elements get in a rut and can’t get out without a shock. I know a farmer +who, in a dry time, when the clouds gather and look threatening, gets out his +watering-pot at once, because, he says, “it won’t rain, and +’tis an excellent time to apply the water.” Of course, there comes +a time when the farmer is wrong, but he is right four times out of five. +</p> + +<p> +But I am not going to abuse the weather; rather to praise it, and make some +amends for the many ill-natured things I have said, within hearing of the +clouds, when I have been caught in the rain or been parched and withered by the +drought. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Fields’s “Village Dogmatist” was asked what caused +the rain, or the fog, he leaned upon his cane and answered, with an air of +profound wisdom, that “when the atmosphere and hemisphere come together +it causes the earth to sweat, and thereby produces the rain,”—or +the fog, as the case may be. The explanation is a little vague, as his +biographer suggests, but it is picturesque, and there can be little doubt that +two somethings do come in contact that produce a sweating when it rains or is +foggy. More than that, the philosophy is simple and comprehensive, which Goethe +said was the main matter in such things. Goethe’s explanation is still +more picturesque, but I doubt if it is a bit better philosophy. “I +compare the earth and her atmosphere,” he said to Eckermann, “to a +great living being perpetually inhaling and exhaling. If she inhale she draws +the atmosphere to her, so that, coming near her surface, it is condensed to +clouds and rain. This state I call water-affirmative.” The opposite +state, when the earth exhales and sends the watery vapors upward so that they +are dissipated through the whole space of the higher atmosphere, he called +“water-negative.” +</p> + +<p> +This is good literature, and worthy the great poet; the science of it I would +not be so willing to vouch for. +</p> + +<p> +The poets, more perhaps than the scientists, have illustrated and held by the +great law of alternation, of ebb and flow, of turn and return, in nature. An +equilibrium, or, what is the same thing, a straight line, Nature abhors more +than she does a vacuum. If the moisture of the air were uniform, or the heat +uniform, that is, <i>in equilibrio,</i> how could it rain? what would turn the +scale? But these things are heaped up, are in waves. There is always a +preponderance one way or the other; always “a steep inequality.” +Down this incline the rain comes, and up the other side it goes. The high +barometer travels like the crest of a sea, and the low barometer like the +trough. When the scale kicks the beam in one place, it is correspondingly +depressed in some other. When the east is burning up, the west is generally +drowning out. The weather, we say, is always in extremes; it never rains but it +pours: but this is only the abuse of a law on the part of the elements which is +at the bottom of all the life and motion on the globe. +</p> + +<p> +The rain itself comes in shorter or longer waves,—now fast, now +slow—and sometimes in regular throbs or pulse-beats. The fall and winter +rains are, as a rule, the most deliberate and general, but the spring and +summer rains are always more or less impulsive and capricious. One may see the +rain stalking across the hills or coming up the valley in single file, as it +were. Another time it moves in vast masses or solid columns, with broad open +spaces between. I have seen a spring snowstorm lasting nearly all day that +swept down in rapid intermittent sheets or gusts. The waves or pulsations of +the storm were nearly vertical and were very marked. But the great fact about +the rain is that it is the most beneficent of all the operations of nature; +more immediately than sunlight even, it means life and growth. Moisture is the +Eve of the physical world, the soft teeming principle given to wife to Adam or +heat, and the mother of all that lives. Sunshine abounds everywhere, but only +where the rain or dew follows is there life. The earth had the sun long before +it had the humid cloud, and will doubtless continue to have it after the last +drop of moisture has perished or been dissipated. The moon has sunshine enough, +but no rain; hence it is a dead world—a lifeless cinder. It is doubtless +true that certain of the planets, as Saturn and Jupiter, have not yet reached +the condition of the cooling and ameliorating rains, while in Mars vapor +appears to be precipitated only in the form of snow; he is probably past the +period of the summer shower. There are clouds and vapors in the sun +itself,—clouds of flaming hydrogen and metallic vapors, and a rain every +drop of which is a burning or molten meteor. Our earth itself has doubtless +passed through the period of the fiery and consuming rains. Mr. Proctor thinks +there may have been a time when its showers were downpourings of +“muriatic, nitric, and sulphuric acid, not only intensely hot, but +fiercely burning through their chemical activity.” Think of a dew that +would blister and destroy like the oil of vitriol! but that period is far +behind us now. When this fearful fever was past and the earth began to +“sweat;” when these soft, delicious drops began to come down, or +this impalpable rain of the cloudless nights to fall,—the period of +organic life was inaugurated. Then there was hope and a promise of the future. +The first rain was the turning-point, the spell was broken, relief was at hand. +Then the blazing furies of the fore world began to give place to the gentler +divinities of later times. +</p> + +<p> +The first water,—how much it means! Seven tenths of man himself is water. +Seven tenths of the human race rained down but yesterday! It is much more +probable that Alexander will flow out of a bung-hole than that any part of his +remains will ever stop one. Our life is indeed a vapor, a breath, a little +moisture condensed upon the pane. We carry ourselves as in a phial. Cleave the +flesh, and how quickly we spill out! Man begins as a fish, and he swims in a +sea of vital fluids as long as his life lasts. His first food is milk; so is +his last and all between. He can taste and assimilate and absorb nothing but +liquids. The same is true throughout all organic nature. ’Tis water-power +that makes every wheel move. Without this great solvent, there is no life. I +admire immensely this line of Walt Whitman’s:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “The slumbering and liquid trees.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The tree and its fruit are like a sponge which the rains have filled. Through +them and through all living bodies there goes on the commerce of vital growth, +tiny vessels, fleets and succession of fleets, laden with material bound for +distant shores, to build up, and repair, and restore the waste of the physical +frame. +</p> + +<p> +Then the rain means relaxation; the tension in Nature and in all her creatures +is lessened. The trees drop their leaves, or let go their ripened fruit. The +tree itself will fall in a still, damp day, when but yesterday it withstood a +gale of wind. A moist south wind penetrates even the mind and makes its grasp +less tenacious. It ought to take less to kill a man on a rainy day than on a +clear. The direct support of the sun is withdrawn; life is under a cloud; a +masculine mood gives place to something like a feminine. In this sense, rain is +the grief, the weeping of Nature, the relief of a burdened or agonized heart. +But tears from Nature’s eyelids are always remedial and prepare the way +for brighter, purer skies. +</p> + +<p> +I think rain is as necessary to the mind as to vegetation. Who does not suffer +in his spirit in a drought and feel restless and unsatisfied? My very thoughts +become thirsty and crave the moisture. It is hard work to be generous, or +neighborly, or patriotic in a dry time, and as for growing in any of the finer +graces or virtues, who can do it? One’s very manhood shrinks, and, if he +is ever capable of a mean act or of narrow views, it is then. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, the terrible drought! When the sky turns to brass; when the clouds are like +withered leaves; when the sun sucks the earth’s blood like a vampire; +when rivers shrink, streams fail, springs perish; when the grass whitens and +crackles under your feet; when the turf turns to dust; when the fields are like +tinder; when the air is the breath of an oven; when even the merciful dews are +withheld, and the morning is no fresher than the evening; when the friendly +road is a desert, and the green woods like a sick-chamber; when the sky becomes +tarnished and opaque with dust and smoke; when the shingles on the houses curl +up, the clapboards warp, the paint blisters, the joints open; when the cattle +rove disconsolate and the hive-bee comes home empty; when the earth gapes and +all nature looks widowed, and deserted, and heart-broken,—in such a time, +what thing that has life does not sympathize and suffer with the general +distress? +</p> + +<p> +The drought of the summer and early fall of 1876 was one of those severe +stresses of weather that make the oldest inhabitant search his memory for a +parallel. For nearly three months there was no rain to wet the ground. Large +forest trees withered and cast their leaves. In spots, the mountains looked as +if they had been scorched by fire. The salt sea-water came up the Hudson ninety +miles, when ordinarily it scarcely comes forty. Toward the last, the capacity +of the atmosphere to absorb and dissipate the smoke was exhausted, and +innumerable fires in forests and peat-swamps made the days and the +weeks—not blue, but a dirty yellowish white. There was not enough +moisture in the air to take the sting out of the smoke, and it smarted the +nose. The sun was red and dim even at midday, and at his rising and setting he +was as harmless to the eye as a crimson shield or a painted moon. The +meteorological conditions seemed the farthest possible remove from those that +produce rain, or even dew. Every sign was negatived. Some malevolent spirit +seemed abroad in the air, that rendered abortive every effort of the gentler +divinities to send succor. The clouds would gather back in the mountains, the +thunder would growl, the tall masses would rise up and advance threateningly, +then suddenly cower, their strength and purpose ooze away; they flattened out; +the hot, parched breath of the earth smote them; the dark, heavy masses were +re-resolved into thin vapor, and the sky came through where but a few moments +before there had appeared to be deep behind deep of water-logged clouds. +Sometimes a cloud would pass by, and one could see trailing beneath and behind +it a sheet of rain, like something let down that did not quite touch the earth, +the hot air vaporizing the drops before they reached the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three times the wind got in the south, and those low, dun-colored clouds +that are nothing but harmless fog came hurrying up and covered the sky, and +city folk and women folk said the rain was at last near. But the wise ones knew +better. The clouds had no backing, the clear sky was just behind them; they +were only the nightcap of the south wind, which the sun burnt up before ten +o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +Every storm has a foundation that is deeply and surely laid, and those shallow +surface-clouds that have no root in the depths of the sky deceive none but the +unwary. +</p> + +<p> +At other times, when the clouds were not reabsorbed by the sky and rain seemed +imminent, they would suddenly undergo a change that looked like curdling, and +when clouds do that no rain need be expected. Time and again I saw their +continuity broken up, saw them separate into small masses,—in fact saw a +process of disintegration and disorganization going on, and my hope of rain was +over for that day. Vast spaces would be affected suddenly; it was like a stroke +of paralysis: motion was retarded, the breeze died down, the thunder ceased, +and the storm was blighted on the very threshold of success. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose there is some compensation in a drought; Nature doubtless profits by +it in some way. It is a good time to thin out her garden, and give the law of +the survival of the fittest a chance to come into play. How the big trees and +big plants do rob the little ones! there is not drink enough to go around, and +the strongest will have what there is. It is a rest to vegetation, too, a kind +of torrid winter that is followed by a fresh awakening. Every tree and plant +learns a lesson from it, learns to shoot its roots down deep into the perennial +supplies of moisture and life. +</p> + +<p> +But when the rain does come, the warm, sun-distilled rain; the far-traveling, +vapor-born rain; the impartial, undiscriminating, unstinted rain; equable, +bounteous, myriad-eyed, searching out every plant and every spear of grass, +finding every hidden thing that needs water, falling upon the just and upon the +unjust, sponging off every leaf of every tree in the forest and every growth in +the fields; music to the ear, a perfume to the smell, an enchantment to the +eye; healing the earth, cleansing the air, renewing the fountains; honey to the +bee, manna to the herds, and life to all creatures,—what spectacle so +fills the heart? “Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, down on the plowed fields of +the Athenians, and on the plains.” +</p> + +<p> +There is a fine sibilant chorus audible in the sod, and in the dust of the +road, and in the porous plowed fields. Every grain of soil and every root and +rootlet purrs in satisfaction, Because something more than water comes down +when it rains; you cannot produce this effect by simple water; the good-will of +the elements, the consent and approbation of all the skyey influences, come +down; the harmony, the adjustment, the perfect understanding of the soil +beneath and the air that swims above, are implied in the marvelous benefaction +of the rain. The earth is ready; the moist winds have wooed it and prepared it, +the electrical conditions are as they should be, and there are love and passion +in the surrender of the summer clouds. How the drops are absorbed into the +ground! You cannot, I say, succeed like this with your hose or sprinkling-pot. +There is no ardor or electricity in the drops, no ammonia, or ozone, or other +nameless properties borrowed from the air. +</p> + +<p> +Then one has not the gentleness and patience of Nature; we puddle the ground in +our hurry, we seal it up and exclude the air, and the plants are worse off than +before. When the sky is overcast and it is getting ready to rain, the moisture +rises in the ground, the earth opens her pores and seconds the desire of the +clouds. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, I have found there is but little virtue in a sprinkling-pot after the +drought has reached a certain pitch. The soil will not absorb the water. +’Tis like throwing it on a hot stove. I once concentrated my efforts upon +a single hill of corn and deluged it with water night and morning for several +days, yet its leaves curled up and the ears failed the same as the rest. +Something may be done, without doubt, if one begins in time, but the relief +seems strangely inadequate to the means often used. In rainless countries good +crops are produced by irrigation, but here man can imitate in a measure the +patience and bounty of Nature, and, with night to aid him, can make his thirsty +fields drink, or rather can pour the water down their throats. +</p> + +<p> +I have said the rain is as necessary to man as to vegetation. You cannot have a +rank, sappy race, like the English or the German, without plenty of moisture in +the air and in the soil. Good viscera and an abundance of blood are closely +related to meteorological conditions, unction of character, and a flow of +animal spirits, too; and I suspect that much of the dry and rarefied humor of +New England, as well as the thin and sharp physiognomies, are climatic results. +We have rain enough, but not equability of temperature or moisture,—no +steady, abundant supply of humidity in the air. In places in Great Britain it +is said to rain on an average three days out of four the year through; yet the +depth of rainfall is no greater than in this country, where it rains but the +one day out of four. John Bull shows those three rainy days both in his temper +and in his bodily habit; he is better for them in many ways, and perhaps not +quite so good in a few others: they make him juicy and vascular, and maybe a +little opaque; but we in this country could well afford a few of his negative +qualities for the sake of his stomach and full-bloodedness. +</p> + +<p> +We have such faith in the virtue of the rain, and in the capacity of the clouds +to harbor and transport material good, that we more than half believe the +stories of the strange and anomalous things that have fallen in showers. There +is no credible report that it has ever yet rained pitchforks, but many other +curious things have fallen. Fish, flesh, and fowl, and substances that were +neither, have been picked up by veracious people after a storm. Manna, blood, +and honey, frogs, newts, and fish-worms, are among the curious things the +clouds are supposed to yield. If the clouds scooped up their water as the +flying express train does, these phenomena could be easier explained. I myself +have seen curious things. Riding along the road one day on the heels of a +violent summer tempest, I saw the ground swarming with minute hopping +creatures. I got out and captured my hands full. They proved to be tree-toads, +many of them no larger than crickets, and none of them larger than a bumblebee. +There seemed to be thousands of them. The mark of the tree-toad was the round, +flattened ends of their toes. I took some of them home, but they died the next +day. Where did they come from? I imagined the violent wind swept them off the +trees in the woods to windward of the road. But this is only a guess; maybe +they crept out of the ground, or from under the wall near by, and were out to +wet their jackets. +</p> + +<p> +I have never yet heard of a frog coming down chimney in a shower. Some +circumstantial evidence may be pretty conclusive, Thoreau says, as when you +find a trout in the milk; and if you find a frog or toad behind the fire-board +immediately after a shower, you may well ask him to explain himself. +</p> + +<p> +When I was a boy I used to wonder if the clouds were hollow and carried their +water as in a cask, because had we not often heard of clouds bursting and +producing havoc and ruin beneath them? The hoops gave way, perhaps, or the head +was pressed out. Goethe says that when the barometer rises, the clouds are spun +off from the top downward like a distaff of flax; but this is more truly the +process when it rains. When fair weather is in the ascendant, the clouds are +simply reabsorbed by the air; but when it rains, they are spun off into +something more compact: ’tis like the threads that issue from the mass of +flax or roll of wool, only here there are innumerable threads, and the fingers +that hold them never tire. The great spinning-wheel, too, what a humming it +makes at times, and how the footsteps of the invisible spinner resound through +the cloud-pillared chambers! +</p> + +<p> +The clouds are thus literally spun up into water; and were they not constantly +recruited from the atmosphere as the storm-centre travels along,—was new +wool not forthcoming from the white sheep and the black sheep that the winds +herd at every point,—all rains would be brief and local; the storm would +quickly exhaust itself, as we sometimes see a thunder-cloud do in summer. A +storm will originate in the far West or Southwest—those hatching-places +of all our storms—and travel across the continent, and across the +Atlantic to Europe, pouring down incalculable quantities of rain as it +progresses and recruiting as it wastes. It is a moving vortex, into which the +outlying moisture of the atmosphere is being constantly drawn and precipitated. +It is not properly the storm that travels, but the low pressure, the storm +impulse, the meteorological magnet that makes the storm wherever its presence +may be. The clouds are not watering-carts, that are driven all the way from +Arizona or Colorado to Europe, but growths, developments that spring up as the +Storm-deity moves his wand across the land. In advance of the storm, you may +often see the clouds grow; the condensation of the moisture into vapor is a +visible process; slender, spiculæ-like clouds expand, deepen, and lengthen; in +the rear of the low pressure, the reverse process, or the wasting of the +clouds, may be witnessed. In summer, the recruiting of a thunder-storm is often +very marked. I have seen the clouds file as straight across the sky toward a +growing storm or thunder-head in the horizon as soldiers hastening to the point +of attack or defense. They would grow more and more black and threatening as +they advanced, and actually seemed to be driven by more urgent winds than +certain other clouds. They were, no doubt, more in the line of the storm +influence. All our general storms are cyclonic in their character, that is, +rotary and progressive. Their type may be seen in every little whirlpool that +goes down the swollen current of the river; and in our hemisphere they revolve +in the same direction, namely, from right to left, or in opposition to the +hands of a watch. When the water finds an outlet through the bottom of a dam, a +suction or whirling vortex is developed that generally goes round in the same +direction. A morning-glory or a hop-vine or a pole-bean winds around its +support in the same course, and cannot be made to wind in