f'^M

^p Iflr. -^SoIIcfi.

LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. Chron-
icles of a Stroller in New England from Jan-
uary to June. i6mo, J1.25.

AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER.
Chronicles of a Stroller in New England from
July to December. i6mo, ^1.25.

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY, AND
OTHER PAPERS. i6mo, jSi.25.

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
Boston and New York.

[FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY

AND OTHER PAPERS

BY

FRANK BOLLES

SbfUiD^ifirj|3wg

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

1894

Copyright, 1894,
By ELIZABETH QUINCY BOLLES.

All rights reserved.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.

NOTE.

The following papers, with the exception of
the first four, which are Mr. Bolles's latest work,
are arranged in the order in which they were
written and first published in different periodi-
cals between the years 1890 and 1894.

They are now reprinted in their original form,
although this involves a certain amount of repe-
tition which would doubtless have been avoided
had Mr. Bolles himself revised them.

Barred Owls in Captivity and the two papers
that follow appeared originally in " The Auk,"
Bird Traits in " The New England Magazine,"
the next two as well as the first four in " The
Atlantic Monthly," Ways of the Owl and the
two closing papers in "The Popular Science
Monthly."

E. Q. B.

CONTENTS.

From Blomtdon to Smoky 1

Ingonish, by Land and Sea 38

The Home of Glooscap 56

August Birds in Cape Breton .... 82

Barred Owls in Captivity 106

Sapsuckers and their Guests .... 131

Young Sapsuckers in Captivity .... 156

Ways of the Owl 176

Bird Traits 206

Individuality in Birds 219

Birds at Yule-Tide 237

Up the Chimney 247

The Humming-Birds of Chocorua .... 260

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

Against the Bay of Fundy, with its fogs and
turbident waters, Nova Scotia presents a bokl
front of bastion and moat combined. The bas-
tion is called North Moimtain, and is a well-
wooded ridge rimning parallel to the southeast
shore of the Bay of Fundy for nearly its entire
length. The moat consists of St. Mary's Bay,
the Annapolis Basin, and the Basin of Minas,
and their tributary rivers, all lying within the
line of North Mountain. Parallel with both
bastion and moat, and presiding over the well-
tilled fields which border the several basins, is
South Mountain, from whose height can be ob-
tained the finest views of the land of Evan-
geline, and its impressive central figure, the
spruce-covered, storm-haunted Blomidon.

When we landed at Yarmouth, far down near
the southern tip of Nova Scotia, and saw the
monotonous coimtry which is characteristic of
that part of the province, something very much
like gloom settled upon our spirits. We took
an early morning train, and started eastward
and northward towards Blomidon. Rain, miles

2 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

of larch and spruce swamp, burned woodland
given up to tangles of fireweed and briers, and
cheerless, rock - rimmed ponds in low woods
haunted us until we reached Digby. True, our
escape from the railway at Meteghan station,
and our five hours with Mr. Sheehan, the royal
mail carrier and hospitable hotel keeper, bright-
ened us somewhat ; but there was nothing at
the railway to tell us of the quaint French set-
tlement of Meteghan which lay concealed, be-
yond ridge and woods, on the pleasant shores of
St. Mary's Bay. As we left Digby, late in the
afternoon of this first long day in Nova Scotia,
the clouds broke, the setting sun struggled for
the mastery of the sky, and all the heavens were
filled with shifting masses of storm and charging
columns of golden light. The bank of vapor
which had rested upon the Annapolis Basin at
North Mountain — vapor brewed, no doubt, in
the Bay of Fundy — suddenly lifted, and we
saw under it not only the vivid greens of forest
and field on the mountain, but Digby Gut, a
narrow, steep-walled cleft in the mountain lead-
ing straight out to the golden glory of the bay
of storms. Through that rift in the hill ro-
mance and the French had sailed in as long ago
as the first years of the seventeenth century ; and
though the French sailed out again, romance re-
mained behind to dwell forever in Port Royal's
placid basin.

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 3

As our train nearecl Port Royal, long ago
called Annapolis, and rolled along the southern
shore of the basin, the beauty of the scene in-
creased, thanks largely to the brilliant effects of
cloud-masses and an ardent setting sun. The
mountain seemed high, its top not being clearly
defined, and the wild scenery near Bear River,
where the train passes over a high curved
trestle, became doubly striking in the sunset
lights. Every few rods a blue heron flew from
the sands and flapped away from the train.
Marvelous flocks of peep rose, careened, flashing
like silver, wheeled, and alighted once more on
good feeding-ground. Shadows nestled amongst
the weirs running out at short intervals from
the shore ; darkness began to gather in the
valleys and the woods, and soon we reached
Annapolis with its ancient earthworks, and
found something akin to comfort in its best but
unpretentious inn.

It was on the afternoon of the next day, our
second on the peninsula, that I saw Blomidon,
— saw it first from the Kentville slopes, and
again, after we had followed down the dashing,
dancing Gaspereaux for several miles, from the
heights above Wolfville. The Gaspereaux Val-
ley had been charming by reason of its wooded
hillsides, in parts holding the river closely be-
tween dark banks of spruce and fir, but later

4 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

giving it freer range througli well-tilled mead-
ows and undulating fields. Evening, heralded
by rolling masses of dark clouds, seemed to be
upon us, as our horses slowly climbed the steep
slope of the Gaspereaux back of Wolfville.
The air grew cold, and when we reached the
crest of the ridge a strong wind wrestled with
us, and carried a chill from Fundy to the very
marrow of our bones. Then it was that, gaining
the edge of the northern slope, we suddenly saw
the marvelous panorama of the Cornwallis Val-
ley, North Mountain, Blomidon, the Basin of
Minas, the Acadian dike lands including Grand
Pre, and the mouth of the Gaspereaux, spread
before us under the sunset lights and the em-
phatic contrasts of speeding wind clouds.

The tide was out, and miles of basin bottom
lay red and shining in the sunlight. The dike
lands were intensely green, the sands, or mud,
all shades of terra cotta, the shallows strange
tones of purple, and the deeper waters varying
shades of blue. Color ran riot in meadow, mud,
and bay. Above and beyond all, directly in
front of us, miles away, at the extremity of a
grand sweep of shore which curved towards it
from our left, was a dark red bluff crowned
with evergreens. Its profile was commanding.
From the edge of its forest it fell one quarter of
the way to the sea in a line perfectly perpen-

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 5

clicular. Then, relenting a little, the line sloped
to the waves at a gentler angle, but one still too
steep for human foot to ascend. This was
Blomidon, simple, majestic, inspiring.

The distant northern shore of the basin was
plainly indicated by a line of blue moimtains,
the Cobequid range, and we knew that between
us and its rugged coast-line the mighty, pent-up
tides of Fundy raced each day and night into
the comparative calm of Minas, and spread
themselves there over the red sands and up to
the dikes which the Acadian peasants had built
round about Grand Pre. After receiving the
image of Blomidon into the deepest corners of
our memories, we looked next at Grand Pre,
and, looking, gave up all previous impressions
of it gained from Longfellow's poem. The
Grand Pre which he imagined and painted
without ever visiting the Gaspereaux coimtry is
not the dike land of reality. Both are charm-
ing, but around the vast level of green grass
which lay below us there were no whispering
pines or hemlocks, no suggestion of the primeval
forest. To the low undulating or level fields
which bordered the Gaspereaux, the Pereaux,
the Grand Habitant, and other rivers of this
region, the Acadian farmers added by degrees
marsh lands naturally swept by the tides, but
from which they carefully and permanently ex-

6 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

eluded all salt water. Longfellow's picture is
o£ salt meadows flooded annually by the sea,
and surrounded by a forest country, romantic
in character. We saw forests far away on
Blomidon, and back of us in the upper reaches
of the Gaspereaux ; but near the Basin of
Minas and the dike country of Grand Pre the
apple-tree and the willow are, in this generation
at least, kings among trees. To flood Grand
Pre with salt water would be to carry ruin and
desolation to its fertile acres, and sorrow to the
hearts of its thrifty owners. Its best lands are
worth four hundred dollars an acre, and require
no enrichment. When the sea floods them, as
it occasionally does, owing to the breaking of a
dike, three years are required to bring the land
back to even fair condition.

The next afternoon a pair of Kentville horses
carried us speedily towards Blomidon. We
crossed the Grand Habitant or Cornwallis River
at Kentville, and then followed the general
direction of the shore of the basin until we had
crossed in order the Canard, Habitant, and
Pereaux rivers, and gained the North Mountain.
Striking a ravine in its side, we ascended a well-
made road to the summit at a point called " the
Look-off." I know of no other hill or mountain
which gives the reward that this one does in
proportion to the effort required to climb it.

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 7

Many a rough White Mountain scramble up
three thousand feet yiekls nothing like the view
which this hill affords. The Nova Scotian
fflories in the fact that from it he can see into
seven counties, and count prosperous farms by
the score and apple-trees by the hundred thou-
sand.

From the shores of the basin westward through
the valley between the North and South Moun-
tain well-tilled farm lands reach towards An-
napolis as far as the eye can see. It is a patch-
work of which the provinces are and may well
be proud ; that quilted landscape, with grain and
potatoes, orchard and hayfield, feather-stitched
in squares by zigzag pole fences. Were this
the whole or the essence of the view from the
Look-off, it would not be worth writing about,
for farm lands by themselves, or with a frame
of rounded hills, are neither novel nor inspiring.
That which stirs, in this view, is the mingling
of Minas Basin, its blue water and dim farther
shores, with Grand Pre and the other dike lands
and with the red bluffs of Pereaux. The patch-
work and hills serve only as contrast, back-
ground, filling, to the pronounced features of
sparkling sea, bright green meadows cleft from
the sea by dikes, terra-cotta sands and bluffs,
and the forest-covered ridge leading towards half-
concealed Blomidon, the monarch of this gay

8 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

and sunlit realm. It was dreamlike to see the
tide creeping in over the shining red sand and
ooze, and changing their vivid tints by blending
with them its own colors to make tones strange
both to sea and sand. The wide expanses of
mud left bare by the tide told in their own way
the story of the Acadian dike builder. No man
of the soil could see the riches exposed daily to
view without wishing to keep them for his own
tillage. Even the man of to-day, who lay be-
side me on the turf of the Look-off, told of his
visions of a new dike many times greater than
any that the simple Acadian farmer had built,
and which is some day to snatch a million
dollars' worth of land from Minas Basin, and
make it into a part of the prosperous Nova
Scotia of the future. Listening to the dike
builder, and wondering at the absence in this
exquisite place of the hotels, pushing railways,
dainty steamers, and other machinery which at
home would long ago have been applied to give
this spot to the madding crowd, it suddenly
came over me that this was not a part of the
United States, but a sleepy corner of Greater
Britain. Even the great dike must be built on
paper in London before it intrudes on Minas
Basin.

The next time that I fully realized Nova
Scotia's bondage was two days later, in Halifax

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 9

on Sunday morning. It was a warm day at
best, but when we had fairly pelted up a narrow
street set on the earth at an angle best adapted
to tobogganing, and gained the gateway of a
chapel yard, all nature seemed melting. The
hot air was moved, not by a vulgar breeze, but
by the tramp of military men, and by the
scampering of women and children who gazed
upon the military men, and grew redder in the
light reflected from their uniforms. There was
morning service in the garrison chapel, and the
redcoats were out in force to attend it. They
marched lightly, quickly, and with an elastic
step pleasant to see. They were good-looking
boys, as a rule, and when seated, hundreds
strong, in the wooden pews of the chapel, they
looked tidy and good enough to be mothers' own
boys safe at home in the wayside chapels of the
old country. Above them, in the walls, were set
a score of marble tablets commemorative of
British officers who had died in or near Halifax.
The ages of these fallen heroes seemed to range
from seventeen to about twenty-four. No won-
der England is a power on the earth, when her
fighters begin life in childhood, and her states-
men keep on ruling until near fourscore and
ten.

The red-coated youths joined heartily in the
Church service, singing, responding, and listen-

10 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

ing attentively to the sermon, which was manly
and direct. A young officer read the lessons,
and when a cornet added its ringing tones to the
choir the Church miHtant seemed complete in its
equipment. It was when the prayer for the
Queen and the Prince of Wales was reached that
I suddenly realized the full meaning of the scene
which surrounded me. This was a garrison
church, owned by a foreign power and occupied
by foreign soldiers. These soldiers were not
Nova Scotians, but Englishmen, planted here
as much to watch the Nova Scotians as to serve
any other purpose. I could not help remember-
ing the time, long ago, when Massachusetts dis-
pensed with redcoats, and in the very act of driv-
ing them away from her coast gained new life
which has animated her to this day. Nova Scotia
men are good enough and true enough to defend
Nova Scotia soil.

When the redcoats sang " God save the
Queen," at the close of their service, I joined
with them ; but the words I knew, and which I
sang as vigorously as jDrudence and courtesy per-
mitted, made no reference to their distant sover-
eign. Still, the tune was the same, we were
brothers in music, and there was no shadow of
unkindness in my feeling towards the manly sol-
diers as we trooped out of chapel together.
While they formed in ranks on the green, I met

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. Jl

and chatted with their commanding officer. Sud-
denly the twelve o'clock gun was fired from the
citadel above us. The general started visibly,
but almost at the same moment his betrayal of
nervousness was covered by the band, which
struck up " Ta-ra-ra, boom de ay," putting spring
into the soldiers' heels, and broad grins upon the
spectators' faces.

The next day, after a little patient pulling of
red ta^je, I gained admission to the great citadel
of Halifax, popularly supposed to be the key to
its defenses. The works were in poor repair ;
the guns in sight wei-e old in style, and not of a
calibre to alarm an enemy's shijis in the outer
harbor ; but the equipment was amjjly sufficient
to keep Halifax itself in order, or to deal effect-
ively with an insurgent army attempting to ap-
proach the city. Against the attack of a strong
foreign enemy the citadel would be of use mainly
as a refuge for the women and children of Hali-
fax. The real defenses of the city are earth-
works in or near the harbor, and an elaborate
system of mines and torpedoes underlying the
channel.

The citadel has one unquestioned merit which
all the world, red or blue, can enjoy : it gives
from its ramparts, or from the open grassy slopes
just outside the bastions, an excellent view of
Halifax and all its picturesque surroundings.

12 FEO^f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

This view and the winning hospitality of the
Halifax people were fresh and bright in our
memories as we took the Intercolonial train
northward on Tuesday morning. Outside the
train, scanty forests, growing over a country
which appeared to have been bombarded with
rocks, offered no encouragement to an inquisitive
gaze. Inside, motley humanity invented many
ways of distracting us in more senses than one.
Salvationists sat three in a seat and played con-
certinas ; a company of maroons, the big negroes
of the country, disported in their best clothes ;
dozens of young Christian Endeavor delegates
hobnobbed together ; while some Nova Scotia
militia-men, by their calf-like antics, made us
think more kindly of the British garrison left
behind. If the scenery failed to charm, the
names of places did not fail to astonish us.
Acadie, Tracadie, Shubenacadie, rang in my ears
for days, and so did the less harmonious refrain
of Tignish, Antigonish and Merigomish. When
I heard of Pugwash the climax seemed attained.
It did not seem possible that any swain could
go a-courting a girl from Pugwash.

The day wore on. Names became places and
faded back to names again, and then ft began to
rain. It was in the rain that we first saw the
hills of Cape Breton looming up on the further
side of the Gut of Canso. We had expected to

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 13

be impressed by this strait and its bold shores,
but its proportions as seen through slowly falling
mist were disappointing. Had we not known
what it was, it woidd have seemed undeniably
commonplace.

It was about three o'clock on the afternoon of
August 1 that we crossed the Strait of Canso
and first touched Cape Breton soil. A boy with
baskets of freshly picked cultivated strawberries
welcomed us to the island. Our mental calendar
rolled back from August to June, and we enjoyed
those berries as though they were the first of the
season. Each berry marked a mile of wet forest
scenery, and by the time they were gone we were
well on our way to the Bras d'Or lakes. From
6.45 A. M. to 5.15 P. M. is a long day's ride in a
Nova Scotia car, and we sighed with relief when
the train rolled slowly over the seven-span iron
bridge at Grand Narrows, and then slid away
up the shore of the Bras d'Or towards Sydney,
leaving us to take a funny little steamer for
Baddeck.

Cape Breton is shaped a good deal like a lob-
ster's claw open towards the north, and this claw
holds in its grasp the grotesquely iri-egular arm
of the sea known as the Bras d'Or lakes. Com-
ing by rail from the Strait of Canso to Grand
Narrows, we had given up, or rather avoided, a
trip by steamer up the whole length of the Big

14 FROM JiLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

Bras cVOr. Had the afternoon been pleasant
the voyage would have been charming, for the
placid inland sea, with its picturesque shores
now close in view, and again below the horizon,
is one of the chief beauties of Cape Breton. As
the afternoon was shrouded in fine rain, the Big
Bras d'Or would have been no more attractive
than any other chilly fog-bank, and the voyage
through it would have consumed all the remain-
ing hours of the day. As matters stood, we had
two hours of daylight before us ; the rain had al-
most ceased ; an occasional gleam of golden light
wandered over the shores of the Little Bras d'Or ;
and we were about to embark on a steamer which
would take us through a portion of the lakes
where both of the hilly and picturesque shores
would be uninterruptedly in sight.

Had we seen this charming landscape immedi-
ately after bidding farewell to Chocorua, it would
have failed to make the strong impression upon us
which as a matter of fact it did produce. So much
of Nova Scotia between Yarmouth and Halifax,
and so nearly the whole of the country between
Halifax and Grand Narrows, had been of a kind
which every one sleeps through or scowls at in
the States 'that the Bras d'Or was a paradise in
comparison : a lake, yet the sea with its restless
jellyfish ; the sea, yet a land-locked basin sur-
rounded by graceful hills, trim farm lands, and

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 15

dark foi'ests of spruce and balsam. Many of the
hills, rising from the water with resolute lines,
wore the dignity of mountains ; and so perfect
were their proportions that bays only half a mile
in length often seemed like far-reaching thorough-
fares worthy of a voyager's exploration. Grad-
ually the Grand Narrows bridge faded away,
until it looked like a line of tatting work against
the gray sky. Then the most distant hills north-
ward rose into well-rounded summits, and at last
two noble headlands invited us to turn westward
between them, and to approach Baddeck, masked
by an island, spruce-grown, heron-haunted, and
capped by a tiny lighthouse whose gleaming eye
now emphasized the gathering gloom.

The traveler who expects anything picturesque
in an American village, town, or city, whether it
be seen from the sea, a lake, a plain, or a hilltop,
will in nine cases out of ten be wholly disap-
pointed. Box-shaped wooden warehouses, shops,
dwellings, and churches, whether arranged in
parallelograms or hurled together in true Marble-
head fashion, whether painted white, pink, green,
yellow, or red, or not painted at all, generally
lack the power of pleasing the eye. They are
cheap, comfortless in appearance, temporary in
nature, and essentially vidgar in design. Bad-
deck, as we anticipated, consisted of the usual
conglomeration of wooden buildings, rickety

16 FRO^r BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

wharves, and country roads ; and when we crept
round the island, and saw it hank and gawky be-
fore us, we felt as though we had seen it many
times before. It made for vis a good point of de-
parture, and as such we used it, for a few walks
into its thickets after birds and plants, and for
long trips to the Margaree rivers, and northward
to Cape Smoky.

We took our first walk that evening, soon
after landing and getting settled at the Dunlops'.
During that walk we learned several distinguish-
ing characteristics of Baddeck. In the first
place, Baddeck's streets are not lighted. In the
second place, what in the darkness appear to be
sidewalks are only plank coverings above deep
gutters or brook beds which border the way ;
and as the continuity of this platform depends
upon the personal whim of the abutter, it is not
surprising that when Rory's sidewalk ceased we
fell into Torquil's part of the ditch. The soil
of Baddeck is so composed of clay and other sub-
stances that rain either runs to the Bras d'Or,
or stands till heaven takes pity on it and draws
it skyward again. The third fact we learned that
night was that cows in Baddeck all wear bells,
sleep in the highways, and are never allowed in-
side a fence. Whenever and wherever we turned,
a sudden " tinkle-tankle " would show that we had
nearly fallen over a prostrate cow : therefore,

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 17

after half an \\o\\v of darkness, ditches, and
cows, we returned to the hotel and its comforts ;
but all night long- the cowbells tinkled through
our dreams.

For the Margaree drive we took three days,
starting from Baddeck early on Thursday, Au-
gust 3, in a top buggy behind a six-year-old horse
named Jim. The first day we drove twenty-six
miles, the second twenty-two, and the third ten,
fortunately catching a steamer at Whycocomagh,
and so coming back to Baddeck alive, and with
Jim still able to feel the whip. We had been
told that the Margaree country was entrancing ;
but when the trip was over we had reached the
conclusion, af tei-ward confirmed by a Cape Breton
veteran, that salmon had first drawn the husbands
to the Margaree and made them enthusiastic
about it, and that later, when the wives invaded
the region, they had been taught to find consola-
tion in the pretty scenery. In our three days'
trip we found but two spots which in the White
Mountains would be deemed worthy of special
notice. One of these was Loch o' Law, and the
other Loch Ainslie. We came to the former
near the close of our first day's drive. Worn
and weary with flogging Jim, and insisting twice
each minute on his return to the middle of the
deeply rutted and often dangerously washed road,
I had lost all interest in everything save the dim

18 FROM HLOMIDON TU SMOKY.

prospect of food and bed, when suddenly I saw
the gleam of water directly before us, and the
next moment we came out of the woods upon
the shore of a long, narrow lake held close to
the heart of lofty hills. Our road followed the
western margin of the tarn, and the dark forest
which overhung us made premature twilight for
us to jog through. Beyond the lake, on its east-
ern side, three impressive hills stood shoulder to
shoulder, one of rock, one of turf, one of forest.
They were so steep, it seemed as though only
goats could find a foothold upon their flanks.
Between the hill of rock and the hill of turf lay
a great gorge, overhung by cliffs and full of
shadows. The hills themselves were bathed in
warm sunlight, and the water was partly in
shadow and partly in light. A mother loon and
her smart little chick were swimming down the
lake, and seven or eight great blue kingfishers
flew up and down its borders, sounding over and
over again their watchman's rattles. This was
Loch o' Law, a gem worthy of its rare setting
and of its place near the heart of Cape Breton.
From it the escaping waters rush downward to
help form the Northeast Margaree River, and
the road we were following led us down with the
stream to the j)leasant intervale where geese
wander in flocks up and down the roads, and
salmon swim proudly in the bright waters of
their favorite river.

FR03f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 19

From Northeast Marg-aree to Margaree Forks,
and from the Forks up the Southwest Margaree
to Loch Ainslie, the scenery was not equal to the
task of dispossessing Jim of the foremost place
in our minds. Jim shied, stumbled, sweated,
until we thought disintegration was near at hand,
and, worse than all, required unremitting guid-
ance to keep him in the road. Had the natural,
beauties of the country been as great as we ex-
pected, I doubt not that Jim would have tipped
us into the swift-flowing waters of the Southwest
Maraaree lonjx before Loch Ainslie was reached.
Had Jim been the horse he might have been,
we should have enjoyed much more the pretty
glimpses of moving water, the deep pools tempt-
ing a passing cast, the meadows thick with spikes
of splendid orchids, and the rounded hillsides
thickly clad with woods.

Loch Ainslie is a beautifid sheet of water,
covering in all about twenty-five square miles,
and surrounded by good farm land running back
upon high hills. Highlanders settled the country,
and their descendants, who still own the farms,
are eager, like so many of our New England
farmers, to sell their places, and try life under
less picturesque but more profitable conditions.
We were welcomed to a Highlander's home, and
told where we could fish to advantage from three
o'clock till dark. Lon"- before tea time we had

20 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

caught more trout than we could eat for supper
and breakfast, and by nightfall Loch Ainslie had
impressed itself upon us as the most beautiful
part of the Margaree country. This it did mainly
at sunset, when, from near a grove of lofty pines,
we watched the most delicate tints come and go
in the sky, on the distant western hills, and in
the fair lake itself, with its miles of rippling
water blushing and paling in sympathy with the
heavens. While the sunset lasted we thought
more of color than of form in our beautiful sur-
roundings ; but after the passing away of orange,
yellow, pale green, violet, and finally blue itself,
we were soothed by the lovely contour of the
beach, the silhouettes of the pines, the sweep of
hill crest, the pallid lake, and the mystery of the
unfathomable sky.

Next day, August 5, we drove from Loch Ains-
lie to Whycocomagh, called by the natives
" Hogomah," and there, with a sigh of relief, put
Jim, the buggy, and ourselves upon a steamer,
and returned to Baddeck without further wea-
riness of sj)irit. This part of the Bras d'Or is
like the rest of the great labyrinth of inland sea,
charming at every point. At times so narrow
as to be more river than lake, it winds around
high wooded hills, curves into countless bays,
and then expands proudly to meet the Little
Bras d'Or at Baddeck.

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 21

Early on the following Monday morning,
having in the mean time eaten wild strawberries
picked in the larch swamps and spruce thickets
back of Baddeck, we set out for Cape Smoky.
Theoretically we were going on foot, but it so
chanced that the kindest and most entertain-
ing of friends found it convenient to carry us
eighteen miles northward to Englishtown, on
St. Anne's Bay. Sullen clouds hung over Bras
d'Or, as we drove for a mile or two along its
shore before entering the woods and beginning
the long and easy ascent to the watershed be-
tween lake and bay. Gradually the sky as-
sumed a more threatening aspect, and when at
last the height of land was reached, and we saw
before us St. Anne's Bay, narrow at first among
the trees, and growing broad as it met the sea
and f^ced boldly northward towards Newfound-
land, huge black clouds rolled eastward, pouring
cold rain upon movuitain, bay, and road.

We drove faster as the tingling drops splashed
upon us. Dashing through dark spruces, spin-
ning down steep grades, round sudden curves,
over frail bridges which spanned foaming
brooks, and then out into the open, we found
the bay on our left, and beyond it, showing
dimly through the storm, a large mountain. It
was Barasois (or Smith's) Mountain, and from its
left North River emerged to empty into a broad

22 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

arm of the bay, while behind it, further north,
the Barasois River, winding through primeval
forests, flowed eastward to reach the sea ahead
of lis outside of the mouth of St. Anne's Bay.
Soon we saw Engiishtown a mile or two in fi-ont
of us, on the eastern side of the bay, and then
we noticed, apjiareutly running from shore to
shore, a narrow white bar which separated bay
from sea. Now the clouds began to break and
roll away, and far, far beyond the bar we could
see headlands of various degrees of dignity and
grandeur looking seaward. The last of them,
very distant, very high, cloud-capped, with a
front like Blomidon's steepest face, filled us
with a yearning to reach it and worship at its
mighty shrine. It was Smoky, the monarch of
the northern sea.

Glorious yellow sunshine poured down upon
Barasois Mountain and the heaving waters of
St. Anne's Bay as we entered the little fishing
village of Engiishtown. The worst of the storm
was passing beyond us, and myriad perpendicu-
lar lines of falling rain were ruled from sea to
sky across the north. With latent impatience
we rested, ate, and said good-by to our friends.
Then our feet tramped the muddy road, our
noses sniffed the atmosphere of drying cod on
the flakes, our ears listened to the song of the
juncos, and our eyes gazed forward, northward,

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 23

toward Smoky. The head of the great cape was
cloud-capped, but this made it seem all the
more heaven-reaching.

Turning to the left from the road, we de-
scended to the shore of the bay, and found our-
selves just opposite the long white cobblestone
bar which we had seen afar off. Between us
and its tip lay a deep channel which connected
St. Anne's Bay with the ocean. On the shore
was a boat, and an impatient ferryman stood by
it watching us descend. " Where are you go-
ing?" he asked, his keen eyes searching us.
" Northward," I answered. " Like the wild
geese," he said, with a mocking laugh, and
pushed off into the current. He was Torquil
McLean, well known to all who travel on the
North Shore, and holding in his face many a
suggestion of the Highland stock from which
he is descended, and the wild north country
in which he lives, and its counterpart in which
his race was moidded. His strong arms soon
brought us to the bar, upon which two wagons,
several people, and a sheep were awaiting his
arrival.

A road, scarcely perceptible at first glance,
lay along the bar towards the beginning of the
North Shore country into which we were ventur-
ing. Between us and the north pole there was
nothing legally definable as a hotel. This vague

24 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

track over the cobblestone beach led to the
mainland, and then, past farm and fisherman's
hut, thirty - four miles to Ingonish Bay, and
thirty-six miles more to Cape North. Our lodg-
ing-places must be the simple homes of Gaelic-
speaking Presbyterians, in whose eyes we should
be foreigners, not to say heathen. Letters from
James Dunlop, of Baddeck, addressed to various
members of Clan McDonald, were our principal
hope of hospitality. The dimly marked road
and the cobblestone reef, wheeling, shrieking
terns, pounding waves from the northern ocean,
and a sight of new and strange plants combined
to thrill us with a sense of charming novelty
and wildness. It was still early in the after-
noon, and as we did not care how far we ad-
vanced, having already been carried as far as
we originally planned to walk that day, we
strolled slowly along the bar, enjoying the mere
fact of living.

Among the plants growing upon the loosely
packed, egg-shaped stones was one quite unfa-
miliar and of most uncommon appearance. Its
succulent and glaucous leaves were bluish-gray
in color, and set thickly upon prostrate stems
which radiated like devilfish tentacles from a
common centre. The leaves diminished rapidly
in size as they left the root, and at the extremity
of each stem there were uncoiling: clusters of

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 25

exquisite flowers somewhat resembling those of
the forget-me-not. Flowers fully developed
were delicate blue, while buds and half-opened
blossoms were pink. It seemed to me that I
never saw a plant more perfectly in harmony
with its surroundings. Lifting no surface for
the storm winds to seize upon, it nevertheless
covered much ground. Its delicate leaf tints
sympathized with those of the polished stones
and sea-bleached driftwood upon which it grew,
yet its flowers drew from sky and sea a more
pronounced beauty of color sufficient to allure
the butterfly and attract the bee. The botanical
name of this charming plant is Mcrtensia mari-
tima., though why Gray's manual calls its flowers
white is more than the Cape Breton plant can
answer.

As we neared the mainland, stunted spruces
and firs grew more abundant and bolder, flowers
more numerous, and the road plainer and less
rocky. Birds other than the weird terns flew
before us, or sang to us from their cover.
When we reached the higher ground, the sense
of novelty and isolation faded, and the world
seemed more like its old southern self. The
road ran along the shore as closely as it could
without much winding, and as we progressed
northward we left St. Anne's Bay behind us,
and gained a view southeastward along the coast

26 FJiOM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

towards Sydney and the entrance to the Bras
d'Or. Still the Leanty of St. Anne's followed
ns, for the glimpses which we had now and then
of its slowly diminishing shores were of sturdy
momitains with forests reaching to the waves,
valleys in which the shades of evening were
gathering, and farm lands upon which the short
thick grass lay like velvet in the slanting rays
of the sun. The view eastward was more rugged.
Strong faces of rock turned towards the sea and
fought the waves which had crumbled them, and
torn away all but the hardest cliffs and ledges.
One long finger of rock reached into the ocean,
and pointed to a group of islands which may
once have been a j)art of it. They were not
green isles with sandy margins, but huge angu-
lar masses of rock with high cliffs, under which
storms might rage for centuries without drag-
ging down the grim ramparts.

We passed a few farms, with houses and
barns standing far back from the road, as is the
fashion of these Highlanders, but most of our
way lay between pastures, mowing-fields with
short grass partly cropped by the scythes, and
woodland where black and white spruces and
balsam firs grew densely together. Upon a
meadow bordering a salt creek a flock of yellow-
legs were whistling noisily, and back and forth
over them kingfishers were flying with their

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 27

usual cry. As the sun drew near the hills, we
stopped at a house and blacksmith shop and
presented the first of our letters. William
McDonald lived here, and our request was
that he should drive us on our way to Indian
Brook, where, at Angus McDonald's, we hoped
to spend the night. William had only a two-
wheeled sulky, which could scarcely carry three ;
so it was a relief to all of us when we saw,
coming from the bar, a youth in a wagon, driv-
ing a sprightly nag at a rattling pace. After a
brief conversation in Gaelic, William announced
that the youth would take us twelve or fourteen
miles up the coast to French River, where we
were sure of a good bed at Sandy McDonald's.
A moment later we were packed in, three on a
seat, and dashing northward as fast as the pony
could tear. The youth would have done credit
to a Spartan mother. I never met any one of
his age and intelligence who knew so well how
not to talk. He answered my questions with
the fewest possible words, but asked nothing in
return. He knew the names of capes, islands,
birds, animals, trees, and many flowers, but it
took a separate question to drag each item from
him. Meanwhile he kept the horse spinning.
We had no time to shiver over holes in bridges ;
tlie horse knew his business, and jumped the
holes, at least, if he could not jump the whole

28 FROM BLOMIDON TO RMOKY.

bridge. Ruts ancl gullies were ignored, and we
learned that, if taken quickly, two ruts and a
gully are almost as good as a level.

Twilight was growing upon the earth, and far
away over the pale sea the light off Cape Dau-
phin, on the Ciboux Islands, was flashing its mes-
sage of mingled hope and warning, when suddenly
we plunged into gloom, wheeled around a dizzy
curve, and crossed a long iron bridge. Below us
a river's dark waters reflected the waning glory
of the sky. This was the Barasois, one of the
salmon rivers of which we had heard fisherman's
tales at Baddeck. Two miles more brought us
to Indian Brook, and again a great curve and a
dash through the woods prepared us for another
angle and a sharp descent to a long bridge so full
of holes that we felt as though only angels could
have kept our pony's flying feet out of them. A
vision of cliffs, deep black pools, and distant
mountains with serrated spruce forests against
the sunset sky made us determine that Indian
Brook should not be passed on the gallop when
we returned from Ingonish, if indeed that happy
day ever came.

Darkness having taken full possession of the
earth, our charioteer urged his horse to even
wilder efforts, and we shot through dim dangers
with teeth set and eyes vainly scanning the gloom
to see what next impended. It was in this fash-

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 29

ion that we tore across a field towards tlie cliffs,
apisarently with certain death before us, whirled
under a steep bank, and found ourselves on the
ocean's edge, in front of a long, unpainted build-
ing, before which, standing or sitting upon the
loaded fish flakes, were a dozen or more men.
Half an hour later, the telegraph operator at
the goverment office, a mile up the road, ticked
to Baddeck the following message given by our
Jehu : " Them Yanks, the man and woman, are
at Sandy McDonald's this night."

" Them Yanks," stiff, stunned, sore, hungry,
cold, and petrified with astonishment, stood on
Sandy McDonald's doorstep and silently gazed
up and down upon land and sea. Truly they
had been cast upon as unique a shelter as this
world had ever yet offered them. The long,
low house clung upon the edge of the bluff, with
only the width of the fish flakes between it and
a sharp descent to the ocean. Behind it rolling-
grass land cut off the west. Southward a line
of bold rocky cliffs overhung a narrow beach,
upon which the waves broke and cast foam from
many fragments of ledge which dotted the shore.
Through a similar line of bluffs on the north
French River had cut its way, but instead of
reaching the ocean directly it was turned aside
by a huge cobblestone barrier raised by storms,
and so was compelled to flow nearly parallel to

30 FROM RLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

the shore for many rods, finally reaching the sea
JTist at the foot of the fish flakes and in front
of the house. Eastward and northward, as far
as the eye could see, lay the open ocean. The
only distance not sky or sea was the broken shore
near Cape Dauphin and Point Aconi, which
limited the view towards the southeast and south.
Just below the fish flakes were several fisher-
men's huts, crowded together upon uncertain
foundations above high-tide mark. Boats, great
tubs for oil, more flakes thickly strewn with split
fish, masses of seaweed and fish heads, big frag-
ments of rock worn round by the waves, oars,
sails, ropes, nets, lobster pots, and nameless rel-
ics of storm and shore lay in wild confusion
at the foot of the bank. All the odors of Bil-
lingsgate rose to salute our trembling nostrils,
and stronger than all sights and smells came in
ceaseless iteration the singing and sobbing of
the great waves.

Sandy McDonald gave us a hearty welcome,
and ushered us into a cosy parlor, from which
opened a tiny bedroom. Simple food, reading by
McDonald from a Gaelic Bible, a long breath of
ocean air, and the benediction of the stars fitted us
for early and profound sleep. It was not until
gray dawn that I awakened, and, throwing a
blanket over my shoulders, stole to the door and
looked out over the sea. The fishermen were

FROM BLOMIDON TO 8M0KY. 31

already afloat ; several boats were a mile from
shore, and others, with sails flapping- and oars
thumping, were working their way towards the
east. Across the far horizon lay a long, low
bank of white fog. The sun came slowly from
it and looked at the drowsy world with its one
red eye. Its light touched each wave as it
broke, and through the thin green-combing of
the breaker the sun's glow was rose-colored and
exquisitely beautiful. So, too, the rosy light lay
in the thin water which ran back across the shin-
ing sand, as each wave subsided after breaking
on the beach. Cape Dauphin and its islands
floated as rosy castles in a distant haze, and the
bluffs close to me put on soft and alluring tints,
soon to be lost, however, as the sun grew clear,
and by whiter light robbed the scene of most
of its peculiar charm.

It was not until after another period of sweet
sleep that we began our walk of fourteen miles
from French River over Cape Smoky to Ingonish.
The day was warm and clear. Smoky stood up
boldly against the north, facing eastward towards
the open sea with a front as steep as Blomidon's,
and nearly three times as high. For about two
hundred feet above the ocean the mountain's face
was reddish rock ; thence for a thousand feet
low trees clothed the rampart with soft green.
The top, running inland a long distance, appeared

32 FJiO,]f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

to be level, and either wooded or covered with
bushes. Between us and Smoky two minor
bluffs pointed into the sea ; but they were
dwarfed by the loftier cape, and served only as
milestones to cheer us on our way.

After walking a mile or more we met two
men, who addressed us pleasantly, and turned
to walk with us on our way. The older of the
two was over eighty, and told of his far-away
birthplace in the Isle of Lewis. The younger,
a man of sixty, was very tall, and saw this
world through but one eye. We soon found
that it was his son who had been our laconic
charioteer the evening before, and as the talk
progressed it became evident that Big Rory, as
this canny man is called from Baddeck to Cape
North, was not in favor of our walking over
Smoky, when his horse and wagon could be
earning more American dollars by carrying us.
We withstood his arguments, however, and en-
joyed his flow of genial and intelligent conver-
sation. I felt sure that had Cape Breton been
called upon to take an active or courageous part
in this world's doings while Big Rory was
young, he would have been a power in her life.
True, he is that in a way now, politically ; but
provincial politics are so lacking in all that is
pure, patriotic, or intelligent that neither Big
Rory nor any other strong man has much

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 33

chance to make head against the undertow of
corruption and prejudice.

By noon we had reached one of the last houses
on the southern side of Smoky. Here we sought
dinner, but found, alas, what too many of the
North Shore people live upon, — sour bread,
boiled tea, sour milk sweetened and watered,
and berries. Our hosts could probably have
added salt fish, eggs, and oatmeal porridge, had
they felt like it. But we made the best meal we
could off the food offered, and asked for no ad-
ditions, feeling that what we ate might be seri-
ously diminishing their own dinners.

Upon rather insufficient rations, therefore, we
advanced against Smoky, and began the ascent
by following inland a noisy stream which flowed
seaward alons; the mountain's southern border.
After carrying us deep into the forest, which
was by far the most lofty and vigorous growth
of trees we had thus far seen on the island, the
road crossed the torrent and turned seaward
again, ascending by easy grades through a dense
birch growth. On the whole, the road was well
made, and showed skill on the part of those who
planned it. When we reached its highest point,
we found the top still unconquered ; so, strik-
ing through bushes and over steep ledges, we
clambered to the undisputed summit, and there
paused to survey the panorama below us.

34 FROM liLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

It was assuredly a magnificent view, and one
wliicli will in time lead many feet to the ledges
now mainly enjoyed by berry-pickei's, bears in-
cluded. To the west lay barrens similar to those
which are said to cover the interior of this part
of Cape Breton. Rocks, bushes, bare ledges,
and hollows filled with sphagnum or pools of
amber water were the prevailing elements in a
country which now and then sustained a patch
of low spruces or a larger body of mixed woods.
The east was ocean, limitless and blue. But at
our feet were the wild details of the great preci-
pice which fell away from us twelve hundred
feet to the waves. Over it several large black
birds were sailing, and the first croak which came
echoing up the cliffs from them disclosed their
identity : they were not crows, but ravens. I
had been told that when I reached Smoky I must
keep an eye open for ravens ; and true enough,
here they were.

Our view northward was limited by the fact
that the foreground was filled by the great mass
of mountain which we were next to cross in order
to look down upon Ingonish. Nevertheless, a
wide expanse of ocean showed in the northeast,
and the heads of distant mountains crowded to-
gether in the northwest. Between sea and moun-
tains we could catch one glimpse of a nearer head-
land, with a church steeple rising from a village at

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 35

its heel. It was the southern view which held us
enchanted even when we felt that we must pause
no longer. From the foot of Smoky back to the
far seclusion of St. Anne's Bay the cliff-lined
coast we had traversed lay in profile before us.
Headland after headland pointed eastward, and
valley after valley wound back among the hills
and forests. From St. Anne's Bay the coast
turned eastward and ran away into distance,
coming out boldly at Cape Dauphin and Point
Aconi, and retreating; a^aiu at the mouth of the
Bras d'Or and the entrance to Sydney Harbor.
Later in the afternoon Smoky gave us one
more view, which, by reason of marvelous lights
and shadows in the sky, was even more beautiful
than any other picture which Cape Breton or
Minas Basin revealed to us. We had descended
many a steep slope, and passed through a fine
primeval forest where lofty beeches, yellow
birches, hemlocks, and spruces presented much
the same aspects which I love so well to see on
the Lost Trail. We had rounded one shoulder
of the mountain where the edge of the road had
slipped down four or five hundred feet into a
brook bed, leaving only room for a wagon to
pass between the unguarded edge of the ravine
and the gravel bank which rose from the road
on its other side. A horse having already
plunged down there, I, even on my own feet,

36 FEOAf BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

(lid not like the sensation of i)assing this spot.
AV'hen I heard that the mail carrier went by it
in his sulky or sleigh night after night, summer
and winter, I wished that the highway connnis-
sioners for this district could he compelled to
travel with him on his dangerous way. Soon
after leaving this place, the road came out on an
open hillside commanding an uninterrupted view
of all that part of Cape Breton lying north of
Cape Smoky. The coast in profile extended
northward until its details were lost in dis-
tance. Bays, headlands, islands, sandy beaches,
lighthouses, cosy villages, passing ships, sailing
ravens, and sparkling waves shone on the right,
while on the left mountain after mountain, all
heavily wooded, though showing many a bare
cliff or sculptured summit, filed away from fore-
ground to distance in mighty ranks. A huge
mass of storm cloud, sent down from the Bay
of St. Lawrence, was sweeping proudly across
the sky from west to east. At some points it
was inky black and quivering with lightning, at
others it -was white or gray, while on the edges
of the thunderlieads golden reflections from the
hidden sun gleamed as the banners of the cloud
army which slowly spread across the j^lains of
blue. In the north there arose the dim out-
line of a high mountain. We linew that it must
be very near to Cape North, and we fancied that

FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 37

from its summit Newfoundland's gloomy crags
might be seen across the sea.

One of the nearer mountains attracted our
notice by its strange outline. As it lay against
a background of black cloud, its profile of naked
rock was sharply cut, and high up on its precip-
itous face a slender column of stone projected
from the mass, as a ship's figurehead leans for-
ward from the bows. It was like a human form
poised over a black abyss, yet lifting its weak
arms towards heaven. From among the nearer
mountains a river could be seen winding towards
the sea. It came along the foot of Smoky, spread
into a landlocked basin, yet found a narrow chan-
nel for itself between a lighthouse and a bar,
and so gained the outer bay. This outer bay
was cut in twain by a slender rocky promon-
tory, with picturesque outlines, high cliffs, and
deep clefts in its side. On the northern margin
of the farther bay was Ingonish village, and
along the western border of the nearer bay — on
the bar, in fact, or close to it and the lighthouse
— was another hamlet, called Ingonish South
Bay. It was to this nearer village at our feet
that we looked with most interest, for it was our
ultima Thule.

INGONISH, BY LAND AND SEA.

Under the northern shadow of Cape Smoky
there is a double bay, cut in two by a rocky pe-
ninsula called Middle Head. Into the half of the
bay next to Smoky, and chafing restlessly against
the foundations of its richly colored cliffs, runs
the Ingonish River, which comes from the al-
most impenetrable forests and morasses of the in-
terior of northern Cape Breton to pour its clear
waters into the ocean. No bridge crosses the
stream, and the traveler who descends from the
heights of Smoky towards the fishermen's ham-
let of Ingonish South Bay, which he sees scat-
tered upon a sandy spit at his feet, finds himself
halting upon the edge of deep, swift water, with
cove on his left and bay on his right, and never a
sign of a way across. If his voice is strong and
clear, he may waken the fishermen's dogs on the
other shore, and, what is more to the purpose,
bring a red-haired, blue-eyed lad to the flatboat
on the sand, and to the big sweep which will
presently urge it across to the foot of the red cliffs.
The people of Ingonish are in part of Irish
parentage and in part of Scotch, but they are

INGONISII, BY LAND AND SEA. ?>0

almost all members of the Roman communion,
and made of different stuff from the blue Pres-
byterian Highlanders who dwell along the coast
between Cape Smoky and the head of St. Anne's
Bay. In the best of the houses, which stand one
beyond another on the South Bay beach, lives
Mr. Baker, whose hospitality makes a journey
beyond Smoky a possibility, and more than that,
a pleasure. Here may be laid aside the stoicism
needed to sustain life during the journey up the
north shore ; and here, in the midst of restless
ocean, tawny sands, red cliffs, undulating forests,
and brooks alive with trout, can be found all
that nature can give to stimulate happiness or to
lull the troubled mind, and all that the reason-
able wanderer can expect to find to make his
weary flesh comfortable. In the days which we
spent at Mr. Baker's we learned to love Ingonish
more and more, as we explored it by land and by
sea.

I.

BY LAND.

The breath of fire floated In the air, making it
hazy, softening the mountain contours, giving a
wicked look to the sea, and filling me, through
its perfume, with the same feeling of unrest that
the moose and caribou have as they feel the smoke
of burning- forests tinfrlinir in their nostrils.

40 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

Looking inland, I saw the hills marshaled along
the river, rank behind rank, with their relative
distances clearly defined by the smoke. The
mercury was above 90° Fahrenheit, and moim-
tain climbing was not to be thought of. Middle
Head, seen across the waves, suggested cool
breezes, and towards its lean, half -grassy, half-
rocky finger, pointing ever eastward, we took
our way. From Mr. Baker's, half a mile of
sandy road runs northward parallel with an
ideally beautiful beach. Then the road bends
to the left, inland, while the beach curves to the
right, seaward^ rising soon into sandy banks,
which in turn change to sculptured cliffs at
whose foot the sea murmurs.

Terns with black-tipped wings skimmed close
to the restless waves, and over the fretted sand
where the ripples had left the marks of their
lips. No one walked upon the road where man
had scratched together badly the same sand
which nature had made perfect by the tides.

When I looked at Ingonish beach as it was,
silent, lonely, serene, and pure, I thought what
it might some day be made if fashionable men
and women, on pleasure bent, chanced to dis-
cover it and to feel the thrill of its sun-tempered
tide, which is as mild as that of their favorite
but more southern shores. Now, at least, the
absence of hotels where such men and women

INGONISn, BY LAND AND SEA. 41

might be fed and put to bed, if by chance the
sea or their own feet cast them upon these dis-
tant sands, makes it certain that they will not
come to banish Eden by their presence.

Between the sand beach and the road there
rises a massive wall of rounded stones, varying
in size from a goose egg to a hmnan skull. Can
waves alone have raised such a dike ? The same
question came to me as I studied a similar wall
running along the seaward side of the bar which
well nigh makes St. Anne's Bay a lake, and
Torquil McLean's ferry a superfluity instead of
a somewhat malodorous joy. Perhaps the fact
that often, in winter, the ice comes stealing
across from Newfoundland and the seas that lie
beyond it, and packs itself against St. Anne's
bar and all the north coast of Cape Breton, may
explain these walls. The thrust of the ice could
scour the shallows for miles, and bear along
loose stones to the first beach whose sloping face
would receive them. The density of the ar-
rangement of these stones, and the abruptness
of the front which they present to the sea, point
to ice action rather than to that of waves alone.
The wall is so high that those walking or driv-
ing along the road cannot see the beach, while
those bathing cannot see the country inland.
Shut in between shingle and sea, we walked the
length of the sand, and then climbed to the top
of the bluffs of Middle Head.

42 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

The evening before, while watching meteors
from the Leach, we had seen the sky above
Middle Head suddenly lighted up l)y a bright
fire. It lasted ten or fifteen minutes, then died
away so quickly that we felt sure no building
could have been destroyed. Now, on the nar-
row path leading along the edge of the cliffs, we
met three men. They bowed and touched their
caps with the smiling politeness characteristic
of most of the natives, Gaelic or Irish. I asked
them what and where the fire had been ; and in
a few words they said that Rory This had
bought the right to cut grass on Sandy That's
land, but that after the hay was made a dispute
arose as to the price ; so the hay had been
burned to quiet the trouble. I confess I could
not reason out the process by which either Rory
who had labored, or Sandy who had owned the
grass, could find comfort in putting match to
the hay.

Some of the rock which supported Sandy's
scorched hayfield, and which formed portions
of the cliffs of Middle Head, contrasted strik-
ingly with the prevailing red syenite of the
Ingonish region. It was white ; not, however,
like newly fallen snow, but like that which this
world has somewhat soiled. Gypsum, or " plas-
ter," as Cape Breton calls it, occurs in many
places on the Bras d'Or and along the north

INGONISn, BY LAND AND SEA. 43

coast. It suffers much more from the action of
water and frost than the liarder rocks surround-
ing it, so that where it appears on the surface
there are sure to be odd depressions in the soil,
" sink holes," into which earth and trees have
settled ; or, in cliff faces, deep hollows, coves, or
caverns. The path along Middle Head follows
closely the trend of the shore, and from it we
found ourselves looking down into the most sug-
gestive little cove that smugglers would care to
own or story- writers to dream over. Its open-
ing to the sea was narrow, and all its walls were
high and steep, yet it had a tiny sand beach
where a boat could land easily even if storm
waves beat angrily on the stern cliffs outside.

About halfway out on the Head we came upon
a spring, — a cup-shaped hollow in the mud,
filled with sun-warmed watei*, — which tempted
lis to rest near it under the low pines and
spruces, where Cape Smoky could be seen across
the bay, its richly toned cliffs wonderfully worn
by waves, and its lofty head resting in the haze
that gives the mountain promontory its name.
Its outer point, which cuts in twain waves
unchecked from the Grand Banks, is called
" the Bill of Smoky." From this point back
to the Ingonish light the syenite crags rise
supreme above waves or ice. Near the light-
house the lines of Smoky grow more gentle.

44 FRO^f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

The forest, wliich above the ]3ill is but a narrow
line next the sky, sh)pes downward to the placid
water inside the bar, and rolls on westward to
join otlier expanses of spruce and birch, hem-
lock and maple, which clothe the mountains and
fill the river valley with soft foliage. While
dreamily watching this fair northern picture, as
it quivered in the heat of a half-tropical day, we
were startled by a sudden cry which came from
the waves far below. Then a man, with a coil
of rope on his arm, passed us, and went cau-
tiously to the edge of the precipice, over which
he peered and made signals. Thoughts of smug-
glers, of hidden wines brought by night from St.
Pierre, of a discovery by the smugglers that we
knew of their landing-place, and finally of the
consequences of their discovery, floated through
our minds, already saturated with the romantic
elements of Ingonish scenery and life. Then
more men came, and passed. They too crept to
the edge and looked into the dizzy waves beneath.
One of them lowered the rope over the cliff, and
seemed to be trying to lasso something many
feet below. Our curiosity prevailed over our
timidity, and we drew near to the edge of the
rock. The vision of smuggled champagne faded,
and in its place was put the truth : that a sheep
had gone over the cliff to a narrow shelf more
than halfway down to the sea, and that these

INGONISII, BY LAND AND SEA. 45

men were trying to rescue him alive, while a
boy in a boat tossed by waves below shouted
advice to them.

Middle Head, and many a mile of coast north
of it, is the home of the raven, or " big crow,"
as the Ingonish people call him. Close to the
smuggler's cove a long, ragged point juts out
from the cliffs. At its extremity huge masses
of broken rock lie in the wash of the tide. As
we passed this point, I saw an uncanny shape
squatted upon its outer rock. It was a bird,
web-footed, gaunt, black, vidture - headed, yet
with a sac, a hideous skinny object, fitted like a
pelican's pouch beneath its beak. A native pass-
ing said it was a " shag," which meant nothing
to me until I found that " shag " and " cormo-
rant " were two equally expressive names for
this same nightmarish bird of rock and wave. I
crept out upon the point, first skulking behind
wild rose bushes and goldenrod, and then coast-
ing down a sandy slope, out of sight of the spec-
tre I was stalking. Gaining the water's edge, I
clambered along among huge rocks upon which
seaweeds grew and trailed their fingers in the
tide, and so came nearer and nearer to the shag.
Suddenly I looked up as a huge shadow swept
over me, and saw, black and big against the hot
sky, a passing bird which watched me with keen
eyes. Growing from the rocks which overhung

46 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

me was a hunchbacked pine, the sport of every
mocking wind that harried this rough coast,
and in its bent branches sat five ravens. They
croaked, but did not fly, satisfied to watch me
as I squirmed over the rocks towards the black
beast with a throat sac. In coloring and shape
they were like crows, yet I knew they were not
crows ; something in the shape of the head was
different; they did not treat me as crows woidd
have done. I felt that they were strangers.

When I reached the last rock which could by
any chance shield my body from the cormorant,
I raised my head very slowly until my eyes came
upon a level with the rock's upper surface.
About twenty feet away, clasping with its hide-
ous feet the last rock left naked by the tide, sat
the shag. It seemed to me that it might be a
bittern which, having offended against the gods,
had been condemned to leave its beloved meadows
and thickets, whispering rushes and perfumed
grasses, in order to pass ages upon the shores of
a sobbing ocean in which it should find no peace
and no abiding-place. Its garb looked as sack-
cloth and ashes might well look after a thorough
soaking in salt water. When it craned upwards
its skinny neck and panted, it reached the climax
of its loathsomeness, for the livid sac pulsated
under its distressed breathing. I had watched
the horrid fish-eater long enough, so, rising to my

INGONISII, BY LAND AND SEA. 47

full height, I had the satisfaction of seeing the
monster shrink into itself with fear, turn its
ugly countenance seaward, and then flap away
over the hot, sparkling waves until almost out of
sight. When half a mile out, it turned and flew
slowly along the crest of the waves towards the
rocky cliffs of Middle Head, and then dropped
suddenly into the water, upon which it remained
bobbing like a duck.

Free from this incubus, I looked once more
upon the home of the ravens, — the hunchbacked
pine, the shattered rocks, and, far above them,
the cliffs upon whose inaccessible ledges young
ravens first see light. The surroundings were
those of a sturdier bird than the crow. There
were no gently sighing forests, waving corn-fields,
or placid lakes here, but instead the stern crags,
rude sea, and broken rocks, — makers of deep,
angry music, harsh discords, and wild, sorrow-
ful refrains. The crow boasts from the moment
his loud voice first comes back to his ears from
the echoing hillside, he steals from the time he
sees the corn blades start from the furrow, and
he shuns danger as often as the tread of man or
deer snaps a dry twig in the forest. The raven's
croak can wake no echo to match the sea's cho-
rus, his food is not won by theft, and dangers
which come from sky and tossing wave are not
such as to stimulate craft or to inculcate wari-
ness.

48 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

11.

BY SEA.

All (lay long heat had quivered in the air and
sparkled on the sea, but now, at evening, there
was coolness creeping in from the ocean, past
crag and sand, banishing ennui and tightening
strong muscles as they tugged at the oars. The
coolness and the wind seemed to have little to
do with each other ; for the wind was westerly,
and came down river from the forest-clad moun-
tains, while the coolness came in from the east
mider the deep shadow which the red cliffs of
Smoky cast upon the bay. Thump, thump, the
oars pounded forward and back upon the thole-
pins, and the boat moved slowly forward inside
the bar towards the gut. The heavy sail did us
no service ; merely made me more alone in the
twilight, as I sat in the bow, with my back to
the mast, and watched the waves heave under
us.

We were turning our backs to the hills now,
and heading straight out through the gut. On
the right was the lighthouse with its newly
lit red star glowing inside the polished lenses.
Above it towered the beginning of Smoky's
cliffs, still deep red in the twilight, or green
where the forest far above caught the last rays

INGONISII, BY LAND AND SEA. 49

of a fair smiset glow. On the left, the long
beach and bar ended in a pier, with fish-houses
and boats, men smoking, cod drying on the flakes,
lobster pots piled up for the season, and collie
dogs watching life go by on the tide, or dream-
ing as they lay on the dry nets. Dead ahead,
a fisherman's boat was coming in close to the
pier, its oars splashing in the chojipy sea where
inner and outer waters wrestled in the nar-
row pass. Our oars thumped louder, and we
shot through the swirl, and out past light-
house, pier, boats, rocks, and the residue of
land and life, towards where the sea, the sky,
and Smoky lived in a great dream together.
Surely this place was beautiful, and to-night, as
I sat in the bow alone, the flapping sail behind
me, the rise and fall, the heave, surge, and
wash of the sea lent a magic joy to the voyage
we were taking out to the Bill of Smoky. I
looked far ahead and strained my eyes to see
what was beyond ; and then I thought, what
matters it to look, to strive to see an end, a goal,
when there is no end, no goal, to see ? This is
no mountain, with ridge after ridge to surmount,
and an ultimate j)eak to conquer, with all its
prizes of prostrate earth and nearer clouds to
look upon. This is only the sea with its monoto-
nous level, having in its endlessness no incen-
tive to action, no stimulus to struggle. Still I

50 FRO^f BLOMIDU.S TO SMOK i'.

ke})t f^azing out into the distance;, and wonder-
ing- whetlier some dim sail would not apj)ear in
the gloom, or some rock rise from among the
hillows for our l)oat to hreak itself against.

As we glided on our undulating path across
the restless water, the dark mass of Cape Smoky-
attended us on our right like a shadow. The
waves splashed incessantly upon the broken
rocks at the foot of the cliffs, and sometimes in
the hollow of a wave not far from us a jagged
mass of rock flashed menacingly for a moment
before the water slid over it again and hid its
threat from our eyes. The hand of time falls
heavily upon the red sandstone, and every year
huge pieces of rock drop into the sea and be-
come the sport of the tide. At one point a but-
tress of rock protruded into the bay, and through
it I could see light. The busy waves and frosts
had carved an arch in the stone, through which
birds could fly and storm winds blow. Far up
the cliff a brook, which had worked patiently
downward from the soil on the summit of the
mountain, appeared in a circular opening, and
dashed its small spray seaward. Most brooks
must fight their way over boulders and fallen
trees, through dark ravines, by hot waysides and
sleepy meadows, at last to win only a right to
merge their lives in the greater life of the river.
This brook had gone straight to its mother ocean.

INGONISfl, BY LAND AND SEA. 51

unchecked, unturned, and when its clear, cool
drops fell towards the sea they were as pure
as when they left the sky. The brook seemed
symbolic of some lives, which, though living out
their appointed time, go back to the source
of life without ever having been polluted by
society, or lost in its sullen and ill-regulated
current.

Thump, thump, thump, the oars worked with
their clumsy rhythm, urging us eastward, and out
towards the line of rough water beyond the Bill.
The swell grew stronger, and now and then the
boat rose so high or fell so low that my dream
was interrupted by the emphasis of the motion.
Far behind us the red eye of the lighthouse
glared at the mouth of the harbor, and marked
upon each wave's edge the path by which we
had come, close under the shelter of the cliffs.
A few strokes more and we were abreast of the
Bill, that idtimate wedge of rock which Smoky
thrusts into the northern sea, piercing the cold
waves, and dividing the fierce storm currents
beating down from Newfoundland. The wind
was fresher in the unprotected sea, and the
lighthouse with its nestling lights upon the bar
seemed much farther away than it had a mo-
ment or two before. A sense of loneliness, al-
most of danger, crept over us, and by common
consent the boat was turned backward into the

52 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

sliclter of the great rock, and the homeward voy-
age begun.

It was now my turn at the oar, and a thrill
passed through me as I grasped the great sweep
and wrestled over it with the waves. Night had
fallen. All color had died on the red cliffs of
Smoky. Stars had burned their way into the
dark blue sky, and among them stray meteors
fell seaward, or glided athwart the constellations.
A year before, I had spent the long hours of
the night on the peak of Chocorua, watching
these wayward waifs of sjDace as they danced
behind the cloud curtains of the storm. Now,
with all a Viking's zeal, I tugged at my big oar,
pounded my tholepin, made deep eddies chase
each other in the dark water, and breathed joy-
ously deep breaths of the salt northern air.
What contrasts man may make for himself, in
his life, if he jaelds to the spirit of restlessness
within him ! The Vikings yielded to it, and
swept the northern seas, and I felt in my weak
arms something of their strength and wanton-
ness as I urged the boat homewards under
Smoky's shadow. Black rocks, placid sea, bright
stars, dancing meteors, and breath of the north-
ern ocean, — I had them all, even as the Norse-
men had them.

A faint protest came from the other side of
the boat. We were not rowino; a race : there

INGONISH, BY LAND AND SEA. 53

was no hurry ; and if I cut inshore any farther
we should go on the rocks. So I eased my
frantic stroke, and watched the phosphorescence
play in my oars' eddies. In the sky, bright
masses ploughed their way through our air, im-
pelled by an unknown force, driven from an
unknown distance, and aiming for an unknown
fate. In the sea, bright atoms ploughed their
way through the water and glowed in soft
splendor. The meteors are inorganic, dead
mysteries. The jjliosphorescence is an organic,
living mystery. Yet it is no more impossible to
imagine the history and future of a body per-
petually traveling through endless space than
to try to count the numbers of these phosphor-
escent myriads. Generally I have the feeling
that science is bringing us nearer to a perception
of what the vast creation is which surrounds
us, but at times the greater truth flashes before
my eyes, — that what we are really learning is
not more than a drop in the limitless ocean of
fact.

The row back to the lighthouse seemed
shorter than the voyage out, partly because we
really went faster, and partly because we had
less detail to look at, now that the night had
covered the beauties of the many-toned cliffs
and the distant mountains. When we shot
through the gut from the bay to the inner basin.

54 FROM BLOMIDON TO BMOKY.

the air became damper and the darkness more
intense. AVith caution and frequent peering
ahead we rowed towards the creek in which we
were to land. Here a shoal had to be avoided,
there a fisherman's boat passed by.

Now in the gloom we could discern a mass
of willows in which the kingfishers had been
sounding their loud call during the day, and be-
yond them loomed up the timbers of the old
mill whose wreck was to be our pier. Poor old
mill, it had been starved to death by tariffs, a
grim punishment for its slaughter of many a
good king of the forest. We landed, and in the
soft stillness made our stumbling way across
field and pasture to the cosy Ingonish parlor,
where, in strange contrast to rugged coast, and
stern mountain, and the general simplicity of
the fishermen's houses on the shore, we had
found refinement, comfort, and open hospitality.

Beyond the great wall of rounded stones,
raised by ice and storm, lay the beach. The
rippling waves played softly upon the firm sand,
making dainty lines across it. We could hear
the murmur of those waves and the faint rustle
of the breeze in the shrubbery. All was peace
and gentleness, yet under that kindly music
those who knew Ingonish Bay could hear other
voices. High in the air the powers of the storm
were holding council, and deep in the sea the

INGONISU, BY LAND AND SEA. 55

tides were planning to hurl themselves upon the
shore. It is always so by the northern ocean ;
and when the waves break most lovingly ujjon
Smoky, the old mountain and his children the
fishermen are most alert for the tempest which
is to follow.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP.

There are siren voices at Ingonish. I can say
this with confidence, because I heard one, and it
rings in my ears now, and will ring there as
long as memory lasts. I was lying on the sun-
lit sand outside the cobblestone wall of Ingonish
South Bay beach, dreaming. To my right rose
the red, forest-capped wall of Smoky, on my
left was Middle Head, and behind me many a
mountain side walled in the valley. Suddenly,
the heavens, the bluffs, and the mountains gave
out a sound which made my heart stand still.
It had the force of thunder and the pitch of
agony. I was told afterwards that the first time
the sound startled Ingonish was at night, and
that people fled from their houses or fell upon
their knees, thinking the day of reckoning had
come. Springing to my feet, I saw, coming
slowly past the cliffs of Smoky and towards the
lighthouse at the pier, a good-sized steamer. It
was the Ilarlaw, from Halifax via the Bras d'Or
lakes, on her way to Newfoimdland. As I lay
upon the sand, I hjid been dreaming of a voyage
across those sixty miles of sea to the rock-bound

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 57

island just out of sight below the ocean's cheek.
The Harlaw's siren had banished the dream in
more senses than one. To take the steamer now
was imj)ossible, and only by that steamer could
I go to Newfoundland.

The next morning, consequently, we turned
our faces towards home, and started southward.
Mr. Gillies also turned his face towards home,
and started southward ; the difference being
that in his case home was at Ingonish, north-
ward, and that he faced it across a painful snarl
of his own legs and arms, as he hung for dear
life to the back of the wagon-seat, while I wal-
loped his thin horse and enjoyed the comforts of
the driver's cushion. Over the ferry, up Smoky,
away from the home of the raven and the sweet
charms of Ingonish, on, on, on we went, mile
after mile, until the thin horse wearied of life,
and the snarls in Mr. Gillies's legs caused him
to groan aloud. At times I ventured on conver-
sation with Mr. Gillies. When I spoke, and
my quavering intonations reached his ears, a re-
verberating " Sorr-r-r ? " was usually hurled at
me with such force as to banish, momentarily,
all idea of what it was I meant to say. An
opinion from me was always indorsed by Mr.
Gillies in one of two ways : warmly, by " Jist ; "
less confidently, by "Aye — yi — yi," uttered
with outward fervor. In an endeavor to learn

5<S FROM BLOMIDON TO ^MOKY.

sometliino- of the fauna of the country, I in-
quired whether the porcupine was found near
Ingonish. Gillies assented promptly. I then
asked how much one weighed when full grown.
This staggered him, but after a pause he said,
" Which kind of pine was you speaking of,
sorr ? "

Mr. Gillies's horse was not endearing in his
qualities. In the first place, he was named
"Frank," a circumstance I mentally resented;
but what was more to the point, he had an evi-
dent desire to spill us over the steepest bank
he could find. When we were passing a most
dangerous unfenced slide on Smoky, where a
misstep meant a plunge hundreds of feet down
into a rocky ravine, Gillies regaled us with a
story of Frank's overturning the Gillies family
on a river bank, " breaking the sleigh to pieces
all right," and then bolting for home. As
Frank and his wagon constituted the only con-
veyance within twenty miles that could carry
three persons, it was not alone love of life which
made me watch the beast with unceasing soli-
citude. Thanks to vigilance and the whip, he
carried lis down Smoky, past Big Kory's, Sandy
McDonald's, and so on to the valley of Indian
Brook, where we planned to " stay the night "
at Angus McDonald's. Standing on the bridge
above Indian Brook, we saw the best fisherman

THE no ME OF G LOOS CAP. 59

on tlie Nortli Shore casting his sixty-foot line
with unerring hand over the dark pool from
which he had just taken a three-pound trout.
In his creel lay also a five-pound trout, and his
man whispered to us that a ten-pound sahnon
had been taken by the same magic line that
morning. Battles between big salmon, or trout,
and man armed with his cobweb line and tiny
hook command admiration, but they make the
inane hooking of six-inch trout in our New
England brooks seem contemptible.

The next morning I was up and dressed at
half past three, standing on Angus McDonald's
doorstep, and rejoicing in the sense of lightness,
purity, and strength which comes at dawn.
AYhen Gabriel blows his trumpet, I hope he will
select the moment before sunrise for his sum-
mons.