any other. I am aware +there are some perverse climbers among the plants that persist in going around +the pole in the other direction. In the southern hemisphere the cyclone +revolves in the other direction, or from left to right. How do they revolve at +the equator, then? They do not revolve at all. This is the point of zero, and +cyclones are never formed nearer than the third parallel of latitude. Whether +hop-vines also refuse to wind about the pole there I am unable to say. +</p> + +<p> +All our cyclones originate in the far Southwest and travel northeast. Why did +we wait for the Weather Bureau to tell us this fact? Do not all the filmy, +hazy, cirrus and cirro-stratus clouds first appear from the general direction +of the sunset? Who ever saw them pushing their opaque filaments over the sky +from the east or north? Yet do we not have “northeasters” both +winter and summer? True, but the storm does not come from that direction. In +such a case we get that segment of the cyclonic whirl. A northeaster in one +place may be an easter, a norther, or a souther in some other locality. See +through those drifting, drenching clouds that come hurrying out of the +northeast, and there are the boss-clouds above them, the great captains +themselves, moving serenely on in the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +Electricity is, of course, an important agent in storms. It is the great +organizer and ring-master. How a clap of thunder will shake down the rain! It +gives the clouds a smart rap; it jostles the vapor so that the particles fall +together more quickly; it makes the drops let go in double and treble ranks. +Nature likes to be helped in that way,—likes to have the water agitated +when she is freezing it or heating it, and the clouds smitten when she is +compressing them into rain. So does a shock of surprise quicken the pulse in +man, and in the crisis of action help him to a decision. +</p> + +<p> +What a spur and impulse the summer shower is! How its coming quickens and +hurries up the slow, jogging country life! The traveler along the dusty road +arouses from his reverie at the warning rumble behind the hills; the children +hasten from the field or from the school; the farmer steps lively and thinks +fast. In the hay-field, at the first signal-gun of the elements, what a +commotion! How the horserake rattles, how the pitchforks fly, how the white +sleeves play and twinkle in the sun or against the dark background of the +coming storm! One man does the work of two or three. It is a race with the +elements, and the hay-makers do not like to be beaten. The rain that is life to +the grass when growing is poison to it after it becomes cured hay, and it must +be got under shelter, or put up into snug cocks, if possible, before the storm +overtakes it. +</p> + +<p> +The rains of winter are cold and odorless. One prefers the snow, which warms +and covers; but can there be anything more delicious than the first warm April +rain,—the first offering of the softened and pacified clouds of spring? +The weather has been dry, perhaps, for two or three weeks; we have had a touch +of the dreaded drought thus early; the roads are dusty, the streams again +shrunken, and forest fires send up columns of smoke on every hand; the frost +has all been out of the ground many days; the snow has all disappeared from the +mountains; the sun is warm, but the grass does not grow, nor the early seeds +come up. The quickening spirit of the rain is needed. Presently the wind gets +in the southwest, and, late in the day, we have our first vernal shower, gentle +and leisurely, but every drop condensed from warm tropic vapors and charged +with the very essence of spring. Then what a perfume fills the air! One’s +nostrils are not half large enough to take it in. The smoke, washed by the +rain, becomes the breath of woods, and the soil and the newly plowed fields +give out an odor that dilates the sense. How the buds of the trees swell, how +the grass greens, how the birds rejoice! Hear the robins laugh! This will bring +out the worms and the insects, and start the foliage of the trees. A summer +shower has more copiousness and power, but this has the charm of freshness and +of all first things. +</p> + +<p> +The laws of storms, up to a certain point, have come to be pretty well +understood, but there is yet no science of the weather, any more than there is +of human nature. There is about as much room for speculation in the one case as +in the other. The causes and agencies are subtle and obscure, and we shall, +perhaps, have the metaphysics of the subject before we have the physics. +</p> + +<p> +But as there are persons who can read human nature pretty well, so there are +those who can read the weather. +</p> + +<p> +It is a masculine subject, and quite beyond the province of woman. Ask those +who spend their time in the open air,—the farmer, the sailor, the +soldier, the walker; ask the birds, the beasts, the tree-toads: they know, if +they will only tell. The farmer diagnoses the weather daily, as the doctor a +patient: he feels the pulse of the wind; he knows when the clouds have a scurfy +tongue, or when the cuticle of the day is feverish and dry, or soft and moist. +Certain days he calls “weather-breeders,” and they are usually the +fairest days in the calendar,—all sun and sky. They are too fair; they +are suspiciously so. They come in the fall and spring, and always mean +mischief. When a day of almost unnatural brightness and clearness in either of +these seasons follows immediately after a storm, it is a sure indication that +another storm follows close,—follows to-morrow. In keeping with this fact +is the rule of the barometer, that, if the mercury suddenly rises very high, +the fair weather will not last. It is a high peak that indicates a +corresponding depression close at hand. I observed one of these angelic +mischief-makers during the past October. The second day after a heavy fall of +rain was the fairest of the fair,—not a speck or film in all the round of +the sky. Where have all the clouds and vapors gone to so suddenly? was my mute +inquiry, but I suspected they were plotting together somewhere behind the +horizon. The sky was a deep ultramarine blue; the air so transparent that +distant objects seemed near, and the afternoon shadows were sharp and clear. At +night the stars were unusually numerous and bright (a sure sign of an +approaching storm). The sky was laid bare, as the tidal wave empties the shore +of its water before it heaps it up upon it. A violent storm of wind and rain +the next day followed this delusive brightness. So the weather, like human +nature, may be suspiciously transparent. A saintly day may undo you. A few +clouds do not mean rain; but when there are absolutely none, when even the haze +and filmy vapors are suppressed or held back, then beware. +</p> + +<p> +Then the weather-wise know there are two kinds of clouds, rain-clouds and +wind-clouds, and that the latter are always the most portentous. In summer they +are black as night; they look as if they would blot out the very earth. They +raise a great dust, and set things flying and slamming for a moment, and that +is all. They are the veritable wind-bags of Æolus. There is something in the +look of rain-clouds that is unmistakable,—a firm, gray, tightly woven +look that makes you remember your umbrella. Not too high nor too low, not black +nor blue, but the form and hue of wet, unbleached linen. You see the river +water in them; they are heavy-laden, and move slow. Sometimes they develop what +are called “mares’ tails,”—small cloud-forms here and +there against a heavy background, that look like the stroke of a brush, or the +streaming tail of a charger. Sometimes a few under-clouds will be combed and +groomed by the winds or other meteoric agencies at work, as if for a race. I +have seen coming storms develop well-defined vertebræ,—a long backbone of +cloud, with the articulations and processes clearly marked. Any of these forms, +changing, growing, denote rain, because they show unusual agencies at work. The +storm is brewing and fermenting. “See those cowlicks,” said an old +farmer, pointing to certain patches on the clouds; “they mean +rain.” Another time, he said the clouds were “making bag,” +had growing udders, and that it would rain before night, as it did. This +reminded me that the Orientals speak of the clouds as cows which the winds herd +and milk. +</p> + +<p> +In the winter, we see the sun wading in snow. The morning has perhaps been +clear, but in the afternoon a bank of gray filmy or cirrus cloud meets him in +the west, and he sinks deeper and deeper into it, till, at his going down, his +muffled beams are entirely hidden. Then, on the morrow, <i>not</i> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,” +</p> + +<p> +but silent as night, the white legions are here. +</p> + +<p> +The old signs seldom fail,—a red and angry sunrise, or flushed clouds at +evening. Many a hope of rain have I seen dashed by a painted sky at sunset. +There is truth in the old couplet, too:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “If it rains before seven,<br/> + It will clear before eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +An old Indian had a sign for winter: “If the wind blows the snow off the +trees, the next storm will be snow; if it rains off, the next storm will be +rain.” +</p> + +<p> +Morning rains are usually short-lived. Better wait till ten o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +When the clouds are chilled, they turn blue and rise up. +</p> + +<p> +When the fog leaves the mountains, reaching upward, as if afraid of being left +behind, the fair weather is near. +</p> + +<p> +Shoddy clouds are of little account, and soon fall to pieces. Have your clouds +show a good strong fibre, and have them lined,—not with silver, but with +other clouds of a finer texture,—and have them wadded. It wants two or +three thicknesses to get up a good rain. Especially, unless you have that +cloud-mother, that dim, filmy, nebulous mass that has its root in the higher +regions of the air, and is the source and backing of all storms, your rain will +be light indeed. +</p> + +<p> +I fear my reader’s jacket is not thoroughly soaked yet. I must give him a +final dash, a “clear-up” shower. +</p> + +<p> +We were encamping in the primitive woods, by a little trout lake which the +mountain carried high on his hip, like a soldier’s canteen. There were +wives in the party, curious to know what the lure was that annually drew their +husbands to the woods. That magical writing on a trout’s back they would +fain decipher, little heeding the warning that what is written here is not +given to woman to know. +</p> + +<p> +Our only tent or roof was the sheltering arms of the great birches and maples. +What was sauce for the gander should be sauce for the goose, too, so the goose +insisted. A luxurious couch of boughs upon springing poles was prepared, and +the night should be not less welcome than the day, which had indeed been +idyllic. (A trout dinner had been served by a little spring brook, upon an +improvised table covered with moss and decked with ferns, with strawberries +from a near clearing.) +</p> + +<p> +At twilight there was an ominous rumble behind the mountains. I was on the +lake, and could see what was brewing there in the west. +</p> + +<p> +As darkness came on, the rumbling increased, and the mountains and the woods +and the still air were such good conductors of sound that the ear was vividly +impressed. One seemed to feel the enormous convolutions of the clouds in the +deep and jarring tones of the thunder. The coming of night in the woods is +alone peculiarly impressive, and it is doubly so when out of the darkness comes +such a voice as this. But we fed the fire the more industriously, and piled the +logs high, and kept the gathering gloom at bay by as large a circle of light as +we could command. The lake was a pool of ink and as still as if congealed; not +a movement or a sound, save now and then a terrific volley from the cloud +batteries now fast approaching. By nine o’clock little puffs of wind +began to steal through the woods and tease and toy with our fire. Shortly +after, an enormous electric bombshell exploded in the treetops over our heads, +and the ball was fairly opened. Then followed three hours, with only two brief +intermissions, of as lively elemental music and as copious an outpouring of +rain as it was ever my lot to witness. It was a regular meteorological +carnival, and the revelers were drunk with the wild sport. The apparent +nearness of the clouds and the electric explosions was something remarkable. +Every discharge seemed to be in the branches immediately overhead and made us +involuntarily cower, as if the next moment the great limbs of the trees, or the +trees themselves, would come crashing down. The mountain upon which we were +encamped appeared to be the focus of three distinct but converging storms. The +last two seemed to come into collision immediately over our camp-fire, and to +contend for the right of way, until the heavens were ready to fall and both +antagonists were literally spent. We stood in groups about the struggling fire, +and when the cannonade became too terrible would withdraw into the cover of the +darkness, as if to be a less conspicuous mark for the bolts; or did we fear +that the fire, with its currents, might attract the lightning? At any rate, +some other spot than the one where we happened to be standing seemed desirable +when those onsets of the contending elements were the most furious. Something +that one could not catch in his hat was liable to drop almost anywhere any +minute. The alarm and consternation of the wives communicated itself to the +husbands, and they looked solemn and concerned. The air was filled with falling +water. The sound upon the myriad leaves and branches was like the roar of a +cataract. We put our backs up against the great trees, only to catch a brook on +our shoulders or in the backs of our necks. Still the storm waxed. The fire was +beaten down lower and lower. It surrendered one post after another, like a +besieged city, and finally made only a feeble resistance from beneath a pile of +charred logs and branches in the centre. Our garments yielded to the +encroachments of the rain in about the same manner. I believe my necktie held +out the longest, and carried a few dry threads safely through. Our cunningly +devised and bedecked table, which the housekeepers had so doted on and which +was ready spread for breakfast, was washed as by the hose of a +fire-engine,—only the bare poles remained,—and the couch of +springing boughs, that was to make Sleep jealous and o’er-fond, became a +bed fit only for amphibians. Still the loosened floods came down; still the +great cloud-mortars bellowed and exploded their missiles in the treetops above +us. But all nervousness finally passed away, and we became dogged and resigned. +Our minds became water-soaked; our thoughts were heavy and bedraggled. We were +past the point of joking at one another’s expense. The witticisms failed +to kindle,—indeed, failed to go, like the matches in our pockets. About +midnight the rain slackened, and by one o’clock ceased entirely. How the +rest of the night was passed beneath the dripping trees and upon the saturated +ground, I have only the dimmest remembrance. All is watery and opaque; the fog +settles down and obscures the scene. But I suspect I tried the “wet +pack” without being a convert to hydropathy. When the morning dawned, the +wives begged to be taken home, convinced that the charms of camping-out were +greatly overrated. We, who had tasted this cup before, knew they had read at +least a part of the legend of the wary trout without knowing it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V<br/> +SPECKLED TROUT</h2> + +<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> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<img src="images/image03.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="trout stream" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<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="poem"> + “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 Beaver-kill?” +</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, weatherworn 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> + +<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 lifted the lid to get a better glimpse of the lucky +captive, when 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> + +<p class="p2"> +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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI<br/> +BIRDS AND BIRDS</h2> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p> +There is an old legend which one of our poets has made use of about the bird in +the brain,—a legend based, perhaps, upon the human significance of our +feathered neighbors. Was not Audubon’s brain full of birds, and very +lively ones, too? A person who knew him says he looked like a bird himself; +keen, alert, wide-eyed. It is not unusual to see the hawk looking out of the +human countenance, and one may see or have seen that still nobler bird, the +eagle. The song-birds might all have been brooded and hatched in the human +heart. They are typical of its highest aspirations, and nearly the whole gamut +of human passion and emotion is expressed more or less fully in their varied +songs. Among our own birds, there is the song of the hermit thrush for +devoutness and religious serenity; that of the wood thrush for the musing, +melodious thoughts of twilight; the song sparrow’s for simple faith and +trust, the bobolink’s for hilarity and glee, the mourning dove’s +for hopeless sorrow, the vireo’s for all-day and every-day contentment, +and the nocturne of the mockingbird for love. Then there are the plaintive +singers, the soaring, ecstatic singers, the confident singers, the gushing and +voluble singers, and the half-voiced, inarticulate singers. The note of the +wood pewee is a human sigh; the chickadee has a call full of unspeakable +tenderness and fidelity. There is pride in the song of the tanager, and vanity +in that of the catbird. There is something distinctly human about the robin; +his is the note of boyhood. I have thoughts that follow the migrating fowls +northward and southward, and that go with the sea-birds into the desert of the +ocean, lonely and tireless as they. I sympathize with the watchful crow perched +yonder on that tree, or walking about the fields. I hurry outdoors when I hear +the clarion of the wild gander; his comrade in my heart sends back the call. +</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p> +Here comes the cuckoo, the solitary, the joyless, enamored of the privacy of +his own thoughts; when did he fly away out of this brain? The cuckoo is one of +the famous birds, and is known the world over. He is mentioned in the Bible, +and is discussed by Pliny and Aristotle. Jupiter himself once assumed the form +of the cuckoo in order to take advantage of Juno’s compassion for the +bird. +</p> + +<p> +We have only a reduced and modified cuckoo in this country. Our bird is +smaller, and is much more solitary and unsocial. Its color is totally different +from the Old World bird, the latter being speckled, or a kind of dominick, +while ours is of the finest cinnamon-brown or drab above, and bluish white +beneath, with a gloss and richness of texture in the plumage that suggests +silk. The bird has also mended its manners in this country, and no longer +foists its eggs and young upon other birds, but builds a nest of its own and +rears its own brood like other well-disposed birds. +</p> + +<p> +The European cuckoo is evidently much more of a spring bird than ours is, much +more a harbinger of the early season. He comes in April, while ours seldom +appears till late in May, and hardly then appears. He is printed, as they say, +but not published. Only the alert ones know he is here. This old English rhyme +on the cuckoo does not apply this side the Atlantic:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “In April<br/> + Come he will,<br/> + In flow’ry May<br/> + He sings all day,<br/> + In leafy June<br/> + He changes his tune,<br/> + In bright July<br/> + He’s ready to fly,<br/> + In August<br/> + Go he must.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Our bird must go in August, too, but at no time does he sing all day. Indeed, +his peculiar guttural call has none of the character of a song. It is a +solitary, hermit-like sound, as if the bird were alone in the world, and called +upon the Fates to witness his desolation. I have never seen two cuckoos +together, and I have never heard their call answered; it goes forth into the +solitudes unreclaimed. Like a true American, the bird lacks animal spirits and +a genius for social intercourse. One August night I heard one calling, calling, +a long time, not far from my house. It was a true night sound, more fitting +then than by day. +</p> + +<p> +The European cuckoo, on the other hand, seems to be a joyous, vivacious bird. +Wordsworth applies to it the adjective “blithe,” and says:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “I hear thee babbling to the vale<br/> + Of sunshine and of flowers.