Eastward, the placid sea reached away to-
wards Newfoundland, St. Pierre, and the red
sun. Newfoiuidland and St. Pierre were hidino;
behind the curve of the sea, but the sun was
climbing above it, and peering, dim-eyed, through
the fog. Westward, beyond a dew-drenched
swale, rose the hills covered with balsam, black
sj)ruce, and white spruce. Darkness still per-
vaded the woods, for the sun was too dim to
illuminate their pinnacles, or even to gild the
sea or tint the sails of the fishing-smacks, al-

60 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

ready several miles from shore. Sheep and cows
stood in the curvin^^ meadow, and a young- bull,
their leader, looked at me more sleepily than
sullenly as I passed him. The dew was cold on
the grass, and it soaked my feet ; but the dew
and its chill were part of the hour, so serene
and pure, quite as much as were the whistle of
a crossbill which flew past overhead, and the
matins of the juncos which they were singing in
their forest cloisters. I crossed the meadow,
and followed the road through the spruces and
over the bridge above Indian Brook, A narrow
footpath led from the farther end of the bridge
up the northern bank of the stream. Now it
passed through groves so dark and silent that
night seemed still supreme ; then it came out
into twilight at the edge of the bank above the
water, and showed me that, little by little, it
was climbing above the pools and rapids as it
followed the channel back into the mountains.

After walking for half an hour, I came to a
sharp bend in the river, which had previously been
flowing east, but which here came from the
north, emerging from between steep cliffs, to roar
and foam over a sloping bed of broken rock.
Above the music of the rapids I could hear the
splash of a cascade, and by peering through the
trees I could see the white form of a waterfall,
half concealed by the foliage on the other bank.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 61

A tributary stream approaeliod Indian Brook at
this point, and fell from a hilltop into a mossy
basin among the large trees on the western shore.
To gain a nearer view of its beauty, I clambered
and slid down the high, steep bank, to the brow
of which the path had brought me. On reaching
the level of the water, I realized more fully the
nature of the place I was in. High forest-clad
hills rose on every side, inclosing the river, so.
that its only method of escape was through deep
rifts cut into their slopes. The part of the stream
which I had followed consisted of broad and deep
pools of brownish water alternating with rapids.
Sometimes one bank was of rock, and the other
of gravel ; sometimes both shores, although steep,
were wooded almost to the edge of the current.

Looking upstream, I saw that the scenery
above me was even more striking than that below.
The river came from between abrupt rocky walls.
Its w^aters were deep, slow, and foam-flecked.
They came out of a vale of shadows, and I knew,
on the word of an Ingonish fisherman, that some-
where within those shadows there was a water-
fall, singiilarly beautiful, though unknown save
to a few.

Directly in front of me, the story of the river
seemed to be told on a small scale. Far up
against the sky was a dip or notch in the moun-
tain wall. Through it came the brook which

62 FRO^f BLOMIDON TO S.UOKV.

joined tlio river at iny feet. To roaeh this lower
level the dancing waters must fall as many yards
as they advanced. Their last leap made the cas-
cade whose splashing filled the glen with nmsic.
I forded the icy river, and entered the chamber
in the side of the western bank which held the
cascade, and its screen of trees, ferns, and mosses.
Since leaving the open meadow by the sea and
. entering the dark forest, I had felt the spell of
the wilderness resting upon me, the sense of age,
beauty, purity, persistent force ; all existing or
working without man's knowledge or approval,
yet being the very essence of this dewy land of
twilight. On coming to this grotto of rushing
waters. Nature seemed for the moment to fiud a
voice with which to tell of her wonderful power.
The falling spray was singing of the sea from
which had been taken into heaven, and to which
it was hastening back after a new life. Its cycle
is but the emblem of all ebbing and flowing life.
The spell of the wilderness gi-ew stronger upon me,
and when, suddenly, I thought how many wearied
souls there were in great cities who would love to
see this beautiful, hidden spot, something akin to
shame for my own race came also into my mind.
If man came here, would he not destroy ? His
foot woidd trample, his hand deface, and finally
he would cut down the firs, blast out the rock,
choke the salmon with sawdust, and leave the

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. Q3

glen to fire and the briers which follow flame.
It is always so ; those of ns who love nature and
the beautiful are only the few, sure to be thrust
aside by the many who value bread or riches
higher than the fair earth's bloom.

Leaving the cascade, I climbed the hill over
which it fell, until I reached a level terrace about
two hundred feet above the river bed. There
was no path here, so I simply pushed on north-
ward, following the general direction of the gorge,
and listening for the heavy rmnble of Indian
Brook Falls. The forest through which I was
walking closely resembled northern New Hamp-
shire timber. Here were white spruces with
long, slender, light-colored cones pointing down-
wards ; black spruces with dark cones, also pend-
ent ; balsam firs with erect purplish cones ; hem-
locks, pines, yellow birches, big, clean-limbed
beeches, a few maples and poplars, and the moun-
tain ash. I saw juniper, but no hobblebush.
Hastening through the dimly lighted vistas, I
was startled by a loud, angry cry which rang out
suddenly among the treetops. I stopped, and
peered upwards. Another scream echoed from
the hills, and two great birds with fierce and
eager eyes swooped towards me, pausing among
the branches to watch me with hostile curiosity.
Their coloring and size made me confident that
they were goshawks. When a smaller hawk,

64 FRO^f DLOMTDON TO SMOKY.

holding a squirrel in its clutch, flow into a neigh-
boring tree, one of the goshawks hurled itself
upon the intruder and drove it from view. They
would liave liked to expel me in the same way,
and their startling cries and resentment made me
feel as though I had no place or part in their
great solitude. Nevertheless I pushed on, feel-
ing somewhat as one does who invades a cathedral
by night, and hears his clumsy footsteps protested
by the echoes in the vaulted roof.

An hour and a half, or more, after leaving
Angus McDonald's, I heard the booming sound
of the Indian Brook Falls. Pushing through the
last screen of fallen timber and underbrush, I
gained the crumbling edge of cliff overhanging
the river. Far beneath, the foam-flecked water
crept along the bottom of a dark, narrow canon.
It passed away southward between lofty walls of
rock, above which stood the forest and the higher
slopes of the mountains. The space into which I
was looking was a vast, circular pit, a pothole of
enormous size worn in the rock by whirling water
during unnumbered ages. Its height seemed
to be as great as its diameter, and either would
be measured by hundreds of feet. Although at
high water Indian Brook doubtless covers the
whole bottom of this punch bowl, at this time
a long, slender sand spit projected from the west-
ern wall to the middle of the dark brown pool.

THE HOME OF G LOOS CAP. G5

It was an index finger pointing towards the
falls, whose solemn music made sky and moun-
tain vibrate in perpetual unison.

The northern curve of the rock basin's wall
was broken by a narrow, perpendicular rift reach-
ing from the sky down to within sixty or eighty
feet of the surface of the pool. This was the
door through which Indian Brook had, since the
time of glaciers, sprung from the bosom of the
mountain, and by which it was now pouring its
compressed mass, with a single motion, into the
dark depths of the basin. Looking through
the rift, I could discern only a few yards of flat
water racing towards its fall, and black walls of
rock scowling upon the mad stream which swept
past them. These walls rose to meet the spruce
forest ; the forest sloped far upwards to meet the
pale blue sky, and the slender points of the high-
est trees were now faintly touched by the morn-
ing sun. There was no trace of man in this soli-
tude, yet it was eloquent with beauty and power.
What the high altar is to the dimly lighted ca-
thedral, this hollow in the heart of the Cape
Breton hills is to the wilderness which surrounds
it. The altar is the focus for every eye, every
moving lip, every prayerful heart. This vale
of falling waters is the focus of the beautiful
lines of the mountains, down which sunlight
and shadows steal in turn, along which brooks

6G FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

liuny to tlie river, and through which the mov-
ing- life of the forest takes its way. The ancient
hemlock bends towards it, the falling boulder
plunges downwards to it, and the wind coming
through the embrasures and over the ramparts of
the mountains, blows to it, ruffling the treetops
in passing. The altar is the focus of man's senses
and thoughts, but it is only an emblem even to
him. This scene of beauty is a focus of Nature's
deepest and purest life ; and though in it man
has no place, it does not on that account lack mean-
ing or significance. Man is a masterful figure
in the drama of creation, but he is not all, nor
even half, what the world has long been taught
to consider him. Perhaps he has been studied
too much ; certainly Nature, unspoiled by his
greed, has not been studied enough or loved
enough. Standing alone in that fair solitude, as
much alone as on some atoll in a distant sea, I
felt as though I might know man better, see him
in stronger contrasts and clearer lights, if I could
live apart from him longer in such still, calm,
holy places as Indian Brook canon.

As I walked swiftly back to Angus McDon-
ald's, the sunlight grew strong in the woods, and
shone kindly on the amber waters of the river.
A hot day was beginning, and I sighed to think
of the twenty-five mile drive to Baddeck, — sighed
not only on my own account, but on account of

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 67

Gillies's legs and back, hent and doubled under
the seat, and on account of the horse Frank, and
the whip. Something which had pervaded the
woods in the early morning twilight had gone
out of them now. The enchantment of the wil-
derness seemed left behind, localized in and near
those beautiful falls. Scolded by Hudson's Bay
chickadees and three-toed woodpeckers, I hurried
on to the highway, the meadow, and the view of
the sparkling sea. Yes, Frank was already har-
nessed, and the twenty-five mile drive waiting to
be begun.

When Frank brought us to the valley of the
Barasois, we decided to turn inland, avoiding
Torquil McLean's ferry, Engiishtown, and the
east side of St. Anne's Bay, in order to see the
picturesque North River country, which could be
reached by ascending the Barasois a few miles,
and then passing behind St. Anne's Mountain,
so as to approach the bay from the westward.
This we did successfully, and arrived at Baddeck
by supper time. The bridge by which this road
crosses North River is one of the most remark-
able objects in Cape Breton. Fairly good roads
characterize the neighborhood. They are good
enough to lead a driver to expect sound bridges,
but instead he finds death-traps. This particu-
lar bridge is very long, and upon much of it the
flooring is laid parallel to the direction of the

68 FliOAf DLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

T)ri(lge, The anoiciit ])luiiks have (h'cayed, luitil
many holes have heeii made in them hirge enough
for a horse's foot to pass through, while in long-
sections of the bridge the spaces between the
planks are so wide that first one wheel, and then
another, slijDS down, until the hub strikes. Need-
less to say, we walked across that bridge, while
Gillies and Frank danced and pranced onward
before us ; Gillies distracted to keep his toes away
from Frank's hoofs, and Frank distracted to keep
his hoofs away from the holes in the planks.

The next two days were rainy : Sunday, while
we rested in Baddeck, and Monday, when we
bade farewell to the Bras d'Or. In a drizzle we
steamed from Baddeck to Grand Narrows, — I
recall a flock of ducklings swimming madly away
from the steamer ; we breakfasted at the Nar-
rows, — I remember seeing a heron catching
frogs in a meadow ; in a drizzle we crossed the
Strait of Canso, — I recall a group of young
Micmac Indians coasting down a slippery bank
to the water's edge, crawling up and coasting
(that is, sitting^ down again, until fog hid
them from us, and us from them ; still in driz-
zle we passed Tracadie with its Trappist monas-
tery, and Antigonish with the pretentious cathe-
dral of the Bishop of Arichat ; in drizzle hours
came and hours went, until, late in the afternoon,
we passed through the Cobequid Mountains,

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 0)9

which I recall as gaunt hillsides swept by cloud,
steam, smoke, and stinging rain ; and then we
were dropped in the wilderness, near a dirty
tavern, at a place called Si^ringhill Junction.

Drizzle and cinders were here, too ; but my
mind awoke from a semi-comatose condition as
soon as we left the train. The possibility of
having to spend a night at the Lome, or the
Forlorn, or whatever the terrible tavern was
called, revived my rain-sodden faculties, and I
began to ask questions : " Is there a train away
from here to-night ? " " Yes, one to Springhill."
" How soon will it go ? " " Don't know ;
when the conductor pleases, or when he is wired
to go." Then I found the conductor. " How
soon do you start ? " " Don't know. Am waiting
for orders." " Why not start now?" "Train
two hours late from St. John ; may have to wait
for it." "Will you wait until I get supper?"
" Oh, yes, certainly. Go ahead ; no hurry."

After supper we entered our train, which con-
sisted of a big engine and one car, which was
baggage and third-class combined. We were at
the mercy of the Cumberland Coal Company,
which owns a bit of road rimning from its mines
at Springhill north five miles to meet the Inter-
colonial rails in the wilderness where we were
waiting, and south twenty-seven miles to Parrs-
boro on the Basin of Minas, near Blomidon.

70 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

Darkness was coming, yet still we waited. Pi-cs-
ently a message came. The coal king or his
viceroy had perhaps finished his supper, and
remembered to release us. Yes, we were to wait
no longer for the Moncton train, hut to start for
Springhill. The road was ballasted with soft
coal dust ; even the hollows were filled with
wasted fuel, which was cheaper for the purpose
than gravel. The conductor came in, and I
asked him about Springhill. What was it like ?
" A coal-mining town, with thousands of miners,
pits, shafts, dirt, poverty, and the memory of
the horror of three years ago, when scores of
widows and hundreds of fatherless children wept
and wailed round the pit mouths after the explo-
sion which suffocated their bread-winning hus-
bands and fathers." " And must we stay there
all night?" He hesitated. " Perhaps not ; an
engine may be run down to Parrsboro with some
freight cars. But the lady ? " and he looked
inquiringly at my wife.

Soon, through the dismal rain and smoke, we
saw the flaring lights near the pits, and heard
the throbbing heart of the great mine-pump. A
few dim lamps burned in streets or dingy win-
dows, but the town looked smothered in wet coal
dust and misery. A whisper came in my ear, —
" Better to ride to Parrsboro on the engine than
to spend a night here ; " and my heart assented.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 71

We and our trunk were turned out upon tlio
dirty platform, and lanterns were held close to
us, while Springhill inspected its unwilling
guests. I pleaded with the railway men, the
conductor, the engineer, and the fireman. Might
we not ride on the engine, in a freight car, some-
where, anywhere, rather than stay here? They
consented, and an engine came clanging out of
the blackness, with a freight car attached. Into
this freight car we and our trunk were put, and
left there in utter darkness, alone with the steam-
steed, and he ready to leap southward on his
wet rails the moment hand touched the lever.
The rain splashed on the roof, wind wailed
through sheds and cars near us. flames flickered
round the pit's mouth, and the throbbing pmnp
kept on with its wearisome pulsation, until our
hearts and lungs seemed forced to keep time
with its rhythm. Then a lonesome watchman
came and talked to us, and left a lantern, which
sputtered, smoked, and went out. After a long
interval a big miner came and sat with us. He
told gruesome tales of the explosion. " Them
doctors they had were to blame for many a good
man's death. They looked at the boys as they
hoisted them up from the pit, and said ' Dead,'
when they was n't no more dead than we be this
night. They did n't laiow what they was talk-
in' about. Some of us took a young fellow they

72 Fno^f dlomidon ro smoky.

siiul was (l(>:i(l, and we covered him over with
dust and let him lie till the damp was drawn
out of him, and lu^ 's walkin' round with the best
of us to-day. The damp was in them, — that
was all, — and the doctors did not know how to
draw it out."

The man's deep voice was full of mournful
feeling', the darkness added pathos to his story,
and the pump with its never-ending beat seemed
to bear witness to all he said. More than an
hour had passed, and still we sat and waited ;
but the end was near. The engineer passed,
and gave a word of cheer. Then the conductor
climbed in beside us, and we were off. It might
have been down the bottomless pit's own mouth
that we were tearing, for all that eye or ear could
tell. Forest hemmed us in, and intense dark-
ness hung over us. Occasionally, when coal
was hurled into the fire, a spasm of red light
passed over the whizzing gloom outside ; but it
only made our eyeballs weary, for we could dis-
tinguish nothing. Perhaps we went a mile a
minute ; perhaps not. Freight cars have no
tender sjjrings, yet the motion was not especially
uncomfortable until we began to slow up on
nearing Parrsboro. Then dislocation was threat-
ened ; but a moment later we were using our
trunk as a step to dismount on, and saying a
cheerful good-night to our companions.

THE HOME OF G LOOS CAP. 73

PaiTshoro harbor at low tide is a sight to be-
hold. Coining- from the Bras d'Or, where the
tide rises only a few inches, to the head of the
Bay of Fundy, where it rises thirty feet, made
us feel as though something must be wrong- with
us or the moon. The wharves reared themselves
upon a forest of slimy piles, and far below them,
reclining- in all kinds of post'ires upon the mud,
were sailing-vessels of various sizes. A schooner,
ready for launching at two P. M., was perched
upon such a height that it was easier to believe
that it was to be launched into space than into
water which was to come from some unknown
point, and in a few hours fill this empty harbor
to its brim. However, the tide came in, not like
a tidal wave, with a solid front, a hiss, a roar
and rush, as I had always imagined Fundy tides
to appear, but little by little, as though it were
trying to catch us unawares in its horrid depths.
Of course we saw the launch, and felt a thrill as
the clumsy little tub darted down the greased
track, and became rather a graceful creature
when fairly afloat. The tub's first step in the
world was not wholly dignified. When the last
prop had been knocked from vmder her, and she
still sat motionless in her bed of cold grease, the
master workman cried out, " Shake her up,
boys ! " And forthwith the five-and-twenty ur-
chins on her decks rushed up the rigging, and

74 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

swayed and yelled, until their kicking gave the
desired start to her career.

The launch was on August 15, and it was on
the following morning, immediately after break-
fast, that we resumed our journey by driving
across the neck of land which leads from Parrs-
boro to Parrsboro Pier and Partridge Island.
We wished to reach the shore of the Minas
Channel at a point where we could look directly
down the Bay of Fundy between Cape Split and
Cape Sharp. The mingling of sea and land in
this region affords endless temptation for sketch-
ing. If it were a part of the United States in-
stead of being, nationally, neither fish, flesh, nor
good red herring, it would be one of the favorite
resorts of our amateur artists and summer tour-
ists. As matters stand, Blomidon on the one
shore, with its forest-crowned palisades reaching
down to Cape Split, and on the other Partridge
Island, with sculptured rocks around which the
tides of Fundy surge and eddy ; Cape Sharp, red-
walled and spruce-capped ; and even Parrsboro
itself, where one must eat and sleep, are places
hard to reach promptly and comfortably. We
had been forced to storm Parrsboro by night in
a rain-soaked freight car. We escaped from it
by a steamer so tiny and primitive in form that
I wondered whether it had not in years past
seen service as a towboat in New York harbor.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 75

From the hillside above Minas Channel we
saw several large ships lying at anchor in the
protected water between Cape Sharp on onr
right, westward, and Partridge Island on onr
left, eastward. The tide was coming in beyond
them, and even at a distance the channel seemed
like a river flowing from Fnndy into Minas Ba-
sin. To gain a nearer view of it, and a slightly
different outlook, we drove along the shore nntil
we reached Parrsboro Pier, which is in a shel-
tered nook under the lee of Partridge Island.
The tiny tub which was to take us across to the
Blomidon side lay at the foot of the pier, wait-
ing for the tide to lift it high enough for pas-
sengers to find it. From the pier a ridge of peb-
bles runs across to Partridge Island, and on this
natural causeway we strolled over to nature's
Mont St. Michel, with its grottoed cliffs rising
on high from the raging waters, and its dark
pinnacles of spruce piercing the sky. A wind-
ing; avenue leads throuo^h moss-bearded trees to
the island's summit, ending upon a grassy shelf
where the rocks overhang the channel, and where
either folly or courage is needed to induce the
visitor to stand upon the dizzy brink and look
down, down, into the hurrying, eddying tide be-
low. My childish imaginings of Fundy tides
were all satisfied here, if they had been disap-
pointed in Parrsboro harbor. The eager rush,

76 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

whii'l, and liiss of that vast mass of water, as it
surged past, told of the limitless strength of old
ocean, far away at Fundy's mouth, heaving and
pushing its way into bay and channel, basin and
cove, with woe and destruction for anything op-
posing its mad progress.

Cape Split and Cape Sharp seemed monu-
ments to the passion and cruelty of this tide.
Sharp, on the northern side of the channel, rears
its mangled face, and tells of ages of horrid eon-
test with tides and storms, grinding ice below,
and cleaving, wedging ice above. Split, on the
southern side, is a perpetual reminder of the
Micniac legends of the deeds of Glooscap. A
huge fragment of the palisades — cliffs which
reach from Blomidon seven miles along the
Minas Channel to Split — appears at a distance
to have broken from the projecting end of the
cape, and to lean outward over the bay, its sharp
sides rising to a toothlike point. A broad sec-
tion of cliff next to it is also separated from the
mass of the palisades by a deep cleft. The Mic-
mac story runs that Glooscap, angry with the
monster beaver for building a dam from Blomi-
don across the Minas Channel, freed the end of
the dam on the northern or Parrsboro shore, so
that the released waters, rushing towards Fundy,
swung the dam round violently, thus forming the
palisades, and leaving the broken end showing
at Cape Split.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 77

A slirill whistle summoned us from Partridge
Island to the deck of the Evangeline, as the
steam tub is called which sails from Parrshoro
Pier, across the mouth of Minas Basin, under
Blomidon, past the Pereaux shore, and into
Kingsport, whence a branch railway runs to
Kentville. When a series of whistles had gath-
ered together upon the Evangeline's deck all the
floating population within hearing of the pier,
amounting in all to seven souls, we puffed out
past Mont St. Michel into the Fundy maelstrom.
Why I did not follow the forcible example of
some of the passengers and retire to the dark in-
terior of the tub for secluded misery, I know
not ; but I did not, and, moreover, I was not
seasick a moment during the pitching and toss-
ing which lasted until we approached Kings-
port. The fury of the water which surrounded
us was marvelous, considering that there were
no great waves, and no storm to make waves.
True, the wind blew hard, and cold rain beat
upon us spitefully, stinging like hail : but it was
not the wind which made the fury of the sea.
Looking westward down the Minas Channel in
the direction of Fundy, we saw boiling, whirling,
eddying water coming towards us. We felt it,
too ; for when a great whirl struck the tub, its
stern fell off, and its head swung round a dozen
points from the true course. The visible move-

78 FROM ISLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

mcnt of separate masses of tlio water reminded
me of White Mountain rivers in freshet time.
It was uncanny, out there miles from land, to
have the sea open and allow a great gush of
water to rise up and spread itself out as though
forced from a submarine duct. The Evangeline
struggled hard with the swift current, but it car-
ried her far out of the direct course towards
Blomidon, and it was only by repeated rallies
that we were kept from being swej)t well out
into Minas Basin.

As we neared Blomidon the distinctive out-
lines of the noble bluff were lost. The sturdy
profile fell back into line with the palisades, and
it was hard to say just what part of the cliffs
which we were passing furnished the bold fea-
tures so familiar from a distance. A moment
later, Cape Split and the distant palisades passed
from view, then Cape Sharp was concealed, and
soon the profile of Blomidon began to grow
again, as all that lay northward and westward of
it was hidden behind its simple but severe con-
tour.

Our ever ready guide, philosopher, and friend
remarked, before we had fairly set foot on Kings-
port Pier, that seldom though it might be that
man stood on Partridge Island in the morning
and on the top of Blomidon in the afternoon, he
wished us, nevertheless, to accomplish the feat.

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 79

Accordingly, dinner at the cosiest little hotel in
Nova Scotia was treated with scant courtesy, and
we were soon speeding over red mud roads to-
wards Blomidon. In one place, which I remem-
bered puzzling over, through my glass, from the
Look-off, three weeks before, we had our choice
of driving along the top of an old Acadian dike,
or of following the level of the reclaimed ^)re
just inside of it. Like our New England stone
walls, the Acadian dikes are a monument to the
patience of the makers of America. It is weari-
some to consider the millions of hours of labor
buried in such memorials.

After crossing the Pereaux valley we drew
near to Blomidon, and saw the narrow red beach
and water- worn cliffs extending far out into the
Minas waters. The tide was falling, and by the
time we had climbed the height and returned, a
broad beach would invite us to explore its sticky
expanse, in search of minerals of many colors.
So to the top we drove, easily, for the road was
well made and not steep, — at least in New
Hampshire eyes. Although we were now but
half a thousand feet above the waves, while at
Cape Smoky we had been twelve hundred, Blom-
idon held its own in our hearts, and sent thrills
through us by its views, westward, of the Bay of
Fundy, now brilliant with sunlight ; of Isle au
Haut, a blue cloud in the midst of the most dis-

80 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

taut sparkling waters ; and eastward, of tlie fair
Minas Basin, bounded on the one hand by the
Cobequid Mountains, and on tlie other by Grand
Pre, the Gaspereaux, and the hills above the
Avon, yet reaching between the two to the hori-
zon line at the point where we knew Truro lay.
The top of Bloraidon is not the abode of storm
winds alone, for two houses stand upon it, and
the laughter of children rings cheerily among
the evergreen groves. Much of it is pasture
land, and not for cows alone, as I discovered
when a huge sow came charging down upon me
with hungry gruntings. The view, taken as a
whole, was much like that from the Look-off, so
we spent only a few moments on the summit,
and then hastened to the beach below.

The road led directly down to the edge of the
sea ; so, defying Fundy tides, knowing this one
to be still falling, we drove along the beach,
until our horse's feet became balls of red mud,
and the wagon wheels threatened to turn no
more. Then we left the horse tethered to a
stone, and picked our way beneath the sculp-
tured cliffs, searching for amethyst, jasper,
agates, and salmon - colored masses of fibrous
gypsum. The cliffs were soft red sandstone with
many layers of gray intermingled, and erosion
had worn their faces into columnar forms of
singular grace and beauty. At intervals, hun-

THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 81

drcds of pounds' weight of gypsum had dropped
upon the shore, and been beaten into fragments
by the sea. The beach was about half red mud,
and haK small stones and pebbles. Of pretty
stones we coidd have carried home a ton, but of
crystals or minerals of real interest we found
few. The shore is as carefully gleaned for am-
ethyst as Musketaquid meadows are for arrow-
heads.

Dewy twilight surrounded us before we could
tear ourselves away from the fascination of the
towering cliffs, red beach, purple shallows, and
lapping waves. When we climbed back into the
wagon, it was with the feeling that the si^ell of
Blomidon and Smoky, of Miuas Basin and the
Bras d'Or, was broken at last, and that our faces
were set in earnest towards Chocorua.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON.

After traveling for two weeks through Cape
Breton, on rail, steamboat, wagon, and my own
legs, I felt sure that its distinctive tree was the
spruce, its prevailing flower the eye-bright QEti-
2)hrasia officinalis), and its most ubic^uitous
bird the junco. Certainly three more cheerful,
sturdy, and honest elements could not be woven
into every-day life, and they seem to me to be
emblematic of the island province and its people.
The junco was everywhere, in sunshine and in
rain, at gray dawn and after dewy eve; in the
spruces which watched the sea at Ingonish, and
in the early twilight of inland Loch o' Law.
He, she, and the infant juncos were at the road-
side, in the fields, in the pastures, on the moun-
tain top, and by the trout pool, and they were
always busy, happy, and treating their neighbors
as they liked to have their neighbors treat them,
like brothers. These neighbors included song
sparrows, white-throats, grass finches, yellow-
rumped and black-and-white creeping warblers,
blackcapped and Hudsonian titmice, some of the
thrush family, and occasionally pine siskins.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 83

Of the thrushes, the robin was by far the
most numerous, noisy, and generally distributed.
He was not, however, a bird of the lawn, the
orchard, and the shade tree by the house door,
but by preference a dweller in larch swamps
and spruce thickets, secluded river beds and up-
land forests. He was the first bird in every
lonely grove or deep wood vista to give a note
of alarm and warning to the neighborhood ; and
the first to respond to a cry of fear or pain
uttered by any other bird. The hermit thrush
was present in fair numbers, and blessed the
woods and pastures with his anthem. I saw
Swainson's and gray-cheeked thrushes, but the
catbird and thrasher were apparently unknown,
as was also the veery. The robin's conduct
made me feel as though he were not one and the
same with the common New England dooryard
birds, but of a race as different from theirs as the
Cape Breton Highlander's stock is from that of
the matter-of-fact Scotch mechanic of the cities.
The people round Loch Ainslie and between
Cape Smoky and St. Anne's Bay speak and think
Gaelic ; and the robins in the Baddeck and Mar-
garee woods speak and think a language of the
forest and the glen, not of the lawn.

One evening, as I lay on the sandy shore of
Loch Ainslie, close to the mouth of Trout Brook,
the spotted sandpipers of the lake told me a se-

84 FROM liLOMlDON TO SMOKY.

cret of tlieir little lives which seemed well worth
knowing'. The evening air was full of rural
music : the tinkle-tankle of cowbells ; the clatter
of tiny sheep -hoofs speeding over the wooden
bridge ; the complaining of geese, homeward
bound, by the roadside ; and the harsh, rattling
cries of the kingfishers, which, half a dozen
strong, persecuted the small fry of Trout Brook's
limpid waters. A school of big trout could be
seen lying sluggish at the bottom of the brook,
and their little kinsfolk were jumj)ing freely in
all parts of the quiet water. Tiny flies hovered
over the pools ; and if they touched, or almost
touched, the water, agile fish flung themselves
into the air after them. Again and again I cast
my feathered fly upon the ripples ; but as no
answering rise pleased my expectant nerves, I
tossed my rod aside, and drifted on towards even-
ing with the stream of life and light and color
flowing^ over me. The bell -cow came to the
stream and drank, then passed slowly up the
road homewards ; a lamb, whimpering, followed
his woolly parent to the fold ; the geese, with
outstretched necks and indignant heads, scolded
all who passed them ; and suddenly an eagle with
mighty wing came sailing towards me across
broad Ainslie's ripples, bound for his mountain
loneliness. The sun had sunk below the western
hills, — hills from whose seaward side Prince

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAFK BRETON. 85

Edward Island could be seen as a long, low ha-
ven for a sinking sun to rest upon ; the sky was
radiant with color, and the lake's slightly ruffled
surface took the color and glorified it in count-
less moving lines of beauty. From the gold
sky and over the gold water the black eagle
came eastward, swiftly and with resistless flight.
Nearer and nearer he came, until his image dwelt
for a moment in the still stream, then vanished
as he swept past above the bridge, and bore on-
ward to the dark hills clad in their spruces and
balsams. He seemed like the restless spirit of
the day departing before the sweet presence of
sleepy night.

Below the bridge, Trout Brook runs a score
of rods between sandy beaches to a bar which
half cuts it off from the lake. Upon this bar
sandpipers were gathering by twos and threes,
until their numbers attracted my attention. I
strolled slowly towards them, crossing wide lev-
els of sand, from which coarse grasses, sedges,
and a few stiff-stalked shrubs sprung in sparse
growth, and upon which a few clusters of
rounded stones broke the evenness of the beach.
As I drew near the margin of the lake the sand-
pipers rose, " peep-sweeting " as they flew, and
with deeply dipping wings vibrated away over
the water ; heading at first towards the fading
sunset, then sweeping inshore again, and alight-

86 FRO.^r BLOMinON TO SMOKY.

ing within an eighth of a mile of me on the
curved beach. Noticing that some of the birds
had risen from among the grasses above the line
of wave - washed sand, I lay down upon the
ground, with the hope that some of them might
return, and perhaps come near me. Scarcely
had my outlines blended with the contour of the
shore when the clear " peep, peep, peep " of the
little teeterers was heard on both sides, as they
came in from distant points along the shore.
Sometimes twenty birds were in sight at once,
flying low over the water, apparently guided by
a common impulse to gain the part of the beach
near which I was concealed. I lay motionless,
my head resting upon my arm, only a few inches
above the sand. As I lay thus, the grasses rose
like slender trees against the pale tinting of the
August sky, and lake, distant hill, and sky all
took on more emphatic tones, and appeared to
have firmer and more significant outlines.

Slowly the light faded, and the line of clear-
est color shrank to narrower and narrower li)n-
its along the distant hills. I had almost forgot-
ten the birds, although small squads of them
kept passing, or wheeling in upon the shining-
edge of wet sand nearest me. Suddenly a white
object glided among the grass stems, only a few
feet from my face. It paused and teetered, then
slid along out of sight into a thicket of grasses.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 87

I sliarpened my vision and hearing, and fonnd
that all around me tiny forms were moving
among the weeds, and that groups of birds
seemed to be collecting in answer to low calls
which suggested the warm, comfortable sound
which young chickens make as they nestle to
sleep vmder their mother. The sandpipers were
going to bed in the grass forest, and I was lying
in the midst of their dormitory, like sleepy Gul-
liver among the Lilliputians. I might have re-
mained quiet longer had the peeps and I been
the only living creatures on the Trout Brook
beach, but mosquitoes and gnats were present,
and the waving grass tips tickling my face made
them appear even more numerous than they
really were. So at last, when stars began to ap-
pear in the sky, I rose abruptly to my feet. Had
I exploded a mine, the whir and rush which fol-
lowed my arising could not have been more sud-
den. It was really startling, for in a second the
air was filled with frightened birds flying from
me towards the lake. How many there were I
cannot say, nor even guess, but it seemed to me
that all the sandpipers which patrolled the sandy
shores of Ainslie must have been gathered to-
gether on that one small area of beach, bent on
finding safety or a feeling of security in close
association through the night hours.

Once or twice I have met the Hudson's Bay

88 FRO^r jii.omidon to smoky.

titmouse in the Chocorua country in winter, but
I had never seen him in numbers or in summer
until I reai'hed Cape Breton, and found him
perfectly at home in its pasture and roadside
thickets as well as in the deep forest. He is a
cheaper edition of the common chickadee, who,
on the same ground, excels him in many ways.
His voice is feebler and husky. What he says
sounds commonplace, and his manner of approach
lacks the vigilant boldness of the blackcap. His
brown head is readily distinguished from the
black crown of his more sprightly relative, though
it is likely to be looked at closely merely to con-
firm the impression already conveyed by his voice
that he is not the common chickadee, but a new
friend well worth knowing. Apparently, in
Cape Breton, he outnumbered our common tit-
mouse by five or six to one, yet the blackcap
was generally distributed and was as numerous
near Ingonish as farther south. Of the black-
cap's friends, the white and the red breasted
nuthatches, I saw nothing. Once at Margaree
Forks I heard the " quank " of the red-breasted,
but I failed to see the speaker, and had the note
been less peculiar I should have doubted really
having heard it.