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +English writers all agree that its song is animated and pleasing, and the +outcome of a light heart. Thomas Hardy, whose touches always seem true to +nature, describes in one of his books an early summer scene from amid which +“the loud notes of three cuckoos were resounding through the still +air.” This is totally unlike our bird, which does not sing in concert, +but affects remote woods, and is most frequently heard in cloudy weather. Hence +the name of rain-crow that is applied to him in some parts of the country. I am +more than half inclined to believe that his call does indicate rain, as it is +certain that of the tree-toad does. +</p> + +<p> +The cuckoo has a slender, long-drawn-out appearance on account of the great +length of tail. It is seldom seen about farms or near human habitations until +the June canker-worm appears, when it makes frequent visits to the orchard. It +loves hairy worms, and has eaten so many of them that its gizzard is lined with +hair. +</p> + +<p> +The European cuckoo builds no nest, but puts its eggs out to be hatched, as +does our cow blackbird, and our cuckoo is master of only the rudiments of +nest-building. No other bird in the woods builds so shabby a nest; it is the +merest makeshift,—a loose scaffolding of twigs through which the eggs can +be seen. One season, I knew of a pair that built within a few feet of a country +house that stood in the midst of a grove, but a heavy storm of rain and wind +broke up the nest. +</p> + +<p> +If the Old World cuckoo had been as silent and retiring a bird as ours is, it +could never have figured so conspicuously in literature as it +does,—having a prominence that we would give only to the bobolink or to +the wood thrush,—as witness his frequent mention by Shakespeare, or the +following early English ballad (in modern guise):— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “Summer is come in,<br/> + Loud sings the cuckoo;<br/> + Groweth seed and bloweth mead,<br/> + And springs the wood now.<br/> + Sing, cuckoo;<br/> + The ewe bleateth for her lamb,<br/> + The cow loweth for her calf,<br/> + The bullock starteth.<br/> + The buck verteth,<br/> + Merrily sings the cuckoo,<br/> + Cuckoo, cuckoo;<br/> + Well sings the cuckoo,<br/> + Mayest thou never cease.” +</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p> +I think it will be found, on the whole, that the European birds are a more +hardy and pugnacious race than ours, and that their song-birds have more +vivacity and power, and ours more melody and plaintiveness. In the song of the +skylark, for instance, there is little or no melody, but wonderful strength and +copiousness. It is a harsh strain near at hand, but very taking when showered +down from a height of several hundred feet. +</p> + +<p> +Daines Barrington, the naturalist of the last century, to whom White of +Selborne addressed so many of his letters, gives a table of the comparative +merit of seventeen leading song-birds of Europe, marking them under the heads +of mellowness, sprightliness, plaintiveness, compass, and execution. In the +aggregate, the songsters stand highest in sprightliness, next in compass and +execution, and lowest in the other two qualities. A similar arrangement and +comparison of our songsters, I think, would show an opposite result,—that +is, a predominance of melody and plaintiveness. The British wren, for instance, +stands in Barrington’s table as destitute of both these qualities; the +reed sparrow also. Our wren-songs, on the contrary, are gushing and lyrical, +and more or less melodious,—that of the winter wren being preeminently +so. Our sparrows, too, all have sweet, plaintive ditties, with but little +sprightliness or compass. The English house sparrow has no song at all, but a +harsh chatter that is unmatched among our birds. But what a hardy, prolific, +pugnacious little wretch it is! These birds will maintain themselves where our +birds will not live at all, and a pair of them will lie down in the gutter and +fight like dogs. Compared with this miniature John Bull, the voice and manners +of our common sparrow are gentle and retiring. The English sparrow is a street +gamin, our bird a timid rustic. +</p> + +<p> +The English robin redbreast is tallied in this country by the bluebird, which +was called by the early settlers of New England the blue robin. The song of the +British bird is bright and animated, that of our bird soft and plaintive. +</p> + +<p> +The nightingale stands at the head in Barrington’s table, and is but +little short of perfect in all the qualities. We have no one bird that combines +such strength or vivacity with such melody. The mockingbird doubtless surpasses +it in variety and profusion of notes; but falls short, I imagine, in sweetness +and effectiveness. The nightingale will sometimes warble twenty seconds without +pausing to breathe, and when the condition of the air is favorable, its song +fills a space a mile in diameter. There are, perhaps, songs in our woods as +mellow and brilliant, as is that of the closely allied species, the +water-thrush; but our bird’s song has but a mere fraction of the +nightingale’s volume and power. +</p> + +<p> +Strength and volume of voice, then, seem to be characteristic of the English +birds, and mildness and delicacy of ours. How much the thousands of years of +contact with man, and familiarity with artificial sounds, over there, have +affected the bird voices, is a question. Certain it is that their birds are +much more domestic than ours, and certain it is that all purely wild sounds are +plaintive and elusive. Even of the bark of the fox, the cry of the panther, the +voice of the coon, or the call and clang of wild geese and ducks, or the +war-cry of savage tribes, is this true; but not true in the same sense of +domesticated or semi-domesticated animals and fowls. How different the voice of +the common duck or goose from that of the wild species, or of the tame dove +from that of the turtle of the fields and groves! Where could the English house +sparrow have acquired that unmusical voice but amid the sounds of hoofs and +wheels, and the discords of the street? And the ordinary notes and calls of so +many of the British birds, according to their biographers, are harsh and +disagreeable; even the nightingale has an ugly, guttural “chuck.” +The missel-thrush has a harsh scream; the jay a note like “wrack,” +“wrack;” the fieldfare a rasping chatter; the blackbird, which is +our robin cut in ebony, will sometimes crow like a cock and cackle like a hen; +the flocks of starlings make a noise like a steam saw-mill; the white-throat +has a disagreeable note; the swift a discordant scream; and the bunting a harsh +song. Among our song-birds, on the contrary, it is rare to hear a harsh or +displeasing voice. Even their notes of anger and alarm are more or less soft. +</p> + +<p> +I would not imply that our birds are the better songsters, but that their +songs, if briefer and feebler, are also more wild and plaintive,—in fact, +that they are softer-voiced. The British birds, as I have stated, are more +domestic than ours; a much larger number build about houses and towers and +outbuildings. The titmouse with us is exclusively a wood-bird; but in Britain +three or four species of them resort more or less to buildings in winter. Their +redstart also builds under the eaves of houses; their starling in church +steeples and in holes in walls; several thrushes resort to sheds to nest; and +jackdaws breed in the crannies of the old architecture, and this in a much +milder climate than our own. +</p> + +<p> +They have in that country no birds that answer to our tiny, lisping +wood-warblers,—genus <i>Dendroica,</i>—nor to our vireos, +<i>Vireonidœ.</i> On the other hand, they have a larger number of +field-birds and semi-game-birds. They have several species like our robin; +thrushes like him, and some of them larger, as the ring ouzel, the +missel-thrush, the fieldfare, the throstle, the redwing, White’s thrush, +the blackbird,—these, besides several species in size and habits more +like our wood thrush. +</p> + +<p> +Several species of European birds sing at night besides the true +nightingale,—not fitfully and as if in their dreams, as do a few of our +birds, but continuously. They make a business of it. The sedge-bird ceases at +times as if from very weariness; but wake the bird up, says White, by throwing +a stick or stone into the bushes, and away it goes again in full song. We have +but one real nocturnal songster, and that is the mockingbird. One can see how +this habit might increase among the birds of a long-settled country like +England. With sounds and voices about them, why should they be silent, too? The +danger of betraying themselves to their natural enemies would be less than in +our woods. +</p> + +<p> +That their birds are more quarrelsome and pugnacious than ours I think evident. +Our thrushes are especially mild-mannered, but the missel-thrush is very bold +and saucy, and has been known to fly in the face of persons who have disturbed +the sitting bird. No jay nor magpie nor crow can stand before him. The Welsh +call him master of the coppice, and he welcomes a storm with such a vigorous +and hearty song that in some countries he is known as storm-cock. He sometimes +kills the young of other birds and eats eggs,—a very unthrushlike trait. +The whitethroat sings with crest erect, and attitudes of warning and defiance. +The hooper is a great bully; so is the greenfinch. The wood-grouse—now +extinct, I believe—has been known to attack people in the woods. And +behold the grit and hardihood of that little emigrant or exile to our shores, +the English sparrow! Our birds have their tilts and spats also; but the only +really quarrelsome members in our family are confined to the flycatchers, as +the kingbird and the great crested flycatcher. None of our song-birds are +bullies. +</p> + +<p> +Many of our more vigorous species, as the butcherbird, the crossbills, the pine +grosbeak, the redpoll, the Bohemian chatterer, the shore lark, the longspur, +the snow bunting, etc., are common to both continents. +</p> + +<p> +Have the Old World creatures throughout more pluck and hardihood than those +that are indigenous to this continent? Behold the common mouse, how he has +followed man to this country and established himself here against all +opposition, overrunning our houses and barns, while the native species is +rarely seen. And when has anybody seen the American rat, while his congener +from across the water has penetrated to every part of the continent! By the +next train that takes the family to some Western frontier, arrives this pest. +Both our rat and mouse or mice are timid, harmless, delicate creatures, +compared with the cunning, filthy, and prolific specimens that have fought +their way to us from the Old World. There is little doubt, also, that the red +fox has been transplanted to this country from Europe. He is certainly on the +increase, and is fast running out the native gray species. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, I have thought that all forms of life in the Old World were marked by +greater prominence of type, or stronger characteristic and fundamental +qualities, than with us,—coarser and more hairy and virile, and therefore +more powerful and lasting. This opinion is still subject to revision, but I +find it easier to confirm it than to undermine it. +</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p> +But let me change the strain and contemplate for a few moments this feathered +bandit,—this bird with the mark of Cain upon him, <i>Lanius +borealis,</i>—the great shrike or butcher-bird. Usually the character of +a bird of prey is well defined; there is no mistaking him. His claws, his beak, +his head, his wings, in fact his whole build, point to the fact that he +subsists upon live creatures; he is armed to catch them and to slay them. Every +bird knows a hawk and knows him from the start, and is on the lookout for him. +The hawk takes life, but he does it to maintain his own, and it is a public and +universally known fact. Nature has sent him abroad in that character, and has +advised all creatures of it. Not so with the shrike; here she has concealed the +character of a murderer under a form as innocent as that of the robin. Feet, +wings, tail, color, head, and general form and size are all those of a +songbird,—very much like that master songster, the mockingbird,—yet +this bird is a regular Bluebeard among its kind. Its only characteristic +feature is its beak, the upper mandible having two sharp processes and a sharp +hooked point. It cannot fly away to any distance with the bird it kills, nor +hold it in its claws to feed upon it. It usually impales its victim upon a +thorn, or thrusts it in the fork of a limb. For the most part, however, its +food seems to consist of insects,—spiders, grasshoppers, beetles, etc. It +is the assassin of the small birds, whom it often destroys in pure wantonness, +or merely to sup on their brains, as the Gaucho slaughters a wild cow or bull +for its tongue. It is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Apparently its victims +are unacquainted with its true character and allow it to approach them, when +the fatal blow is given. I saw an illustration of this the other day. A large +number of goldfinches in their fall plumage, together with snowbirds and +sparrows, were feeding and chattering in some low bushes back of the barn. I +had paused by the fence and was peeping through at them, hoping to get a +glimpse of that rare sparrow, the white-crowned. Presently I heard a rustling +among the dry leaves as if some larger bird was also among them. Then I heard +one of the goldfinches cry out as if in distress, when the whole flock of them +started up in alarm, and, circling around, settled in the tops of the larger +trees. I continued my scrutiny of the bushes, when I saw a large bird, with +some object in its beak, hopping along on a low branch near the ground. It +disappeared from my sight for a few moments, then came up through the +undergrowth into the top of a young maple where some of the finches had +alighted, and I beheld the shrike. The little birds avoided him and flew about +the tree, their pursuer following them with the motions of his head and body as +if he would fain arrest them by his murderous gaze. The birds did not utter the +cry or make the demonstration of alarm they usually do on the appearance of a +hawk, but chirruped and called and flew about in a half-wondering, +half-bewildered manner. As they flew farther along the line of trees the shrike +followed them as if bent on further captures. I then made my way around to see +what the shrike had caught, and what he had done with his prey. As I approached +the bushes I saw the shrike hastening back. I read his intentions at once. +Seeing my movements, he had returned for his game. But I was too quick for him, +and he got up out of the brush and flew away from the locality. On some twigs +in the thickest part of the bushes I found his victim,—a goldfinch. It +was not impaled upon a thorn, but was carefully disposed upon some horizontal +twigs,—laid upon the shelf, so to speak. It was as warm as in life, and +its plumage was unruffled. On examining it I found a large bruise or break in +the skin on the back of the neck, at the base of the skull. Here the bandit had +no doubt griped the bird with his strong beak. The shrike’s +blood-thirstiness was seen in the fact that he did not stop to devour his prey, +but went in quest of more, as if opening a market of goldfinches. The thicket +was his shambles, and if not interrupted, he might have had a fine display of +titbits in a short time. +</p> + +<p> +The shrike is called a butcher from his habit of sticking his meat upon hooks +and points; further than that, he is a butcher because he devours but a trifle +of what he slays. +</p> + +<p> +A few days before, I had witnessed another little scene in which the shrike was +the chief actor. A chipmunk had his den in the side of the terrace above the +garden, and spent the mornings laying in a store of corn which he stole from a +field ten or twelve rods away. In traversing about half this distance, the +little poacher was exposed; the first cover going from his den was a large +maple, where he always brought up and took a survey of the scene. I would see +him spinning along toward the maple, then from it by an easy stage to the fence +adjoining the corn; then back again with his booty. One morning I paused to +watch him more at my leisure. He came up out of his retreat and cocked himself +up to see what my motions meant. His forepaws were clasped to his breast +precisely as if they had been hands, and the tips of the fingers thrust into +his vest pockets. Having satisfied himself with reference to me, he sped on +toward the tree. He had nearly reached it, when he turned tail and rushed for +his hole with the greatest precipitation. As he neared it, I saw some bluish +object in the air closing in upon him with the speed of an arrow, and, as he +vanished within, a shrike brought up in front of the spot, and with spread +wings and tail stood hovering a moment, and looking in, then turned and went +away. Apparently it was a narrow escape for the chipmunk, and, I venture to +say, he stole no more corn that morning. The shrike is said to catch mice, but +it is not known to attack squirrels. He certainly could not have strangled the +chipmunk, and I am curious to know what would have been the result had he +overtaken him. Probably it was only a kind of brag on the part of the +bird,—a bold dash where no risk was run. He simulated the hawk, the +squirrel’s real enemy, and no doubt enjoyed the joke. +</p> + +<p> +On another occasion, as I was riding along a mountain road early in April, a +bird started from the fence where I was passing, and flew heavily to the branch +of a near apple-tree. It proved to be a shrike with a small bird in his beak. +He thrust his victim into a fork of a branch, then wiped his bloody beak upon +the bark. A youth who was with me, to whom I pointed out the fact, had never +heard of such a thing, and was much incensed at the shrike. “Let me fire +a stone at him,” said he, and jumping out of the wagon, he pulled off his +mittens and fumbled about for a stone. Having found one to his liking, with +great earnestness and deliberation he let drive. The bird was in more danger +than I had imagined, for he escaped only by a hair’s breadth; a guiltless +bird like the robin or sparrow would surely have been slain; the missile grazed +the spot where the shrike sat, and cut the ends of his wings as he darted +behind the branch. We could see that the murdered bird had been brained, as its +head hung down toward us. +</p> + +<p> +The shrike is not a summer bird with us in the Northern States, but mainly a +fall and winter one; in summer he goes farther north. I see him most frequently +in November and December. I recall a morning during the former month that was +singularly clear and motionless; the air was like a great drum. Apparently +every sound within the compass of the horizon was distinctly heard. The +explosions back in the cement quarries ten miles away smote the hollow and +reverberating air like giant fists. Just as the sun first showed his fiery brow +above the horizon, a gun was discharged over the river. On the instant a +shrike, perched on the topmost spray of a maple above the house, set up a loud, +harsh call or whistle, suggestive of certain notes of the blue jay. The note +presently became a crude, broken warble. Even this scalper of the innocents had +music in his soul on such a morning. He saluted the sun as a robin might have +done. After he had finished, he flew away toward the east. +</p> + +<p> +The shrike is a citizen of the world, being found in both hemispheres. It does +not appear that the European species differs essentially from our own. In +Germany he is called the nine-killer, from the belief that he kills and sticks +upon thorns nine grasshoppers a day. +</p> + +<p> +To make my portrait of the shrike more complete, I will add another trait of +his described by an acute observer who writes me from western New York. He saw +the bird on a bright midwinter morning when the thermometer stood at zero, and +by cautious approaches succeeded in getting under the apple-tree upon which he +was perched. The shrike was uttering a loud, clear note like <i>clu-eet, +clu-eet, clu-eet,</i> and, on finding he had a listener who was attentive and +curious, varied his performance and kept it up continuously for fifteen +minutes. He seemed to enjoy having a spectator, and never took his eye off him. +The observer approached within twenty feet of him. “As I came +near,” he says, “the shrike began to scold at me, a sharp, buzzing, +squeaking sound not easy to describe. After a little he came out on the end of +the limb nearest me, then he posed himself, and, opening his wings a little, +began to trill and warble under his breath, as it were, with an occasional +squeak, and vibrating his half-open wings in time with his song.” Some of +his notes resembled those of the bluebird, and the whole performance is +described as pleasing and melodious. +</p> + +<p> +This account agrees with Thoreau’s observation, where he speaks of the +shrike “with heedless and unfrozen melody bringing back summer +again.” Sings Thoreau:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “His steady sails he never furls<br/> + At any time o’ year,<br/> + And perching now on winter’s curls,<br/> + He whistles in his ear.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +But his voice is that of a savage,—strident and disagreeable. +</p> + +<p> +I have often wondered how this bird was kept in check; in the struggle for +existence it would appear to have greatly the advantage of other birds. It +cannot, for instance, be beset with one tenth of the dangers that threaten the +robin, and yet apparently there are a thousand robins to every shrike. It +builds a warm, compact nest in the mountains and dense woods, and lays six +eggs, which would indicate a rapid increase. The pigeon lays but two eggs, and +is preyed upon by both man and beast, millions of them meeting a murderous +death every year; yet always some part of the country is swarming with untold +numbers of them. <span class="footnote">[Footnote: This is no longer the case. +The passenger pigeon now seems on the verge of extinction (1895).]