About sunset on August 5, I was seated in an
evergreen thicket a mile or more back of the
village of Bad deck. By " squeaking " I had

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 89

drawn near me a mob of wliite-tliroats, jimcos,
both kinds of chickadees, ruby-crowned king-
lets, and of warblers the yellow-rumped, black-
throated green, Nashville, black-and-white creep-
ing, and the gorgeous black-and-yellow, as well
as robins, a purple finch, and some young flick-
ers. Suddenly I heard an unfamiliar bird note,
a harsh, loud call, which, without much consid-
eration, I attributed to geese, great numbers of
which are kept by the Cape Breton farmers.
After an interval of several minutes the cries
were repeated, and this time it occurred to me
that geese were not likely to be wandering in a
hackmatack swamp just at sunset, especially as
the sky foretold rain and the wind was backing
round into the east. So I left iny thicket in
search of the maker of the strange sounds. A
path led through the larches to a clearing sur-
rounded by a typical Cape Breton fence, or se-
rial woodpile, which appeared to be built on the
Kentucky principle of being " horse high, pig
low, and bull proof," and consequently impregna-
ble to turkeys, geese, and sheep. The moment I
emerged from the trees a fine marsh hawk rose
from the ground and floated away out of sight.
While watching him, a flash of white on the fence
drew my eyes to the edge of the woods, and there,
to my delight, I saw five of the most charming
denizens of the great northern forests : birds in

90 FJiOM BLOMIDON TO SMUKY.

quest of which I had traveled miles through the
New llanipshire mountain valleys, always in vain.
As I turned, one of these beautiful creatures,
with wings widespread and tail like a fan, was
sailing just above, but parallel with, the fence.
He paused upon it, looked towards me with his
large, fearless eyes, and then noisily tapped a
knot in the upper pole with his beak. " Moose
birds at last! " I exclaimed, and at once felt the
strongest liking for them. There was nothing
in their appearance to confuse them with their
wicked cousins the blue jays ; in fact, I found my
instincts rebelling at the idea of both being Cor-
vidcG. Their large rounded heads had no sign of
a crest, and the white on the crown and under the
chin gave them a singularly tidy look, as though
their gentle faces were tippeted. Their plu-
mage as a whole was Quaker-like in tone, so that,
considering their demure and gentle bearing, the
name "Whiskey Jack," applied to them by the
lumbermen, seemed to me absurdly inappropriate.
While I watched these birds, they moved
slowly along the fence towards the swamp, com-
ing nearer and nearer, and finally passing within
about fifty feet of me. One of them was a
young bird, with but little white on his dusky
brown head ; two others were females, also less
white than the males. Finally they vanished in
the swamp, the last bird going upstairs on a

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 91

dead tree in true jay fashion, and then phmg^ing,
head foremost, into the shadows of the grove be-
neath. As I left the larches behind me, the
same strange, harsh cry echoed from its depths,
and I accepted it as the moose bird's prophecy
of impending rain. It is an odd fact that these
birds die if they become chilled after being wet
in a heavy rain, and on this occasion they were un-
doubtedly seeking dense foliage to protect them
from the storm which began a few hours later.

Of the Cape Breton warblers, the black-and-
yellow were among the most numerous, and by
all means the most brilliant in plumage. When-
ever I called the birds together, the magnolias
were sure to appear, their gleaming yellow
waistcoats showing afar through the trees, and
contrasting with their dark upper plumage and
the cool gray of their caps. One male redstart
seemed the most richly marked bird of his spe-
cies that I had ever met with. The black ex-
tended much lower on the breast than usual, and
the vermilion which lay next it burned like a hot
coal. Summer yellow-birds were common in the
meadow borders, where Maryland yellow-throats
also abounded ; a single black - throated blue
warbler appeared to me near Baddeck ; one
anxious mother Blackburnian scolded me in the
dark forest near the falls of Indian Brook ; and
a few Canadian fly-catching warblers flashed in

92 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

and out .iinong their dark ev(M-<^rcen haunts in
various parts of the island. Watching ever so
eagerly, I failed to see any blackpolls, Wilson
blackcaps, bay - breasted, mourning, or yellow
redpoll warblers, and it seemed strange to miss
entirely the oven-birds, chestnut-sided, pine-
creeping, and parula warblers, so readily found
near Chocorua. These species may be known
to Cape Breton, but they could hardly have es-
caped my notice had they been abundant.

Years ago, when houses and barns were less
often or less thoroughly painted than they are
now, and when overhanging eaves were common,
the eaves swallow was a familiar bird in New
England. Now the youthful nest-robber thinks
of the mud-nest builder as a rare bird, one for
whose eggs he is willing to travel many a mile.
In all the Cape Breton country, where barn
swallows abound, I saw but one colony of eaves
swallows, and that was in a place so dirty and
dreary I regret that these charming birds must
always recall it to my mind. Scottsville — may
the spirit of cleanliness some day come with sapo-
lio and Paris green to cleanse it ! — lies at the
head waters of Southwest Margaree, within sight
of the point where that restless river leaves Loch
Ainslie. Opposite the village store stands an
unpainted building with ample eaves, and on
its northern side, crowded into a space about

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 93

tliirty feet long, were one hundred of the retort-
shajjed niud-nests of the eaves swallows. They
were placed one above another, frequently three
deep. Their bottle - mouths were pointed up-
wards, downwards, to left, or right, or towards
the observer, as the overcrowding of the tene-
ments made most convenient. While some of
the older nests were symmetrical, others were
of strange shapes, dictated by the form of the
building-site left to them.

Bank swallows were abmidant, almost every
available cutting being riddled with their holes.
Near Baddeck I found one hole in a bank over-
hanging the waves at Bras d'Or, at a point where
every passing wagon must have made thunder in
the ears of the tiny occupants of the nest, which
was literally under the highway. I was attracted
to this nest by seeing a bird enter it. The Bay
of Fundy pours its terrible tides into the Basin
of Minas, and the Blomidon region presents to
the turbulent waters which rush into the basin,
not only vast expanses of red mud which are left
bare at low water, but also cliffs of rock or red clay
which resist the surging waves at high tide. In
the earth cliffs, which stand as straight as brick
walls above the floods, the bank swallows find
houses just to their liking, and from the cliffs of
Pereaux to the waving grass of Grand Pre the
little fleets of these birds flit back and forth hour

94 FROM HJJiMIDON To SMDh'y.

l)y liour in tlio warm suiilij;ht, or veer and taek
close to the waves when eliilly iogs come in from
Fundy.

Of the chimney swift I saw little. lie was in
Cape Breton, but not in large numbers, and one
or two farmers and fishermen said that he was a
bird that built in hollow trees, and seemed not
to know that in these times the chimney is sup-
posed to be his chosen home. Night-hawks were
abundant, especially in the streets of Baddeck,
where, in the twilight, which no lamp-post rises
to injure, these swift and silent fliers darted in
and oiit among the heads of the passers by, to the
bewilderment of those quick enough to see them.
Probably, if I had visited Cape Breton in June
or early July, I should have heard the whippoor-
will ; for when I whistled his song, the dwellers
by sea or inland lake said, " Oh yes, we have
that bird. He sings at night." To me, however,
he said nothing, nor did the humming-bird con-
descend to make its small self known farther
north than the Basin of Minas, which is a hun-
dred miles or more from Cape Breton. Still,
when I asked those who had gardens full of gayly
tinted flowers if they knew the hunnning-bird,
they always replied, " Yes, the one with the beau-
tiful red throat ; " which made me wonder why
they never saw the female ruby-throat with her
more modest coloring of green and white.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 95

When I said that the jxuico was the distinetive
bird of Cape Breton, I had in mind one rival
claimant who certainly pervades the island with
his presence. I well remember descending, just
at sunset, into the exquisite glen of Loch o' Law,
the most satisfying piece of inland scenery which
I saw in all Cape Breton. As the road bent
around the wooded border of the lake, seven
large blue birds rose from one end of the lake,
and flew, in a straggling flock, down to a spot
remote from the road. They looked like king-
fishers, but I thought I had learned from experi-
ence that, around small mountain lakes, king-
fishers hunt singly in August. Nevertheless
they were kingfishers, and they were hunting in
a flock. A few hours before, at Middle River,
where trout lie in shallow sunlit water over a
yellow sandy bottom, I had seen a kingfisher
hover above a point in the stream for several
minutes. A rival flew down upon him and drove
him away ; but before my horse could walk
across the iron bridge above the river he was
back again, hovering, kingbird-like, over the
same spot. At Baddeck, the kingfishers perched
upon the telegraph wires, or assumed statuesque
poses upon the tips of slender masts of pleasure
boats at anchor. There appeared to be no point
on the Bras d'Or or the fresh-water lakes and
rivers of the island where kingfishers were not

96 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

twenty or tliirty times as abundant as they are
in northern New England.

The osprey was also common on good fishing-
grounds, and scarcely a day passed without ray
seeing both ospreys and eagles. One afternoon,
shortly before sunset, I saw an osprey rise from
the Bras d'Or with a good-sized fish in his claws.
I expected to see him take it to some point near
by, but instead he flew westward, high above the
trees, until finally he was lost in distance.

I have already mentioned seeing marsh hawks.
None of the big buteos came near enough for me
to identify them, nor did I see a Cooper's hawk,
but, to my delight, sparrow hawks were not un-
common, and were comparatively fearless. The
first that we saw were in a large field near Middle
River. As we drove slowly along the road, a pair
of sparrow hawks frolicked in front of us. They
rose as we came near enough to see distinctly all
their handsome markings, and flew airily from
one perch on the fence to another a rod or two
farther on. They rose and fell, tilted, careened,
righted, tacked, made exquisite curves, and in
fact performed as many graceful manoeuvres in
the air as a fine skater could on the ice, and
then came back to the fence and perched again.
I drove slowly in order not to frighten them,
and the result was that they rose and settled
again before us more than a dozen times.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 97

Although I saw no living owls during- my
trip, I saw stuffed birds representing the com-
mon species, and heard stories of the daring at-
tacks of great horned owls upon the dwellers in
the poultry yard, — geese, even, included. With
snowy owls, the natives to whom I spoke seemed
to be wholly unacquainted.

Crows and blue jays were common in all sec-
tions of Cape Breton, but the crow grew less in-
teresting after I had met his big cousin the raven,
just as the blue jay had sunk to even lower
depths in my estimation after my introduction
to the moose bird. The blue jay is a downright
villain, and his rascality is emphasized by the
Canada jay's virtues. The common crow is
shrewd, but he lacks dignity. The first glimpse
I had of a raven was from the top of Cape Smoky,
where, from a crag more than a thousand feet
above the waves which dashed against the rocks
below, I saw three large black birds come round
a headland and sail upon broadly spread wings
to the face of a ledge upon which they alighted.
The eye often detects differences in outline,
movement, and carriage which the mind does
not analyze or the tongue describe. The three
black birds looked like crows ; in fact, the
Ingonish fisherman will deny all knowledge of
the American raven, and insist that there is
no specific difference between what he calls

08 FliOM ISLOMIDOy TO SMOKY.

a. " big" crow " and any other crow. Never-
tlieless, sonietliing' in the shape, bearinj^, and
method of flight of the three visitors to Smoky
iixed my attention several moments before a
lioarse croak from the throat of one of them
came echoing up the ravine and proclaimed their
true character. At Ingonish they were abun-
dant, especially near the cliffs of Middle Head,
where I should expect to find them breeding
if I made search at the proper season. Both
ravens and crows were remarkably tame, and
when I found that very little Indian corn is
grown in Cape Breton, and that the people
seemed ignorant of the crow's affection for
sprouting corn, I felt that I had discovered one
reason for their tameness. It was not unusual
for a flock of ten or more crows to sit quietly
upon the top rail of a snake fence bounding a
highway, until a person walking or driving past
came nearly opposite to them. If they were in
a tree twelve or fifteen feet above the road, they
did not think of flying away. Six ravens in a
pine-tree on Middle Head remained quiet while
I clambered over a mass of rocks less than a
hundred feet from them.

In Nova Scotia I saw kingbirds everywhere,
four or five sometimes being in sight from the
car window at once. I felt as though in the
orchard and hay country of the Annapolis Basin

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 99

the kingbirds must have discovered their chosen
home. In Cape Breton, while not so abundant,
they were by no means rare. On the other
hand, pewees and small flycatchers were few and
far between, and great-crested flycatchers, which
are common at Chocorua, were not to be seen.
Olive-sided flycatchers were present in various
parts of Cape Breton in favorable localities ; and
when I heard their loud, unmusical call, coming
from the tip of some leafless, fire-bleached pine,
it always took me back to my first meeting with
the bird high up on the desolate ridges between
Chocorua and Paugus, where from the pinnacles
of dead trees they scanned the air for insects,
and wearied nature by intermittent cries.

Red-eyed vireos were not so numerous in Cape
Breton as they are in New Hampshire, but there
were enough of them to keep up a running fire
of conversation from one end of the island to
the other. I saw solitary vireos in several local-
ities, one of which was a wooded pasture in In-
gonish, near a small sheet of fresh water, and a
hill in which the outcropping rock was gypsum.
Within an hour I recognized over thirty kinds
of birds in this pasture, including, among those
not already mentioned in these pages, a white-
winged crossbill, a chipping sparrow, and several
goldfinches. This white-winged crossbill was
the only one that I saw during my trij), but red

100 F1W^[ liJ.OMIDON TO SMOKY.

t'rossbills were to be met with in small numbers
all through the region between Batldeck and In-
gonish. The first that I saw appeared in the air
over Baddeek River, just as I was driving a
horse across the iron bridge which spans the river
on the road to the Margaree. The wind was
blowing so hard that I felt some concern lest my
buggy should be tipped over ; but the crossbills,
with their usual appearance of having lost either
their wits, their way, or their mother, perched
upon the iron braces of the bridge directly over
our heads, and looked this way and that dis-
tractedly, with their feathers all blown wrong
side out. An hour or two later, when approach-
ing Middle River, I noticed a flock of blackbirds
in a small grove by the roadside. I got out and
entered the grove. Every bird in the flock of
sixteen seemed to be reciting blackbird poetry,
and that, too, in the sweetest voice which rusty
grackles are capable of making heard. Although,
on many other occasions, I saw representatives
of this species in various parts of Cape Breton,
I was unable to find any of its near kindred.
No purple grackles, redwings, cowbirds, bobo-
links, starlings, or orioles crossed my path ; yet
I saw much territory in which they might, for
all I could see, have been very happy, and in
which song, swamp, and savanna sparrows, Mary-
land yellow-throats, and similar birds appeared
to be established.

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 101

Cape Breton is unquestionably a favorite
resort of woodpeckers, including the flicker,
hairy, downy, yellow-breasted, and black-backed,
and I doubt not the pileated also, although I
was not fortunate enough to see or hear him.
Flickers were common, and consorted much with
robins, as they do in New Hampshire during
their autumn migration. The hairy woodpeck-
ers were most abundant near highways, where
they frequented the telegraph poles and snake
fences. As I write, I cannot recall seeing a
hairy woodpecker anywhere except upon the
poles and fences close to roads, but I saw many
in those favored places. They were noticeably
tame, as most of the Cape Breton birds were,
and allowed me to drive close to them, while
they tapped gayly upon the bleached poles, or
scrambled over, through, and under the fence
sticks. Downy woodpeckers were less conspicu-
ous, and of the yellow-breasted I saw only one.
He was a young male that had been tapping
alder trunks in a thicket growing upon very
damp ground, on the edge of the Southwest Mar-
garee, near the point where it escapes from the
broad waters of Loch Ainslie. Nearly a dozen
trees had been bled by him or his family. As
soon as I entered the thicket he flew away ; and
although I awaited his return as long as time
permitted, neither he nor any other woodpecker

102 FJiOM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

or humming-bird came to the sap fountains.
One of the birds which I most wished to see in
the northern woods was the black-backed, three-
toed woodpecker, I searched for him near Bad-
deck, at Loch Ainslie, and on my journey north-
ward from Baddeck to Ingonish, but he did not
appear. One morning, during my journey south-
ward from Cape Smoky, I arose very early and
visited the beautiful falls and canon of Indian
Brook, which are about twenty-five miles north
of Baddeck. In the deep woods near the falls I
met three of these sprightly birds. I had con-
cealed myself among the bushes to call birds
around me, and was watching Hudson's Bay tit-
mice, common chickadees, flickers, wary wood-
wise robins, juncos, and a few shy warblers,
when a woodpecker cry, manifestly not made by
a flicker, rang through the woods. High up on
a blasted tree was a medium-sized woodpecker,
somewhat resembling a sapsucker in attitude
and air of being up and a-coming. I squeaked
more vigorously, and he came nearer. Then a
second and a third arrived, and all of them ap-
proached me with boldness born of curiosity and
inexperience. They scolded and hitched up and
down tree trunks, flew nervously from one side
of me to the other, taj)ped protests on the
sounding bark, and behaved in general like true
woodpeckers. Differences in birds are what we

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 103

think of most in studying them ; but after all,
their points of similarity, especially when these
points hint strongly at the identity of the origin
of species, are quite as instructive, and worthy
of serious thought.

Leaving the three-toed inquisitors, I walked
on through the woods skirting Indian Brook,
and within quarter of a mile flushed a woodcock
and several ruffed grouse. Of the latter I saw
a dozen or more during my rambles near Bad-
deck and Ingonish, but of spruce partridges I
failed to secure even a glimpse, although all the
local sportsmen declared them to be abundant,
and as tame as barnyard fowls. At the point
where the highway between Englishtown and
Cape Smoky crosses Indian Brook there is a
long and very deep pool. As I emerged from
the woods above this pool, I saw three red-
breasted mergansers swimming slowly across it,
A prettier spot for them to have chosen for their
morning fishing could not have been foimd on
the Cape Breton coast. High ledges overhang-
ing dark water, and overhung in turn by spruce
and fir forest, formed a beautiful setting for the
still pool across which they swam in single file,
with their keen eyes watching me suspiciously.
Many are the young salmon and Speckled trout
they cut with their ragged jaws.

Had my visit to northern Cape Breton fallen

104 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

(luring the period of the aiitmiin migration, I
should have seen wonderful flights and fleets of
sea fowl. As it was, the species which I saw
and the individuals which I met were few, save
in the case of Wilson's tern, which was ubiqui-
tous, and the least sandpiper, which in numer-
ous flocks swarmed upon the sands. I saw also
solitaiy and semipalmated sandpipers, greater
yellow -legs, herring gulls, dusky ducks, old
squaws, and golden-eyes. Blue herons were
plentiful near Baddeck, as they had been on the
Annapolis Basin. They formed a striking part
of every evening picture, where sparlding water,
tinted sky, purple hills, and gathering shadows
were united under the magic words " Bras d'Or."
In Loch o' Law, as the sun sank over the Mar-
garee, a mother loon swam and dived with her
chick in the placid water ; but the bird which
impressed itself most strongly upon my memory,
during my trip, was the lonely shag, or cormo-
rant, which I saw on the outer end of a line of
rocks projecting into Ingonish Bay from the
side of Middle Head. Dark and slimy, melan-
choly and repulsive, its head and neck reminded
me of a snake or turtle more than of any gen-
uine feather-wearer. When at last it saw me, it
was to the bay that it turned for escape, and
upon the waters, almost out of sight, that it set-
tled down to rest among the waves. There is

AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 105

more community of interest between this crea-
ture and the fish which swim under the waves
than with the swallow which flies above them.

All told, I think that I saw eighty species of
birds during- my two weeks' wandering in Cape
Breton. Had I taken my tame owl Puffy with
me, I should doubtless have seen more, for he
would have drawn many shy birds round him
which found no difficulty in secluding themselves
from me. The island is certainly remarkably
good ground for bird study ; species are many,
and individuals numerous. The combination of
ocean, bay, inland lake both salt and fresh, for-
est, and mountain is one which favors diversity
and stimulates abundance.

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY.

CnocoRUA is one of the boldest, most pictur-
esque, and at the same time one of the most south-
erly of the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
At its southern foot are several small lakes fed by
its streams. The chief of these streams is called
Chocorua River, and its main lake Chocorua
Lake. North of tliis water, fringing the river
for half a mile, is a growth of yellow birch,
beech, and hemlock of considerable age and
size. The dainty parula is frequently seen in
its gray moss. Cooper's hawks, red-shouldered
hawks, and yellow-breasted woodpeckers are com-
mon tenants of its shades. On June 1, 1888,
while nest-hunting in its midst, 1 saw a barred
owl sitting on the edge of a cavity in a beech.
The tree was a giant. The cavity was about
thirty-five feet from the ground, on the south-
westerly side, and quite large. The owl did
not move, even after I threw a stick at her.
Convinced that the cavity was worth exploring,
I went home and returned with a friend, a lad-
der, and a gun. As a result two old birds were
shot, and two young ones taken from the nest.

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 107

The gun was quite necessary, for my friend
would have fared badly in climbing if I had
not shot the old birds before they could attack
him. Their threatening cries and the loud snap-
ping of their beaks were quite enough to discour-
age an unarmed robber.

I wrapped the two young birds in a towel and
later placed them side by side in an ordinary
canary cage. They were savage, using beaks
and claws vigorously. When released in my
dooryard they half hopped, half flew towards the
nearest tree, making such rapid progress that I
did not risk their loss by a second experiment.
For their permanent prison I chose a case in
which a piano had been boxed. By standing
it upon its end, and nailing perches at differ-
ent heights, ample space was given the captives.
The front of the box was barred horizontally by
laths.

On what could the owls be fed? That was
my first problem. Not sharing in the belief of
my family that everything in feathers eats dough,
I tried raw beef. The birds found it too tough
to manage readily, and raw liver was substituted.
Nothing could have suited them better, and for
the best part of eighteen months liver and
beef kidney have been the chief of their diet.
For the birds' names the feminine half of my
household agreed upon " Puffy " and " Fluffy."'

108 FROM IILUMIDON TO SMOKY.

At first tlio names were not of much use, for no
one could tell one bird from the other, but it
was not long before an event occurred which not
only caused them to be readily distinguished,
but led to a lifelong differentiation of their char-
acters and careers. Puffy, or he who was thence-
forth to be Puffy, caught his left wing between
two of the laths, and by his struggles injured it so
that it lost most of its usefulness as a wing and
became rather an obstruction to his free locomo-
tion. This happened about the middle of June,
after my return to Cambridge, and I did not see
the owls again until the second week in July, when
my long vacation at Chocorua began. I found
the birds fifty per cent larger than when I first
handled them, and with tempers similarly devel-
oped. No one's fingers were safe inside the bars
when the young gluttons were hungry. When
satiated they were stolid, and did little beyond
moving their heads and snapping their beaks.
One interesting fact had been developed during
my absence, — the owls not only drank water
freely, but took prolonged baths whenever fresh
water was given them. Their tank was a foot
and a half long, a foot wide, and ten inches deep.
Their reflections in this comparatively deep and
dark pool greatly amused them for a time. On
the arrival of fresh water Fluffy was usually the
first at the brink, ready to drink several times,

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 109

and then to step cantiously in. He wonkl test
the depth before ducking his head, and then,
holding out his wings, he woukl pump the water
under them, flapping his tail and otherwise
drenching himself. When thus soaked he be-
came about the size of a plucked pigeon, the
color of a crow, and a dismal object to look
upon. His eyes at such times would stand out
from his drenched and drizzling feathers in a
most unpleasant way. This habit of bathing-
has been maintained in all weathers and temper-
atures. I have seen both birds take their plunges
on mornings when the mercury outdoors was
not more than 10° F. On such occasions they
shiver for hours before drying. After washing,
it is their habit to preen each feather in their
wings and tails with great care and precision.

During the summer and autumn of 1888, and
at intervals since, I have tried various experi-
ments in feeding the owls. They reject all
vegetable substances with the possible exception
of cooked oatmeal, although they will sometimes
play with apples, grape leaves, fresh twigs, corn-
silk and husks, tearing them up solely for amuse-
ment apparently, and flinging fragments in all
directions. Mice they consider a rare treat, and
they swallow them without hesitation, head fore-
most. Witli birds they are equally pleased, but
if one is larger than a redstart they are quite

110 FROM BLOMinON TO SMOKY.

sure to crush the skull, sometimes ciiting the
head separately, then to pull out the stiff feathers,
and after feeling of the wing joints, to swallow
head foremost. A hermit thrush thus prepared
is about the limit of their single swallowing
power. They sometimes, especially with larger
birds, devour the contents of the abdominal
cavity before swallowing the trunk. When an
appetizing mouthful has been started on its down-
ward journey the expression of gluttonous enjoy-
ment thrown into their half-closed eyes and dis-
tended mouths is something beyond words. One
seems to see them taste the morsel all the way
down ! If a mouthfid sticks at first, they jerk
their bodies up and down with considerable force,
literally ramming it in by concussion. Some-
times the tail of a warbler thus being lost to
sight remains in one corner of the owl's mouth.
The owl's practice then is to turn his head
towards it far enough to twist the unwilling
feathers into the middle of his tongue, and then
to swallow violently, always with effect.

With great interest in the result, I placed nine
live perch and bream in the owl's tank one morn-
ing when they were about three months old.
They had never seen fish before. As the light
played upon the red fins and bright scales, the
birds' excitement was amusing to see. In a
very short time, however, they plunged feet fore-

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. Ill

most into the water, and with almost unerring
aim lanced the victims with their talons and flew
out with them. Then the head was crushed at
its junction with the backbone, the spines were
bitten into jelly, and the fish was swallowed. I
have seen half a dozen small hornpout caught,
disarmed, and swallowed by them in a compara-
tively short time. Generally all the fish in the
tank were caught and killed before any were
eaten. Live frogs called for more agility than
live fish. When placed on the bottom of the
cage or in the water tank, the frogs seemed
to realize their danger, and as a rule remained
motionless. The owls would hang their great
heads towards them, and eye them intently.
The faintest sign of life would lead to a pounce
or a desperate chase round the cage. When
caught, the frog was subjected to a careful over-
hauling. Every joint was felt and crushed. As
they slid the slippery legs through their beaks
they seemed to be searching for spurs or horns
which might prevent easy swallowing. Once
found spurless, the frog soon vanished. The
wood frog seems to be their favorite species, and
the leopard frog the least well flavored. Once
Puffy caught a toad in the grass, but the crea-
ture apparently tasted so unpleasant that it was
quickly dropped, while for several minutes the
owl hopi3ed about shaking his head and making

112 FRO^f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

motions with his month expressive of diss^nst or
even pain. A small salamander was eaten with-
out hesitation.

Once, when unusually hunory, the owls de-
voured more than a pint of large, fat earth-
worms, taking them from my fingers, or picking
them up singly with their claws with wonderful
dexterity. A plump slug was taken readily by
Puffy, but almost instantly flung from his mouth
with disgust. Fresh water mussels, abundant in
Chocorua Lake, were taken with some hesitation
and, I fancied, made Puffy miserable.

Flies, harvest flies, dragon flies, grasshoppers,
and beetles of various kinds all proved enjoy-
able tidbits, but of snakes and turtles the owls
stood in terror during the summer of 1888. The
appearance of either led the birds to make des-
perate efforts to escape between the upper slats
of their cage. What was my surprise then, in
the summer of 1889, to find that so far as snakes
were concerned, timidity was changed to curi-
osity, and curiosity quickly transformed into an
eager desire to catch, kill, and swallow. Even
a dead milk snake, three feet long and fat, was
eaten piecemeal until only the well-picked skele-
ton remained. This was done in August, 1889.
Small green snakes were seized by their middle
and swallowed doubled, while still writhing.

Generally fresh meat is greatly preferred to

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 113

that wliicli is stale. I have seen both owls re-
tire in disgust to the top of their cage when
some thoroughly offensive liver was offered them.
On the other hand they devoured the skinned
carcass of a broad-winged hawk when it was
in almost as advanced a stage of decay, and
once recently, when I placed a piece of luminous
kidney in their closet at night, Puffy instantly
pounced upon it. I have no doubt from other
experiments that the light of the decaying meat,
and not its smell, was what attracted him.

On one occasion I found a large number of
mice in a barrel of excelsior. Carefully taking
out most of the packing, I placed Puffy in the
bottom of the barrel. The mice spun round him
in confusing circles, but with great coolness he
caught one after another until nineteen were dis-
posed of. The owls between them ate the entire
number within six hours. Puffy is also expert
in catching and killing chipmunks, when placed
with them in a barrel. After seeing one or two
let out of a box trap for his benefit, the sight of
the trap was enough to bring him to the door of
the cage ready to act as executioner. The junc-
tion of the head and body of a vertebrate is the
point always chosen for the first effective use
of the beak. The struggles of a dying victim
seem to cause a certain cat-like excitement aud
pleasure.

114 FROM IlLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

During the warm months the owls require
food daily, and in considerable quantities. As
cold weather comes on, their demands grow more
moderate, and in midwinter they eat little and
seem drowsy most of the time. Once or twice
I have failed to feed them for nearly a week
after giving them a hearty ration. In summer,
when fed frequently, and on mixed animal food,
they often eject from their throats round pellets
made np of the bones, hair, feathers, or other
undigested portions of their preceding meal.
Once or twice these ejections have been ex-
tremely offensive in odor. When hungry the
owls betray the fact by whining cries. When
fed, if both secure a hold on the first piece of
liver, a spirited tug of war ensues, wings, beak,
free foot, and tail all being used to gain ground.
During such a scrimmage a queer chattering
with an undertone of angry whining is kept up,
but I never have seen either bird attempt to
wound or really injure the other. Food not re-
quired by one of the owls for immediate use is
always hidden in a corner, and often guarded
with care against appropriation by the other.

Contrary to my expectations the owls are not
appreciably more active in twilight hours than
at other times, and I think they are quiet, possi-
bly asleep, at night. I am certain that in an
ordinary degree of darkness they cannot see. If

BARRED OWLS IN CARTIVITY. 115

the light goes out while Fluffy is flying in my
cellar in the evening, he is sure to crash into
something or fall heavily to the ground. I have
held Puffy close to a cat in the dark, and he was
wholly imaware of her presence. Neither of
them has ever shown a dislike for sunlight, and,
as will be seen hereafter, they can see without
difficulty in the face of the brightest natural
light. While watching anything which inter-
ests them they have a most characteristic habit
of throwing their heads far forward and then
swinging them about like signal lanterns, or
waving them back and forth and up and down,
as if seeking the clearest avenue of vision to
the object of interest. This trick is probably
due to their ancestors' peering through thick
branches in search of prey.

About the third week in September, 1888, the
owls were sent by freight from Chocorua to
Cambridge. The journey failed to disturb them,
and they took kindly to city life in a sunny cor-
ner of my cellar. Their near neighbors were
my hens, who resented deeply my early experi-
ments in letting the owls out in their narrow do-
minion. The hens fought them bravely when
brought to close quarters. My first test with
the owls at liberty proved that they neither
feared me nor desired to attack me. They rec-
ognized me as their caterer, and hailed my ap-

116 rilOM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

proaoh with noisy demands for food. I began
handling' them with heavy gloves whieh their
beaks and talons made little impression upon.
Gradually I came to use my bare hands, and
with Puffy especially I was soon on familiar
terms. The way in which I accustomed him to
handling was by first rubbing the top of his
head with one finger, and then softly rubbing
the back of his head and neck with my finger
tips. During the process he seemed almost mes-
merized, although occasionally he would recover
himself and make a swift snap at my retreating
fingers. In the course of a few weeks I gained
sufficient influence over both birds to carry them
about with great freedom, always beginning by
pushing their heads down, and then clasping
them round their bodies just below the wings.
If turned on their backs while thus held, they
remain entirely quiet.

During the greater part of the long winter I
keep them in a closet in my main cellar. I fomid
to my cost that I could not keep them in the
sunny cellar where my hens were, for the reason
that they caught and ate some of my pidlets and
terrified the survivors so that their lives were a
burden. Their only delicacies in these months
are mice. Their attitudes in chasing a dead
mouse dragged over the cellar by a string are
striking. Fluffy sails noiselessly over the ground

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 117

with feet pointed forward and claws ready to
close ; but Puffy, unable to fly, stalks across the
floor, Ills head pushed forward, and his feathers
drawn away from his legs.

As the spring of 1889 came on, the owls be-
came tuneful after their kind. The quality of
their sounds suggested feline music, while their
accent and metre often aroused my roosters to
responsive crowing. They seldom hooted more
than once or twice, and then in the early evening.

With the coming of warm weather and the
return of birds in the spring of 1889, I began a
series of experiments with Puffy which proved
of considerable interest. I had found that he
was willing to be carried about while perching
on a short stick. Taking him in a basket to some
woods in the suburbs of Cambridge, I displayed
him to the robins, pigeon woodpeckers, vireos
and warblers which chanced to be at hand.
No impressario ever was more delighted at the
success of a new star. A full house gathered at
once. Armed with a field glass I had the satis-
faction of studying at short range the whole bird
population of the neighborhood. The robins,
brown thrushes, and pigeon woodpeckers were
the noisiest, the oven-birds and red-eyed vireos
the most persistent, the chickadees the most in-
dignant. The woodpeckers went so far as to fly
past the owl so close as to brush his feathers

118 FROM liLOMlDON TO SMOKY.

anil make him jump at each charge. On May 12,
during a three hours' walk, I saw over forty
species of birds, many of which I had unusual
and ample time to study through my glass, thanks
to their interest in the owl and consequent indif-
ference to me. It was not, however, until my
long vacation in Chocorua, beginning July G,
that I really had time to ascertain the full value
as a magnet of my patient little bird companion.
The owls made the journey back to the moun-
tains with perfect composure. On being returned
to their piano-box cage they promptly sought
their respective corners, and showed in many
ways their recognition of old surroundings. This
power of memory was even more strongly shown
on their arrival in Cambridge in October, 1889,
when Fluffy flew across the cellar in search of
a favorite perch which had been removed, and the
absence of which caused him to end his flight in
an ignominious tumble.

On my arrival at Chocorua I began to keep
systematic account of all birds seen each day,
makino; careful allowance for birds seen twice in
the same day. Between July 6, and Oct. 14, I
recognized 9782 birds, representing 95 species.
On nearly half the days in this period Puffy was
my companion on my walks and rides. At first
it was not easy to induce him to leave his cage
and accompany me, but after a few lessons he

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 119

consented to step from his perch upon tlic short
jjine stick on which I used to carry him, and to
remain clinging to it while I walked or ran,
scrambled over ledges, or forced my way through
thickets and brambles. He went more than once
to the heights of Chocorua ; passed hours trav-
eling through dark woods and high pastures ; or
perched resignedly on the sharp prow of my Kush-
ton boat, watching dragon-flies skimming the
surface of the lake, and his own image reflected
in the water. In the woods, if I held him too
near a tempting log or projecting branch, he
would hop off. Sometimes he would weary of
my walking, and, jumping to the ground, would
scurry away to cover and snap his beak angrily
if I poked his perch in towards him and told him
to " get on." As the summer wore on he grew
more and more obedient and less inclined to nip
my fingers on the sly as he had a way of doing
when I first carried him about. This winter I
have trained Fluffy to step up beside his mate and
submit to being carried around the house on a
perch.

Whenever on my summer walks I came to
a spot which I wished to " sample " for its birds, I
would place Puffy on a bending sapling, and,
hiding in the neighboring foliage, I would
" squeak " by drawing in my breath over the back
of my hand, to attract the attention of any birds

120 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

which were near by. Usually in the deep woods
the first comer was a red-eyed vireo, chickadee,
hermit thrush, or oven-bird ; but whichever it
chanced to be, an alarm was almost sure to be
given that would bring birds from all directions
eager to see the cause of disturbance. Even when
I was imperfectly concealed, the irritated crowd
paid little attention to me, provided I kei)t rea-
sonably quiet. Sometimes I would leave the owl
in comparatively open ground on a boulder in a
pasture, or a stumj^ in a meadow. Then his fa-
vorite position was with his head tipped directly
backward and his eyes, half closed, fixed either
on the sun or a spot not ten degrees from it. I
never could fully understand this attitude, but I
soon found that the owl was keenly alive to any-
thing passing skyward, for if a hawk or crow
came into view far away in the deep blue. Puffy 's
gaze was instantly turned full upon the growing
speck, the eyelids partly closed and a most intent
look coming into his eyes. Again and again
Puffy has seen hawks or gulls overhead which
my eyes, although unusually far-sighted, have at
first been unable to discern. On one eventful
day he showed me 334 hawks sailing southwest
under the pressure of a stiff northeast gale. It
was September 10, one of the later of the days
when the fires were raging among the forests
alons: the St. John River. The hawks were

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY 121

most of them flying veiy high. I saw none be-
fore 9 A. M. or after 2.15 p. m. I think Puffy
saw every one of them. It mattered not whether
they came singly or in bunches of twenty to forty,
his ever ready eye was upon them as soon as they
came into view. In spite of this marvelous
power of detecting moving objects in a bright
light, my pets often utterly ignore some dainty
morsel merely because it does not move. Their
sense of smell is either weak or uncertain in its
action. Their hearing on the other hand is acute,
although not depended upon in the same degree
as their sight.

Of the various families of birds which Puffy
annoyed during the summer of 1889, none
were more distressed and angered by his pres-
ence than the woodpeckers, thrushes, and vireos.
In every hemlock swamp the yellow-breasted
woodpeckers and flickers said their say against
his character with petulant emphasis. The
flickers often flew close to his head. Downies
and hairies liked him no better, but were less
demonstrative. It was when a venerable and
fiery-tempered logcock caught sight of him on
August 21, that the full force of woodpecker
eloquence was let out. Puffy seemed to recog-
nize a hereditary foe, for before the pileated
came into my view, the owl suddenly changed
his appearance from rough-feathered and sleepy

122 FROM BLOMIDUN TO SMOKY.

content to an astonishing resemblance to an okl
moss-grown stump. He effected the transforma-
tion by standing up very straight, nearly closing
his eyes, and making his feathers lie absolutely
sleek against his attenuated body. Once on
another occasion when he ran away from me, he
climbed to the top of a small oak stump and
made himself look so like a continuation of it
that I passed him four times without detecting
his presence. Not so the pileated, for with a
shrieking cackle, his crest gleaming in the sun-
light, he flew at the owl so savagely that I ex-
pected to see my pet slain on the spot. He only
ruffled Puffy's feathers, however, and made the
poor bird unhappy for some time by his dis-
cordant cries and frequent flights and counter
flights.

Of the thrushes, the robins took the owl
most to heart. More than once in black cherry
time I have seen sixty to a hundred of them
within twenty-five feet of him. Their blended
cries always drew hermits and Swainson's from
the woods, cedarbirds from their cherry feasts,
and detachments of warblers from woods and
meadows. The veeries seemed to care least
about their enemy ; the hermits said little, but
did some hard thinking. The Swainson's, es-
pecially after sunset, had a good deal to say in
a refined way, flirting wings and tail meanwhile.

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 123

The numerous catbirds and occasional thrash-
ers were coarsely abusive. Through it all Puffy
made no remarks, and seldom stirred ; he found
out Ions: ao'o that he could not catch birds.

The ubiquitous red-eyed vireo never wearied
of staring at Puffy, and firing at him his sus-
picious, expostulating " cree ! " By roadside
and meadow, upland pasture, and in the deeps
of the beeches, the red-eye was always present.
Even in the haunts of the juncos and white-
throated sparrows on the high ledges of Cho-
corua he was not absent. My count of birds in
July showed him to be inferior in numbers only
to the barn swallow, the cedar-bird, and the
robin. Far less numerous, but a leader among
the haters of the owl, was the blue-headed
vireo. I had seen little of the bird in previous
seasons, but Puffy seemed to draw one or more
of them from every considerable area visited.
Their scolding reminded me of an angry June-
bug in a bottle.

As a rule the sparrows cared little for the
owl. Purple finches would come and look him
over, the female making a sweet little note of
inquisitive protest, and then go away. Gold-
finches did about the same, showing no anger.
Grass finches sat about on boulders and said
little, and their friends, the field sparrows, be-
haved similarly. In large swamps one or two

124 FROM BLOMIDON TO S.VOKY.

I'ose-breastod grosboiiks c^onorally eamc to see
what caused so luuch outcry, but they never ap-
proached close to the owl. During the flight of
j uncos, white-tlnoats, and white-crowned spar-
rows in October, these species seemed to care
almost nothing about Puffy after a first bustling
visit of inquiry.

A bird of great individuality and irregular
distribution is found quite abundantly in the
Chocorua country. I refer to the great-crested
flycatcher, which, by the way, has always placed
snake skins in those of its nests that I have
found. No amount of bird clamor will bring
this self-contained and suspicious citizen near my
owl. He has his own affairs to care for, and he
has a contempt for brawls and gossip. Similar
indifference was shown the owl in a less marked
way by the smaller flycatchers, but the kingbirds
maintained their reputation for bullying by at-
tacking Puffy and striking him lightly again
and again by well-directed darts from above.

The swallows and swifts delighted to tease the
owl by dashing past him and fanning him with
their wings. They showed no fear or hatred.
Kingfishers took no notice of him. The black-
billed cuckoo came near, and had a good deal
to say in a reproachful voice, but its controlling
emotion seemed to be curiosity rather than fear.
Late one afternoon in August (the 2d), I placed

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 125

Puffy in the midst of a white birch grove near a
hrook. A cuckoo opened the opera and brought
some vireos, inchiding two solitaries. Their ex-
plosions were audible a long way, and for a
moment or two the air seemed full of birds,
nearly all warblers, and all coming towards the
owl. I could not count them ; they came by
scores and swarmed about incessantly like bees.
Most of them were black-and-white creepers,
black - throated greens, chestnut- sideds, black-
and- yellows, Canadians, and redstarts, young
birds predominating. I never expect to see
more warblers in one noisy bunch. As a rule,
however, a glance or two seemed to satisfy them,
and they went off after their sujapers. Of all
the warblers, the oven-birds were the only ones
at all persistent in abusing Puffy. They would
come quickly and stay long, with ruffled feathers
and anxious notes. One day (July 14), while
exploring some dense spruce thickets on a high
ridge of Chocorua, I came across a pair of black-
poll warblers. They were much excited by the
owl and joined with jmicos and white-throats
in prolonged complaining at his presence. A
white-winged crossbill, flying by at the moment,
alighted and looked us over, but was apparently
not at all interested in Puffy.

Another bird which never showed any special
emotion on seeing the owl, no matter what the

12G FRO,\f BLOMinON TO SAfOKV.

season, was the scarlet tanager. As a rule it
took no notice of the owl's presence. Cedar-
birds were similarly indifferent even when the
owl was near tlieir nests or yoinig.

Crows and blue jays showed great hatred of
the owl. In the late summer the jays prowled
about in considerable flocks. By " squeaking " I
could draw them near enough to see the owl,
and then the harshest and most violent kind of
bird abuse would be poured out on Puffy's head.
Jays certainly have a broad knowledge of pro-
fanity. The crows were scarcely less demon-
strative ; circling low over the owl, they made
the woods ring with their angry clamor. I
found that I could attract them by hooting like
my pets.

As a rule the hawks cared little for the owl.
I shot one young Cooper's hawk near its nest
because my calling and the owl's moving about
induced the creature to fly up, tree by tree, until
within range. On July 23, while " squeaking,"
I was astonished to see a sharp-shinned hawk
make a dash at Puffy, scaring him into his stump-
like condition of plumage and attitude. I con-
tinued to " squeak," and the hawk flew straight
at my head, grazed my face, and alighted near
by. Soon a second came, but was more wary. I
amused myself with them for half an hour, and
again on another day a week later. On no other

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 127

occasion do I remember a hawk's taking any no-
tice of Pnffy, although in many instances he has
betrayed their presence by his change of shape
and expression. Once while walking with him
along the shore of Chocorua Lake he changed
his whole appearance in the twinkling of an
eye, and as I turned to follow his gaze I saw
an eagle strike the water near by, dashing the
foam high into the air.

About sunset on August 12, 1889, I heard a
barred owl hooting near a small lake close to
the foot of Chocorua. Two of us set out at
once with guns and reached the crest of a kame
near the lake just as the moon rose. After wait-
ing quietly until weary, I began hooting, and to
my surprise and delight an owl responded from
a tree close by. I hooted again ; it came nearer.
Then I " squeaked," and the next second I has-
tened to hide my head in the bushes, for the
wings of an owl had brushed my face in the
darkness, making cold shivers run down my
back. We fired three times at this owl and
another which joined him, but failed to kill
either. After amusing myself and others sev-
eral evenings by calling the owls in this way, I
took Puffy with me and placed him on a swing-
ing bough where he was plainly visible to cre-
puscular eyesight. Several Swainson's thrushes
found him out before twilight faded, and com-

128 FRO^f TiLOMII>ON TO SMOKY.

])laine(l softly at liis presence. When all was
still, 1 hooted, and soon an owl replied from
the farther shore of the lake. Continuing to
call, I had the satisfaction of seeing ni}^ hird fly
close over Puffy 's head and alight within easy
range, another owl at the same time beginning
to hoot close by. I shot one and was satisfied.
Puffy and Fluffy always show great excitement
when wild owls hoot at night, and occasionally
Fluffy replies.

The only other owl which I have seen thus
far in the Chocorua region is the Acadian. On
July 18, about six p. m., listening to four great-
crested flycatchers signaling each other in a
wooded pasture, I noted an unusual commotion
among robins, hermits, and vireos in a bunch
of alders not far away. Creeping in, with Puffy
held before me, I saw the scolds surrounding a
buff-waistcoated young Acadian perched about
five feet from the ground on an alder. He saw
Puffy, and Puffy looked at him with interest and
attention. The agony in the little bird's yellow
eyes was pitiful. He gazed long, and then, turn-
ing his head slowly away, sailed noiselessly out
of sight, followed by the gossips.

There are several of the Chocorua birds which
I have not named in connection with the owl.
The bluebirds seemed grieved to think anything
so wicked could exist. They perched near him

BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 129

and seemed to be trying witli their sweet tones
to induce liini to give up being an owl. The
kinglets cared nothing for him, even when their
curiosity was aroused by the abuse of chickadees,
who were among the noisiest of Puffy's visitors.
Both nuthatches are common near Chocorua,
and both showed by brief, business-like remarks
what they thought of Puffy. Winter wrens
told Puffy plainly that he was a thief. The
indigo -bird was one of the few finches which
seemed much disturbed by him. The towhee
showed moderate excitement. The Icteridoe
(American starlings), are uncommon in the Cho-
corua region, and none of them met Puffy in his
native meadows. About Cambridge, however,
orioles, redwings, crow blackbirds, and cow bunt-
ings all showed marked excitement and anger at
his presence. Night-hawks and whippoorwills
have not met Puffy. I hope next summer to
arrange an interview with a whippoorwill who
haunts my pasture bars. Once or twice hum-
ming-birds have buzzed a moment near Puffy's
head, as if adding their small tribute of hatred
to the general estimate of his character.

None of the few species of game and water
birds found near Chocorua Lakes have seemed to
show any interest in the owls.

I have recently taken Puffy to Chocorua in
the season of snow. Of the eight species of birds

130 FROM lil.OMIDON TO SMOKY

met, only four saw the owl. They were chicka-
dees, red-breasted nuthatches, redpolls, and blue
jays. They all scolded him, but not with the
average smiimer emj^hasis. The red])olls showed
only mild curiosity which soon expended itself
in gentle reproachful phrases. Puffy did not
mind cold, but the light from the snow seemed
to blind him. Indoors lie held two young hounds
at bay, and made their lives miserable by refus-
ing; to allow them to come near his corner with-
out risking an attack from his beak and claws.
With dogs and cats outdoors he always shows
fear unless they come to close quarters ; then, as
indoors, he spreads and arches his wings, raises
his feathers on his back, lowers his head, and
snaps his beak, sometimes making swift rushes
with an expression so fierce that I have yet to
find any quadruj^ed willing to defy him.

SAPSUCKERS AND THEIR GUESTS.

Of tlie seven species of woodpeckers which I
have found in the region of Mt. Chocorua, New
Hampshire, the yellow-breasted or sapsucker is
the most numerous. It may fairly be said to
be abundant in that district. I base this state-
ment upon my daily count of birds seen between
April and the middle of October in the years
1889 and 1890. I frequently record seeing from
seven to ten of these birds in a day. Their fa-
vorite haunts are mixed growths of young birch,
larch, hemlock, maple and white ash bordering
water or wet lands.

My attention has been drawn to the yellow-
breasted woodpeckers on two accounts, — their
quickness to observe and persistence in scolding
my tame owls when in the woods ; and their de-
struction of certain forest trees.

During the summer of 1890, 1 was led to spend
a considerable time in close study of these wood-
peckers and their feeding habits, by the j^eculiar
relations which I noticed as seeming to exist be-
tween them and humming-birds. My' observa-
tions were given point by my recollection of the

1,'^2 Fno^r hlomidon to smoky.

difference of opinion among ornithologists re-
garding the diet of those \voodj)eekers and their
motive for tai)ping sap-yielding trees. I had
heard it said that their sole reason for drawing
the sap was to attract insects whicli they then
fed npon, I had also heard that they ate the
tender cand)iunx layer which intervenes between
the bark and wood of trees. I knew well that
the birds were insect-eaters, for I had often seen
them fly into the air with the grace of a tyrant
flycatcher or cedar-bird and capture insects on
the wing.

On July 19, while watching a group of birds
gathered in the woods around my tame owl,
Puffy, two yellow-breasted woodpeckers and a
humming-bird attracted my attention. The wood-
peckers were scolding the owl, when the hum-
minof-bird darted towards one of them, hummed
before it, rushed at the other, and then seeing
the owl flew at him squeaking furiously. Then
it flew back to the first sapsucker and perched
near it. On the 21st, I returned to the spot and
found near by a sapsucker's " orchard " of about
a dozen canoe birches and red maples, most of
which were dead, some decayed and fallen. The
tree most recently tapped was a red maple about
forty feet high and two feet through at the but.
The drills made by the woodpeckers began
eighteen feet from the ground and formed a gir-

SAPSUCKEIiS AND THEIR GUESTS. 133

die entirely around the trunk. This girdle con-
tained over 800 punctures and was about three
feet in height. In places the punctures or
drills had run together, causing the bark to gape
and show dry wood within. The upper holes
alone yielded sap. From this I inferred that
what the birds obtained was the elaborated sap
descending from the leaves through the fibres of
the inner bark. I tasted the sap and found it
unmistakably sweet. The leaves on branches
above the drills drooped ; those below were in
good condition. I watched the drills on this
tree from 12.30 p. m. until 2, and from 4 until 6.
I was concealed in the bushes to the northwest
of the tree. During almost all of this period
of three and a half hours one or more wood-
peckers were in the tree engaged at the drills.
They were a male, female and two young birds.
Four visits were paid by humming-birds in the
time named. The visitors were driven away by
the woodpeckers. At 5.30 I shot one of the
young birds in order to determine the number
of individuals using the orchard. His absence
was unnoticed by the survivors.

The next day, July 22, I watched from 9.30
A. M. until 1 P. M. The male, female and one
young bird were present, the tree being seldom
left by all at once. Ten visits were paid by
humming-birds ; in five cases the birds reached

134 FllOM BLOMIDON TO S.)fOKY.

the chills, and liovering, drank sap from one or
nioi-e of tlieni. In the other cases, the wood-
peckers being present, the hunnuers were driven
away. The work of the woodpeckers seemed
to me, armed as I was with an excellent opera
glass, and sitting not more than thirty feet from
the drills, to be perfectly jjlain in character.
Durinii" the morning the female drilled four
or five new holes. They were above others in
perpendicular series. They yielded saj) freely.
She was closely attended by the young one, who
occasionally swallowed pieces of the soft bark or
cambium layer taken from the bottom of the
drills. The female also ate some of it. When
not drilling or resting, the female dipped sap
from the holes near by. The male drilled no
holes but dijjped in those yielding sap. The
dipping was done regularly and rather quickly,
often two or three times in each hole. The sap
glistened on the bill as it was withdrawn. I
could sometimes see the tongue move. The bill
was directed towards the lower, inner part of the
drill, which, as I found by examination, was cut
so as to hold the sap. I looked carefully again
and again to try to find insects in the sap, but
none were there although numbers crawled upon
the bark. Occasionally the birds by a nervous
motion of the head caught an insect. There
was no doubt as to when they did this, either on

SAPSUCKERS AND TTIEIR GUESTS. 135

the bark or in the air, for in swallowing an in-
sect they always occupied an appreciable time
in the process.

Durino; the forenoon I nailed to the tree near
the drills three tiny cups of birch bark. These
I filled with maple syrup. The birds, although
not disturbed by these cups, did not then drink
from them. In the course of the moniing I shot
a crow and two blue jays from where I sat,
but the sapsuckers, although greatly startled by
the reports, returned quickly after their first
fright.

The day following, July 23, I was on duty at
the tree from 9 a. m. until 6.30 P. m. I lay on
the ground concealed by the spreading branches
of a beech tree ; my watch hung from a twig be-
fore my eyes, while, equipped with pencil and
paper, I took notes of all that occurred from
minute to minute throughout the day. My
record runs as follows : —

Wednesday, July 23, 9 a. m. Arrive, climb tree, fill
cups, male sapsiicker comes, scolds, goes off. No
insects iu the sap.

9.08. Male returns, dips from six holes.

9.09. Goes out on dead limb.

9.11. Hummer takes sap from two holes. I could hear

no humming. ]\Iale quiet.
9.15. Young woodpecker comes.
9.17. Goes out on limb, having dipped 37 times in 9

holes. Male flies.

ISf) FJiOM liLO.MinON TO SMOKY.

9.20. Young dips 39 times from 13 holes.
9.22. Goes out on limb.

9.26. Male comes, dips 15 times from 9 holes.

9.27. Male drills a new hole. Hummer comes and
goes ; gets nothing.

9.28. Young flies north.

9.30. Male catches insect on the wing, goes on limb.

Catches another insect on wing.
9.32. Hear a hummer. Male drums.
9.34. Male dips from four hole. Flics west.
9.44. Male returns, dips 9 times, 7 holes, goes on limb

— drums, preens.
9.47. Hear drumming.

9.50. Female comes from north, they chatter. Male
flies north.

9.51. Female dips, goes on further side of tree and drills.

9.52. Comes to cups, tastes syrup in one.

9.53. Flies away, east.

10.01. Male comes from north, dips 17 times, 12 holes.
10.03. Flies north. Hear a hummer.

10.09. Female comes from east, dips in drills and then
from cup No. 1, 4 times.

10.10. Flies east.

10.37. Female comes.

10.38. Male conies. Female dips 4 times in cup No. 1
and goes east.

10.39. Male dips in 5 holes, taps on bark, preens.
10.42. Goes out on limb, scratches aud preeus. Seems

to have lice.
10.45. Young comes.

10.47. Male goes to another tree, undrilled, and begins
drilling. Young dips in 40 drills.

10.48. Hummer comes. Yomig drives it off.

10.50. Young stands on cups and dips in a few holes
many times.

SAPSUCKERS AND THEIR GUESTS. 137

10.53. Still dippinj^ from same holes.

10.57. Still (lipping at intervals.

10.58. Male comes, nervous, drills.

10.59. Young tries to drill, four feet above drills.
11.02. Male and young both drilling.

11.06. ]\Iale dips, goes out on limb.
11.10. Young dips.

11.15. Male dips, goes back on limb, flies east.

11.16. Young dips from cup No. 3 and from new holes.

11.17. Young digging in old holes.

11.19. Young dips from holes and dips twice in cup No. 3.

11.20. Goes on limb.

11.22. Dips from holes just made by male.
11.25-11.30. Still dipping at intervals.

11.32. Male comes from east. Young goes.

11.33. Male drills.

11.35. Looks at cup. Goes out on limb.

11.37. Catches insect on wing, brings it to the tree,
crowds it into hole, and eats it piecemeal.

11.38. Female comes. Goes direct to cup No. 1 and dips
4 times.

11.40. Female dips in new hole and drills one.

11.47. New hole done, after 6J minutes hard chiseling.

11.49. She catches insect on the wing, puts it in a hole
and eats it.

11.50. Hear a hummer.
11.52. Female drills.

11.55. Dips, goes on limb, wipes beak and preens.

12 noon. Female completes toilet, dips and flies away.

12.05-12.10. I examine tree. What appeared to be
drilling new holes was mainly clearing dry wood
from existing drills and running several drills
into one large one. The drills are always lower
at the back next the wood than at the front, thus
forming cups for the sap to collect in. The holes

138 FlW}f HLOMIliON TO S.UOKY.

begun by the young did not roaeh the cambium
layer. I find no insects in sap or syrup.

12.23. Female comes from nortl), dips, pecks and preens.

12.27. On limb preening.

12.30. Still there. I go home for dinner.
2.30. Return. Young in ti-ee. I climb, lie flies. I
place a flame-colored nasturtium above cup No. 1.

2.37. Female comes, dips in new holes.

2.38. Sees nasturtium — petrified by astonishment.

2.39. Hitches towards flower, and touches it thi-ee times,
with her bill. Satisfied, dips.

2.40. Drills and later does nothing.

2.48. Catches an insect on the bark by a quick pecking

motion. Goes on limb.
2.51. Young comes, dips. No notice of nasturtium.

2.53. Young goes on limb. Female comes in and drills.

2.54. Young comes in and walks over nasturtium.

2.55. Female drinks from both cups, bill glistens.

2.57. Both fly. Young seems color blind.

2.58. Male comes, dips, goes near flower, does not no-
tice it at all.

3.00. Male preens, clinging to bark.

3.01. Female returns. Male dips. Both preen.
3.09. Male dips.

3.13. Male hops to nasturtium and touches it with bill
three times. Looks at cup but dips in holes.

3.15. Nasturtium blows away.

3.19. Male dips. Female drinks 17 times from cup
No. 1 and once from a drill.

3.22. Male sleepy, dips now and then. I peep, mew,
whistle, hoot, bark and talk, but no sound makes
the birds do more than move their heads.

3.28. Hummer comes ; sees male and retreats.

3.29. Male dips.

3.30. Female flies east.

SAPSUCKERS AND THEIR GUESTS. 139

3.33. Male dips and j^-oes on limb.

3.37. Male hangs wings and opens beak. Sits in sun.

3.42. Preens, comes in and dips, goes back.

3.47. Young comes, dips 30 times. Male goes on limb.

3.52. Hummers near, male comes in, very lively, dips.

3.56. Male drills. Young stays close to him.

3.58. Young goes on limb and hangs his wings down
each side, so they show underneath the limb.

3.59. Male goes on limb.

4.00. Male comes in and tries to catch passing flies.
4.02. Young wakes and preens.

4.04. Male begins new hole.

4.05. Male goes on limb. Young dips.

4.07. Young drinks 4 times from cup No. 3.

4.08. Male dips. Young goes on limb.
4.10. Male goes out.

4.13. Male conies in, and dips.

4.17. Young flies in, male goes out. Young dips 48

times from drills.
4.25. Both quiet.

4.27. Male comes in. Young dips.
4.30. Male drills new hole higher up.
4.35. Young flies east.

4.40. Young comes from east, dips, male dips.
4.50. Male and young dipping.
4.55. I squeak, hummer flies in and alights.
4.59. Female has been gone 90 minutes.
5.00. Male motionless. Young in next tree.

5.06. Male dips, and flies away on seeing me.

5.07. Young comes in and dips 16 times from cup No. 3.

5.13. After dipping iii holes goes to cup and dips 5
times.

5.14. Female comes from south, young flies south.

5.15. Female touches cup 3, then goes to cup 1 and dips
13 times.

140 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

5.1G. Goes out on limb.

5.20. She drills, and continues to drill a long time.

5.3o. Iluninier comes, alights, Hies away.

5.36. Young comes and dips. P'emale goes.

5.38. Young dips 7 times in cuj) No. 3, then in several
new holes.

5.41. Male conies.

5.44. Young dips in cup No. 3, 7 times, flies off.

5.46. Male rattles around over cups and bark, but thus
far I have not seen him drink from cups.

5.49. Young returns, dips 3 times from cup 3. He al-
ways wipes his bill in a drill after drinking syrup.

5.55. Young dips again in cup 3 and flies south.

5.56. Male flies in and clings close to cup.
6.00. Hummer near.

6.02. Male dipping and preening.

6.08. Young comes from south.

6.12. Male and young dipping.

6.18. A hermit thrush alights on the limb from which
the woodpeckers always take flight. Young flies
at him twice and drives him away and out of the
tree.

6.30. Young still dipping ; I go home.

On July 24 instead of going to Orchard No.
1, as I shall call that already described, I went
first to another half a mile northeast of it, where,
in August, 1889, I had seen sapsuckers drilling
a canoe birch, and humming-birds and a downy
woodpecker apparently sharing in the profits of
the tree.

I reached Orchard No. 2 at 6.45 A. M. The
tree in use last year was nearly dead. Two

SAPSUCKERS AND THEIR GUESTS. 141

neiffliboring; birches sliowins^ scars of earlier
years were quite dead. All stood on the crest
of a kame. About three rods along the ridge
to the eastward, a red oak and two or three
canoe birches were in use by the birds. Five
sapsuckers, including a male, female and three
young, were frolicking and dipping. The male
was somewhat rough with the young birds. I
stayed until 7.30. Humming-birds made thir-
teen visits in that time and were generally al-
lowed to dip freely. A black-and-white creeping
warbler was driven from the tree. A red-
eyed vireo was not disturbed in the higher foli-
age. Three separate times while one humming-
bird was dipping another came. The efPect was
astonishing. Volleys of squeaks proceeded from
both birds. They droj)ped directly downwards
from the tree about twenty feet, and when close
to the tops of bushes and brakes began to go
backwards and forwards like a long pendulum,
the trunk of the tree coming opposite the lowest
point of their course, and the arc made by them
measuring about forty feet. Their humming
and squeaking were continuous. At the end of
the performance only one bird was to be seen,
and he quietly perched in the tree. I think
this oscillating flight was made five or six
times in each of the three performances which
I witnessed.

142 FROM HLOMIDON TO SMOKV.

The followinf^ evening, July 25, 1 visited Or-
chard No. 2 again. One sapsncker and two hum-
ming-birds W(U'c at work dij)])ing between 7.20 and
8 P. M. The penduhim aet was not performed.
Tlie hummers were not disturbed l)y the wood-
peckers. They continued to dij) until it was too
dark for me to see them, although I could hear
their wings.

On the preceding morning, after my visit to
Orchard No. 2, I spent a short time at Orchard
No. 1. I found the birch bark cups empty. I
filled them, and as I reached the ground the young
woodpecker came and began dipping from cup
No. 3. He dipped ten times, then poked into two
drills and flew away. The female came immedi-
ately after, dipped in a few drills, saw the fresh
syrup, dipped ten times in cup No. 1, and flew
away. That day and the 26tli were rainy. On
the 27tli at 6.15 a. m. I saw a male hummer work-
ing on evening primrose blossoms. He ignored
other flowers. I reached Orchard No. 1 at 6.35.
The young one was there. I filled cup No. 1,
the others being torn or warped. A hummer
flew almost into my face while I was in the tree.
About twenty new drills had been made since the
23d, all being higher up the trunk than previous
ones. About two inches in height had been
gained. I remained on the watch nearly nine
hours, going away only for meals and a brief visit

SAPSUCKJJliS AM) THEIR GUESTS. 143

to Orchard No. 2. During the nine lionrs the
male paid ten visits to the tree, the female four
and the young one three. Forty-one visits were
made by humming-hirds ; in several instances
two were in the tree at once. The tree swarmed
with insects, mainly large flies. One or more
butterflies came. Early in the morning, I added
brandy and sugar to the maple syrup in the cup.
The humming-birds with one exception dipped
only in the drills. In one case a humming-bird
drank for sixty seconds (including a rest of ten
seconds) from the cup. He then flew away.
The you7ig sapsucker dipped only from the drills,
the female dipped thirty times or more from the
drills, and twenty-five times from the cup. The
male dipped fifty-four times from the drills and
worked a little in deepening holes, drank sixty-six
times from the cup and caught twenty insects,
some on the wing, some on the edge of the cup.

I noticed with surprise that the humming-birds
in more than one instance took sap while clinging
to the bark with their feet, their wings being at
rest. I have been told by a careful observer that
they cling to the trumpet flower in the same way
while crowding themselves into its mouth to draw
its sweets.

My notes refer again and again to the spite-
ful treatment of the hummers at Orchard No. 1.
On the other hand, at Orchard No. 2 they say,

144 FROM JlLO.U/nON TO SMOKY.

" Malo and yonnp; om; dipping. Hninnior comes
in and dips several times between than and they
offer no objection."

In spite of the fact that one yonng- hird had
been shot from the family at Orchard No. 1, the
tree was without woodpeckers only about one
hour out of the nine that I watched it on July 27.

On the 28th, I arrived at Orchard No. 1 at 7.28
A. M. and watched it for two hours. On my ar-
rival I filled one cup with brandy, sugar and
syrup, and another, a new one, with pure brandy,
and a drop or two of the mixture on top. A
humming-bird's arrival at 7.30 brought the male
sapsucker from a neighboring tree. The hum-
mer was driven away. The woodpecker dipped
several times and then tried the pure brandy.
He shook his beak and hitched away from the
cup. Then he went out on the limb used as a
regular point of departure and flew north, as
my notes say, " pointing and flying as though for
a long trip." At 8.13, a male hummer drank
forty seconds from the cup containing the brandy
and syrup mixture. At 8.16, a female hummer
drank twenty seconds at the same cup. Both ig-
nored the drills. At 8.42, a female hummer while
drinking was attacked again and again by the
wasps and bees surrounding the tree, and com-
pelled to defend herself. At 9.05, the female
woodpecker arrived, dij)ped in a few holes and

SAPSUCKERS ANT) THE IE GUESTS. 145

then went to the brandy cup. She drank six
times, then went out on the limb and presently
began shaking her head violently, showering
drops from her beak in every direction until she
had thrown np what I estimated to be two tea-
spoonfuls of liquid. She flew away eastward, but
soon returned and remained until 9.30, when she
flew north " as for a long trip."

I then hurried to Orchard No. 2 and remained
there from 10.07 until 11.15. On some of the
trees at this orchard a thick growth of small
sucker branches was conspicuous just below the
drills. I think it was caused by them. It served
as a screen for the sapsuckers. Dui'ing this
hour three woodpeckers were at work dipping,
and occasionally catching some of the numerous
insects of which the air was full. Seven visits
were paid by humming-birds. One of the trees
in use by the woodpeckers, hummers and in-
sects was a red oak. The drills in it were very
small and round. At 11.15, I went into a large
swamp to the east of Orchards 1 and 2 in search
of fresh evidence. After walking a quarter of
a mile, I paused and hooted like a barred owl.
A young sapsucker promptly appeared, and a
moment later a humming-bird, which alighted
close to the woodpecker. Seeing no owl, the
humming-bird flew off towards the point from
which the sapsucker had come. I followed and

]4G FIiO.)f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

found Ort'luml No. 3, consisting mainly of trees
gi idled long ago and now dead. The tree in
use was a red maple. Its drills were about
twenty-five feet from the ground. One bird was
dipping ; two more came soon after. After a
brief stay I went home to dinner. Returning
at 2.45, I stayed until 4.15. A downy wood-
pecker passed without going to the drills. At
3.35, I killed two young woodpeckers with a
single charge of dust shot. A few moments
later a humming-bird alighted in one of the
dead maples. At 4.10, I was drawn away by
the hooting of a barred owl, and did not re-
turn to Orchard No. 3 until August 7, when I
found only one sapsucker at work, a young one,
which I shot. I do not think that I found the
principal trees in this orchard.

I ended my observations of July 28 by a visit
of twenty-five minutes at Orchard No. 4, which
I had first seen three j^ears before. It consisted
of a large number of dead and a few living trees,
which stood on a delta formed by the Chocorua
River at its point of union with Chocorua Lake.
The part of the orchard in use was a birch, from
whose root rose four major trunks quickly subdi-
viding into fifteen minor stems each rising to a
height of over thirty feet. All of these fifteen
trunks were dead or dying. Only seven of them
bore leaves. I reached this orchard at 6.25 p.m..

SAPSUCKEIiS AND THEIR GUESTS. 147

and fiucUng no birds in sight placed Puffy on a
stump close to the drills, which were only seven
to nine feet from the ground. Instantly a hum-
ming-bird appeared, buzzing and squeaking, and
the next moment a female sapsucker came into
the tree scolding. I removed Puffy and soon
after the humming-bird began dipping, giving a
squeak each time he dipped. At 6.50, the hum-
mer, again discovering Puffy, flew within ten
inches of his eyes, buzzed indignantly and flew
away.

On August 5 from 3 to 4 p.m., no sapsuckers
came to Orchard No. 4 and only one hummer.
A hioh wind was blowing.

On August 7, I visited Orchard No. 1. About
twenty new holes had been made since July 28,
and great quantities of frothy sap were wasting.
The sap was as sweet as though artificially sweet-
ened. I saw one young sapsucker and one hum-
ming-bird ; neither of them dipped. The wood-
pecker caught several insects.