</span> But +the shrike is one of our rarest birds. I myself seldom see more than two each +year, and before I became an observer of birds I never saw any. +</p> + +<p> +In size the shrike is a little inferior to the blue jay, with much the same +form. If you see an unknown bird about your orchard or fields in November or +December of a bluish grayish complexion, with dusky wings and tail that show +markings of white, flying rather heavily from point to point, or alighting down +in the stubble occasionally, it is pretty sure to be the shrike. +</p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p> +Nature never tires of repeating and multiplying the same species. She makes a +million bees, a million birds, a million mice or rats, or other animals, so +nearly alike that no eye can tell one from another; but it is rarely that she +issues a small and a large edition, as it were, of the same species. Yet she +has done it in a few cases among the birds with hardly more difference than a +foot-note added or omitted. The cedar-bird, for instance, is the Bohemian +waxwing or chatterer in smaller type, copied even to the minute, wax-like +appendages that bedeck the ends of the wing-quills. It is about one third +smaller, and a little lighter in color, owing perhaps to the fact that it is +confined to a warmer latitude, its northward range seeming to end about where +that of its larger brother begins. Its flight, its note, its manners, its +general character and habits, are almost identical with those of its prototype. +It is confined exclusively to this continent, while the chatterer is an Old +World bird as well, and ranges the northern parts of both continents. The +latter comes to us from the hyperborean regions, brought down occasionally by +the great cold waves that originate in those high latitudes. It is a bird of +Siberian and Alaskan evergreens, and passes its life for the most part far +beyond the haunts of man. I have never seen the bird, but small bands of them +make excursions every winter down into our territory from British America. +Audubon, I believe, saw them in Maine; other observers have seen them in +Minnesota. It has the crest of the cedar-bird, the same yellow border to its +tail, but is marked with white on its wings, as if a snowflake or two had +adhered to it from the northern cedars and pines. If you see about the +evergreens in the coldest, snowiest weather what appear to be a number of very +large cherry-birds, observe them well, for the chances are that visitants from +the circumpolar regions are before your door. It is a sign, also, that the +frost legions of the north are out in great force and carrying all before them. +</p> + +<p> +Our cedar or cherry bird is the most silent bird we have. Our neutral-tinted +birds, like him, as a rule are our finest songsters; but he has no song or +call, uttering only a fine bead-like note on taking flight. This note is the +cedar-berry rendered back in sound. When the ox-heart cherries, which he has +only recently become acquainted with, have had time to enlarge his pipe and +warm his heart, I shall expect more music from him. But in lieu of music, what +a pretty compensation are those minute, almost artificial-like, plumes of +orange and vermilion that tip the ends of his wing quills! Nature could not +give him these and a song too. She has given the hummingbird a jewel upon his +throat, but no song, save the hum of his wings. +</p> + +<p> +Another bird that is occasionally borne to us on the crest of the cold waves +from the frozen zone, and that is repeated on a smaller scale in a permanent +resident, is the pine grosbeak; his <i>alter ego,</i> reduced in size, is the +purple finch, which abounds in the higher latitudes of the temperate zone. The +color and form of the two birds are again essentially the same. The females and +young males of both species are of a grayish brown like the sparrow, while in +the old males this tint is imperfectly hidden beneath a coat of carmine, as if +the color had been poured upon their heads, where it is strongest, and so oozed +down and through the rest of the plumage. Their tails are considerably forked, +their beaks cone-shaped and heavy, and their flight undulating. Those who have +heard the grosbeak describe its song as similar to that of the finch, though no +doubt it is louder and stronger. The finch’s instrument is a fife tuned +to love and not to war. He blows a clear, round note, rapid and intricate, but +full of sweetness and melody. His hardier relative with that larger beak and +deeper chest must fill the woods with sounds. Audubon describes its song as +exceedingly rich and full. +</p> + +<p> +As in the case of the Bohemian waxwing, this bird is also common to both +worlds, being found through Northern Europe and Asia and the northern parts of +this continent. It is the pet of the pine-tree, and one of its brightest +denizens. Its visits to the States are irregular and somewhat mysterious. A +great flight of them occurred in the winter of 1874-75. They attracted +attention all over the country. Several other flights of them have occurred +during the century. When this bird comes, it is so unacquainted with man that +its tameness is delightful to behold. It thrives remarkably well in captivity, +and in a couple of weeks will become so tame that it will hop down and feed out +of its master’s or mistress’s hand. It comes from far beyond the +region of the apple, yet it takes at once to this fruit, or rather to the +seeds, which it is quick to divine, at its core. +</p> + +<p> +Close akin to these two birds, and standing in the same relation to each other, +are two other birds that come to us from the opposite zone,—the +torrid,—namely, the blue grosbeak and his petit duplicate, the +indigo-bird. The latter is a common summer resident with us,—a bird of +the groves and bushy fields, where his bright song may be heard all through the +long summer day. I hear it in the dry and parched August when most birds are +silent, sometimes delivered on the wing and sometimes from the perch. Indeed, +with me its song is as much a midsummer sound as is the brassy crescendo of the +cicada. The memory of its note calls to mind the flame-like quiver of the +heated atmosphere and the bright glare of the meridian sun. Its color is much +more intense than that of the common bluebird, as summer skies are deeper than +those of April, but its note is less mellow and tender. Its original, the blue +grosbeak, is an uncertain wanderer from the south, as the pine grosbeak is from +the north. I have never seen it north of the District of Columbia. It has a +loud, vivacious song, of which it is not stingy, and which is a large and free +rendering of the indigo’s, and belongs to summer more than to spring. The +bird is colored the same as its lesser brother, the males being a deep blue and +the females a modest drab. Its nest is usually placed low down, as is the +indigo’s, and the male carols from the tops of the trees in its vicinity +in the same manner. Indeed, the two birds are strikingly alike in every respect +except in size and in habitat, and, as in each of the other cases, the lesser +bird is, as it were, the point, the continuation, of the larger, carrying its +form and voice forward as the reverberation carries the sound. +</p> + +<p> +I know the ornithologists, with their hair-splittings, or rather +feather-splittings, point out many differences, but they are unimportant. The +fractions may not agree, but the whole numbers are the same. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII<br/> +A BED OF BOUGHS</h2> + +<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> + +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<img src="images/image04.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="yellow birches" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<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. 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 see 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 mill 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="poem"> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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,<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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.<br/> +<br/> + “‘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> + +<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 watershed 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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII<br/> +BIRDS’-NESTING</h2> + +<p> +Birds’s-nesting is by no means a failure, even though you find no +birds’-nests. You are sure to find other things of interest, plenty of +them. A friend of mine says that, in his youth, he used to go hunting with his +gun loaded for wild turkeys, and, though he frequently saw plenty of smaller +game, he generally came home empty-handed, because he was loaded only for +turkeys. But the student of ornithology, who is also a lover of Nature in all +her shows and forms, does not go out loaded for turkeys merely, but for +everything that moves or grows, and is quite sure, therefore, to bag some game, +if not with his gun, then with his eye, or his nose, or his ear. Even a +crow’s nest is not amiss, or a den in the rocks where the coons or the +skunks live, or a log where a partridge drums, or the partridge himself +starting up with spread tail, and walking a few yards in advance of you before +he goes humming through the woods, or a woodchuck hole, with well beaten and +worn entrance, and with the saplings gnawed and soiled about it, or the strong, +fetid smell of the fox, which a sharp nose detects here and there, and which is +a good perfume in the woods. And then it is enough to come upon a spring in the +woods and stoop down and drink of the sweet, cold water, and bathe your hands +in it, or to walk along a trout brook, which has absorbed the shadows till it +has itself become but a denser shade. Then I am always drawn out of my way by a +ledge of rocks, and love nothing better than to explore the caverns and dens, +or to sit down under the overhanging crags and let the wild scene absorb me. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<img src="images/image05.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="ledges" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<p> +There is a fascination about ledges! They are an unmistakable feature, and give +emphasis and character to the scene. I feel their spell, and must pause awhile. +Time, old as the hills and older, looks out of their scarred and weather-worn +face. The woods are of to-day, but the ledges, in comparison, are of eternity. +One pokes about them as he would about ruins, and with something of the same +feeling. They are ruins of the fore world. Here the foundations of the hills +were laid; here the earth-giants wrought and builded. They constrain one to +silence and meditation; the whispering and rustling trees seem trivial and +impertinent. +</p> + +<p> +And then there are birds’-nests about ledges, too, exquisite mossy +tenements, with white, pebbly eggs, that I can never gaze upon without emotion. +The little brown bird, the phœbe, looks at you from her niche till you +are within a few feet of her, when she darts away. Occasionally you may find +the nest of some rare wood-warbler forming a little pocket in the apron of moss +that hangs down over the damp rocks. +</p> + +<p> +The sylvan folk seem to know when you are on a peaceful mission, and are less +afraid than usual. Did not that marmot to-day guess that my errand did not +concern him as he saw me approach from his cover in the bushes? But when he saw +me pause and deliberately seat myself on the stone wall immediately over his +hole, his confidence was much shaken. He apparently deliberated awhile, for I +heard the leaves rustle as if he were making up his mind, when he suddenly +broke cover and came for his hole full tilt. Any other animal would have taken +to his heels and fled; but a woodchuck’s heels do not amount to much for +speed, and he feels his only safety is in his hole. On he came in the most +obstinate and determined manner, and I dare say if I had sat down in his hole, +would have attacked me unhesitatingly. This I did not give him a chance to do; +but, not to be entirely outdone, attempted to set my feet on him in no very +gentle manner; but he whipped into his den beneath me with a defiant snort. +Farther on, a saucy chipmunk presumed upon my harmless character to an unwonted +degree also. I had paused to bathe my hands and face in a little trout brook, +and had set a tin cup, which I had partly filled with strawberries as I crossed +the field, on a stone at my feet, when along came the chipmunk as confidently +as if he knew precisely where he was going, and, perfectly oblivious of my +presence, cocked himself up on the rim of the cup and proceeded to eat my +choicest berries. I remained motionless and observed him. He had eaten but two +when the thought seemed to occur to him that he might be doing better, and he +began to fill his pockets. Two, four, six, eight of my berries quickly +disappeared, and the cheeks of the little vagabond swelled. But all the time he +kept eating, that not a moment might be lost. Then he hopped off the cup, and +went skipping from stone to stone till the brook was passed, when he +disappeared in the woods. In two or three minutes he was back again, and went +to stuffing himself as before; then he disappeared a second time, and I +imagined told a friend of his, for in a moment or two along came a bobtailed +chipmunk, as if in search of something, and passed up, and down, and around, +but did not quite hit the spot. Shortly, the first returned a third time, and +had now grown a little fastidious, for he began to sort over my berries, and to +bite into them, as if to taste their quality. He was not long in loading up, +however, and in making off again. But I had now got tired of the joke, and my +berries were appreciably diminishing, so I moved away. What was most curious +about the proceeding was, that the little poacher took different directions +each time, and returned from different ways. Was this to elude pursuit, or was +he distributing the fruit to his friends and neighbors about, astonishing them +with strawberries for lunch? +</p> + +<p> +But I am making slow headway toward finding the birds’-nests, for I had +set out on this occasion in hopes of finding a rare nest,—the nest of the +black-throated blue-backed warbler, which, it seemed, with one or two others, +was still wanting to make the history of our warblers complete. The woods were +extensive, and full of deep, dark tangles, and looking for any particular nest +seemed about as hopeless a task as searching for a needle in a haystack, as the +old saying is. Where to begin, and how? But the principle is the same as in +looking for a hen’s nest,—first find your bird, then watch its +movements. +</p> + +<p> +The bird is in these woods, for I have seen him scores of times, but whether he +builds high or low, on the ground or in the trees, is all unknown to me. That +is his song now,—“twe-twea-twe-e-e-a,” with a peculiar summer +languor and plaintiveness, and issuing from the lower branches and growths. +Presently we—for I have been joined by a companion—discover the +bird, a male, insecting in the top of a newly fallen hemlock. The black, white, +and blue of his uniform are seen at a glance. His movements are quite slow +compared with some of the warblers. If he will only betray the locality of that +little domicile where his plainly clad mate is evidently sitting, it is all we +will ask of him. But this he seems in no wise disposed to do. Here and there, +and up and down; we follow him, often losing him, and as often refinding him by +his song; but the clew to his nest, how shall we get it? Does he never go home +to see how things are getting on, or to see if his presence is not needed, or +to take madam a morsel of food? No doubt he keeps within earshot, and a cry of +distress or alarm from the mother bird would bring him to the spot in an +instant. Would that some evil fate would make her cry, then! Presently he +encounters a rival. His feeding-ground infringes upon that of another, and the +two birds regard each other threateningly. This is a good sign, for their nests +are evidently near. +</p> + +<p> +Their battle-cry is a low, peculiar chirp, not very fierce, but bantering and +confident. They quickly come to blows, but it is a very fantastic battle, and, +as it would seem, indulged in more to satisfy their sense of honor than to hurt +each other, for neither party gets the better of the other, and they separate a +few paces and sing, and squeak, and challenge each other in a very happy frame +of mind. The gauntlet is no sooner thrown down than it is again taken up by one +or the other, and in the course of fifteen or twenty minutes they have three or +four encounters, separating a little, then provoked to return again like two +cocks, till finally they withdraw beyond hearing of each other,—both, no +doubt, claiming the victory. But the secret of the nest is still kept. Once I +think I have it. I catch a glimpse of a bird which looks like the female, and +near by, in a small hemlock about eight feet from the ground, my eye detects a +nest. But as I come up under it, I can see daylight through it, and that it is +empty,—evidently only part finished, not lined or padded yet. Now if the +bird will only return and claim it, the point will be gained. But we wait and +watch in vain. The architect has knocked off to-day, and we must come again, or +continue our search. +</p> + +<p> +While loitering about here we were much amused by three chipmunks, who seemed +to be engaged in some kind of game. It looked very much as if they were playing +tag. Round and round they would go, first one taking the lead, then another, +all good-natured and gleeful as schoolboys. There is one thing about a chipmunk +that is peculiar: he is never more than one jump from home. Make a dive at him +anywhere and in he goes. He knows where the hole is, even when it is covered up +with leaves. There is no doubt, also, that he has his own sense of humor and +fun, as what squirrel has not? I have watched two red squirrels for a half hour +coursing through the large trees by the roadside where branches interlocked, +and engaged in a game of tag as obviously as two boys. As soon as the pursuer +had come up with the pursued, and actually touched him, the palm was his, and +away he would go, taxing his wits and his speed to the utmost to elude his +fellow. +</p> + +<p> +Despairing of finding either of the nests of the two males, we pushed on +through the woods to try our luck elsewhere. Before long, just as we were about +to plunge down a hill into a dense, swampy part of the woods, we discovered a +pair of the birds we were in quest of. They had food in their beaks, and, as we +paused, showed great signs of alarm, indicating that the nest was in the +immediate vicinity. This was enough. We would pause here and find this nest, +anyhow. To make a sure thing of it, we determined to watch the parent birds +till we had wrung from them their secret. So we doggedly crouched down and +watched them, and they watched us. It was diamond cut diamond. But as we felt +constrained in our movements, desiring, if possible, to keep so quiet that the +birds would, after a while, see in us only two harmless stumps or prostrate +logs, we had much the worst of it. The mosquitoes were quite taken with our +quiet, and knew us from logs and stumps in a moment. Neither were the birds +deceived, not even when we tried the Indian’s tactics, and plumed +ourselves with green branches. Ah, the suspicious creatures, how they watched +us with the food in their beaks, abstaining for one whole hour from ministering +that precious charge which otherwise would have been visited every moment! +Quite near us they would come at times, between us and the nest, eying us so +sharply. Then they would move off, and apparently try to forget our presence. +Was it to deceive us, or to persuade himself and mate that there was no serious +cause for alarm, that the male would now and then strike up in full song and +move off to some distance through the trees? But the mother bird did not allow +herself to lose sight of us at all, and both birds, after carrying the food in +their beaks a long time, would swallow it themselves. Then they would obtain +another morsel and apparently approach very near the nest, when their caution +or prudence would come to their aid, and they would swallow the food and hasten +away. I thought the young birds would cry out, but not a syllable from them. +Yet this was, no doubt, what kept the parent birds away from the nest. The +clamor the young would have set up on the approach of the old with food would +have exposed everything. +</p> + +<p> +After a time I felt sure I knew within a few feet where the nest was concealed. +Indeed, I thought I knew the identical bush. Then the birds approached each +other again and grew very confidential about another locality some rods below. +This puzzled us, and, seeing the whole afternoon might be spent in this manner, +and the mystery unsolved, we determined to change our tactics and institute a +thorough search of the locality. This procedure soon brought things to a +crisis, for, as my companion clambered over a log by a little hemlock, a few +yards from where we had been sitting, with a cry of alarm out sprang the young +birds from their nest in the hemlock, and, scampering and fluttering over the +leaves, disappeared in different directions. This brought the parent birds on +the scene in an agony of alarm. Their distress was pitiful. They threw +themselves on the ground at our very feet, and fluttered, and cried, and +trailed themselves before us, to draw us away from the place, or