On August 8, I reached Orchard No. 4 at C
A.M. At 6.03 a hummer came. At 6.06 a
young sapsucker came and began dipping. I
had with me, instead of one of my barred owls,
one of three young screech owls which had been
confided to my care for the season. " Scops "
was placed in a conspicuous position in the heart
of the orchard. The sapsucker had scarcely be-

148 FROM liLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

gun dipping when he saw the owl and raised the
ahirm. Over thii-ty birds came, inchidiug two
linmmers. By 6.30 the noise subsided, and the
sapsueker, who liad not left the tree at all, re-
sumed his dipi)ing. A nuile hummer was also dip-
ping at 6.31. At 6.42, the sapsueker was dipping
within seven feet of my head, and the hummer was
perched close by. At 6.47, the hunnner buzzed in
Scops' face and then perched again. At 6.52, an-
other hummer came and both flew away ; at 6.54
both came back, but went again. At 6.56 Scops,
whose wing was clipped, jumped nearly six feet
at the young sapsueker, at whom he had been
glaring for some time. The woodpecker flew
with a loud cry, scolded for a long time and then
disappeared. I nailed a birch bark cup to one
of the stems, and while doing it a hummer came
and looked at me. Later he came again, looked
at the cup and dipped at drills close above it.

I spent from 10 a.m. until 12.34 at Orchard
No. 2, for the purpose of shooting all sapsuckers
seen there. I found last year's tree again in use,
and those in use July 24 and 25 temporarily
abandoned. From 10 to 10.48, the sapsuckers
seen, spent all their time catching insects on the
wing, sometimes flying fifty feet for them. Hum-
ming-birds were numerous, and, as I had no-
ticed was the case with this orchard, were un-
molested even when dipping within a foot of a

SAPSUCKEJiS AND THE IE GUESTS. 140

sapsucker. At 11.15, I fired while a hummer
and young sapsucker were both dipping-, and
killed the woodpecker. At 11.47, I tried again
and killed a sapsucker and male hummer with
the same charge. At 12.12, a female luunmer
came and dipped for forty seconds. At 12.27,
I shot another young sapsucker, and at 12.34
a fourth. As I left the orchard, a female hum-
mer was dipping.

On August 10, I spent from 5.30 p. m. until
6.30 at Orchard No. 4. A young sapsucker and
hummer were in the drilled tree during the en-
tire hour. Although I climbed into the tree to
put maple syrup in the cup, the woodpecker did
not leave the branches. Neither bird took any
syrup.

On August 13, I reached Orchard No. 2 at
6.40 A. M. At 7.09, a hummer buzzed in my
face so near that I was startled and waved her
off. At 7.15, a hummer was dipping in a canoe
birch near by. At 7.17, I fired at her but
missed. She dipped again at 7.29. At 7.32, I
fired again and failed. At 7.37, she was dipping
again and then perched near by. She dipped
again at 7.45 and 7.49, and I tried a third shot
which was successful. At 7.58, a female hum-
mer was dipping in the same spot. At 8.07, I
left without having seen a woodpecker but with
the certainty that more than a single pair of
hummers used Orchard No. 2.

ITiO riiO.M lilJ)Mll)()N TO SMOKV.

On August 14 at 3 i*. m., Imimiiing-birtls were
using Orchard No. 2, but the supply of sap was
diminishing and no woodpeckers were to be
seen. I shot away a Hmall limb which I noticed
the hunnning -birds perched upon, and a few
moments later one returned and flew in zigzag
lines near the spot, searching for the missing
twig. The same or another bird repeated the
search a few minutes later. At 4 p. m., I reached
Orchard No. 1, which seemed deserted, nothing
coming during an hour and a half. Great
streams of frothy sap extended down the bark
to the ground and formed a moist spot on the
leaves and mould. The trees smelled sour and
the lower sap tasted sour. I climbed to the
drills. The upper holes were blowing bubbles
of sap, and a slow current was flowing from them,
readily visible to the eye. Many kinds of in-
sects were upon the trunk, including ants, com-
mon house-flies, and hornets. One of the last
named stung me without other provocation than
my presence, and I descended rapidly from the
tree. By a mark made on July 23, I was able
to determine that in three weeks the drills in
this red maple had been carried eight inches up
its trunk.

On September 5, I paid a final visit for the
season to Orchard No. 1. There were no birds
present between 2.30 and 3 p. m. But little sap

SAPSUCKERS AND THE Hi GUESTS. 151

was flowing. The tree looked in better condi-
tion than in July or August. Great numbers
of hornets were in control of the tree. A few
butterflies hovered near, but were driven away
by the quarrelsome hornets.

On May 1, 1891, I took advantage of a brief
trip to Chocorua to visit Orchard No. 1. The
sapsuckers were there and had evidently been at
work several days. The red maple, their princi-
pal tree, was covered with flowers above the belt
of drills, and with newly opened leaves on its
lower limbs. The female was dipping at a series
of new drills which had been opened two feet
above the old belt. Forty-three holes had been
cut on the trunk and nearly as many more on
several adjoining limbs. Sap was flowing from
the upper holes only, and not in abundance. It
was slightly sweet. The male came to the tree
once during my stay of half an hour, but he
spent most of his time on a poplar a few rods
distant, where he was digging his family man-
sion. The poplar was a vigorous tree, about
forty feet in height. The hole was on the south-
east side of the trunk a little more than twenty
feet from the ground. It seemed to be already
four or five inches deep. The birds were noisy,
especially so when the female went to inspect the
male's digging, and when the male came for a
moment to the drills. Only two sapsuckers ap-

1;")2 FliOM lil.OMIDOX TU t^MOKY.

])oaved, and no Immniing-bivds were to be seen.
There were practically no insects to be found
near the drills.

During- July and August, 1890, I shot in all
eight sapsuckers at the various orchards. I
preserved their stomachs, which were well filled
with insects. Some of these stomachs wore
examined by Professor llagen, who wrote to me
on August 21st as follows : —

" The woodpecker has hashed his food so
fine, that it is beyond my power or knowledge
to determine accurately the composition of this
bug-hash."

Mr. Samuel H. Scudder was able to speak
with more confidence of the stomachs which I
sent to him. Under date of December 19, he
said : " The insects in the different stomachs
are in all cases almost exclusively comjiosed of
the harder chitinous parts of ants. In a cursory
examination I find little else, though one or two
beetles are represented and No. 4 must hav^e swal-
lowed an entire wasp of the largest size, his head
and wings attesting thereto. If the birds were
very different in habit, or presumably in food,
a comparison of the kinds of ants might lead to
the detection of some peculiarities. A nmnber
of species are represented."

It is worthy of note that the structure of the
tongue of this species is somewhat unlike that of

SAPSUCKERS AND THEIR GUESTS. 153

the tongues of other woodpeckers. In form it
is not adapted to vise as a dart for securing
insects, and its fringed edges have suggested to
biolog^ists who were not observers of the bird's
habits that sap might, as in the cases of species
with similar apparatus, form an important por-
tion of its food. The following extract from
a letter written to me by Mr. W. F. Ganong,
Instructor in Botany at Harvard University,
gives a clear history of the progress of sap in its
ascent and descent.

" It is now thought by botanists that the elab-
orated sajD from the leaves is transferred down
the stem through the soft bast cells of the inner
bark, just outside of the cambium layer. It
hence passes to the medullary rays, where it is
stored up to last over the winter in the form of
starch chieflj^ Some of it is stored also in the
wood, cells of the young wood — but none I
believe in the ducts or fibres or main masses of
the wood itself. In the latter there is a current
of crude sap from the roots flowing up, but I
do not think any botanist thinks that the elabo-
rated sap flows down by the same path. Hence
if the woodpecker in July or August penetrates
the wood, he would get only crude sap from the
ordinary wood tissue, but he might get elaborated
sap from the medullary rays or some of the
smaller wood cells — much more of the former

154 FRO.n BLOMIDON TO SMOKi'.

(i. e. unelaborated) than of the latter (/. e. elab-
orated), I should say. If he penetrates to the
cambium only he would get elaborated sap
(wliich is being transformed into tissue), and if
he peneti-ated the soft inner bark only he cer-
tainly would get elaborated sap flowing down-
ward, and probably that only. If it is elaborated
sap he wants, he would do much better to go
no further than the inner bark and cambium.
The medullary rays are so small in proportion
to the size of a woodpecker's bill and tongiie
that he would receive but poor wages for his
labor in penetrating them. Of course in spring
before the leaves are fully out, the sap is very
rich as it flows up, both in starchy and albumi-
noid matters, and then it would be worth working
for. But as late as July and August, the upward
flowing saj), while it contains traces of these nutri-
tious substances, must be veiy poor in them.

" I never thought of the question before, be-
cause I did not know that woodpeckers bored
for sap. I always supposed it was insects and
their larvae they were after."

SUMMARY.

From these observations I draw the follow-
ing conclusions : that the yellow-breasted wood-
pecker is in the habit for successive years of
drilling the canoe birch, red maple, red oak,

SAPSUCKERS AND Til KIR GUESTS. 155

white ash and probably other trees for the pur-
pose of taking from them the elaborated sap
and in some cases parts of the cambium layer ;
that the birds consume the sap in large quan-
tities for its own sake and not for insect matter
which such sap may chance occasionally to con-
tain ; that the sap attracts many insects of various
species, a few of which form a considerable part
of the food of this bird, but whose capture does
not occupy its time to anything like the extent
to which sap drinking occupies it ; that different
families of these woodpeckers occupy different
" orchai'ds," such families consisting of a male,
female, and from one to four or five young birds ;
that the " orchards " consist of several trees
usually only a few rods apart, and that these
trees are regularly and constantly visited from
sunrise until long after sunset, not only by the
woodpeckers themselves, but by numerous para-
sitical humming-birds, which are sometimes un-
molested, but probably quite as often repelled ;
that the forest trees attacked by them generally
die, possibly in the second or third year of use ;
that the total damage done by them is too in-
significant to justify their persecution in well-
wooded regions.

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY.

I SPENT much time during the summer of
1890 in watching yellow-breasted woodpeckers
at work in their " orchards " near Mt. Cho-
corua, N. II. From my observations I drew the
following conclusions, that " the yellow-breasted
woodpecker is in the habit ... of drilling . . .
trees for the purpose of taking from them the
elaborated sap, and in some cases part of the
cambium layer ; that the birds consume the sap
in large quantities for its own sake and not for
insect matter which such sap may chance occa-
sionally to contain ; that the saj) attracts many
insects of various species, a few of which form a
considerable part of the food of this bird."

These conclusions differed so radically from
opinions held by many ornithologists that some
persons, who either doubted the sufficiency and
unimaginativeness of my observations, or who
read my conclusions without scrutinizing my state-
ments of fact, were unwilling to admit that I
had proved the yellow-breasted woodpecker to
be a sap-drinker. In order to present additional
and different evidence in the case, I determined

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 157

to secure several living sapsuekers, to cut them
off as completely as might be practicable from
insect food, to feed them if possible upon con-
centrated maple sap, and to see whether a diet
of that kind would sustain life. It was possible
that they might refuse to eat anything, that they
might eat the offered food biit die in a few days,
that they might live for a time but show distress
and inability to digest the food. On the other
hand it was possible that they might take kindly
to the diet, thrive upon maple syrup, and live for
weeks, perhaps months, in a manifestly healthy
condition. I had confidence enough in ray pre-
vious observations to believe that the birds would
relish syrup, and would live upon it for a suffi-
ciently long time to induce those who still consid-
ered the birds insect eaters only, to admit that a
contrary presimijation had been raised.

It was first necessary to secure the birds. Hav-
ing failed, in 1890, to catch old birds by making
them tipsy, I decided to secure a nestf ul of young-
birds before they took to the wing. Searching the
forest near Orchard No. 1, 1 found, on July 1, a
nest filled with noisy fledglings whose squealing
sounded afar in the otherwise silent woods. The
hole was on the south side of a living poplar, about
twenty feet from the ground. Two old holes
scarred the trunk. The parent birds came fre-
quently to the tree, and their arrival was always

158 FJiO.U HLOMIDUN TO l-iMUKY.

grectotl by more vigorous crying from the young.
On the Gth, I visited the nest again and found
both old birds feeding the young, which were
now mucdi nearer the mouth of the liole. The
okl birds scohled me on my approach, and the
young remained silent for a long time after
hearing the warning notes of their parents.

On Tuesday, July 7, at noon, I raided the nest.
The poplar was felled so that its top caught in a
tree near by, preventing any shock to the young
birds. In spite of the resounding blows of the
axe, the old birds continued to come to the nest,
and in the intervals of chopping they fed the
young. Moisture glistened on their bills, and I
was not sure that they brought insects in any
instance. One young bird flew before the tree
fell, a second took wing as the crash came, but
the third remained in the nest until taken out by
hand. I named them Number One, Number Two
and Number Three, corresponding to the order
of their entry into active life. Their coloring
varied sufficiently for me to recognize each with
certainty after his transfer to a cage, and as weeks
passed by they became more and more dissimilar
both in coloring and conduct.

Their cage was an oblong pine box containing
about three cubic feet. Its floor was covered with
sawdust, its face was closed by fine wire mosquito
netting, and apple and alder branches were ar-

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 159

ranged for porpendicixlar and liorizontal jjcrelies.
A sliding' door allowed mo to luiudle the birds
when necessary. During the afternoon of the
day of their capture I fed each bird four times
with sugar and water. Holding each little crea-
ture in my left hand I slid the tip of a small quill
toothpick between its mandibles, when it quickly
drank the few drops of liquid held in the half-
filled quill. The second time I did this the bird
opened its beak willingly. By the fourth lesson
the rapid use of the long and nervous tongue in
draining the quill of every particle of moisture
showed that the quill was a satisfactory substitute
for the parent's bill.

At 5 A.M. on July 8, the young sapsuckers be-
gan a lively " rat-tat, tat-ta-ta, tat-tat" on the
resounding sides of their box. They were un-
mistakably hungry wdien, an hour or two later, I
presented the point of the quill at a hole in the
wire netting. One bird after another drank the
diluted maple syrup with which I filled the tube.
I repeated this process at intervals of about half
an hour until evening, the birds becoming more
and more expert in draining the quill and more
and more prompt in responding to my offers of
nourishment. Number One was the most rest-
less and aggressive ; Nmnber Three, the slowest
in feeding, and the least hungry. It was also
the dullest in coloring. On the 9th, the birds

IGO FROM BLOMIDOX TO SMOKY.

did not begin to stir until about 7 o'clock, their
cage having- been darkened so as to prolong their
slumber. On my presenting the quill all three
tried to drink at once, and Number One was very-
rough with the others, striking them sharply with
his beak. His violence led me to add a second
room to the cage, into which the others could
withdraw to escape him. I placed it directly
above the other, \vith a round hole in the floor
opposite a similar opening in the top of the first
cage. None of the birds noticed the hole, either
from below or from above, when put in the upper
room. I placed cups of birch bark and wooden
troughs filled with syrup in various parts of both
cages, but the birds did not go to them. They
took more syrup than on the 8th, drinking a
greater number of times and more at each time.
Towards evening, I exchanged the quill for a
slender spout of birch bark through which I let
the syrup ooze. They drank from the spout,
from the netting down which drops coursed, and
from the wood upon which the drops fell. Num-
ber One made his first attempt to catch a fly on
the netting, but failed.

During more than half the day the birds were
in motion, flying from one side of the cage to the
other, hitching up and down the netting or the
perpendicular perches, and pounding on the net-
ting, boards and perches. Twice they gave the

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IX CAPTIVITY. IGl

squealing note of alarm so characteristic of the
wild sapsucker. At night I looked to see how
they slept. They were side by side, hanging
erect upon the back wall of the cage, with their
heads tucked under their wings. One by one
they waked, and turned with sleepy surprise to
look at the lamplight glaring at the mouth of
their cage.

On July 10, 1 made serious efforts to teach the
birds to feed themselves. Catching them at in-
tervals, I dipped their bills into the syrup in
their cups, forcing them to drink. By 9.30 a. m.
Number One had learned his lesson. Two hours
later Number Two drank voluntarily, and a little
after one o'clock the feeble and timid Number
Three followed suit. Early in the afternoon,
Three seemed so exhausted by the blows show-
ered upon her by One and Two, that I thought
she was going to die. I took her out and allowed
her to perch upon the top of the cage. Suddenly
she revived, slipped through my hand, flew the
length of the open barn, out into the trees be-
yond, and was gone. After searching for her
for over an hour, I gave her up as lost.

At 8 A. M. the next day I heard a sapsucker
squeal near the house, and running out found
Three sitting on top of a clothes-line post. She
looked bright and knowing, but did not offer to
fly, even when I extended my hand to catch her.

162 FROM liLOMlDOK TO HMOKY.

Clasping her quickly, I carried her back to the
cage. She was very hungry, and went at once
to a cup and drank long and often. Her brief
outing had given her courage to stand up against
the attacks of the others, and I had no further
anxiety for her health. I filled their cups at 8
A. M., 1 r. M., 4 \\ M., and at dark, — the last as
a precaution against unseasonable tapping in the
morning.

During the next few days I filled the cups
several times a day, and the birds drank freely,
and seemed happy and perfectly healthy. On
July 17, being satisfied that the birds never
would learn to go up and down between the
upper and lower cages, I removed the upper cage
and placed it on the floor beside the lower one,
opening a door between the two so that the birds
could hop through from one to the other on the
same level. They did this at once. I then added
a third room which could be entered by a door in
its side, and found that the birds quickly availed
themselves of the chance to be alone for a part
of each day.

One warm day I sprinkled the birds with
water. They were greatly astonished, but at
once surprised me as much as I had them, for
they flung themselves upon the floor and went
through all the head, wing, and feather motions
of a bath, scattering about chips and sawdust in

YOUNG SAPSUCKEKS IN CAPTIVITY. 1G3

a most energetic way. It was their first acquaint-
ance with water. I at once supplied them with
a large dish of water, in which they bathed
occasionally during the summer, — usually, it
seemed to me, towards evening, and when no
one was near.

The smell of maple syrup which pervaded
their cage of course attracted insects, which
crawled up and down the outside of the wire net-
ting, occasionally finding a crack in the cage and
entering. The young birds were always on the
alert to catch one of these intruders, and made a
great fuss eating it, — squealing, and crowding
into a corner to hold it securely between their
breasts and the boards, until they could swallow
it in just the right way. The number of insects
caught by them in this way was small, and I do
not think amounted at any time to ten per cent
of their food.

Within a week after the birds' capture, I felt
sure that Number Two was a male, because red
feathers appeared on his throat. I surmised
that Number Three was a female, partly on ac-
count of her more subdued coloring and partly
from her gentleness. Number One bullied both
Two and Three and was more noisy than they.
By July 20, I had reduced the number of their
syrup cups to one — a large earthen saucer
which I filled once a day, sometimes twice. If

164 FIW.U liLUMIDON TU ti.MOKV.

I allowed the saucer to become dry, the wood-
peckers druinined more and more vigorously un-
til I supplied their needs. Sometimes all three
birds would drink at once. They were astir by
5.30 A. M., and still noisy at 8 P. M. On July
20, my notes say, " They are perfectly healthy
and happy."

About noon on July 28, the door of the wood-
peckers' cage was opened by mistake, and not
long after, I discovered that Three had escaped
for a second time. I searched for her in vain.
The next day rain fell in torrents all the fore-
noon. About one o'clock, the cry of a sapsucker
was heard through the closed windows of the
house, and Three was discovered clinging to the
piazza railing just in front of my study window.
She was wet and dismal. I tried to catch her
with my hand, but she flew to the nearest tree
trunk, where I secured her by throwing a piece
of soft mosquito netting over her. The moment
I placed her in the cage she fastened herself
beside the cup and drank many times. After
satisfying her hunger, she retired to the darkest
corner of the cage to dry and doze. The other
birds paid no attention to her.

On July 25, two downy woodpeckers were
working in my orchard. Taking a trout rod and
line, I made a small slip-noose at the end of the
tip joint and poked it into the tree where one of

YOUNG SAFSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 165

the woodpeckers was inspecting the bark. He
watched the rod and seemed puzzled by it, but
did not fly. Sh:»wly lowering the noose I let it
settle around his neck, and then by a slight jerk
drew it tight. He flew in small circles round
and round the tip of the rod, held by the noose,
and slightly choked by it. A minute later, freed
from the line, he was in the sapsucker's cage.

He was a j'oung bird, like the sapsuckers, and
I supposed that the latter would not notice that
he was not one of their own family. I thought
it possible that he might follow their example
and drink syrup from the cups, for I had once
seen a downy woodpecker dipping at one of the
sapsucker's "orchards." Unhappily, however,
the stranger was not welcomed kindly, and as I
was called away for the day, he had no defender.
The sapsuckers pursued him from one corner of
their cage to another, striking him fierce blows
on his head and over his eyes, until he fell to the
floor exhausted. Reviving, he again attracted
their notice and attack, but his second fall was
his last.

About August 1, it seemed to me that the sap-
suckers were unusually restless ; they whined
and scolded a great deal and went from room to
room incessantly. I think that at this season
the wild birds begin to frequent their " orchards "
less regularly than in May, June, and July. The

KJG FROM lU.OMIDDX TO t^MOKY.

captives t:i])]io(l a great tleal, and I gave them
a variety of things to phiy upon, as, for example,
a sweet-toned glass tumbler, thin sheets of zinc,
and resonant pieces of wood arranged to give
out various tones. They tested these things, but
seemed to prefer the sides of their cage, espe-
cially portions walled with clapboards, which
yielded a great volume of sound to their blows.
I spent many hours in noting down the number
and order of their taps, iti order to see whether
they constituted distinct signals. At first it
seemed to me that Number One liked to tap in
twos and fours, that Number Three was more
apt to make threes, or threes and fives, than
other combinations, and that Number Two
mingled fives and twos. The longer I listened,
the more combinations I found them making,
and at last I decided that with these birds it was

mere chance whether they said or

or They seemed to pay no attention to

each other's performances, and to mean nothing
by their own tappings. If they tapped at all, it
was necessary to make some number of taps and
to space those taps in some particular way. If
in a large number of such series, ones, twos,
threes, fours and fives came equally freely and
frequently — as they seemed to — there ap-
peared to be no ground for imagining that the
different combinations indicated different feel-

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 167

ings or impulses. Nevertheless, I think the old
birds at Orchard No. 1 during July, 1890, called
each other by tapping, and I do not feel at all
sure that closer study than mine might not work
out a sapsucker code.

On August 9, I noted that the birds were " as
noisy as a boiler factory, " and that One and
Three were showing reddish coloring on their
heads. Three, I speak of as " gentle and refined,"
but One is constantly alluded to as rough, noisy,
and restless. I tested their color sense by pla-
cing some flaming nasturtiums in the front of
their cage. They did not even look at them, but
trampled back and forth over them until the
flowers fell.

On August 13, a very warm day, I saw one
of the sapsuckers bathing at 7.30 P. M., when it
was nearly dark in the cage. On the 14th — a
rainy day — one of them bathed about G p. M.
When the sun fell upon their cage in an after-
noon, the birds often sought the sunlight, and,
standing in it, drooped their mngs and opened
their mouths as though suffering. They could
readily have avoided its heat.

On August 17, I was away all day, and the
sapsuckers' syrup dish became dry. Early on
the 18th, the birds began pounding so furiously,
that, as my notes say, " they could be heard a
quarter of a mile away." When I filled their

168 FROM BI.OMIDOX TO SMOKY-

dish they crowded around it, and all three drank
at once. They consnmed more than a tablespoon-
ful of the diluted syrup between 7 and 11 a. m.
Ordinarily they disposed of eight teaspoonfuls
each during the twenty-four honrs. Part of this
evaporated, and part was probably secured by
black ants which visited the cage by night. On
August 25, 1 did not give the young woodpeck-
ers any syrup until late in the day. Then I of-
fered syrup and insects at the same time. They
ignored the insects and drank long and often of
the liquid. Later they ate the insects. I kept
a dish of water in their cage all the time, but
they were seldom seen to drink from it.

On Sejitember 4, I placed the woodpeckers'
cage in a finished room in the barn and opened
their door to see what they would do with lim-
ited liberty. Number Three showed the effects
of former freedom by coming first to the door-
way and perching in it. After a moment. One
flew out past her and bumped against the win-
dow pane. Ten minutes elapsed before Two
came out. Then they flew back and forth from
window to looking-glass, curtains to woodwork.
I handled them freely, and they seemed to have
no feeling of fear. They clung to my fingers,
and perched upon my shoulders. All the inte-
rior finish interested them, and they hammered
wood and glass, paint and plaster with vehe-

YOVXG SAPSUCKERS IX CAPTIVITY. 169

mence. One of them hopped l)ack and forth over
the board floor, striking it now and then as if it
had been a great log, prostrate. Tliree caught
a few of the many flies in the room, but showed
no eagerness over them. The others scarcely
tried to catch them. That night they slept in
separate corners. In the night I lit a candle
and looked at them. They awoke, squealed, and
Three came to the syrup and dipped twelve
times. The red on her head seemed brighter
day by day. I also noted that Two was grow-
ing more yellow below. On September 6, I
noticed that One and Three were together while
Two remained much alone. He seemed to be
moulting. During the next fortnight I let the
birds out once or twice each day and watched
them closely. Three was the only one which
seemed to care much about catching house flies,
and she secured very few. Black ants visited
the cage at night, and occasionally I heard the
birds moving about a great deal, although their
cage was as dark as it could well be made. By
September 11, Three had transferred her affec-
tions from One to Two. The latter's plumage
had by that time become quite brilliant ; the
yellow and black below, and the red on head and
throat, making him a decidedly distinguished
looking bird. He made up for all Number One's
earlier bullying and browbeating by scolding

170 FRO^f BLOMIDOX TO SMOKY.

him and driving him from porch to perch.
When free in the room, Two and Three spent
most of their time upon a great horizontal
timber, a portion of the framework of the barn,
which ran through the upper j^art of the room.
It had been rough-hewn by the sturdy hands
which had framed the barn many a long year
before, and patches of bark still clung to its
surface. The devoted couple ran up and down
the upper surface of this beam, tapping from
time to tune upon its flat face, never upon its
edges. One stayed in the cage much of the
time when Two and Three were together. He
seemed jealous and far from cheerful. None of
them ever went back to the cage voluntarily,
and as time passed they did their best to avoid
me when I was ready to lock them up.

On the evening of September 12, the birds
were very restless. Between eight and nine
they were drumming furiously. The night was
dark, and not a ray of light found its \vay into
their cage. On September 16, they continued
their hammering until 10 P. M. They took less
syrup than usual at this time and caught practi-
cally no insects. On September 21, my notes
speak again of the small quantity of syrup con-
sumed by the birds. On September 26, the birds
were brought to Cambridge in a small box.
They were fed in the usual way, and drank fre-

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTTVITY. 171

quently from tlioir dish while the train was at
rest. The next day they were given a room to
themselves. It was eight feet by five and was
lighted by a window looking- into an upper entry.
0]i])osite and above the window was a large sky-
light through which sunlight streamed into their
room for several hours each day. They promptly
chose the curtain roller at the top of the window
as their favorite perch, and to this I attached
their syrup dish, which they recognized and
used at once.

For several days they seemed perfectly well
and contented. They hammered the woodwork,
cut holes in the plastering until they reached the
laths, and drilled small holes in the floor. Ab-
solutely no insects gained access to their room.
On October 4, I state in my notes that they
never seemed moi*e happy or more energetic.
They bathed freely at tliis time while I was in
their room, and seemed to enjoy the water
greatly.

On October 11, I recorded the fact that Three
seemed dull and allowed me to catch her with-
out opjwsition. On the 12th, she was evidently
feeling far from well and stayed on the floor,
but Two and One were unusually cheerful. On
the 13th Three showed alarming symptoms. As
early as 7 a.m. she had a convulsion, throwing
herself upon her back and struggling violently.

172 FRo:r nLOMinoN to smoky.

Reviving, she drank some synip and seemed bet-
ter, but the spasms rceurred at frequent inter-
vals during the day. She kept her head moving
up and down a great deal of the time. \Vhen
a spasm was imminent, she turned her head
far around to the left, and, with her neck thus
twisted, spun around towards the left seven or
eight times, then fell upon the floor and beat her
head upon it. After most of these spasms she
drank from her cup, and during the day she ate
four flies which I gave her. Tiie last attack
Avas at 5.30 r. m., and not long after she was
found dead. I placed her body in the hands
of several graduate students in biology at the
Museum of Comparative Zoology, and received
from one of them. Dr. Thomas G. Lee, the
following statement : " We found the intestines
quite empty. In the stomach, which was deeply
bile-stained, was a ball composed of cotton fibi-es
and containing fragments of insects. The liver
was very large, deeply bile-stained, and very
soft. The other organs were apparently normal."
The body was plump, and large deposits of fat
covered the abdomen.

On Sunday, October 18, Number One, who
had been dull for a day or two, showed symptoms
similar to those of Nimiber Three. He had
several convulsions and was weak after them.
I gave him lemon juice. For several days I had

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 173

been trying to change the diet of the surviving
birds, but they refused everything except their
syrup and a fly or two wliich they seemed to care
for but little. Among the things offered them
were a sweet apple, a pear, a peach, grapes, and
earthworms. I diluted their syrup more than
usual, and put lemon juice with it. Number
One's condition was such on the evening of the
18th that I had no hope of finding him alive on
the next morning. He survived, however,
although in a most pitiful condition ; his eyes
winked frequently, he seemed to see little, and
that little in such a way as to confuse distances ;
his breathing was unnatural and he trembled
constantly. Monday passed, and while One
grew no better. Two became seriously ill. On
Tuesday morning, both birds were alive, that was
all. At eight o'clock. Two had a violent convul-
sion and never recovered from it. A few moments
later One, who had clung to life with such tena-
city, died in the same way — maintaining to the
last the advantage which he had first claimed in
the nest. Number One was examined by an
expert physician in Cambridge, who pronounced
his liver enormous and in a diseased condition.
It nearly filled the abdominal cavity, crowding
other organs. It was soft and greenish. Num-
ber Two was forwarded to the Department of
Agriculture, which reported that the bird " had

174 FROM JiJJiMIDUN TO SMOKY.

enlargement and fatty degeneration " of the
liver. Tiie most probable cause of this enlarge-
ment of the liver, which seems to have been the
reason for the death of the three sapsuckers, was
an imdue proportion of sugar in their diet. In
a wild state they would have eaten insects every
day and kejjt their stomachs well filled with the
chitinous parts of acid insects. Under restraint
they secured fewer and fewer insects, until, dur-
ing the last few weeks of their lives, they had
practically no solid food of any kind. Two of
them lived in captivity exactly fifteen weeks,
and the third fourteen weeks. During that time
they subsisted mainly upon maple syrup diluted
to half its strength with water. This diet was
not refused nor disliked by them at the outset ;
quite the contrary, it was adopted readily. It
did not cause speedy death, nor even indigestion.
The birds did not mope and pine ; they enjoyed
life, changed their plumage as much as caged
birds could be expected to do, and until nearly
the time of their deaths manifested no abnormal
condition. In fact, they throve upon maple syrup
and were in an apparently healthy condition for
more than three months.

SUMMARY.

From these experiments I draw the following
conclusions : (1) that the yellow-breasted wood-

YOUNG SAPSUCKERS IN CAPTIVITY. 175

pecker may be suec^essfully kept in captivity for
a period corresponding to that during which as
a resident bird he taps trees for their sap, sus-
tained during this time upon a diet of which
from 90 to 100 per cent is diluted maple syrup ;
(2) that this fact affords evidence of an ex-
tremely strong character, in confirmation and
support of the theory that, when the yellow-
breasted woodpecker taps trees for their sap, he
uses the sap as his principal article of food, and
not primarily as a bait to attract insects.

WAYS OF THE OWL.

Since June, 1888, I have had in my posses-
sion for longer or shorter periods eleven live
owls, including snowy, great-horned, long-eared,
barred, and screech owls. I have also had oppor-
tunities of watching Acadian and screech owls
in a wild state. In June, 1888, I secured two
young barred owls from a hollow beech-tree in a
White Mountain forest. I have them still after
three and a half years of happy companionship.
During the first summer they were pets not easily
petted. They used beak and claws fiercely and
resented familiarity. I kept them in a large
slatted cage in my barn, where they had plenty
of air and light. They bathed freely and fre-
quently. They ate largely of animal food.
They were awake by day, restless at twilight,
but profoundly quiet by night. They could see
perfectly in bright sunlight, and better at night
than most creatures. In the autumn I took them
to Cambridge, where they were given a large
cage in my cellar. During the winter I handled
them more and more freely, beginning by using
stout leather gloves, but soon stroking and rub-

WAYS OF THE OWL. 177

bing" their heads with my bare hands. They
became more and more gentle, and I found that
even when they nipped me with their beaks
they did not attempt to cause serious pain. One
of them, whose name is Puffy, injured his wing
early in his captivity, and has never been able to
fly. The other I keep clipped in one wing. In
the spring of 1889 I began taking Puffy with
me on walks. I found at once that he was
wonderfully useful in attracting other birds.
During the summer of 1889, the following winter,
and tlie summers of 1890 and 1891 he was my
companion on walks, drives, and trips in my
Rushton boat. To a smaller extent I have
taken his mate Fluffy with me, but he is of a less
patient disposition than Puffy, and during a long
walk is sure to hop from the stick upon which I
carry him many more times than Puffy would
in an equal period. In May, 1891, I secured a
third baby barred owl from the same beech-tree.
From the first hour that he was imprisoned he
has shown an irritable temper. His whining
as a young bird was incessant by day and not
always suspended by night. Now, at the age
of nine months, he whines whenever any one
approaches him, and frequently makes violent
assaults upon me when I enter the part of my
cellar in which the owls are penned. Puffy and
Fluffy during their first summer were quite

ITS FHOM lil.OMIIxiX TO SMOKY.

timid, and Fluffy is an arrant coward now ; but
Prince Edward, as the new captive has been
named, has never shown fear of anything living
or dead, large or small.

Of two fully grown screech owls which I
owned, one in the spring of 1890, the. other in
the spring of 1891, little is to be said. They
were unhappy, and, although they ate well, both
died from the effects of pounding their heads
against wire netting In efforts to escape. These
owls, when approached, stiffen their ears, make
their feathers lie closely against their bodies,
keep every joint and muscle rigid, and so nearly
close their eyes that only an exjiressionless slit
remains through which they watch the intruder.
To the gentle caress of a hand they pay no heed.
I have often taken one of them in my hand, laid
him upon his back, and so carried him from
room to room, and not been able to detect the
movement of a feather. Let, however, the in-
truder retire, or let him take a dead mouse from
his pocket and draw it by a string across the
floor, and Scops is himself again in a twinkling.
The ears are lowered, the bright eyes open wade
with a wicked glare, and the soft wings take the
crafty and cruel little bird swiftly down upon the
mouse. This habit of shamming unconscious-
ness appeared to be characteristic of the long-
eared owl which was mine for a few brief hours

WAYS OF THE OWL. 179

in October, 1891. I haiulled him freely, but
the closed eyes and rigid muscles did not move.
I went away and watched liim from a distance,
and he was alert and making fidl use of his
beautiful eyes.

Early in the summer of 1890, a friend sent
me three young screech owls. They were as odd
little gray hobgoblins as could be imagined.
Their temper, their voices, their appetites — all
needed superlatives to describe them. They
were sent to the White Mountains for the sum-
mer, and lived in a slatted box under the barred
owls' big cage. They loved mice, birds, and
fish, but did not take quite as kindly to raw
liver as the barred owls did. For a week or
more two of them were taken away from the
third, and when they came back they no longer
knew him as a brother. His life was made a
burden to him, and one morning in August I
found his body lying on the floor of their cage.
They had removed nearly all his feathers and
would probably have devoured him if I had not
deprived them of the fruits of their unnatural
crime. A few days passed and the two mur-
derers quarreled over a mouse. In the frequent
struggles that followed, one was killed outright
and the other survived but twelve hours. My
efforts to tame these young screech owls were
only partially successful. The murdered one had

180 FROM JiLUMIDOX TO SMOKY.

taken sevei'al excursions with me, and while
I walked clunf;' to a stick carried in my hand,
or nestled between my arm and my body. If
placed in a tree he served (juite well as a decoy,
although perhaps some species of birds did not
take him as seriously as they did the barred
owls when those intruded u2)on their breeding-
grounds.

In June, 1891, 1 was presented with Snowdon,
a full-grown snowy owl, which had been captured
during the preceding winter. lie was a danger-
ous-looking bird, w^ith a temper and a trick of
jumping for one's fingers. I clipped one wing
and began by handling him roughly if he showed
a disposition to fight. At the euvd of a week
he learned to step upon a stick and cling to it
while I carried him back and forth in the cellar.
Taking him to the White Mountains, I gave up
to his use a box stall in the northeast corner of
my barn, and kept damp reindeer moss for him
to stand upon, plenty of water for him to bathe
in or drink, and a moderate supply of food for
his sustenance. Although we had some warm
weather, he was in perfect health throughout the
season, and is now in excellent condition. At
first I kept the barred owls away from him, fear-
ing that they might murder each other, but later
experiments showed that Snowdon had no ill
feeling toward the barred owls, and ignored

WAYS OF THE OWL. 181

them even when they stole his portion of the
food. It is now six months since I turned them
in together, and during the whole of that time
the four birds have been on terms of quiet in-
difference.

About the middle of September, 1891, a Bos-
ton dealer sent me a mature great-horned owl.
He reached my country place just in time to be
sent back to Cambridge with the snowy and
barred owls. Clii^ping one of his wings, I
placed him with the others in the 250 square
feet of cellar space fenced off for them. Puffy
prepared for war, Fluffy fled, Prince Edward re-
garded the stranger with indifference, and Snow-
don and the great-horned formed an alliance at
once. Three months have passed, and, so far
as I know, no conflict has occurred. The older
barred owls fear and dislike the great-horned.
Prince Edward treats him with brassy famil-
iarity, and Snowdon stays with him in the cor-
ner of the cellar farthest from the favorite perch
of the barred owls.

Having introduced my characters, I will now
compare them in several particulars. They ar-
range themselves, when I think of them as owls
merely, into two groups — the brown owls and
the gray owls. The great-horned, long-eared,
screech, and Acadian owls seem to me much
alike in disposition and their way of meeting-
man. They seem like kindred.

182 FROM BLOMIDON TO SAfOKY.

The barred and snowy owls, while quite differ-
ent from the brown owls, are somewhat alike
in temper. They show light when approached,
and are very alert. The barred owls make sev-
eral diffei-ent sounds expressive of various emo-
tions. They snap their beaks furiously when
warning an enemy ; they whine when hungry ;
they make a soft, rather musical " oo " when
meeting after an absence ; they chatter with rage
when pulling in opposite directions on the same
bird or mouse ; and they hoot when expressing
the sentiments which make the domestic cock
crow. While young they make a queer chuck-
ling chatter when cuddled, and as the sound
grows faint it suggests the music of a brood of
chickens nestling under their mother's feathers.
The hooting varies. In the August twilight I
often hear the loud trumpeting " hoo " uttered
at intervals of half a minute or more by wild
owls in the woods. The common hoot, which
suggests to some ears feline music, is generally
" hoo-hoo hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo hoo-hoo, " but I heard
a barred owl this winter in a remote White
Mountain valley say " hoo-o6, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo,
hoo, hoo-oo. " He was a conversational and in-
quisitive bird. By hiding in some evergreens
and hooting to him I drew him little by little to
the treetop just above me.

Wholly different is the conversation of the

WAYS OF THE OWL. 183

snowy owl. His warning is sometimes beak-
snapping, but oftener an open-monthecl, hissing
"iih," which has a most menacing quality. He
occasionally utters a shrill, whistling scream
expressive of pain or the fear of pain, yet he
makes it also when snatching a morsel of food
held toward him. Thus far I have heard my
great-horned owl make but four sounds : terrific
beak-snapping ; ah-ing quite equal to Snow-
don's ; a hooting which suggests wind sighing in
a hollow tree, and taking the form of " wh55,
hoo-hoo-hoo, whooo, whooo " ; and a series of
soft, musical notes, rolled from his throat when
Snowdon comes too near his clutched breakfast.
My barred owls eat raw butcher's meat, mice
and squirrels, bats, any kind of bird, hawk and
crow included, fresh fish, lake mussels, snakes,
turtle-meat, some sj^ecies of frog, earthworms,
some kinds of insects, and hen's or bird's eggs.
They will not touch toads or the frogs which se-
crete an ofPensive scent. They rarely eat tainted
meat or stale fish. Once they played for hours
with a dead weasel, much as a cat plays with a
mouse, but they did not eat any part of it. They
catch living fish from a tank, and kill mice, squir-
rels, birds, frogs, and snakes ; but they were at
first greatly alarmed by a turtle, and a young
hare running around their cage frightened them
almost into fits. Puffy will face and put to flight

184 FROM lil.DMIDUX TO S^fOKY.

a cat ov a dog', but a pig is a terror to liim.
When Puffy was only six months ohl he caught
and killed a two-pound pullet ; yet in March and
April, 1891, he roosted night after night on the
same perch with an old Cochin hen which had
begun her stay in his cage by giving him an un-
merciful trouncing.

So far as I have been able to ascertain. Snow-
don will not kill anything, no matter how hungry
he may be. He eats dead birds, mice, squirrels,
fish, snakes, mussels, turtles, if opened, and
butcher's scraps ; but he will make no effort to
catch or kill a squirrel, mouse or snake, although
shut up with them while hungry for a day or
more. In one instance of this kind he ate a
squirrel which he had allowed to live for twelve
hours, as soon as it was killed and given to him.
I have seem him drink once, and only once. If
he bathes, it is a rare occurrence and done
secretly. Early one moiniing in August, 1891,
I heard a splashing in the owls' water-tank. It
was about 3.30 a. m. Creeping to the cage, I
peered in, and saw Snowdon shaking himself, as
though he had just finished a bath.

His method of eating is suggestive of a car-
rion eater. The barred owls are deliberate in
their way of treating their food. They search
for and crush joints and finny projections. In
a frog they feel of every limb from end to end,

WAYS OF THE OWL. 185

and crunch away at the joints until they are
mellow. They generally pull out the stiff wing
and tail feathers, even in quite moderate-sized
birds. Small snakes they swallow squirming.
Snowdon, on the other hand, ignores live snakes,
and his first act with dead food is to swallow it
whole if he can possibly distend his throat far
enough to let it pass. I have seen the head of
a large rooster vanish down his throat, bill fore-
most, without his making any effort to crush it.
Often a piece of food will stick in his throat
and refuse to go down, in spite of vigorous
jerks, jumps, and convulsive swallowing. It is
then ejected and sometimes dropped altogether.
With a large piece of meat or fish his method is
different. Standing upon it, he snaps at it vi-
ciously and tears off small bits, in eating which he
makes a smacking noise. Engaged in this way
he is a disgusting spectacle. His head is poked
forward, and the feathers upon it seem flattened.
The hairy feathers around his beak are drawn
back, and his red mouth is open much of the
time. If disturbed while eating, he makes his
shrill and extremely piercing cry. He is per-
fectly willing to be fed by hand, snapping at
and bolting morsels of liver as fast as they are
passed to him. He sometimes eats enormous
quantities of food in a short time. He ate the
whole of a full-grown bittern in twenty -four

186 FROiM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

hours, and on another occasion a cooper's hawk
placed before him at night had only one leg and
a few feathers remaining in the morning. Like
other owls, he ejects hair and bone j)ellets from
his mouth.

The great-horned owl is not so ready to be fed.
He prefers to eat while alone. Mice, however,
are too attractive to be refused, and whenever
held before him are slowly and quietly taken
and swallowed. Other food he usually pretends
not to see until I have left him. He seems
ready to eat anything that the other owls like.
I know that he has bathed at least once this
winter, and, judging by his plumage, he uses
water freely. When given a cod's head or a
large bird, he stands upon it and tears off mor-
sels much as Snowdon does. His motions in
doing this are sudden and his whole expression
fierce and tiger-like. With horns slightly flat-
tened and eyes glaring, he first plucks a piece
of flesh from the carcass and then turns his head
sharply from side to side to see whether any
other owl dares to intrude upon his repast. My
barred, snowy, and great-horned owls all feed
freely in the daytime. My screech owls, on the
contrary, usually waited until dark before de-
vouring their food. One of them apparently
ignored a live English sparrow for several hours
while daylight lasted and the sparrow was able

WAYS OF THE OWL. 187

to see hiin, but when night came the sparrow
was speedily caught, plucked, and eaten.

The feelino' with which other birds regard an
owl seems to be a mixture of curiosity, hatred,
and fear. Curiosity impels them to approach,
hatred causes them to make violent and abusive
cries, while fear inclines them to wariness and
prevents them from open attack upon their
sphinx-like enemy. This feeling of the birds is
general, almost universal, and is shared in a modi-
fied form by the smaller owls when brought in
contact with large ones. To the chickadee or
the warbler it makes no difference whether an
owl is large or small : he is an owl, and that
prompts inspection and vituperation. In sev-
eral instances I have found Acadian owls in the
woods in consequence of the racket made by
birds scolding them. This winter, on the day
after Christmas, I was walking through a spruce
thicket in Albany, N. H., when the noise of nut-
hatches, Hudson Bay and black-capped titmice
and kinglets enticed me into the darkest part of
the growth. The birds were greatly excited, and
as I softly drew near them I saw that they were
in a circle, all facing toward some focus invisible
to me. I crept farther, and saw the tail of a
small owl projecting from behind the trunk of a
tree. Presently his tiny monkey face was screwed
around over his back, and his timid yellow eyes

188 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

fixed themselves upon me. His tormentors soon
flew away, and after studying me attentively for
some time, the little Acadian floated off out of
sight also.

The young screech owl, whose death at his bro-
ther's hands I have already mentioned, irritated
the birds of the forest and meadow in the same
way. I placed him, one morning, upon a birch-
tree which was in use by a family of yellow-
breasted woodpeckers as a sap-drinking place.
The sapsuckers made a great clamor on seeing
him, and their cries called together all the birds
which were within earshot. At least thirty indi-
viduals came, including kingbirds, cuckoos, cat-
birds, veeries, chickadees, four or five kinds of
warblers, red-eyed vireos, song sparrows, and two
humming-birds. Having scolded for nearly ten
minutes, they departed, leaving a sapsucker and
a humming-bird, which soon forgot the owl and
resumed their usual employment of drinking the
birch-tree's sap.

Several times during the summer of 1891, 1
took my snowy owl out to walk. He weighs
three and a half pounds, so the task of carrying
him by hand upon an outstretched stick was
rather a laborious one. The birds noticed him
at once, and scolded as though he were of a spe-
cies with which they were unpleasantly familiar,
instead of one with which they were presumably

WAYS OF THE OWL. 189

wholly unacquainted. Thrushes of various kinds,
warblers, vireos, swallows, and sparrows treated
him precisely as though he had been a barred
owl. Once a grouse, with a family of chicks,
confronted him boldly for a moment, while her
brood scattered to cover. His conduct while at
liberty was somewhat peculiar. He shunned the
woods, and if taken into them, quickly made his
way out. His left wing being clipped, his only
method of advance was by clumsy leaps, or by a
queer wobbling run, aided by outstretched wings.
Whenever I placed him upon the ground, he
would hurry away to a distance, and stop to
pant with his wings dragging wearily at his sides.
One warnr morning I left him on an open pasture
hillside, and walked away to a belt of woods
nearly an eighth of a mile from him. Conceal-
ing myself in the bushes, I watched him closely
through my glass for an hour and a half. The
time was nearly a blank. The owl, satisfied that
I had gone, walked toward me about a rod and
sought the shady side of a small patch of juniper.
There he remained almost motionless for the
entire period. Sometimes he turned his head and
watched crows at a distance. Once or twice he
glanced at the sky, and in one instance he fol-
lowed with his eyes the flight of a small bird.
Looking toward the sun did not seem to affect
his vision. That he could see things at a dis-

190 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

tauce was shown in several ways. Wlien I came
slowly from my liidin^-place he saw me at once,
and started jumijing down the hill away from me.
On another occasion I took him out in a ponring
rain, thinking that he would go to the woods for
shelter. He was content with standing under a
small apple-tree which gave him practically no
protection, a fact which he discovered and sought
to remedy by running to another tree of the
same kind. Inactive, unable or unwilling to kill
mice or squirrels, even when most hungry, silent,
vacant in expression, cowardly, apparently stu-
pid, the snowy owl, judged, by my one captive,
is a dull and uninteresting member of an unusu-
ally acute family. I doubt Snowdon's being a
fair type of his species.

The barred owls are the particular abomina-
tion of other New England birds. They are cour-
ageous, keen of vision by day and in the twilight,
strong, alert, quick, yet crafty. Their voracity
makes them the terror of every nesting mother,
the scourge alike of the forest, the field, and the
meadow. Of their merits as decoys there can be
no doubt. If taken while young and clipped,
they are readily tamed and taught to obey sim-
ple orders. Mine have been invaluable to me in
studying the birds of New Hampshire. When
going for a walk, I take one or both of the older
ones. Entering their cage, I extend a short stick

WAYS OF THE OWL. 191

toward and on a level with their feet, and say,
somewhat sternly, " Get on." They generally
bite the stick once and then step upon it, and
cling to it patiently while I carry them through
any kind of country. When I wish to have
them attract other birds I hold them toward
a convenient branch and say, " Get off," which
they are very willing to do. Then by whistles
or cries I attract some bird's attention, and if it
proves to be a titmouse, a woodpecker, a thrush,
or some other excitable bird, the alarm is given,
and from all quarters the neighbors come pour-
ing in to join the tumult. Even while holding-
Puffy on a stick and walking with him, I have had
birds attack him. Once a pair of solitary vireos
followed me for some distance, one of them fly-
ing between my head and the owl three times,
apparently not noticing me any more than though
I had been a tree. A similar attack from a sharp-
shinned hawk was more surprising than pleasant.
Some species are less demonstrative than others,
and seem to think silence and retreat wiser than
vituperation. Cedar -birds, great crested fly-
catchers, and scarlet tanagers are three species
which seldom greet Puffy noisily. Game birds,
as a rule, are too much afraid of me to remain
near the owl, and the same is true of water-fowl.
Loons have, however, shown curiosity on discov-
ering Puffy, and sandpipers clearly dislike him.

192 FROM BLOMinON TO SMOKY.

I tested this in <an amiisiniij way one day, by tak-
ing Puffy out in my boat to a point just to wind-
ward of a solitary sandpiper, and then setting
him adrift on a small board. At first the sand-
piper did not see him, but as the wind carried
the placid owl nearer and nearer the beach, the
tattler suddenly discerned him, and became stiff
with astonishment. He faced the owl, his head
poked forward and his body rigid, then with a
wild cry he flew, rising from the water and pass-
ing over the trees, away from the lake.

Whippoorwills are not easy birds to watch
at night, but they usually fly toward the owl,
uttering excited " clucks," and fly several times
over it before going away to a distance. A mo-
ther night-hawk, with young, showed great cour-
age and sagacity in dealing with Puffy. I placed
the owl near her nest. She promptly flew down
on the side of the owl away from her young, and
fluttered in the grass as though wounded. Puffy
hopped toward her. She flew a few feet, he fol-
lowed, she flew a rod, he followed a third time.
She flew three or four rods, and, as he hopped
on, she rose and circled around him until, if he
had seen her nest in the first place, he never
could have remembered in which direction it lay.

The hooting of a barred owl in the daytime,
or my imitation of the sound, almost invariably
brings birds to the spot. Crows will come a long

WAYS OF THE OWL. 193

way in response to the hated call. So will blue
jays, and several of the hawks and woodpeckers,
hermit and Swainson's thrushes, chickadees, and
a few other small birds, including the siskins in
winter. Crows, in a ])articular region, soon learn
that a barred owl implies a man in the same
thicket, but for the first two or three times, hoot-
ing will surely call them within short range.

Although game birds usually avoid the owl on
account of my presence, a grouse with a large
brood of young on one occasion showed much
courage in watching Puffy. Her chicks scat-
tered, but she remained in sight, whining and
trailing her wings and doing her best to entice
the owl away from the spot. Once she came
within ten paces of him, her tail spread like a
fan and her wings arched like an angry hen's.
Puffy paid little attention to her, but seemed to
be lookins: for the chicks which he had heard
stirring in the leaves. Whenever he hopped
she rushed into view, whining. She remained
near by during the whole of twenty minutes
that I spent in her domain.

In July, 1891, Puffy had a face-to-face meet-
ing with a wild barred owl. Puffy was perched
upon a stump facing a hemlock forest. Sud-
denly he became rigid and assumed a very unu-
sual attitude for him, his head being thrust for-
ward and his body flattened so that his breast

194 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

rested upon the stump. Following the direction
of his steady gaze, I saw a line si)ecinien of his
race in the dark forest. He was as rigid as
Puffy. How long they would have glared at
each other I cannot tell, for it began to rain,
and the stranger flew away.

The hearing of all species of owls known to
me is marvelously keen ; so keen in fact that I
know of no way of testing it, since it is so much
more acute than that of man. If owls have the
sense of smell, I am unable to find satisfactory
evidence of it. I have tried various experiments
with them, hoping to prove that they could smell,
but the results are all negative. They dislike
putrid meat, but they bite it to ascertain its con-
dition. They will not eat toads or frogs which
yield an unpleasant odor, but they did not reject
these species until they had tested them by tast-
ing. They may be ever so hungry, yet they do
not suspect the presence of food if it is carefully
covered so that they cannot see it. This test I
have applied with the utmost care to the great-
horned, snowy, and barred owls. The latter are
shrewd enough to learn my ways of hiding their
food, and when they suspect its presence they
will search in the places where I have previously
hidden it, pouncing upon pieces of wrapping-
paper, and poking under feathers and excelsior
with amusing cunning. I tested them with the

WAYS OF THE OWL. 195

fumes of camphor, ammonia, and other disagree-
able and unusual smells, but they failed to show
that they pei-ceived them unless the fumes were
strong- enough to affect their breathing or to
irritate their eyes. Finally, I put a cat in a bas-
ket and placed the basket between the two owls.
They were utterly indifferent to it until the cat
made the basket rock, when both of them fled
precipitately, and could not be induced to go
near the basket again. Although Puffy will
put a cat to flight when on his mettle, Fluffy is
frightened almost out of his wits by them.

A Japanese toy-bird, made of a piece of wood
and a few scarlet feathers, was eagerly seized
by Puffy, indicating not only a lack of power
of smell, but the presence of an appreciation of
color. I have fancied that an appreciation of
color is also shown by barred owls in their fre-
quent selection of beech trees as nesting-places,
by great-horned owls in their choice of brown-
trunked trees, and by Snowdon in an apparent
preference for gray backgrounds.

To this real or imaginary ability of the owls
to select protective backgrounds is to be joined
an undoubted power of assuming protective
shapes. My great-horned owl can vary at will
from a mass of bristling feathers a yard wide,
swaying from side to side as he rocks from one
foot to the other, to a slim, sleek, brown post

106 FROM BLOMIDON TO HMOKY.

only a few inches wide, with two jagged points
rising from its upper margin. When blown out
and defiant, his bill is snapping like a pair of
castanets, and his yellow eyes are opening and
shutting and dilating and contracting their pu-
pils in a way worthy of a fire-breathing Chinese
dragon. In repose he is neither inflated nor
sleek, but a well-rounded, comfortable mass of
feathers. The barred owls go through the same
processes of expanding and arching out their
wings when awaiting attack, and of drawing all
their feathers closely to their sides when endeav-
oring to avoid observation. As noted before
Puffy once escaped into the woods, perched
ujjon a small oak stump, drew his feathers into
such a position that he seemed a mere continu-
ation of the stump, closed his feathered eyelids
until only a narrow slit remained for him to
peep through, and stayed perfectly stiff for an
hour while I hunted for him high and low. I
passed by him several times without bringing
my eyes to the point of recognizing him as a liv-
ing thing. This power is shared by the screech
owl and the long-eared owl. The plumage of
the snowy owl is so solid that he seems more
scaly or hairy than feathered. He does not, so
far as my specimen shows, expand and arch his
wings. Instead of standing straight and be-
coming slim and rigid, he crouches and flattens

WAYS OF THE OWL. 197

himself when seeking concealment. I can im-
agine him in his Labrador wilds crouching thus
amid a waste of junipers and reindeer moss, and
baffling the eye which sought to detect him there.

The control which owls have and exercise over
their feathers is not limited to moments when
they wish to appear terrible or inconsijicuous.
They seem to ruffle them or smooth them, expand
them or withdraw them in queer ways at pleas-
ure. The barred owls, when stepping stealthily
across a floor after a dead mouse drawn by a
thread, tuck up their feathers as neatly as a
woman holds her skirts out of the mud. When
eating, the feathers nearest the mouth are pulled
aside in a most convenient way. When wet, the
feathers seem to shake themselves as well as to
be shaken by motions of the body, head, and
wings. My wife, in making a water-color sketch
of Snowdon, complained that, although she
could not see him move, he changed his outline
a dozen times in an hour.

The owl's eye is his most usefid member. The
popular belief that the owl is seriously blinded
by light is almost wholly unfounded, at least so
far as the sj)ecies of which I am writing are
concerned. When a man approaches an owl in
broad daylight the owl, in nine cases out of ten,
will close his eyes, and so appear sleejjy. As I
have already explained, this is an effort to escape

108 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

notice by the assumption of a protective shape.
That it is not due to any dread of light or in-
ability to see is shown by the following instances
of perfect seeing by owls in bright daylight.
Walking through a Cambridge road in March,
1891, 1 saw an Acadian owl perched on a willow
limb about fifty feet from me. His i^lmnage was
stiffened and his eyes nearly shut. I approached
him and slowly raised my hand toward him.
Suddenly his eyes doened wide and glared at me.
Then the soft wings spread and he fell forward
upon them, and flew toward the sun to a distant
perch. The Acadian owl already mentioned
as having been seen in December, 1891, in the
spruce forest of the Swift River valley, watched
me keenly, and swung his small head around
after the manner of owls, trying to see me
clearly from more than one point of view.

The screech owl which I first owned, although
shamming sleep one morning when I entered the
room where I kept it, pounced upon a dead mouse
which I let fall upon the floor, and flew off with
it before I realized what had happened. One
of my three young screech owls when only two
months old tried to catch a sap-sucking wood-
pecker which had perched near it in the sunlight
on a dead tree. My snowy owl, as I have al-
ready stated, watches birds flying across the sky
at a distance, and once saw me as I slowly

WAYS OF THE OWL. 199

emerged from the woods an eighth of a mile
from him. Great-horned owls are well known
to be active by day, and not inconvenienced by
sunlight. The barred owls, however, exhibit the
most marvelous powers of sight, and their eyes
may well be called telescopic. In dozens of in-
stances Puffy has seen, and by his fixed watch-
ing of the sky has called my attention to, hawks
flying at so great a height that they were well-
nigh beyond man's vision. More than this, he
has on two or three occasions seen a hawk ap-
proaching in the upper air when my eyes, aided
by a fairly strong glass, failed to see the bird
until it drew nearer and grew large enough for
me to detect it as a mere dot in the field of the
lens. My eyes, by the way, are rather stronger
and more far-sighted than the average. If the
bird thus sighted by Puffy is a hawk or an eagle,
he watches it until it is out of sight. If it proves
to be a crow or a swift, he gives it merely a
glance and looks away. The barred owls fre-
quently look at the sun with their eyes half-
closed for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.
Why they do it I am wholly at a loss to explain.
I am in doubt as to how much Puffy can see
at nio-ht. I once held a cat within a few inches
of him in the darkness, and he did not stir. Had
he seen it, he would certainly have moved and
probably snapped his beak. In August, 1891,

200 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

I let lilin out after dark on a patch of closely
cropped grass where the dim light enabled me
to see him when he moved, I went to the near-
est tree and seated myself with my back against
its trunk and my legs stretched out before me.
Half an hour passed, Puffy scarcely moving ex-
cept when a bat flew over him, and I keeping
perfectly motionless. At last he came toward
me, slowly, a yard or two at a time. When he
was within a few feet, I could see his outline
quite plainly. One more hop brought him to
my knee, upon which he jumped. Instantly he
bounded into the air and made off, unmistakably
frightened. He had no idea that he was going
to strike a leg and not a log; yet if his eyes
had been much keener than a man's he would
have seen not only that my clothes were not
wood, but that I was leaning against the tree
trunk watching him. In several instances I have
called wild barred owls at night and have had
them alight in treetops close above me. I could
see them against the sky, but apparently they
could not see me sitting among the brakes and
bushes below them. Once with an owl thus
above me I imitated the squeaking cry of a
wounded bird. I wished I had not, for the owl's
ghostly wings brushed past my face so closely
that I fell back into the bushes, fearing that he
would strike at me again.

WAYS OF THE OWL. 201

The memory of my owls is noticeably good.
Puffy and Fluffy, the two barred owls which I
have had longest, remember their favorite perches
from season to season, and resume their chosen
roosts after months of absence. In one instance
Fluffy, on his return to Cambridge after four
months in the mountains, flew the length of the
cellar, expecting to strike a perch which had
been removed, and, failing to find it, fell to the
floor. It is only necessary for me to bring a box-
trap into the barn for Puffy to come to the front
of his cage, eager to be given a chance to catch
the chipmunk which past experience leads him
to believe is in it. Similar eagerness is shown
in winter, when I bring a paper parcel into the
cellar, the owls knowing so well that it contains
food that they will tear it open themselves if I
do not open it for them. If the bundle is brought
in without their knowledge and thrown at ran-
dom upon the floor, they do not find it, and will
leave it for days untouched. Puffy does not like
going out in my boat. If he finds that I am tak-
ing him to the shore near it, he invariably jumps
oft' his stick and tries to hide in the bushes.
Snow^don knows a j^iece of cloth which I have
used to throw over his head when I have wished
to handle him, and the sight of it is enough to
cause him to make strong efforts to escape from
his cage. All three of the barred owls hide their

202 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKV.

surplus food, and remember where they keep it.
Snovvdon, on the contrary, sometimes stands over
portions which he is not ready to devour, letting
his feathers sink down so as to cover them.
Puffy not only understands the commands " Get
on " and " Get off," but he knows his own name,
and genei'ally answers when I call him by giving
a friendly " clap, clap," with his beak. He has
frequently revealed his position to me by this
answer when I have lost him in the bushes, tall
grass, or at twilight. That he especially, and all
my other owls to a less degree, know me and dis-
tinguish me readily from strangers, is, I think,
undoubtedly a fact. Thus far I have been un-
able to see that any of the owls have a clear no-
tion of time, except as indicated by the coming
or going of daylight. The digestive workings of
owls are extremely economical. In summer the
birds have enormous ajjpetites, and become fran-
tic with hunger if not fed every forty or fifty
hours. In winter, on the contrary, the mature
birds fast for a week or more without complaint.
During the winter of 1889-90 I could not ascer-
tain that Fluffy ate anything for more than a
month — that is, from Christmas-time until the
first week in February. Throughout this period
he seemed well, though inclined to keep quiet
and to stay in the darkest corner of the cellar.
When fed regularly and amply, all the species

WAYS OF THE OWL. 203

of owls with which I have had any experience
cast from their mouths egg-shaped " pellets,"
composed of the bone and hair, fish-scales, and
feathers which remain in their stomachs after
the digestion of the more nutritious parts of re-
cent meals. This ejection is accomplished easily
and quickly, with very little visible muscular
action. It usually, or at least often, takes place
at the moment when the owl has another hearty
meal in view. The owls' furnaces burn nearly
all that goes into them. Considering the amount
of fuel put in, the extremely small amount of
ashes is wonderful.

In disposition my owls vary widely. The
barred owls are — as owls go — remarkably
sweet-tempered and gentle. I never have seen
one offer violence to another, even when two
were struggling over a morsel which both were
determined to have. Snowdon is sullen, stupid,
cowardly, and treacherous. The great-horned
has a temper, but he generally keeps it concealed
under an air of dignified reserve. My screech
owls, when not shamming sleep or death, were
irritable, quarrelsome, and ferocious. Between
my three barred owls there are individual differ-
ences in disposition, which are readily learned
but not easily described. They stand out dis-
tinctly in my mind as three characters, just as
three children or three horses would be distin-

204 FRO^r blomidon to smoky.

g'uished when I thought of them. I feel as nuich
attiichinent for Puffy as I possil>ly couhl for an
intelligent and faithful dog. His crippled wing
lias probably made him unusually docile and
tractable, but, whatever may be the cause of his
goodness, he certainly is a model of patience,
placidity, and birdly virtue. This, in combina-
tion with pluck, which leads him to charge upon
and vanquish dogs, cats, and domestic fowls, and
a magnanimity which enabled him to roost for
weeks alongside of an old hen, will make him
worthy of owlish canonization when in good time
he is gathered to his fathers.

(from MR. BOLLES' NOTES.)

March 28, 1893. I took four small mice to
the door of the owls' cage. It was a week since
the owls had been fed and they were very hun-
gry. Fluffy was on a barrel close to the door.
I called Puffy, and swung a mouse by its tail
so that Fluffy near by, and Prince Edward eigh-
teen feet away, could see it. Prince Edward at
once flew up to the barrel. I called Puffy again.
Then I tossed the mouse into the air and Fluffy
caught it, going to the floor with it, and holding
it in his mouth until Prince Edward came to
him. Then Fluffy poked his head forward qui-
etly, and gave Prince Edward the mouse. Puffy
then came from the back corner of the cage,

WAYS OF THE OWL. 205

and I gave him mouse number two. I tossed
mouse niuiiber three to Fhiffy, who caught it in
the air and forthwith gave it to Puffy, advan-
cing to do so. Fhiffy also caught mouse number
four and hehl it nearly two minutes before Prince
Edward came down, walked up to him, grabbed
it from him chuckling, and ate it. Then Fluffy
looked up to me for more, but I had none.

Monday, April 3d. I gave Fluffy a mouse.
He held it in his mouth and looked long at Prince
Edward, then at Puffy, and finally flew to the
latter and offered it to him ; pushed it against
his beak in fact. Puffy had a chunk of meat in
his mouth and would not take the mouse. Fluffy
then offered the mouse to Prince Edward, mak-
ing many times a very curious " cluck, cluck,
cluck, cluck," which closely resembled the call-
ing of a domestic fowl. Prince Edward refused
the mouse, and Fluffy offered it in vain first to
one then to the other for ten minutes, clucking
as he did so.

BIRD TRAITS.

While birds as a race have many habits and
instincts in common, their family differences are
strongly marked. The hawk and the humming-
bird answer equally well to the scientist's defi-
nition of a bird, but Napoleon and a bonbon
maker answer equally well to his definition of
man. The destroyer and the confectioner,
whether among men or birds, have different
ways of looking at life, and of dealing with their
animate and inanimate surroundings. In hu-
man communities the principal actors are the
farmers, artisans, merchants, priests and teach-
ers, soldiers, mariners, artists, knaves, and idlers.
Perhaps I am over fanciful, but against each of
these classes save one — the merchant — I can
set without hesitation a group of birds whose
life currents seem to me to run in as various
channels as those of the great groups in human
society.

My abstract farmer is a burly fellow who
rises early, whistles cheerily if the sun be bright,
works in all weather, keeps to the fields rather
than to the forest, and to whose senses nothing

BIRD TRAITS. 207

is more pleasant than the rustle of corn leaves
and the sheen of grain undulating in the breeze.
He is slow, persistent, graminivorous.

Against him in the bird creation I set the
sparrow. The sparrows, buntings, and finches
love the sunshine. They are interested in the
crops ; as a rule shun the gloom of the forest,
and make their homes in fields and meadows.
Before sunrise, in May, the clear whistle of the
white-throat welcomes the coming dawn. When
the snow first melts in April, or if by chance it
wastes away in December or January, the snow
buntings and j uncos are promptly at work in the
ploughed fields or among the weeds left in the
potato patch. Winter does not see the farmer
moving to Florida or Cuba. He stays under the
shadow of Chocorua, breaking the ice in the
pond for his cattle, scattering corn to his fowls,
listening to the voice of the ice in the night, and
having a gun ready for the fox prowling about
the barnyard at dawn.

The birds around him in these wintry days are
not warblers and swallows, vireos and thrushes ;
they are sparrows. Nine tenths of them are pine
grosbeaks, crossbills, snow buntings, siskins, or
those joyous creatures of the snow country, the
confiding redpoll linnets. Truly, farmers and
sparrows belong to the land, cling to it, live by it,
love it. Their acts and instincts are inspired
by it and have its color.