distract our +attention from the helpless young. I shall not forget the male bird, how bright +he looked, how sharp the contrast as he trailed his painted plumage there on +the dry leaves. Apparently he was seriously disabled. He would start up as if +exerting every muscle to fly away, but no use; down he would come, with a +helpless, fluttering motion, before he had gone two yards, and apparently you +had only to go and pick him up. But before you could pick him up, he had +recovered somewhat and flown a little farther; and thus, if you were tempted to +follow him, you would soon find yourself some distance from the scene of the +nest, and both old and young well out of your reach. The female bird was not +less solicious, and practiced the same arts upon us to decoy us away, but her +dull plumage rendered her less noticeable. The male was clad in holiday attire, +but his mate in an every-day working-garb. +</p> + +<p> +The nest was built in the fork of a little hemlock, about fifteen inches from +the ground, and was a thick, firm structure, composed of the finer material of +the woods, with a lining of very delicate roots or rootlets. There were four +young birds and one addled egg. We found it in a locality about the head-waters +of the eastern branch of the Delaware, where several other of the rarer species +of warblers, such as the mourning ground, the Blackburnian, the chestnut-sided, +and the speckled Canada, spend the summer and rear their young. +</p> + +<p> +Defunct birds’-nests are easy to find; when the leaves fall, then they +are in every bush and tree; and one wonders how he missed them; but a live +nest, how it eludes one! I have read of a noted criminal who could hide himself +pretty effectually in any room that contained the usual furniture; he would +embrace the support of a table so as to seem part of it. The bird has studied +the same art: it always blends its nest with the surroundings, and sometimes +its very openness hides it; the light itself seems to conceal it. Then the +birds build anew each year, and so always avail themselves of the present and +latest combination of leaves and screens, of light and shade. What was very +well concealed one season may be quite exposed the next. +</p> + +<p> +Going a-fishing or a-berrying is a good introduction to the haunts of the +birds, and to their nesting-places. You put forth your hand for the berries, +and there is a nest; or your tread by the creeks starts the sandpiper or the +water-thrush from the ground where its eggs are concealed, or some shy +wood-warbler from a bush. One day, fishing down a deep wooded gorge, my hook +caught on a limb overhead, and on pulling it down I found I had missed my +trout, but had caught a hummingbird’s nest. It was saddled on the limb as +nicely as if it had been a grown part of it. +</p> + +<p> +Other collectors beside the oölogists are looking for +birds’-nests,— the squirrels and owls and jays and crows. The worst +depredator in this direction I know of is the fish crow, and I warn him to keep +off my premises, and charge every gunner to spare him not. He is a small +sneak-thief, and will rob the nest of every robin, wood thrush, and oriole he +can come at. I believe he fishes only when he is unable to find birds’ +eggs or young birds. The genuine crow, the crow with the honest +“caw,” “caw,” I have never caught in such small +business, though the kingbird makes no discrimination between them, but accuses +both alike. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX<br/> +THE HALCYON IN CANADA</h2> + +<p> +The halcyon or kingfisher is a good guide when you go to the woods. He will not +insure smooth water or fair weather, but he knows every stream and lake like a +book, and will take you to the wildest and most unfrequented places. Follow his +rattle and you shall see the source of every trout and salmon stream on the +continent. You shall see the Lake of the Woods, and far-off Athabasca and +Abbitibbe, and the unknown streams that flow into Hudson’s Bay, and many +others. His time is the time of the trout, too, namely, from April to +September. He makes his subterranean nest in the bank of some favorite stream, +and then goes on long excursions up and down and over woods and mountains to +all the waters within reach, always fishing alone, the true angler that he is, +his fellow keeping far ahead or behind, or taking the other branch. He loves +the sound of a waterfall, and will sit a long time on a dry limb overhanging +the pool below it, and, forgetting his occupation, brood upon his own memories +and fancies. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<img src="images/image06.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="belted kingfisher" /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<p> +The past season my friend and I took a hint from him, and, when the dog-star +began to blaze, set out for Canada, making a big detour to touch at salt water +and to take New York and Boston on our way. +</p> + +<p> +The latter city was new to me, and we paused there and angled a couple of days +and caught an editor, a philosopher, and a poet, and might have caught more if +we had had a mind to, for these waters are full of ’em, and big ones, +too. +</p> + +<p> +Coming from the mountainous regions of the Hudson, we saw little in the way of +scenery that arrested our attention until we beheld the St. Lawrence, though +one gets glimpses now and then, as he is whirled along through New Hampshire +and Vermont, that make him wish for a fuller view. It is always a pleasure to +bring to pass the geography of one’s boyhood; ’tis like the +fulfilling of a dream; hence it was with partial eyes that I looked upon the +Merrimac, the Connecticut, and the Passumpsic,—dusky, squaw-colored +streams, whose names I had learned so long ago. The traveler opens his eyes a +little wider when he reaches Lake Memphremagog, especially if he have the luck +to see it under such a sunset as we did, its burnished surface glowing like +molten gold. This lake is an immense trough that accommodates both sides of the +fence, though by far the larger and longer part of it is in Canada. Its western +shore is bold and picturesque, being skirted by a detachment of the Green +Mountains, the main range of which is seen careering along the horizon far to +the southwest; to the east and north, whither the railroad takes you, the +country is flat and monotonous. +</p> + +<p> +The first peculiarity one notices about the farms in this northern country is +the close proximity of the house and barn, in most cases the two buildings +touching at some point,—an arrangement doubtless prompted by the deep +snows and severe cold of this latitude. The typical Canadian dwelling-house is +also presently met with on entering the Dominion,—a low, modest structure +of hewn spruce logs, with a steep roof (containing two or more dormer windows) +that ends in a smart curve, a hint taken from the Chinese pagoda. Even in the +more costly brick or stone houses in the towns and vicinity this style is +adhered to. It is so universal that one wonders if the reason of it is not in +the climate also, the outward curve of the roof shooting the sliding snow +farther away from the dwelling. It affords a wide projection, in many cases +covering a veranda, and in all cases protecting the doors and windows without +interfering with the light. In the better class of clapboarded houses the +finish beneath the projecting eaves is also a sweeping curve, opposing and +bracing that of the roof. A two-story country house, or a Mansard roof, I do +not remember to have seen in Canada; but in places they have become so enamored +of the white of the snow that they even whitewash the roofs of their buildings, +giving a cluster of them the impression, at a distance, of an encampment of +great tents. +</p> + +<p> +As we neared Point Levi, opposite Quebec, we got our first view of the St. +Lawrence. “Iliad of rivers!” exclaimed my friend. “Yet +unsung!” The Hudson must take a back seat now, and a good way back. One +of the two or three great watercourses of the globe is before you. No other +river, I imagine, carries such a volume of pure cold water to the sea. Nearly +all its feeders are trout and salmon streams, and what an airing and what a +bleaching it gets on its course! Its history, its antecedents, are +unparalleled. The great lakes are its camping-grounds; here its hosts repose +under the sun and stars in areas like that of states and kingdoms, and it is +its waters that shake the earth at Niagara. Where it receives the Saguenay it +is twenty miles wide, and when it debouches into the Gulf it is a hundred. +Indeed, it is a chain of Homeric sublimities from beginning to end. The great +cataract is a fit sequel to the great lakes; the spirit that is born in vast +and tempestuous Superior takes its full glut of power in that fearful chasm. If +paradise is hinted in the Thousand Islands, hell is unveiled in that pit of +terrors. +</p> + +<p> +Its last escapade is the great rapids above Montreal, down which the steamer +shoots with its breathless passengers, after which, inhaling and exhaling its +mighty tides, it flows calmly to the sea. +</p> + +<p> +The St. Lawrence is the type of nearly all the Canadian rivers, which are +strung with lakes and rapids and cataracts, and are full of peril and +adventure. +</p> + +<p> +Here we reach the oldest part of the continent, geologists tell us; and here we +encounter a fragment of the Old World civilization. Quebec presents the anomaly +of a mediæval European city in the midst of the American landscape. This air, +this sky, these clouds, these trees, the look of these fields, are what we have +always known; but the houses, and streets, and vehicles, and language, and +physiognomy are strange. As I walked upon the grand terrace I saw the robin and +kingbird and song sparrow, and there in the tree, by the Wolfe Monument, our +summer warbler was at home. I presently saw, also, that our republican crow was +a British subject, and that he behaved here more like his European brother than +he does in the States, being less wild and suspicious. On the Plains of Abraham +excellent timothy grass was growing and cattle were grazing. We found a path +through the meadow, and, with the exception of a very abundant weed with a blue +flower, saw nothing new or strange,—nothing but the steep tin roofs of +the city and its frowning wall and citadel. Sweeping around the far southern +horizon, we could catch glimpses of mountains that were evidently in Maine or +New Hampshire; while twelve or fifteen miles to the north the Laurentian +ranges, dark and formidable, arrested the eye. Quebec, or the walled part of +it, is situated on a point of land shaped not unlike the human foot, looking +northeast, the higher and bolder side being next the river, with the main part +of the town on the northern slope toward the St. Charles. Its toes are well +down in the mud where this stream joins the St. Lawrence, while the citadel is +high on the instep and commands the whole field. The grand Battery is a little +below, on the brink of the instep, so to speak, and the promenader looks down +several hundred feet into the tops of the chimneys of this part of the lower +town, and upon the great river sweeping by northeastward like another Amazon. +The heel of our misshapen foot extends indefinitely toward Montreal. Upon it, +on a level with the citadel, are the Plains of Abraham. It was up its high, +almost perpendicular, sides that Wolfe clambered with his army, and stood in +the rear of his enemy one pleasant September morning over a hundred years ago. +</p> + +<p> +To the north and northeast of Quebec, and in full view from the upper parts of +the city, lies a rich belt of agricultural country, sloping gently toward the +river, and running parallel with it for many miles, called the Beauport slopes. +The division of the land into uniform parallelograms, as in France, was a +marked feature, and is so throughout the Dominion. A road ran through the midst +of it lined with; trees, and leading to the falls of the Montmorenci. I imagine +that this section is the garden of Quebec. Beyond it rose the mountains. Our +eyes looked wistfully toward them, for we had decided to penetrate the Canadian +woods in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +One hundred and twenty-five miles from Quebec as the loon flies, almost due +north over unbroken spruce forests, lies Lake St. John, the cradle of the +terrible Saguenay. On the map it looks like a great cuttlefish with its +numerous arms and tentacula reaching out in all directions into the wilds. It +is a large oval body of water thirty miles in its greatest diameter. The season +here, owing to a sharp northern sweep of the isothermal lines, is two or three +weeks earlier than at Quebec. The soil is warm and fertile, and there is a +thrifty growing settlement here with valuable agricultural produce, but no +market nearer than Quebec, two hundred and fifty miles distant by water, with a +hard, tedious land journey besides. In winter the settlement can have little or +no communication with the outside world. +</p> + +<p> +To relieve this isolated colony and encourage further development of the St. +John region, the Canadian government is building <span +class="footnote">[footnote: Written in 1877]</span> a wagon-road through the +wilderness from Quebec directly to the lake, thus economizing half the +distance, as the road when completed will form with the old route, the Saguenay +and St. Lawrence, one side of an equilateral triangle. A railroad was projected +a few years ago over nearly the same ground, and the contract to build it given +to an enterprising Yankee, who pocketed a part of the money and has never been +heard of since. The road runs for one hundred miles through an unbroken +wilderness, and opens up scores of streams and lakes abounding with trout, into +which, until the road-makers fished them, no white man had ever cast a hook. +</p> + +<p> +It was a good prospect, and we resolved to commit ourselves to the St. John +road. The services of a young fellow whom, by reason of his impracticable +French name, we called Joe, were secured, and after a delay of twenty-four +hours we were packed upon a Canadian buckboard with hard-tack in one bag and +oats in another, and the journey began. It was Sunday, and we held up our heads +more confidently when we got beyond the throng of well-dressed church-goers. +For ten miles we had a good stone road and rattled along it at a lively pace. +In about half that distance we came to a large brick church, where we began to +see the rural population or <i>habitans.</i> They came mostly in two-wheeled +vehicles, some of the carts quite fancy, in which the young fellows rode +complacently beside their girls. The two-wheeler predominates in Canada, and is +of all styles and sizes. After we left the stone road, we began to encounter +the hills that are preliminary to the mountains. The farms looked like the +wilder and poorer parts of Maine or New Hampshire. While Joe was getting a +supply of hay of a farmer to take into the woods for his horse, I walked +through a field in quest of wild strawberries. The season for them was past, it +being the 20th of July, and I found barely enough to make me think that the +strawberry here is far less pungent and high-flavored than with us. +</p> + +<p> +The cattle in the fields and by the roadside looked very small and delicate, +the effect, no doubt, of the severe climate. We saw many rude implements of +agriculture, such as wooden plows shod with iron. +</p> + +<p> +We passed several parties of men, women, and children from Quebec picnicking in +the “bush.” Here it was little more than a “bush;” but +while in Canada we never heard the woods designated by any other term. I +noticed, also, that when a distance of a few miles or of a fraction of a mile +is to be designated, the French Canadian does not use the term +“miles,” but says it’s so many acres through, or to the next +place. +</p> + +<p> +This fondness for the “bush” at this season seems quite a marked +feature in the social life of the average Quebecker, and is one of the original +French traits that holds its own among them. Parties leave the city in carts +and wagons by midnight, or earlier, and drive out as far as they can the +remainder of the night, in order to pass the whole Sunday in the woods, despite +the mosquitoes and black flies. Those we saw seemed a decent, harmless set, +whose idea of a good time was to be in the open air, and as far into the +“bush” as possible. +</p> + +<p> +The post-road, as the new St. John’s road is also called, begins twenty +miles from Quebec at Stoneham, the farthest settlement. Five miles into the +forest upon the new road is the hamlet of La Chance, the last house till you +reach the lake, one hundred and twenty miles distant. Our destination the first +night was La Chance’s; this would enable us to reach the Jacques Cartier +River, forty miles farther, where we proposed to encamp, in the afternoon of +the next day. +</p> + +<p> +We were now fairly among the mountains, and the sun was well down behind the +trees when we entered upon the post-road. It proved to be a wide, well-built +highway, grass-grown, but in good condition. After an hour’s travel we +began to see signs of a clearing, and about six o’clock drew up in front +of the long, low, log habitation of La Chance. Their hearthstone was outdoor at +this season, and its smoke rose through the still atmosphere in a frail column +toward the sky. The family was gathered here and welcomed us cordially as we +drew up, the master shaking us by the hand as if we were old friends. His +English was very poor, and our French was poorer, but, with Joe as a bridge +between us, communication on a pinch was kept up. His wife could speak no +English; but her true French politeness and graciousness was a language we +could readily understand. Our supper was got ready from our own supplies, while +we sat or stood in the open air about the fire. The clearing comprised fifty or +sixty acres of rough land in the bottom of a narrow valley, and bore +indifferent crops of oats, barley, potatoes, and timothy grass. The latter was +just in bloom, being a month or more later than with us. The primitive woods, +mostly of birch with a sprinkling of spruce, put a high cavernous wall about +the scene. How sweetly the birds sang, their notes seeming to have unusual +strength and volume in this forest-bound opening! The principal singer was the +white-throated sparrow, which we heard and saw everywhere on the route. He is +called here <i>le siffleur</i> (the whistler), and very delightful his whistle +was. From the forest came the evening hymn of a thrush, the olive-backed +perhaps, like but less clear and full than the veery’s. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening we sat about the fire in rude homemade chairs, and had such +broken and disjointed talk as we could manage. Our host had lived in Quebec and +been a school-teacher there; he had wielded the birch until he lost his health, +when he came here and the birches gave it back to him. He was now hearty and +well, and had a family of six or seven children about him. +</p> + +<p> +We were given a good bed that night, and fared better than we expected. About +one o’clock I was awakened by suppressed voices outside the window. Who +could it be? Had a band of brigands surrounded the house? As our outfit and +supplies had not been removed from the wagon in front of the door I got up, +and, lifting one corner of the window paper, peeped out: I saw in the dim +moonlight four or five men standing about engaged in low conversation. +Presently one of the men advanced to the door and began to rap and call the +name of our host. Then I knew their errand was not hostile; but the weird +effect of that regular alternate rapping and calling ran through my dream all +the rest of the night. Rat-tat, tat, tat,—La Chance; rat-tat, +tat,—La Chance, five or six times repeated before La Chance heard and +responded. Then the door opened and they came in, when it was jabber, jabber, +jabber in the next room till I fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning, to my inquiry as to who the travelers were and what they +wanted, La Chance said they were old acquaintances going a-fishing, and had +stopped to have a little talk. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was served early, and we were upon the road before the sun. Then +began a forty-mile ride through a dense Canadian spruce forest over the drift +and boulders of the paleozoic age. Up to this point the scenery had been quite +familiar,—not much unlike that of the Catskills,—but now there was +a change; the birches disappeared, except now and then a slender white or paper +birch, and spruce everywhere prevailed. A narrow belt on each side of the road +had been blasted by fire, and the dry, white stems of the trees stood stark and +stiff. The road ran pretty straight, skirting the mountains and threading the +valleys, and hour after hour the dark, silent woods wheeled past us. Swarms of +black flies—those insect wolves—waylaid us and hung to us till a +smart spurt of the horse, where the road favored, left them behind. But a +species of large horse-fly, black and vicious, it was not so easy to get rid +of. When they alighted upon the horse, we would demolish them with the whip or +with our felt hats, a proceeding the horse soon came to understand and +appreciate. The white and gray Laurentian boulders lay along the roadside. The +soil seemed as if made up of decayed and pulverized rock, and doubtless +contained very little vegetable matter. It is so barren that it will never +repay clearing and cultivating. +</p> + +<p> +Our course was an up-grade toward the highlands that separate the watershed of +St. John Lake from that of the St. Lawrence, and as we proceeded the spruce +became smaller and smaller till the trees were seldom more than eight or ten +inches in diameter. Nearly all of them terminated in a dense tuft at the top, +beneath which the stem would be bare for several feet, giving them the +appearance, my friend said, as they stood sharply defined along the crests of +the mountains, of cannon swabs. Endless, interminable successions of these +cannon swabs, each just like its fellow, came and went, came and went, all day. +Sometimes we could see the road a mile or two ahead, and it was as lonely and +solitary as a path in the desert. Periods of talk and song and jollity were +succeeded by long stretches of silence. A buckboard upon such a road does not +conduce to a continuous flow of animal spirits. A good brace for the foot and a +good hold for the hand is one’s main lookout much of the time. We walked +up the steeper hills, one of them nearly a mile long, then clung grimly to the +board during the rapid descent of the other side. +</p> + +<p> +We occasionally saw a solitary pigeon—in every instance a +cock—leading a forlorn life in the wood, a hermit of his kind, or more +probably a rejected and superfluous male. We came upon two or three broods of +spruce grouse in the road, so tame that one could have knocked them over with +poles. We passed many beautiful lakes; among others, the Two Sisters, one on +each side of the road. At noon we paused at a lake in a deep valley, and fed +the horse and had lunch. I was not long in getting ready my fishing tackle, +and, upon a raft made of two logs pinned together, floated out upon the lake +and quickly took all the trout we wanted. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the afternoon we entered upon what is called <i>La Grande Brûlure,</i> +or Great Burning, and to the desolation of living woods succeeded the greater +desolation of a blighted forest. All the mountains and valleys, as far as the +eye could see, had been swept by the fire, and the bleached and ghostly +skeletons of the trees alone met the gaze. The fire had come over from the +Saguenay, a hundred or more miles to the east, seven or eight years before, and +had consumed or blasted everything in its way. We saw the skull of a moose said +to have perished in the fire. For three hours we rode through this valley and +shadow of death. In the midst of it, where the trees had nearly all +disappeared, and where the ground was covered with coarse wild grass, we came +upon the Morancy River, a placid yellow stream twenty or twenty-five yards +wide, abounding with trout. We walked a short distance along its banks and +peered curiously into its waters. The mountains on either hand had been burned +by the fire until in places their great granite bones were bare and white. +</p> + +<p> +At another point we were within ear-shot, for a mile or more, of a brawling +stream in the valley below us, and now and then caught a glimpse of foaming +rapids or cascades through the dense spruce,—a trout stream that probably +no man had ever fished, as it would be quite impossible to do so in such a maze +and tangle of woods. +</p> + +<p> +We neither met, nor passed, nor saw any travelers till late in the afternoon, +when we descried far ahead a man on horseback. It was a welcome relief. It was +like a sail at sea. When he saw us he drew rein and awaited our approach. He, +too, had probably tired of the solitude and desolation of the road. He proved +to be a young Canadian going to join the gang of workmen at the farther end of +the road. +</p> + +<p> +About four o’clock we passed another small lake, and in a few moments +more drew up at the bridge over the Jacques Cartier River, and our forty-mile +ride was finished. There was a stable here that had been used by the +road-builders, and was now used by the teams that hauled in their supplies. +This would do for the horse; a snug log shanty built by an old trapper and +hunter for use in the winter, a hundred yards below the bridge, amid the +spruces on the bank of the river, when rebedded and refurnished, would do for +us. The river at this point was a swift, black stream from thirty to forty feet +wide, with a strength and a bound like a moose. It was not shrunken and +emaciated, like similar streams in a cleared country, but full, copious, and +strong. Indeed, one can hardly realize how the lesser water-courses have +suffered by the denuding of the land of its forest covering, until he goes into +the primitive woods and sees how bounding and athletic they are there. They are +literally well fed, and their measure of life is full. In fact, a trout brook +is as much a thing of the woods as a moose or deer, and will not thrive well in +the open country. +</p> + +<p> +Three miles above our camp was Great Lake Jacques Cartier, the source of the +river, a sheet of water nine miles long and from one to three wide; fifty rods +below was Little Lake Jacques Cartier, an irregular body about two miles +across. Stretching away on every hand, bristling on the mountains and darkling +in the valleys, was the illimitable spruce woods. The moss in them covered the +ground nearly knee-deep, and lay like newly fallen snow, hiding rocks and logs, +filling depressions, and muffling the foot. When it was dry, one could find a +most delightful couch anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +The spruce seems to have colored the water, which is a dark amber color, but +entirely sweet and pure. There needed no better proof of the latter fact than +the trout with which it abounded, and their clear and vivid tints. In its lower +portions near the St. Lawrence, the Jacques Cartier River is a salmon stream, +but these fish have never been found as near its source as we were, though +there is no apparent reason why they should not be. +</p> + +<p> +There is perhaps no moment in the life of an angler fraught with so much +eagerness and impatience as when he first finds himself upon the bank of a new +and long-sought stream. When I was a boy and used to go a-fishing, I could +seldom restrain my eagerness after I arrived in sight of the brook or pond, and +must needs run the rest of the way. Then the delay in rigging my tackle was a +trial my patience was never quite equal to. After I had made a few casts, or +had caught one fish, I could pause and adjust my line properly. I found some +remnant of the old enthusiasm still in me when I sprang from the buckboard that +afternoon and saw the strange river rushing by. I would have given something if +my tackle had been rigged so that I could have tried on the instant the temper +of the trout that had just broken the surface within easy reach of the shore. +But I had anticipated this moment coming along, and had surreptitiously undone +my rod-case and got my reel out of my bag, and was therefore a few moments +ahead of my companion in making the first cast. The trout rose readily, and +almost too soon we had more than enough for dinner, though no +“rod-smashers” had been seen or felt. Our experience the next +morning, and during the day and the next morning, in the lake, in the rapids, +in the pools, was about the same: there was a surfeit of trout eight or ten +inches long, though we rarely kept any under ten, but the big fish were lazy +and would not rise; they were in the deepest water and did not like to get up. +</p> + +<p> +The third day, in the afternoon, we had our first and only thorough sensation +in the shape of a big trout. It came none too soon. The interest had begun to +flag. But one big fish a week will do. It is a pinnacle of delight in the +angler’s experience that he may well be three days in working up to, and, +once reached, it is three days down to the old humdrum level again. At least it +is with me. It was a dull, rainy day; the fog rested low upon the mountains, +and the time hung heavily on our hands. About three o’clock the rain +slackened and we emerged from our den, Joe going to look after his horse, which +had eaten but little since coming into the woods, the poor creature was so +disturbed by the loneliness and the black flies; I, to make preparations for +dinner, while my companion lazily took his rod and stepped to the edge of the +big pool in front of camp. At the first introductory cast, and when his fly was +not fifteen feet from him upon the water, there was a lunge and a strike, and +apparently the fisherman had hooked a boulder. I was standing a few yards +below, engaged in washing out the coffee-pail, when I heard him call +out:— +</p> + +<p> +“I have got him now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I see you have,” said I, noticing his bending pole and +moveless line; “when I am through, I will help you get loose.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I’m not joking,” said he; “I have got a big +fish.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked up again, but saw no reason to change my impression, and kept on with +my work. +</p> + +<p> +It is proper to say that my companion was a novice at fly-fishing, never having +cast a fly till upon this trip. +</p> + +<p> +Again he called out to me, but, deceived by his coolness and nonchalant tones, +and by the lethargy a glimpse of the fish, I gave little heed. of the fish, I +gave little heed. I knew very well that, if I had struck a fish that held me +down in that way, I should have been going through a regular war-dance on that +circle of boulder-tops, and should have scared the game into activity if the +hook had failed to wake him up. But as the farce continued I drew near. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that look like a stone or a log?” said my friend, pointing to +his quivering line, slowly cutting the current up toward the centre of the +pool. +</p> + +<p> +My skepticism vanished in an instant, and I could hardly keep my place on the +top of the rock. +</p> + +<p> +“I can feel him breathe,” said the now warming fisherman; +“just feel of that pole!” +</p> + +<p> +I put my eager hand upon the butt, and could easily imagine I felt the throb or +pant of something alive down there in the black depths. But whatever it was +moved about like a turtle. My companion was praying to hear his reel spin, but +it gave out now and then only a few hesitating clicks. Still the situation was +excitingly dramatic, and we were all actors. I rushed for the landing-net, but +being unable to find it, shouted desperately for Joe, who came hurrying back, +excited before he had learned what the matter was. The net had been left at the +lake below, and must be had with the greatest dispatch. In the mean time I +skipped about from boulder to boulder as the fish worked this way or that about +the pool, peering into the water to catch a glimpse of him, for he had begun to +yield a little to the steady strain that was kept upon him. Presently I saw a +shadowy, unsubstantial something just emerge from the black depths, then +vanish. Then I saw it again, and this time the huge proportions of the fish +were faintly outlined by the white facings of his fins. The sketch lasted but a +twinkling; it was only a flitting shadow upon a darker background, but it gave +me the profoundest Ike Walton thrill I ever experienced. I had been a fisher +from my earliest boyhood. I came from a race of fishers; trout streams gurgled +about the roots of the family tree, and there was a long accumulated and +transmitted tendency and desire in me that that sight gratified. I did not wish +the pole in my own hands; there was quite enough electricity overflowing from +it and filling the air for me. The fish yielded more and more to the relentless +pole, till, in about fifteen minutes from the time he was struck, he came to +the surface, then made a little whirlpool where he disappeared again. +</p> + +<p> +But presently he was up a second time, and lashing the water into foam as the +angler led him toward the rock upon which I was perched net in hand. As I +reached toward him, down he went again, and, taking another circle of the pool, +came up still more exhausted, when, between his paroxysms, I carefully ran the +net over him and lifted him ashore, amid, it is needless to say, the wildest +enthusiasm of the spectators. The congratulatory laughter of the loons down on +the lake showed how even the outsiders sympathized. Much larger trout have been +taken in these waters and in others, but this fish would have swallowed any +three we had ever before caught. +</p> + +<p> +“What does he weigh?” was the natural inquiry of each; and we took +turns “hefting” him. But gravity was less potent to us just then +than usual, and the fish seemed astonishingly light. +</p> + +<p> +“Four pounds,” we said; but Joe said more. So we improvised a +scale: a long strip of board was balanced across a stick, and our groceries +served as weights. A four-pound package of sugar kicked the beam quickly; a +pound of coffee was added; still it went up; then a pound of tea, and still the +fish had a little the best of it. But we called it six pounds, not to drive too +sharp a bargain with fortune, and were more than satisfied. Such a beautiful +creature! marked in every respect like a trout of six inches. We feasted our +eyes upon him for half an hour. We stretched him upon the ground and admired +him; we laid him across a log and withdrew a few paces and admired him; we hung +him against the shanty, and turned our heads from side to side as women do when +they are selecting dress goods, the better to take in the full force of the +effect. +</p> + +<p> +He graced the board or stump that afternoon, and was the sweetest fish we had +taken. The flesh was a deep salmon-color and very rich. We had before +discovered that there were two varieties of trout in these waters, irrespective +of size,—the red-fleshed and the white-fleshed,—and that the former +were the better. +</p> + +<p> +This success gave an impetus to our sport that carried us through the rest of +the week finely. We had demonstrated that there were big trout here, and that +they would rise to a fly. Henceforth big fish were looked to as a possible +result of every excursion. To me, especially, the desire at least to match my +companion, who had been my pupil in the art, was keen and constant. We built a +raft of logs and upon it I floated out upon the lake, whipping its waters right +and left, morning, noon, and night. Many fine trout came to my hand, and were +released because they did not fill the bill. +</p> + +<p> +The lake became my favorite resort, while my companion preferred rather the +shore or the long still pool above, where there was a rude makeshift of a boat, +made of common box-boards. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the lake you had the wildness and solitude at arm’s length, and +could better take their look and measure. You became something apart from them; +you emerged and had a vantage-ground like that of a mountain peak, and could +contemplate them at your ease. Seated upon my raft and slowly carried by the +current or drifted by the breeze, I had many a long, silent look into the face +of the wilderness, and found the communion good. I was alone with the spirit of +the forest-bound lakes, and felt its presence and magnetism. I played +hide-and-seek with it about the nooks and corners, and lay in wait for it upon +a little island crowned with a clump of trees that was moored just to one side +of the current near the head of the lake. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, there is no depth of solitude that the mind does not endow with some +human interest. As in a dead silence the ear is filled with its own murmur, so +amid these aboriginal scenes one’s feelings and sympathies become +external to him, as it were, and he holds converse with them. Then a lake is +the ear as well as the eye of a forest. It is the place to go to listen and +ascertain what sounds are abroad in the air. They all run quickly thither and +report. If any creature had called in the forest for miles about, I should have +heard it. At times I could hear the distant roar of water off beyond the outlet +of the lake. The sound of the vagrant winds purring here and there in the tops +of the spruces reached my ear. A breeze would come slowly down the mountain, +then strike the lake, and I could see its footsteps approaching by the changed +appearance of the water. How slowly the winds move at times, sauntering like +one on a Sunday walk! A breeze always enlivens the fish; a dead calm and all +pennants sink, your activity with your fly is ill-timed, and you soon take the +hint and stop. Becalmed upon my raft, I observed, as I have often done before, +that the life of Nature ebbs and flows, comes and departs, in these wilderness +scenes; one moment her stage is thronged and the next quite deserted. Then +there is a wonderful unity of movement in the two elements, air and water. When +there is much going on in one, there is quite sure to be much going on in the +other. You have been casting, perhaps, for an hour with scarcely a jump or any +sign of life anywhere about you, when presently the breeze freshens and the +trout begin to respond, and then of a sudden all the performers rush in: ducks +come sweeping by; loons laugh and wheel overhead, then approach the water on a +long, gentle incline, plowing deeper and deeper into its surface, until their +momentum is arrested, or converted into foam; the fish hawk screams; the bald +eagle goes flapping by, and your eyes and hands are full. Then the tide ebbs, +and both fish and fowl are gone. +</p> + +<p> +Patiently whipping the waters of the lake from my rude float, I became an +object of great interest to the loons. I had never seen these birds before in +their proper habitat, and the interest was mutual. When they had paused on the +Hudson during their spring and fall migrations, I had pursued them in my boat +to try to get near them. Now the case was reversed; I was the interloper now, +and they would come out and study me. Sometimes six or eight of them would be +swimming about watching my movements, but they were wary and made a wide +circle. One day one of their number volunteered to make a thorough +reconnoissance. I saw him leave his comrades and swim straight toward me. He +came bringing first one eye to bear upon me, then the other. When about half +the distance was passed over he began to waver and hesitate. To encourage him I +stopped casting, and taking off my hat began to wave it slowly to and fro, as +in the act of fanning myself. This started him again,—this was a new +trait in the creature that he must scrutinize more closely. On he came, till +all his markings were distinctly seen. With one hand I pulled a little revolver +from my hip pocket, and when the loon was about fifty yards distant, and had +begun to sidle around me, I fired: at the flash I saw two webbed feet twinkle +in the air, and the loon was gone! Lead could not have gone down so quickly. +The bullet cut across the circles where he disappeared. In a few moments he +reappeared a couple of hundred yards away. “Ha-ha-ha-a-a,” said he, +“ha-ha-ha-a-a,” and “ha-ha-ha-a-a,” said his comrades, +who had been looking on; and “ha-ha-ha-a-a,” said we all, echo +included. He approached a second time, but not so closely, and when I began to +creep back toward the shore with my heavy craft, pawing the water first upon +one side, then the other, he followed, and with ironical laughter witnessed my +efforts to stem the current at the head of the lake. I confess it was enough to +make a more solemn bird than the loon laugh, but it was no fun for me, and +generally required my last pound of steam. +</p> + +<p> +The loons flew back and forth from one lake to the other, and their voices were +about the only notable wild sounds to be heard. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, quite unexpectedly, I struck my big fish in the head of the +lake. I was first advised of his approach by two or three trout jumping clear +from the water to get out of his lordship’s way. The water was not deep +just there, and he swam so near the surface that his enormous back cut through. +With a swirl he swept my fly under and turned. +</p> + +<p> +My hook was too near home, and my rod too near a perpendicular to strike well. +More than that, my presence of mind came near being unhorsed by the sudden +apparition of the fish. If I could have had a moment’s notice, or if I +had not seen the monster, I should have fared better and the fish worse. I +struck, but not with enough decision, and, before I could reel up, my empty +hook came back. The trout had carried it in his jaws till the fraud was +detected, and then spat it out. He came a second time and made a grand +commotion in the water, but not in my nerves, for I was ready then, but failed +to take the fly, and so to get his weight and beauty in these pages. As my luck +failed me at the last, I will place my loss at the full extent of the law, and +claim that nothing less than a ten-pounder was spirited away from my hand that +day. I might not have saved him, netless as I was upon my cumbrous raft; but I +should at least have had the glory of the fight, and the consolation of the +fairly vanquished. +</p> + +<p> +These trout are not properly lake trout, but the common brook trout. The +largest ones are taken with live bait through the ice in winter. The Indians +and the <i>habitans</i> bring them out of the woods from here and from Snow +Lake, on their toboggans, from two and a half to three feet long. They have +kinks and ways of their own. About half a mile above camp we discovered a deep +oval bay to one side of the main current of the river, that evidently abounded +in big fish. Here they disported themselves. It was a favorite feeding-ground, +and late every afternoon the fish rose all about it, making those big ripples +the angler delights to see. A trout, when he comes to the surface, starts a +ring about his own length in diameter; most of the rings in the pool, when the +eye caught them, were like barrel hoops, but the haughty trout ignored all our +best efforts; not one rise did we get. We were told of this pool on our return +to Quebec, and that other anglers had a similar experience there. But +occasionally some old fisherman, like a great advocate who loves a difficult +case, would set his wits to work and bring into camp an enormous trout taken +there. +</p> + +<p> +I had been told in Quebec that I would not see a bird in the woods, not a +feather of any kind. But I knew I should, though they were not numerous. I saw +and heard a bird nearly every day, on the tops of the trees about, that I think +was one of the crossbills. The kingfisher was there ahead of us with his loud +clicking reel. The osprey was there, too, and I saw him abusing the bald eagle, +who had probably just robbed him of a fish. The yellow-rumped warbler I saw, +and one of the kinglets was leading its lisping brood about through the +spruces. In every opening the white-throated sparrow abounded, striking up his +clear sweet whistle, at times so loud and sudden that one’s momentary +impression was that some farm boy was approaching, or was secreted there behind +the logs. Many times, amid those primitive solitudes, I was quite startled by +the human tone and quality of this whistle. It is little more than a beginning; +the bird never seems to finish the strain suggested. The Canada jay was there +also, very busy about some important private matter. +</p> + +<p> +One lowery morning, as I was standing in camp, I saw a lot of ducks borne +swiftly down by the current around the bend in the river a few rods above. They +saw me at the same instant and turned toward the shore. On hastening up there, +I found the old bird rapidly leading her nearly grown brood through the woods, +as if to go around our camp. As I pursued them they ran squawking with +outstretched stubby wings, scattering right and left, and seeking a +hiding-place under the logs and débris. I captured one and carried it into +camp. It was just what Joe wanted; it would make a valuable decoy. So he kept +it in a box, fed it upon oats, and took it out of the woods with him. +</p> + +<p> +We found the camp we had appropriated was a favorite stopping-place of the +carmen who hauled in supplies for the gang of two hundred road-builders. One +rainy day near nightfall no less than eight carts drew up at the old stable, +and the rain-soaked drivers, after picketing and feeding their horses, came +down to our fire. We were away, and Joe met us on our return with the unwelcome +news. We kept open house so far as the fire was concerned; but our roof was a +narrow one at the best, and one or two leaky spots made it still narrower. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall probably sleep out-of-doors to-night,” said my companion, +“unless we are a match for this posse of rough teamsters.” +</p> + +<p> +But the men proved to be much more peaceably disposed than the same class at +home; they apologized for intruding, pleading the inclemency of the weather, +and were quite willing, with our permission, to take up with pot-luck about the +fire and leave us the shanty. They dried their clothes upon poles and logs, and +had their fun and their bantering amid it all. An Irishman among them did about +the only growling; he invited himself into our quarters, and before morning had +Joe’s blanket about him in addition to his own. +</p> + +<p> +On Friday we made an excursion to Great Lake Jacques Cartier, paddling and +poling up the river in the rude box-boat. It was a bright, still morning after +the rain, and everything had a new, fresh appearance. Expectation was ever on +tiptoe as each turn in the river opened a new prospect before us. How wild, and +shaggy, and silent it was! What fascinating pools, what tempting stretches of +trout-haunted water! Now and then we would catch a glimpse of long black +shadows starting away from the boat and shooting through the sunlit depths. But +no sound or motion on shore was heard or seen. Near the lake we came to a long, +shallow rapid, when we pulled off our shoes and stockings, and, with our +trousers rolled above our knees, towed the boat up it, wincing and cringing +amid the sharp, slippery stones. With benumbed feet and legs we reached the +still water that forms the stem of the lake, and presently saw the arms of the +wilderness open and the long deep blue expanse in their embrace. We rested and +bathed, and gladdened our eyes with the singularly beautiful prospect. The +shadows of summer clouds were slowly creeping up and down the sides of the +mountains that hemmed it in. On the far eastern shore, near the head, banks of +what was doubtless white sand shone dimly in the sun, and the illusion that +there was a town nestled there haunted my mind constantly. It was like a +section of the Hudson below the Highlands, except that these waters were bluer +and colder, and these shores darker, than even those Sir Hendrik first looked +upon; but surely, one felt, a steamer will round that point presently, or a +sail drift into view! We paddled a mile or more up the east shore, then across +to the west, and found such pleasure in simply gazing upon the scene that our +rods were quite neglected. We did some casting after a while, but raised no +fish of any consequence till we were in the outlet again, when they responded +so freely that the “disgust of trout” was soon upon us. +</p> + +<p> +At the rapids, on our return, as I was standing to my knees in the swift, cold +current, and casting into a deep hole behind a huge boulder that rose four or +five feet above the water amidstream, two trout, one of them a large one, took +my flies, and, finding the fish and the current united too strong for my +tackle, I sought to gain the top of the boulder, in which attempt I got wet to +my middle and lost my fish. After I had gained the rock, I could not get away +again with my clothes on without swimming, which, to say nothing of wet +garments the rest of the way home, I did not like to do amid those rocks and +swift currents; so, after a vain attempt to communicate with my companion above +the roar of the water, I removed my clothing, left it together with my tackle +upon the rock, and by a strong effort stemmed the current and reached the +shore. The boat was a hundred yards above, and when I arrived there my teeth +were chattering with the cold, my feet were numb with bruises, and the black +flies were making the blood stream down my back. We hastened back with the +boat, and, by wading out into the current again and holding it by a long rope, +it swung around with my companion aboard, and was held in the eddy behind the +rock. I clambered up, got my clothes on, and we were soon shooting downstream +toward home; but the winter of discontent that shrouded one half of me made sad +inroads upon the placid feeling of a day well spent that enveloped the other, +all the way to camp. +</p> + +<p> +That night something carried off all our fish,—doubtless a fisher or +lynx, as Joe had seen an animal of some kind about camp that day. +</p> + +<p> +I must not forget the two red squirrels that frequented the camp during our +stay, and that were so tame they would approach within a few feet of us and +take the pieces of bread or fish tossed to them. When a particularly fine piece +of hard-tack was secured, they would spin off to their den with it somewhere +near by. +</p> + +<p> +Caribou abound in these woods, but we saw only their tracks; and of bears, +which are said to be plentiful, we saw no signs. +</p> + +<p> +Saturday morning we packed up our traps and started on our return, and found +that the other side of the spruce-trees and the vista of the lonely road going +south were about the same as coming north. But we understood the road better +and the buck-board better, and our load was lighter, hence the distance was +more easily accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +I saw a solitary robin by the roadside, and wondered what could have brought +this social and half-domesticated bird so far into these wilds. In La Grande +Brûlure, a hermit thrush perched upon a dry tree in a swampy place and sang +most divinely. We paused to listen to his clear, silvery strain poured out +without stint upon that unlistening solitude. I was half persuaded I had heard +him before on first entering the woods. +</p> + +<p> +We nooned again at No Man’s Inn on the banks of a trout lake, and fared +well and had no reckoning to pay. Late in the afternoon we saw a lonely +pedestrian laboring up a hill far ahead of us. When he heard us coming he +leaned his back against the bank, and was lighting his pipe as we passed. He +was an old man, an Irishman, and looked tired. He had come from the farther end +of the road, fifty miles distant, and had thirty yet before him to reach town. +He looked the dismay he evidently felt when, in answer to his inquiry, we told +him it was yet ten miles to the first house, La Chance’s. But there was a +roof nearer than that, where he doubtless passed the night, for he did not +claim hospitality at the cabin of La Chance. We arrived there betimes, but +found the “spare bed” assigned to other guests; so we were +comfortably lodged upon the haymow. One of the boys lighted us up with a candle +and made level places for us upon the hay. +</p> + +<p> +La Chance was one of the game wardens, or constables appointed by the +government to see the game laws enforced. Joe had not felt entirely at his ease +about the duck he was surreptitiously taking to town, and when, by its +“quack, quack,” it called upon La Chance for protection, he +responded at once. Joe was obliged to liberate it then and there, and to hear +the law read and expounded, and be threatened till he turned pale beside. It +was evident that they follow the home government in the absurd practice of +enforcing their laws in Canada. La Chance said he was under oath not to wink at +or permit any violation of the law, and seemed to think that made a difference. +</p> + +<p> +We were off early in the morning, and before we had gone two miles met a party +from Quebec who—must have been driving nearly all night to give the black +flies an early breakfast. Before long a slow rain set in; we saw another party +who had taken refuge in a house in a grove. When the rain had become so brisk +that we began to think of seeking shelter ourselves, we passed a party of young +men and boys—sixteen of them—in a cart turning back to town, +water-soaked and heavy (for the poor horse had all it could pull), but merry +and good-natured. We paused awhile at the farmhouse where we had got our hay on +going out, were treated to a drink of milk and some wild red cherries, and when +the rain slackened drove on, and by ten o’clock saw the city eight miles +distant, with the sun shining upon its steep tinned roofs. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning we set out by steamer for the Saguenay, and entered upon the +second phase of our travels, but with less relish than we could have wished. +Scenery hunting is the least satisfying pursuit I have ever engaged in. What +one sees in his necessary travels, or doing his work, or going a-fishing, seems +worth while, but the famous view you go out in cold blood to admire is quite +apt to elude you. Nature loves to enter a door another hand has opened; a +mountain view, or a waterfall, I have noticed, never looks better than when one +has just been warmed up by the capture of a big trout. If we had been bound for +some salmon stream up the Saguenay, we should perhaps have possessed that +generous and receptive frame of mind-that open house of the heart—which +makes one “eligible to any good fortune,” and the grand scenery +would have come in as fit sauce to the salmon. An adventure, a bit of +experience of some kind, is what one wants when he goes forth to admire woods +and waters,—something to create a draught and make the embers of thought +and feeling brighten. Nature, like certain wary game, is best taken by seeming +to pass by her intent on other matters. +</p> + +<p> +But without any such errand, or occupation, or indirection, we managed to +extract considerable satisfaction from the view of the lower St. Lawrence and +the Saguenay. +</p> + +<p> +We had not paid the customary visit to the falls of the Montmorenci, but we +shall see them after all, for before we are a league from Quebec they come into +view on the left. A dark glen or chasm there at the end of the Beauport Slopes +seems suddenly to have put on a long white apron. By intently gazing, one can +see the motion and falling of the water, though it is six or seven miles away. +There is no sign of the river above or below but this trembling white curtain +of foam and spray. +</p> + +<p> +It was very sultry when we left Quebec, but about noon we struck much clearer +and cooler air, and soon after ran into an immense wave or puff of fog that +came drifting up the river and set all the fog-guns booming along shore. We +were soon through it into clear, crisp space, with room enough for any eye to +range in. On the south the shores of the great river appear low and +uninteresting, but on the north they are bold and striking enough to make it +up,—high, scarred, unpeopled mountain ranges the whole way. The points of +interest to the eye in the broad expanse of water were the white porpoises that +kept rolling, rolling in the distance, all day. They came up like the perimeter +of a great wheel that turns slowly and then disappears. From mid-forenoon we +could see far ahead an immense column of yellow smoke rising up and flattening +out upon the sky and stretching away beyond the horizon. Its form was that of +some aquatic plant that shoots a stem up through the water, and spreads its +broad leaf upon the surface. This smoky lily-pad must have reached nearly to +Maine. It proved to be in the Indian country in the mountains beyond the mouth +of the Saguenay, and must have represented an immense destruction of forest +timber. +</p> + +<p> +The steamer is two hours crossing the St. Lawrence from Rivière du Loup to +Tadousac. The Saguenay pushes a broad sweep of dark blue water down into its +mightier brother that is sharply defined from the deck of the steamer. The two +rivers seem to touch, but not to blend, so proud and haughty is this chieftain +from the north. On the mountains above Tadousac one could see banks of sand +left by the ancient seas. Naked rock and sterile sand are all the Tadousacker +has to make his garden of, so far as I observed. Indeed, there is no soil along +the Saguenay until you get to Ha-ha Bay, and then there is not much, and poor +quality at that. +</p> + +<p> +What the ancient fires did not burn the ancient seas have washed away. I +overheard an English resident say to a Yankee tourist, “You will think +you are approaching the end of the world up here.” It certainly did +suggest something apocryphal or antemundane,—a segment of the moon or of +a cleft asteroid, matter dead or wrecked. The world-builders must have had +their foundry up in this neighborhood, and the bed of this river was doubtless +the channel through which the molten granite flowed. Some mischief-loving god +has let in the sea while things were yet red-hot, and there has been a time +here. But the channel still seems filled with water from the mid-Atlantic, cold +and blue-black, and in places between seven and eight thousand feet deep (one +and a half miles). In fact, the enormous depth of the Saguenay is one of the +wonders of physical geography. It is as great a marvel in its way as Niagara. +</p> + +<p> +The ascent of the river is made by night, and the traveler finds himself in +Ha-ha Bay in the morning. The steamer lies here several hours before starting +on her return trip, and takes in large quantities of white birch wood, as she +does also at Tadousac. The chief product of the country seemed to be +huckleberries, of which large quantities are shipped to Quebec in rude board +boxes holding about a peck each. Little girls came aboard or lingered about the +landing with cornucopias of birch-bark filled with red raspberries; five cents +for about half a pint was the usual price. The village of St. Alphonse, where +the steamer tarries, is a cluster of small, humble dwellings dominated, like +all Canadian villages, by an immense church. Usually the church will hold all +the houses in the village; pile them all up and they would hardly equal it in +size; it is the one conspicuous object, and is seen afar; and on the various +lines of travel one sees many more priests than laymen. They appear to be about +the only class that stir about and have a good time. Many of the houses were +covered with birch-bark,—the canoe birch,—held to its place by +perpendicular strips of board or split poles. +</p> + +<p> +A man with a horse and a buckboard persuaded us to give him twenty-five cents +each to take us two miles up the St. Alphonse River to see the salmon jump. +There is a high saw-mill dam there which every salmon in his upward journey +tries his hand at leaping. A raceway has been constructed around the dam for +their benefit, which it seems they do not use till they have repeatedly tried +to scale the dam. The day before our visit three dead fish were found in the +pool below, killed by too much jumping. Those we saw had the jump about all +taken out of them; several did not get more than half their length out of the +water, and occasionally only an impotent nose would protrude from the foam. One +fish made a leap of three or four feet and landed on an apron of the dam and +tumbled helplessly back; he shot up like a bird and rolled back like a clod. +This was the only view of salmon, the buck of the rivers, we had on our +journey. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bright and flawless midsummer day that we sailed down the Saguenay, +and nothing was wanting but a good excuse for being there. The river was as +lonely as the St. John’s road; not a sail or a smokestack the whole +sixty-five miles. The scenery culminates at Cape Trinity, where the rocks rise +sheer from the water to a height of eighteen hundred feet. This view dwarfed +anything I had ever before seen. There is perhaps nothing this side the +Yosemite chasm that equals it, and, emptied of its water, this chasm would far +surpass that famous cañon, as the river here is a mile and a quarter deep. The +bald eagle nests in the niches in the precipice secure from any intrusion. +Immense blocks of the rock had fallen out, leaving areas of shadow and clinging +overhanging masses that were a terror and fascination to the eye. There was a +great fall a few years ago, just as the steamer had passed from under and blown +her whistle to awake the echoes. The echo came back, and with it a part of the +mountain that astonished more than it delighted the lookers-on. The pilot took +us close around the base of the precipice that we might fully inspect it. And +here my eyes played me a trick the like of which they had never done before. +One of the boys of the steamer brought to the forward deck his hands full of +stones, that the curious ones among the passengers might try how easy it was to +throw one ashore. “Any girl ought to do it,” I said to myself, +after a man had tried and had failed to clear half the distance. Seizing a +stone, I cast it with vigor and confidence, and as much expected to see it +smite the rock as I expected to live. “It is a good while getting +there,” I mused, as I watched its course: down, down it went; there, it +will ring upon the granite in half a breath; no, down—into the water, a +little more than halfway! “Has my arm lost its cunning?” I said, +and tried again and again, but with like result. The eye was completely at +fault. There was a new standard of size before it to which it failed to adjust +itself. The rock is so enormous and towers so above you that you get the +impression it is much nearer than it actually is. When the eye is full it says, +“Here we are,” and the hand is ready to prove the fact; but in this +case there is an astonishing discrepancy between what the eye reports and what +the hand finds out. +</p> + +<p> +Cape Eternity, the wife of this colossus, stands across a chasm through which +flows a small tributary of the Saguenay, and is a head or two shorter, as +becomes a wife, and less rugged and broken in outline. +</p> + +<p> +From Rivière du Loup, where we passed the night and ate our first +“Tommy-cods,” our thread of travel makes a big loop around New +Brunswick to St. John, thence out and down through Maine to Boston,—a +thread upon which many delightful excursions and reminiscences might be strung. +We traversed the whole of the valley of the Metapedia, and passed the doors of +many famous salmon streams and rivers, and heard everywhere the talk they +inspire; one could not take a nap in the car for the excitement of the big fish +stories he was obliged to overhear. +</p> + +<p> +The Metapedia is a most enticing-looking stream; its waters are as colorless as +melted snow; I could easily have seen the salmon in it as we shot along, if +they had come out from their hiding-places. It was the first white-water stream +we had seen since leaving the Catskills; for all the Canadian streams are black +or brown, either from the iron in the soil or from the leechings of the spruce +swamps. But in New Brunswick we saw only these clear, silver-shod streams; I +imagined they had a different ring or tone also. The Metapedia is deficient in +good pools in its lower portions; its limpid waters flowing with a tranquil +murmur over its wide, evenly paved bed for miles at a stretch. The salmon pass +over these shallows by night and rest in the pools by day. The Restigouche, +which it joins, and which is a famous salmon stream and the father of famous +salmon streams, is of the same complexion and a delight to look upon. There is +a noted pool where the two join, and one can sit upon the railroad bridge and +count the noble fish in the lucid depths below. The valley here is fertile, and +has a cultivated, well-kept look. +</p> + +<p> +We passed the Jacquet, the Belledune, the Nepissisquit, the Miramichi +(“happy retreat”) in the night, and have only their bird-call names +to report. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>INDEX</h2> + +<p> +Anemone. +</p> + +<p> +Angler, a born; eagerness of the. +</p> + +<p> +Arbutus. +</p> + +<p> +Asters. +</p> + +<p> +Audubon, John James. +</p> + +<p> +Aurora borealis, an. +</p> + +<p> +Balsam Lake. +</p> + +<p> +Barrington, Daines, his table of English song-birds. +</p> + +<p> +Basswood, <i>or</i> linden. +</p> + +<p> +Bear, black. +</p> + +<p> +Beaverkill, the; trouting on. +</p> + +<p> +Bee. <i>See</i> Bumblebee <i>and</i> Honeybee. +</p> + +<p> +Berries. +</p> + +<p> +Berrying. +</p> + +<p> +Big Ingin River. +</p> + +<p> +Birch, yellow. +</p> + +<p> +Birds, eyes of; imperfect singers among; human significance of; songs of +English; relative pugnaciousness of English and American; species common to +Europe and America; small and large editions of various species of; their +ingenuity in the concealment of their nests. +</p> + +<p> +Birds of prey. +</p> + +<p> +Biscuit Brook. +</p> + +<p> +Blackbird, European; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Blackbird, red-winged. <i>See</i> Starling, red-shouldered. +</p> + +<p> +Bloodroot. +</p> + +<p> +Bluebird (<i>Sialia sialis</i>), struggling with a cicada; courting; cares of +housekeeping; and screech owl; notes of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Blunder-heads. +</p> + +<p> +Bobolink (<i>Dolichonyx oryzivorus</i>); song of. +</p> + +<p> +Boy. +</p> + +<p> +Brooks. <i>See</i> Trout streams. +</p> + +<p> +Buckwheat. +</p> + +<p> +Bumble-bee. +</p> + +<p> +Bunting, European, notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Bunting, indigo. <i>See</i> Indigo-bird. +</p> + +<p> +Bunting, snow, or snowflake (<i>Passerina nivalis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Butcher-bird, or northern shrike (<i>Lanius borealis</i>); appearance and +habits of; notes of. <i>See</i> Shrike. +</p> + +<p> +Buttercup. +</p> + +<p> +Camp, a thunder-storm in; in the rain; books in. +</p> + +<p> +Camp-fire, the. +</p> + +<p> +Camping, by trout stream and lake; in a log stable; pleasures and discomforts +of; in the Catskills; thoughts of the camper; in Canada. +</p> + +<p> +Canada, an excursion in; dwelling-houses in; churches in. +</p> + +<p> +Cape Eternity. +</p> + +<p> +Cape Trinity. +</p> + +<p> +Caribou. +</p> + +<p> +Catbird (<i>Galeoscoptes carolinensis</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +Catfish and snake. +</p> + +<p> +Catnip. +</p> + +<p> +Catskill Mountains, camping in. +</p> + +<p> +Cattle, in Canada. +</p> + +<p> +Cedar-bird, <i>or</i> cedar waxwing (<i>Ampelis cedrorum</i>), a small edition +of the Bohemian waxwing; plumage of; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Chickadee (<i>Parus atricapillus</i>); notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Chipmunk, frightened by a shrike; stealing strawberries; playing tag; never +more than one jump from home. +</p> + +<p> +Clouds, natural history of; rain-clouds and wind-clouds. +</p> + +<p> +Clover, red. +</p> + +<p> +Clover, white. +</p> + +<p> +Coon. <i>See</i> Raccoon. +</p> + +<p> +Corn, Indian. +</p> + +<p> +Corydalis. +</p> + +<p> +Crossbills. +</p> + +<p> +Crow, American (<i>Corvus brachyrhynchos</i>); notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Crow, fish (<i>Corvus ossifragus</i>), a sneak thief. +</p> + +<p> +Cuckoo (<i>Coccyzus</i> sp.), parents, eggs, and young; breeding habits of; +appearance and habits of; notes of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Cuckoo, European; in literature; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Daisy, ox-eye. +</p> + +<p> +Dandelion. +</p> + +<p> +Deer, Virginia. +</p> + +<p> +Delaware River. +</p> + +<p> +Dove, mourning (<i>Zenaidura macroura</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Drought. +</p> + +<p> +Ducks, wild, voices of. +</p> + +<p> +Eagle, bald (<i>Haliaëtus leucocephalus</i>); nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Esopus Creek. +</p> + +<p> +Eyes, of man; of birds. +</p> + +<p> +Farmer, an observing. +</p> + +<p> +Farmers, their dependence on the weather; weather-wisdom of. +</p> + +<p> +Fieldfare; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Finch, purple (<i>Carpodacus purpureus</i>), the alter ego of the pine +grosbeak; song of. +</p> + +<p> +Fishing. <i>See</i> Trout-fishing. +</p> + +<p> +Flicker. <i>See</i> High-hole. +</p> + +<p> +Flies, black. +</p> + +<p> +Flycatcher, great crested (<i>Myiarchus crinitus</i>); nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Forest, a spruce; a burnt. +</p> + +<p> +Fox, red, bark of. +</p> + +<p> +French Canadians. +</p> + +<p> +Ghost story, a. +</p> + +<p> +Girl’s voice, a. +</p> + +<p> +Goethe, on the weather. +</p> + +<p> +Goldenrod. +</p> + +<p> +Goldfinch, American (<i>Astragalinus tristis</i>), a shrike in a flock of. +</p> + +<p> +Goose, wild <i>or</i> Canada (<i>Branta canadensis</i>), notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Grande Brûlure, La. +</p> + +<p> +Greenfinch. +</p> + +<p> +Grosbeak, blue (<i>Guiraca cærulea</i>), its resemblance to the indigo-bird; +song of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Grosbeak, pine (<i>Pinicola enucleator leucura</i>); appearance and habits of; +song of. +</p> + +<p> +Grouse, ruffed. <i>See</i> Partridge. +</p> + +<p> +Grouse, spruce <i>or</i> Canada (<i>Canachites canadensis canace</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Guide, a Canadian. +</p> + +<p> +Hawk, worried by the kingbird. <i>See</i> Hen-hawk. +</p> + +<p> +Hawk, chicken, a provident. +</p> + +<p> +Hawk, fish, <i>or</i> American osprey (<i>Pandion haliaëtus carolinensis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Hen-hawk, a love passage; in cubating habits. +</p> + +<p> +Hepatica. +</p> + +<p> +Highfall Brook. +</p> + +<p> +High-hole, <i>or</i> golden-shafted woodpecker, <i>or</i> flicker (<i>Colaptes +auratus luteus</i>), a household of; a tame young one; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Honey, as an article of food; with the ancients and in mythology; of various +countries. +</p> + +<p> +Honey-bee, gathering honey and pollen; wax-making; life of the drone; life of +the queen; democratic government; description of queen and drone; swarming; +wildness of; favorite hives; mortality of; acuteness of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Honey-locust. +</p> + +<p> +Horse-fly. +</p> + +<p> +Hummingbird, ruby-throated (<i>Trochilus colubris</i>), strange death of a; +nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Hyla, Pickering’s, in the woods. +</p> + +<p> +Indigo-bird, or indigo bunting (<i>Cyanospiza cyanea</i>), a petit duplicate of +the blue grosbeak; song of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Jackdaw, nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Jacques Cartier River, trouting on. +</p> + +<p> +Jay, blue (<i>Cyanocitta cristata</i>); worrying a screech owl. +</p> + +<p> +Jay, Canada (<i>Perisoreus canadensis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Jay, European, notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Junco, slate-colored. <i>See</i> Snowbird. +</p> + +<p> +Kingbird (<i>Tyrannus tyrannus</i>), worrying hawks. +</p> + +<p> +Kingfisher, belted (<i>Ceryle alcyon</i>); notes of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Kinglet (<i>Regulus sp.</i>). +</p> + +<p> +La Chance. +</p> + +<p> +Lake, nature as seen from a; life in and about a. +</p> + +<p> +Lake Jacques Cartier, Great; an excursion to. +</p> + +<p> +Lake Jacques Cartier, Little; trout-fishing in. +</p> + +<p> +Lake Memphremagog. +</p> + +<p> +Lake St. John. +</p> + +<p> +Lark. <i>See</i> Skylark. +</p> + +<p> +Lark, shore <i>or</i> horned (<i>Otocoris alpestris</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Ledges, the fascination of. +</p> + +<p> +Lily, spotted. +</p> + +<p> +Linden. <i>See</i> Basswood. +</p> + +<p> +Locusts, as an article of food. +</p> + +<p> +Longspur, Lapland (<i>Calcarius lapponicus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Loon (<i>Gavia imber</i>); laughter of. +</p> + +<p> +Maiden, a backwoods. +</p> + +<p> +Maple, red. +</p> + +<p> +Maple, sugar. +</p> + +<p> +Marigold, marsh. +</p> + +<p> +Marmot. <i>See</i> Woodchuck. +</p> + +<p> +Meadowlark (<i>Sturnella magna</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Metapedia River. +</p> + +<p> +Midges. +</p> + +<p> +Mockingbird (<i>Mimus polyglottos</i>); song of. +</p> + +<p> +Montmorenci, Falls of. +</p> + +<p> +Moose. +</p> + +<p> +Morancy River. +</p> + +<p> +Mountains, poetry of. +</p> + +<p> +Mouse, common house. +</p> + +<p> +Neversink River, trouting on; trouting on the East Branch of. +</p> + +<p> +New Brunswick, journey through; streams of. +</p> + +<p> +Nightingale, notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Observation, powers and habits of. +</p> + +<p> +Oriole, Baltimore (<i>Icterus galbula</i>), nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Osprey, American. <i>See</i> Hawk, fish. +</p> + +<p> +Ouzel, ring. +</p> + +<p> +Oven-bird (<i>Seiurus aurocapillus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Owl, screech (<i>Megascops asio</i>), worried by other birds; in captivity; +wail of. +</p> + +<p> +Panther, American, cry of. +</p> + +<p> +Partridge, <i>or</i> ruffed grouse (<i>Bonasa umbellus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Peakamoose. +</p> + +<p> +Pewee, wood (<i>Contopus virens</i>), notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Phœbe-bird (<i>Sayornis phœbe</i>); nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Pigeon, passenger (<i>Ectopistes migratorius</i>); nests of. +</p> + +<p> +Pipit, American, <i>or</i> titlark (<i>Anthus pensilvanicus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Porcupine, Canada, adventure with a; description of; his armor of quills; at +Balsam Lake. +</p> + +<p> +Porpoise, white. +</p> + +<p> +Quebec. +</p> + +<p> +Raccoon, or coon, voice of; den of. +</p> + +<p> +Rain, waves and pulsations of; history of; relaxing effect of; necessary to the +mind; after drought; importance to man of an abundance; curious things reported +to have fallen in; the formation of; storms; effect of electricity on; in +winter and spring; signs of; in camp. <i>See</i> Thunder-storms and Weather. +</p> + +<p> +Raspberry, red. +</p> + +<p> +Rat. +</p> + +<p> +Rat, wood. +</p> + +<p> +Redpoll (<i>Acanthis linaria</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Redstart, European, nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Redwing. +</p> + +<p> +Restigouche River. +</p> + +<p> +Rivière du Loup. +</p> + +<p> +Robin, American (<i>Merula migratoria</i>); notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Robin redbreast, song of. +</p> + +<p> +Rondout Creek; camping and trouting on. +</p> + +<p> +Rose. +</p> + +<p> +Rye. +</p> + +<p> +Saguenay River, scenery of. +</p> + +<p> +St. Alphonse. +</p> + +<p> +St. Lawrence; down the. +</p> + +<p> +Salmon. +</p> + +<p> +Sapsucker, yellow-bellied. <i>See</i> Woodpecker, yellow-bellied. +</p> + +<p> +Scenery-hunting. +</p> + +<p> +Schoolhouse, a country. +</p> + +<p> +Shakespeare, quotations from; power and beauty in his poetry. +</p> + +<p> +Shanly, C. D., his poem, <i>The Walker of the Snow.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Shrike (<i>Lanius</i> sp.). +</p> + +<p> +Shrike, northern. <i>See</i> Butcherbird. +</p> + +<p> +Silkweed. +</p> + +<p> +Skunk, den of. +</p> + +<p> +Skylark, song of. +</p> + +<p> +Snake, and catfish. +</p> + +<p> +Snapdragon. +</p> + +<p> +Snow, a sign of. +</p> + +<p> +Snowbird, <i>or</i> slate-colored junco (<i>Junco hyemalis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Snowflake. <i>See</i> Bunting, snow. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow, English (<i>Passer domesticus</i>), a comedy; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow, reed, song of. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow, song (<i>Melospiza einerea melodia</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow, white-throated (<i>Zonotrichia albicollis</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrows, songs of. +</p> + +<p> +Spring-beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Spruce, a Canadian forest of. +</p> + +<p> +Squirrel, gray. +</p> + +<p> +Squirrel, red; playing tag. +</p> + +<p> +Starling, European, notes of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Starling, red-shouldered, <i>or</i> red-winged blackbird (<i>Agelaius +phœniceus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Strawberries, Dr. Parr and Dr. Boteler on; praise of; odor of; Downer; Wilson; +wild; alpine; cultivation of. +</p> + +<p> +Sumach. +</p> + +<p> +Swallow, an albino. +</p> + +<p> +Swallows, on damp days. +</p> + +<p> +Swift, European, notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Tadousac. +</p> + +<p> +Tanager, scarlet (<i>Piranga erythromelas</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +Thoreau, Henry D.; quotation from. +</p> + +<p> +Throstle. +</p> + +<p> +Thrush, hermit (<i>Hylocichla guttata pallasii</i>); song of. +</p> + +<p> +Thrush, missel; pugnaciousness of; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Thrush, White’s. +</p> + +<p> +Thrush, wood (<i>Hylocichla mustelina</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +Thunder-storms; in the woods. +</p> + +<p> +Titlark. <i>See</i> Pipit, American. +</p> + +<p> +Tree-toads, young. +</p> + +<p> +Trout, brook, markings of; of the Neversink; cannibals; of the Beaverkill; +jumping; of Balsam Lake; spawning of; of the Catskill waters; an unsuccessful +fight with a; a six-pound; two varieties in Jacques Cartier River. +</p> + +<p> +Trout-fishing, as an introduction to nature; the heart the proper bait in; on +the Neversink; on the Beaverkill; in Balsam Lake; pleasures and discomforts of +an excursion; on the Rondout; on the East Branch of the Neversink; in Canada; +catching a six-pounder. +</p> + +<p> +Trout streams, beauties of; the ideal; at the headwaters of the Delaware; +clearness of; thriving only in the woods. +</p> + +<p> +Violets. +</p> + +<p> +Vireo, song of. +</p> + +<p> +Vireo, red-eyed (<i>Vireo olivaceus</i>), song of. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Walker of the Snow, The</i>, by C. D. Shanly. +</p> + +<p> +Walking, benefits of. +</p> + +<p> +Wallkill River. +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, Blackburnian (Dendroica blackburniæ). +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, black-throated blue (<i>Dendroica cærulescens</i>); finding the nest +and young of; notes of; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, Canada (<i>Wilsonia canadensis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, chestnut-sided (<i>Dendroica pensylvanica</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, mourning (<i>Geothlypis philadelphia</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Warbler, yellow-rumped or myrtle (<i>Dendroica coronata</i>), rescue of a. +</p> + +<p> +Water, its importance in nature and in the life of man. +</p> + +<p> +Water-wagtail, small, <i>or</i> water-thrush (<i>Seiurus noveboracensis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Waxwing, Bohemian (<i>Ampelis garrulus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Waxwing, cedar. <i>See</i> Cedar-bird. +</p> + +<p> +Weather, the, the farmer’s dependence on; human changeableness of; +getting into a rut; in literature; the law of alternation in; dry; laws of. +<i>See</i> Rain and Thunder-storms. +</p> + +<p> +Weather-breeders. +</p> + +<p> +Weather-wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +Wheat. +</p> + +<p> +Whip-poor-will (<i>Antrostomus vociferus</i>), mother, eggs, and young; an +awkward walker; nest of. +</p> + +<p> +White, Gilbert. +</p> + +<p> +Whitethroat; notes of. +</p> + +<p> +Whitman, Walt, quotation from. +</p> + +<p> +Wilson, Alexander, quotation from. +</p> + +<p> +Woodchuck, or marmot; hole of. +</p> + +<p> +Wood-grouse. +</p> + +<p> +Woodpecker, downy (<i>Dryobates pubescens medianus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Woodpecker, golden-shafted. <i>See</i> High-hole. +</p> + +<p> +Woodpecker, yellow-bellied, <i>or</i> yellow-bellied sapsucker (<i>Sphyrapicus +varius</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Wordsworth, William, quotations from; the poet of the mountains. +</p> + +<p> +Wren, European, song of. +</p> + +<p> +Wren, winter (<i>Olbiorchilus hiemalis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Wrens, songs of. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Locusts and Wild Honey, by John Burroughs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY *** + +***** This file should be named 6355-h.htm or 6355-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/5/6355/ + +This etext was produced by Jack Eden +HTML markup by Andrew Sly + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this +eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook +for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, +performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given +away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks +not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the +trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country outside the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you + are located before using this ebook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The +Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the +mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its +volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous +locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt +Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to +date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and +official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/6355-h/images/Burroughs and dog.jpg b/6355-h/images/Burroughs and dog.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41fa5dd --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/Burroughs and dog.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/Whip-poor-will.jpg b/6355-h/images/Whip-poor-will.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be574a --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/Whip-poor-will.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/belted kingfisher.jpg b/6355-h/images/belted kingfisher.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ea4e22 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/belted kingfisher.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/cover.jpg b/6355-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..300f7ae --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image01.jpg b/6355-h/images/image01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41fa5dd --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image01.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image02.jpg b/6355-h/images/image02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be574a --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image02.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image03.jpg b/6355-h/images/image03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..83e180f --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image03.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image04.jpg b/6355-h/images/image04.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9a2df6 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image04.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image05.jpg b/6355-h/images/image05.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..287a1a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image05.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/image06.jpg b/6355-h/images/image06.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ea4e22 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/image06.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/ledges.jpg b/6355-h/images/ledges.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..287a1a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/ledges.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh1.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41fa5dd --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh1.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh2.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be574a --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh2.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh3.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..83e180f --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh3.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh4.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9a2df6 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh4.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh5.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..287a1a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh5.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/lh6.jpg b/6355-h/images/lh6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ea4e22 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/lh6.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/trout stream.jpg b/6355-h/images/trout stream.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..83e180f --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/trout stream.jpg diff --git a/6355-h/images/yellow birches.jpg b/6355-h/images/yellow birches.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9a2df6 --- /dev/null +++ b/6355-h/images/yellow birches.jpg |