208 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

How different from the farminj? sparrows are
the gulls and terns — children of sky and ocean,
bred to the storm. They have no music. Their
voices are shrill like the boatswain's. They have
no home save a spot of sand or rock where their
young are reared near thundering surf and moan-
ing tides. Their lives are long-continued buffet-
ings with wind and wave, — voyages under white
wings across monotonous wastes of water. They
are the mariners among birds, and all their ways
have the mark of the sea upon them. The sea
rules them, charms them, binds them to itself,
and robs them as it robs their human counter-
parts of much of the sweetness and rest of home.

Not all of the birds which live among forests
and flowers share in the sweetness of home life.
There are among them, as elsewhere, discordant
creatures who seem to draw no joy from joyous
surroundings and whose deeds are full of selfish-
ness and misappropriation of others' hopes and
rights. Some of these birds carry their true char-
acter clearly written upon their faces. The cow-
bird is a sneak. Her glances are furtive. When
seeking the home of a vireo or warbler, with the
intent to thrust her egg upon the mercies of a
stranger, she tells in every motion of hei" body
the tale of her inherited wretchedness and con-
scious guilt. The hawks and owls bear in their
faces the imprint of evil. There is something

BIRD TRAITS. 209

in the expression of a dying bird of prey which
suggests the agony of sin buried in remorse which
comes too late.

Owls and hawks are murderers by night or
robbers by day. There is something inspiring
in the sight of a great bird with wonderful
powers of vision and flight soaring higher and
higher towards the sun. Man cannot imitate his
flight ; but there are men who do in spirit what
the hawk or eagle does in the flesh. They with-
draw their business plans and purposes far from
the ken of their fellows and expected victims,
and then from their vantage point descend to
strike suddenly with the swiftness and cruelty of
the plundering eagle.

The owl reminds me of some men whom I
have had the misfortune to know — silent and
sinister by day or when exposed to the scrutiny
of their fellows ; taking without reply or blow
the taunts and abuse of those whom they have
wronged ; but by night devils in thought, pur-
pose, and action. To the owl everything which
possesses the power of motion is, presumably, fit
to be devoured ; quadruped, bird, fish, reptile,
insect, mollusk, any or all, imless specially pro-
tected, invite to murder ; so with some men, no-
thing is too pure, too beautiful, too defenseless
to be sacrificed to their selfishness. One owl is
enough for many miles of forest. Fortunately
for society, owlish men are similarly scarce.

210 FJi0^f BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

There are some birds of deservedly bad repute
who wear an attractive exterior and maintain
jaunty manners. The blue jay, for instance,
though somewhat flashy in his dress and loud in
his voice, passes with the unsuspecting as a bird
worthy of confidence, if not of admiration. Yet
if ever there was a scoundrel in feathers, he
is one. He is my ideal pickpocket, shoplifter,
smuggler, and confidence man. Most people
think his cousin, the crow, an vmdoubted villain ;
yet he is considerably better off in morals than
his gayly dressed relative. This is not saying
that the crow is not a blackleg.

Among men, the class usually victimized by
rogues is that which is dressed and fed well, and
luxuriously housed. There is such a class among
birds, as the rogues rejoice to know. The war-
blers toil little, talk much, live well, dress gayly,
— always a la mode, — and dwell in elaborate
and beautiful houses. Redstarts, yellow-rumps,
black-polls, and bay-breasted s make elaborate
changes in their costumes. The parula lives in
the most dainty of summer houses. The Cana-
dian warbler wears a necklace of black pearls.
The Maryland yellow-throat goes to a masque
ball in a black domino every night in the season.
There is nothing solemn or melancholy to these
light-hearted, frivolous little birds. No sooner
is there a chill in the air, a breath of something

BIRD TRAITS. 211

coming after August sunshine, than these chil-
dren of the workl start southward, not to return
until all traces of snow have vanished. Truly
the warblers must be counted the elite of bird
society ; but they are as surely the frequent vic-
tims of its knaves.

The surest way to tell shoddy is to hold it
agrainst the true fabric. The same is true of
shoddy people and shoddy birds. Mr. and Mrs.
Tanager, he in scarlet coat and she in yellow
satin, are best measured by contrast with the re-
fined warblers. Their voices are loud, their man-
ners brusque, their house without taste or real
comfort. They have no associates, no friends.
They never seem at ease, or interested in the
misfortunes or joys of those beneath them. Un-
fortunately there are other Tanagers in the world
than those who wear feathers.

If the sparrows are by nature children of
the soil and the warblers children of the world,
the thrushes are without doubt the artists, the
musicians of the wood. I have never met a lover
of New England bird music who would hesitate
a moment about placing the hermit thrush and
his next of kin foremost among the songsters of
this part of the continent. They are true artists.
Their music is exquisite in itself, and their ren-
dering of it is sincere and emotional. The her-
mit thrush resting upon the low, leafless limb of

212 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

a pine in tlie northern wilderness, and rendering
his several i)hrases deliherately, smoothly, pa-
thetically, is as true a musician after his kind as
the first tenor in the great cathedral choir, whose
sweet, sad tones vibrate through vaulted nave,
carrying to listening hearts the interpretation
of the composers immortal passion. Again and
again, summer after summer, as I have heard the
song of this thrush, varying from the low, trem-
ulous notes in his first phrase to the high, clear
notes in the third, it has seemed to me that his
song is to bird music what the Cujus Animara
in Rossini's Stabat Mater is to the music of the
Christian church.

The first tenor and the cobbler may live in
the same street and be good neighbors to the ex-
tent of a cordial " Good morning " or " Merry
Christmas." So the hermit thrush and the yel-
low-breasted woodpecker are neighbors and ac-
quaintances. This woodpecker, commonly and
justly known as the " sapsucker," is the noisiest
fellow with his awl and hammer in the whole
forest. He wears a red and black caj) and a
yellow apron. His voice is loud and unmusical.
His motions are ungraceful and full of jerks.
He is inquisitive and loquacious. If a brawl
between an owl and a mob of chickadees and
nuthatches breaks the stillness of the swamp,
his work is forgotten, and off he rushes full of

BIRD TRAITS. 213

noise to have a hand in the quarrel. His cob-
blini;' is effective. The second summer after his
tap})ing- and girdling of a canoe birch, from
which he and his associates have drawn the sap,
is usually marked by the unmistakable failure
of the tree's vitality.

All the woodpeckers are artisans. They love
the resonant tones of the trunks they tap or
hannner, as the smith loves the ring of his anvil
and the cooper the song of his hoops and staves.
The largest among them is most like the black-
smith. He is the logcock of the great northern
forests. Black and strong, with a big voice and
a temper, his eyes flash and his blows echo
and cause ruin where they fall. He suggests an
older age than this of steam sawmills and wast-
ing forests " protected " against Canadian lum-
ber. Just so the blacksmith seems a survivor
of the age before machinery, when individual
men made individual things, and division of
labor and machines with replaceable parts were
unknown.

Among the other artisan birds are the brown
creepers, perpetually winding imaginary spirals
round the trunks of the hemlocks ; the nut-
hatches, titmice, and wrens. Fortunately for the
trees, these little workers know nothing of strikes
or lockouts. If the first tenor ever jjoes in
search of bright eyes among the artisan's daugh-

214 FliOAf BI.OMIDOX TO S.UOKY.

ters, he must be cliarined by the rippling, rol-
licking- trill of the winter wren. Like the brook
which flows through the forest, now underground,
now rippling across a patch of sunlight, cold as
ice, interrupted by darting trout, so the song of
the wren comes, goes, flashes, disappears, rises
into bold prominence, is varied by sudden
changes and whims, and then ripples oft" into
silence.

The teachers and preachers among men, who
go about dispensing advice as to the way to
avoid trouble, are well matched among birds by
the vireos. The red-eyed vireo is merely prosy.
His mild, tuneless platitudes soon become un-
bearable. The yellow - throated and warbling
vireos are more effective. They touch the heart
by the purity and gentleness of their chiding.
But the solitary vireo is needed to play the role
of the revivalist. When he sees that arch fiend
in feathers, an owl, anathema pervades the
neighborhood, and the population is treated to
the most effective kind of dogmatic declamation.
The bluebird is, however, my favorite reformer.
There is a gentleness, a sweet persuasiveness to
her discourse, even when a crime-soaked owl is
addressed, that is very conducive to neighborly
living.

It is not war-worn veterans who have counter-
parts among the birds, but the gay soldiery of

BIRD TRAITS. 215

the parade ground. How impressive is the
charge of the neatly uniformed cavalry, with
colors flying, sabres flashing, and hoofs pound-
ing on the cropped turf ! The men lose individ-
ual life and move merely as part of the charging
column. They are thrilled by the rush of air
in their ears, and the glitter and flash of metal
and color around them. So it is with the swal-
lows and swifts charging through the summer
sunshine and carrying dismay and death to the
insect ranks before them. On a July evening I
have seen foui*-score barn swallows with long
slender forked tails, chestnut waistcoats and blue
jackets appear with even ranks and uniform
flight, sweep down upon the lake, skim its calm
surface, and then, by some mysterious coincidence
of will, wheel to right and upwards and soar far
into the upper air, where sunlight still lingered
upon Chocorvia's summit. There is the same
thrill, flash of color, presence of united determi-
nation and losing of the individual in the charg-
ing column, which are the special characteristics
of cavalry. Late in August it is common to see
great numbers of night hawks, gathering from a
hundred pastures for migration, sail across the
sky from west to east, with open ranks and even
flight. I once saw a flock of nearly fifty red-
wing blackbirds, all males, in full breeding plum-
age, rise at once from a meadow, fly north, wheel,

216 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

fly west, wheel again, careening so that the after-
noon sunlight flashed on every scarlet epaulet,
and then Hy southward and downward into the
grass. If they had been held equidistant by wires
and guided by one mind, they could not have
moved with any greater regularity. At the time,
and since, they have reminded me of crack com-
panies of infantry wheeling at the word of com-
mand. I remember once, on a March morning,
counting a flock of cedar birds, which alighted
in an ash-tree by my window. They all faced
in one direction, and numbered one hundred
and forty. As I finished my count, it seemed
as though every bird in the tree was moved by
a single spring, for they went off so nearly to-
gether that I was unable to note the slightest
difference in their start.

There are also birds which act the part of
border j)ickets and sentries. The tyrant flycatch-
ers, especially the pugnacious and keen -eyed
kingbirds, are noted for their readiness to. warn
their neighborhood of danger and to engage an
intruder in single combat, no matter what his
size or strength.

I have named farming sparrows, artisan wood-
peckers, preaching vireos, seafaring terns, music-
loving thrushes, frivolous warblers, martial cedar
birds, swallows, and blackbirds, and the criminal
owls, crows, jays, and cowbirds. It would be

BIRD TRAITS. 217

easy to go on and compare the humming-bird to
a French dancing-master, the whippoorwill to an
auctioneer, the bittern and heron to a patient
angler, the woodcock with his bill in the mud to
a tippler with his straw in the cider, the bobo-
link with his interminable and over-cheerful talk
to a book agent or drummer. But these minor
resemblances are less real and more whimsical.
The ocean has really modified the character of
the gulls and grebes, as it has the men and women
who live upon it or near it. Life in the open
field, pasture, and ploughed land has had a cer-
tain clear and distinct influence upon the spar-
rows and finches, just as it has had upon those
who drive the harrow or sow the seed. But per-
haps the clearest example of all of the influence
of environment is affoi'ded by the English spar-
row, a bird which it is hardly necessary to say I
did not have in mind when I wrote of his Ameri-
can relatives. City-bred man without knowledge
of lake and forest, mountain and ocean, is an
inferior product of the race ; but disagreeable as
he is, the city-bred bird is worse. The English
sparrow stands to me as the feathered embodi-
ment of those instincts and passions which be-
long to the lowest class of foreign immigrants.
The Chicago anarchist, the New York rough,
the Boston pugilist can all be identified in his
turbulent and dirty society. He is a bird of the

218 rIi0^f blomidon to smoky.

city, rich in city vices, expedients, and miseries.
The farmer's son who takes to drink and the
East end makes a hard charactei-. The sparrow
who has taken to a similar form of existence is
equally despicable.

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS.

Early in the bright, still September morn-
ing, as I lie hidden among the bushes which
fringe the shores o£ my lonely lake in the birch
wood, watching the mists moving over the sur-
face of the water and rising to obscure the trees
on the farther shore, I hear a sudden creaking
of wings in the air, and see shadows passing
swiftly across the water. Then there is a
splash, the lake breaks into ripples, frogs give
startled croaks, and the gray squirrels in the
oaks cease frolicking, and hide themselves in the
armpits of great limbs, waiting for fresh signs
of danger. A fleet has been launched upon the
lake, and, in pi'oud array, it stands away across
the mist-hung ripples. Six trim little craft in
close order plough the deep. Why is it that I
have to lie very still, as I watch this energetic
squadron at its sunrise manoeuvres ? Why can
I not stand upon the sand and wave my friendly
welcome to the beautifid wood ducks which
have come to my lake ? I shoidd love to call
them to me, feed them, caress their exquisite
plumage, and marvel at the play of color in

220 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

their lustrous feathers ; but were I to move a
hand so that their keen eyes saw it, or to snap a
stick so that their keener ears heard it, their
wings would pound the water into foam, and in
one brief moment all their grace and beauty
would have vanished from my sight.

When the first snow falls upon the frozen
November pastures, burying the dry grass and
brown ferns, and leaving only the ghost-flowers
of goldenrod, aster, and fireweed, fox-tracks are
many upon the telltale carpet of winter. They
begin upon the flanks of Chocorua, or away to
the west among the boulders on Great Hill and
Marston Hill, where the battle of the wolves
was fought long ago, and come southward or
eastward through birch wood and pasture, larch
grove and swamp, to the lakeside and meadow.
Many a mile every hungry son of Reynard
travels over that first snow, searching for mice
or a plump blue jay to pounce upon. If, as I
lean upon a great gray boulder in the middle of
the wide upland pasture, I see a slender, sharp-
eared fox trotting towards me, can I whistle to
him as to a dog, and tempt him to me by hold-
ing up to him the mouse I have just taken from
my trap ? With the speed of a thought he will
dash from me towards yonder beech wood ; at
its edge he will pause for one last look of hatred
and terror, and then silence and the snow will

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 221

seem to deny his ever having been within their
dominion. Why does he shun me, when I have
never harmed him, and would not have harmed
him had he come to me ?

If I steal ever so softly to the mossy bank of
the meadow brook, and peep through the ferns
into the deep pool overhung by the thick turf,
the wary trout which lies poised in the cool cur-
rent, with filmy fins pulsating, will see me, and
seeing, strain every muscle of his marvelous
form to hurl himself from me into some hidden
grotto far down the stream. If a butterfly,
opening and shutting its yellow wings on the
milkweed flower, sees my shadow creeping to-
wards it, the golden wings will move with vehe-
ment power, and, high above me in the August
sunlight the distrustful insect will linger, bid-
ding me by its restless unhappiness depart from
its milkweed.

By night, as by day, the life of the forest, the
field, and the water shuns me. The bat, which
flits back and forth with crazy flight above the
lake, avoids me ; the hare, leaping lazily through
the grass where the moonlight sparkles in the
dew, bounds from me, panic-stricken ; the owl,
with silent wing, floats from me down the forest
aisles, and hoots no more. What have I done
that creation should spurn me as a leper, and
that all which is most beautiful in animal life

222 FROM BLUM I DON TO SMOKY.

should liasten from me as from death ? The
answer is plain : my crime is that I am a man.

There are hundreds of intelligent men and
women in New England who do not know a
bluebird from a blue jay, a chickadee from a
junco, a catbird from a cow bunting. They
know them all as birds, and love them as such,
after a vague fashion, but of the racial or spe-
cific characteristics of these charming creatures
they know nothing. What, then, will they say
to the avowal that not only do species of birds
differ from one another, as Irishmen differ from
Swedes, and Spaniards from Chinese, but that
individual birds of the same species have, in
proportion to the sum total of their character-
istics, as much variation as individual men?
Of course, there is not nearly the same chance
for individuality in birds as in men, for their
methods of life and their mental qualities are
simple, while those of men are complex.

To the wood ducks, the fox, the trout, and
the butterfly I am merely a man, one of that
horrible race of gigantic destroyers which occu-
pies the laud and the water, and, with merciless
hand, traps, maims, or kills with indiscrimi-
nate cruelty. For centuries, all that dwells
within the woods or beside the waters has held
firmly to life in direct proportion to its distrust

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 223

of man and its ability to elude him. No wonder
that, to the bird, a man is merely a man. The
preponderance of evil in man's treatment of the
lower animals makes it impossible for wood
duck, fox, or trout to delay flight to determine
whether the individual man who appears by the
lake or in the pasture is impelled by kindness or
by a desire to commit murder.

Those who know birds only as birds, without
separating them into races, species, or individu-
als, have no such excuse to offer for their failure
to distinguish and appreciate. They are not
hunted to death by the fair creatures which peo-
ple the wild world around them. They have
ample time and more than ample provocation to
learn something of these shy, sweet neighbors.
No lifetime is long enough to learn all about
even one bird ; but there are few men who do
not sometimes pass beyond the limits of brick
walls and cobblestone pavements, and whenever
they do pass such limits the birds are with them.
In our own Boston, gulls, crows, and several
kinds of ducks are constantly present along the
water's edge, between late autumn and spring.
The Common and weed-grown vacant lots are
not owned by house sparrows alone, conspicuous
as those immigrants are. A Sunday afternoon
in May spent in the groves and fields of the
suburbs gives acquaintance with more species

224 FROM /}l.(K\f/I)ON TO SMOKY.

than there are hours in the day, and close watch
for an hour of any one bird may yield a fact
which no naturalist has ever recorded.

I have a friend who lives alone, summer and
winter, in a tiny hut amid the woods. The doc-
tors told him that he must die, so he escaped
from theni to nature, made his peace with her,
and regained his health. To the wild creatures
of the pasture, the oak woods, and the swamps
he is no longer a man, but a faun ; he is one of
their own kind, shy, alert, silent. They, having
learned to trust him, have come a little nearer
to men. I once went to his hut when he was
absent, and stretched myself in the sunlight
by his tiny doorstep. Presently two chickadees
came to a box of birdseed swinging from the
pine limb overhead, and fed there, cracking the
seeds one by one with their bills. Then, from
the swamp, a pair of catbirds appeared, and fed
upon crumbs scattered over the ground just at
my feet ; a chipmunk ran back and forth past
them, coming almost within reach of my hand ;
soon after a song sparrow drove away the cat-
birds, and then sang a little sotto voce song to
me before helping itself to the crumbs. When
my friend returned, he told me the story of this
song sparrow ; how he had saved its life, and
been rewarded by three years of gratitude, confi-
dence, and affection on the part of the brave little

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 225

bird. He seemed fearful lest I should think him
over-imaginative in his recital, so he gave me de-
tails about the sparrow and its ways which woidd
have convinced a jury of the bird's identity and
strong individuality. The secret of my friend's
friendship with these birds was that, by living
together, each had, by degrees, learned to know
the other. A man had become the man, and in
time he had developed into protector, provider,
and companion. They, from being chickadees,
catbirds, and song sparrow, had separated them-
selves from their several species, and, by little
habits and peculiarities of color, had made
themselves plainly recognizable as individuals,
having characteristics not common to all their
species.

It is easier to feel sure that these individual
peculiarities of a bird are real if the bird is a
captive, or if, as a wild bird, it is marked in
some unmistakable way. My chief experience
with birds of whose identity I could feel no
doubt while watching them, hearing their voices,
or seeing their pictures, has been with a number
of owls which I have retained as captives for
various terms of months or years. To a stran-
ger, these birds would be quite indistinguishable
both from one another and from wild birds of
the same species. He would notice only the
points of resemblance, the marks by which he

220 FJiOAf BLUMIDON TO SAfOKY.

detei'ininecl their species. I should notice only
their points of difference ; and I should find
among such points color, size, posture, gesture,
expression, and manner. Not only would these
points make it impossible for me to mistake one
owl for another, but they would give me some
passing impression as to the bird's temper at the
moment ; for a placid, sleejjy, well-fed owl is a
very different bird from the same owl irritable,
wide awake, and starving, after a three days'
fast.

We distinguish members of our family or of
our circle of acquaintances one from another by
the differences in their figures, features, and
dress ; the motions they make, the sounds they
utter ; their conduct, opinions, tempers, appe-
tites, virtues, and failings. I distinguish my
three barred owls from one another by slight
differences in size, in coloration, attitude, mo-
tions, notes, temper, appetite, and degrees of
intelligence. They are not always in the same
plumage ; their appetites vary ; they make dif-
ferent sounds under different conditions ; and
the one which is most docile in midwinter may,
when moulting, be most irritable and prone to
bite. One of them almost always whines when
I approach his cage ; the other two never whine
unless unusually hungry. One comes to me
when I call him, provided he thinks he is to be

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 227

fed ; the other two have never learned their
names. One is a coward, and always seeks
safety in swift escape when any danger threat-
ens, while his original nest companion is as
brave as a lion. I once placed the latter in
a small room with two hounds. The dogs ad-
vanced towards the owl with faces expressive
of great curiosity. The owl spread his broad
wings, ruffled the feathers upon his back,
snapped his beak, and then, as the dogs came
nearer, darted at them, drove them under a sofa,
and held them at bay until they were thankful
to be allowed to slink out by a back door. No-
thing would induce either dog to return to the
room that day.

These three barred owls were reared in the
same nest, two in 1888, the third in 1891. They
were all taken from the nest before they could
fly, and they have been subjected to the same
conditions while in captivity. So far as I know,
they are of the same sex. In spite of these
facts, they are no more alike than three dogs
raised in the same kennels, three horses pas-
tured in the same field, or three urchins starved
and whipped in the same tenement house. They
are not equally hungry, sleepy, or skillful in
striking living game ; they are not equally fond
of sunlight or darkness ; they select different
perches, and look at life and their master in

228 FIW^f DLOMIDON TO tiMOKY.

three very different ways. In fact, they are in-
dividuals, not three dittos to the name " barred
owl."

One summer I caught and caged three young
sap-sucking woodpeckers, as they were prepar-
ing to fly from their ancestral castle tower in
the Chocorua forest. It might fairly be pre-
sumed that three birds just out of the nest, and
that nest a dark hole far up in a poplar trunk,
would be as nearly alike as three dimes from
the same mint. The opposite was true. Num-
ber One was a hardy bird, which flew the mo-
ment the axe was struck into the poplar's bole.
Number Three was a weakling, that stayed in
the hole until pulled out by hand. So it was
later, as they grew older and larger. One was
a bully, with a loud voice and too much animal
spirits for the size of his cage. Another was
quiet, meditative, and fond of a sunny corner of
his box. In the autumn, when I let the birds
out to frolic in a barn chamber, this quiet bird
was always the last to quit his perch in favor of
half-freedom. Number Three continued to be
the smallest, weakest, and least hungry of the
three birds ; but she was quicker than Number
Two, and seemed to get more out of life than he
did. From the hour when I took these little
birds away from their nest, I never failed to
recognize each of them as having individual
characteristics not possessed by the others.

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 229

The wild sap-sucking woodpeckers in the New
Hampshire forests derive the chief of their diet
from the sap of the common deciduous trees.
Attacking the trees in April, often before the
snow has wholly disappeared from the shady
hollows and north slopes, they riddle the bark
with dozens of small holes, from which the sap
flows freely. Red squirrels, downy woodpeck-
ers, and humming-birds like this flowing sap
quite as well as do the sapsuckers, and they
frequent the " orchards " more or less persist-
ently. No stronger proof of individual differ-
ences in bird character has come to my notice
than that afforded by the opposite kinds of
treatment accorded the pilfering humming-birds
by various families of sapsuckers. At some
orchards it is only necessary for a humming-
bird to be heard approaching the trees for the
woodpeckers to be on the watch, ready to drive
the intruder away. Fierce attacks are made
upon the little birds, and they are never per-
mitted to drink at the sap holes if woodpeckers
arc on guard. At other orchaixls the opposite
is the rule, and a favorite humming-bird is
allowed to drink when and where he pleases,
provided he does not actually buzz in the face of
his host, and attempt to sip from the cup in use.
This difference in the treatment of the hummins:-
birds is not a matter of daily whim, but is the

2.30 FROM liLOMlDON TO SMOKY.

rule throuohout successive seasons. I say this
after having, by close watch of certain orchards,
convinced myself that not only the same wood-
peckers, but tlie same humming-birds, return to
particular groups of trees year after year.

Once, on an August day, as I sat working at
the north door of my big barn, near the foot of
Chocorua, a small bird came hopping and flutter-
ing towards me. As it drew near I saw that it
was a young redstart, somewhat raggedly clad.
The little creature was catching tiny flies and
other insects, and seemed completely absorbed in
its occupation, to the exclusion of fear or even
ordinary caution. Presently it entered the barn,
and hopped back and forth between the horse's
heels, as he stood and stamped in his stall. Then
it crossed the floor to me, and perched for a mo-
ment on my foot. I caught it, and it sat upon
my hand fearlessly, going because a passing fly
drew it from me. Finally it continued its course
through the south door into the wide sunshine
beyond, and so away forever. Truly, that tiny
redstart was unlike all others of its species which
I have seen, or ever expect to see. Daft it may
have been, but it did me more good than fifty
sane warblers.

Less clear evidence of individuality in birds
comes in the way of every observer many times
during each year. Spring after spring birds re-

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 231

turn to favorite nesting-places, and autumn after
autumn migrants appear on favorite hunting
grounds : sometimes we feel sure that the robins
which return to the apple-tree, the bluebirds to
the box on the post, the orioles to the trailing
elm branch, are the same birds which built in
those spots in preceding summers ; but, as a rule,
positive evidence to this effect is lacking, and
our moral certainty is not capable of justification
to others. Generally the fact which makes us
most sure in our own minds that the birds in
question are old friends is some hint of individ-
uality on their part. They arrive on a fixed date
in the spring, build their nest in a particular
spot or in a particular way ; and the exactness
of the coincidence induces us to believe in indi-
viduality, rather than in the nature of all birds
of a species to do precisely the same thing under
similar circumstances.

Where there is a wide variety in the nesting
ways of a species, the ability to fix upon certain
birds and feel confident of their identity is in-
creased. For example, I have known the song
sparrow to build upon the ground in the middle
of a dry field, or close to a tussock of grass at a
brookside ; a few inches from the ground, in a
pile of brush in a meadow ; in a dark pocket in
the hollow trunk of a willow ; two feet from the
ground, in a spruce ; and finally, eight feet above

232 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

the ground, in a cup-shapecl hollow in a birch
stump. It is evident that a species which varies
the location of its home as widely as this must
contain individuals which have their power of
selection highly developed. The kingfisher's in-
stinct takes him to a gravel bank, in the face of
which he digs a hole. He is satisfied with one
set of conditions, and those conditions are simple
in kind. The song sparrow, which builds in a
hollow willow, or in a depression in a high stump,
has not been satisfied with simple conditions, but
has exercised her power of selection to a remark-
able degree in finally choosing very unusual sur-
roundings for her home.

Much as birds of a species resemble one an-
other, every collecting ornithologist knows how
rare it is to find two individuals whose colora-
tion and measurements correspond exactly. In
series containing hundreds of specimens of the
same species, it is almost impossible to find two
skins which agree so closely as to be indistin-
guishable. Moreover, in such extended series,
it is common to find specimens which vary in a
radical way from the average. Not only does
albinism occur, but other unusual features ap-
pear in color and form in a way to suggest rever-
sion to some earlier stage in the development of
the species. For example, I have seen several
specimens of the cedar bird which had white

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 233

markings of a kind to suggest at once a common
ancestor to both cedar bird and Bohemian wax-
wing. Differentiation increased the white plum-
age in the Bohemians, and allowed it to disap-
pear in the cedar birds.

So sharp are the distinguishing lines of color
between desert races of birds and mammals and
races living amid verdure that it is natural to
surmise that habits and conduct may also be con-
siderably modified by arid surroundings. Taken
as a great group, birds which live upon the sea
are certainly very different from typical forest
birds. Sea birds' voices, when they use them,
are harsh and shrill, and they can scarcely be
said to have a suggestion of song in their vocal
performances. Nearly all land birds have music
in their natures. If they cannot sing, they at
least try to play. The grouse, the woodpeckers,
the snipe, the woodcock, the bittern, are all in-
strumentalists. Land birds which sing, like the
thrushes, the purple finch, fox sparrow, ruby-
crowned kinglet, orchard oriole, water tlirush,
and other brilliant performers, are well known
to vary in the individual success of their efforts.
Now and then I hear a song sparrow or a hermit
thrush which sings so much better than its fel-
lows that I return to it day after day, to listen
to it as to a Nilsson or a Scalchi.

If I, with didl human ears, can detect the dif-

234 FRO.U BLOMJDON TO SMOKY.

ferences in birds' songs, how much more (juickly
can the birds themselves distinguish one an-
other's voices ! Watch a nestf ul of fledgelings
whose eyes are incapable of distinct sight, and
one of the first facts to be noted will be the sud-
den excitement of the young when the parent
bird, in returning, comes within a few rods of
the nest. The clamor of the young can be in-
stantly silenced by a note of alarm from the par-
ent, while no other sound in the neighborhood
will check their glad uproar. Among full-grown
birds, similar notes of warning are wonderfully
effective. Crows chortling together in the woods
will be quieted and called to wing by a single
hoarse " caw " from their sentinel. A flock of
blue jays, feeding in the oaks, will scatter like
leaves in the wind at hearing a cry of alarm from
one of their number. I never see or hear a crow
" caucus " without feeling sure that certain indi-
viduals have more weight in the assembly than
others, and that their cawing means something to
their fellows. Of course, these indications of the
appreciation of individuality by some birds in
dealing with their mates are vague and unsatis-
factory as compared with the more direct evi-
dence afforded by personally watching captive
birds until their characters are thoroughly
learned.

Two great-horned owls which I owned for a

INDIVIDUALITY IN BIRDS. 235

few months were so radically different in temper
that every one who came near them recognized
the fact. One was quiet, dignified, and compar-
atively tractable ; the other was belligerent, cross,
and untamable. To my eyes, the expressions of
their faces were as different as they would have
been in two persons of opposite temperaments.
That this diiference in bird faces is real, and not
based upon the circumstances of the moment, ac-
cidents of position and color, or my own state of
mind, seems to me to be established by the fact
that, in a series of photographs of my barred
owls, taken at different periods, the identity of
each owl in a picture is as evident to me, and to
others who know the birds intimately, as though
they were men and women instead of birds.

With me, belief in the individuality of birds
is a powerful influence against their destruction.
Like most men familiar with out of door life, I
have the hunting instinct strongly developed.
If a game bird is merely one of an abundant
species, killing it is only reducing the supply of
that species by one ; if, on the contrary, it is pos-
sessed of novel powers, or a unique combination
of powers, and can be distinguished from all its
fellows, killing it is destroying something which
cannot be replaced. No one with a conscience
would extinguish a species, yet I already feel to-
wards certain races that their individuals are as

2o6 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

different from one. another as I formerly sup-
posed one species of bird to be from another.
At one time I should have shot a barred owl
without a twinge of conscience ; now I should
as soon shoot my neighbor's Skye terrier as kill
one of these singularly attractive birds.

Sentiment aside, bird individuality, if real,
is of deep scientific interest. If we knew more
of the influence of individuals, we might have a
clearer perception of the forces governing evolu-
tion. Serious science is now so fully given up
to laboratory as distinguished from field study
that but little thought is given to problems of
this kind. This fact makes it all the more pos-
sible for amateurs to work happily in the woods
and fields, encouraged by the belief that they
have innumerable discoveries still to make,
countless secrets of nature still to fathom.

BIRDS AT YULE-TIDE.
I.

SUNLIGHT.

At the nortliern end o£ tlie wren orchard there
is an angle in the stone wall where the autumn
winds pile dry leaves. The wall at this point is
five feet high and very thick, and no breeze
finds a way through it. Above and behind the
wall a dozen or more ancient white pines rise
high into the air, cutting off all view of the
northern sky ; but southward the orchard falls
away in grassy terraces, and through the vistas
between the old gray trunks and tangled branches
far glimpses of Cambridge and the Charles
River meadows greet the eye. Christmas, 1892,
had come and gone, but New Year's Day was
still in the future. There were snow banks in
the shadows, and back of the wall, under the
pines, the north wind bustled about on winter
errands. Weary with a long walk, I had sunk
deep into the dry leaves on the sunny side of the
wall, and had found them warm and comforting.
The sun's rays had brought heat, and the brown
leaves had taken it and kept it safely in their
dry depths.

238 FJiOM BLUM 1 DUN TU SMOKl'.

At first, as I lay there, the worhl seemed life-
less, so utterly silent was it. No insect's wing
gleamed in the sunlight, no squirrel ran on the
wall, no bird s])oke in the treetops. There are
wonderfully still moiuents in midsummer, when
the breeze dies away, the sun's rays glow like
fire in the lake, and the birds sit motionless
and drowsy in the thickets. In those moments,
however, the watchful eye can always see the
dragon-fly darting back and forth over the water,
the inch-worm reaching out its aimless and in-
quiring arm from the tij) of a grass stalk, or the
ant marching back and forth with endless pa-
tience under the stubble forests. Still and seem-
ingly dead as was this winter morning, I had
faith that if I listened attentively enough some
voice would come to me out of the silence ; and
sure enough, as soon as my presence was forgot-
ten, two or three golden-crested kinglets began
lisping to each other in the nearest cedars.
Soon they came into view, hovering, fluttering,
clinging, among the evergreen branches ; some-
times head downwards, often sideways, always
busy clearing the foliage of its insect dwellers.

While I was watching these tiny workers, now
and then catching a glimpse of their bright yel-
low crown-patches, I saw a much larger bird
alight in a leafless ash-tree about fifty feet from
me, near the orchard wall. The next moment

BIRDS AT YULE-TIDE 239

the harsh cry of a jay came through the still air,
and as I brought my glass to bear on the visitor
I expected to recognize the gay plumage of the
crow's festive cousin. The bird in focus was
no jay : that was clear at first glance. It was
shorter than a blue jay by two inches or moi'e ;
it was not blue, and its head was not crested.
Presently another bird of the same species joined
the first comer, and the two sat quietly in the
bare tree, doing nothing. Far away a flicker
called, and then in the pines the clear plixje-he of
the titmouse came like a whiff of perfume. One
of the strange birds dropped suddenly to the foot
of the tree, and began moving over a broad snow
bank which lay in the shadow cast by the wall
and a bunch of privet and barberry. The snow
was sprinkled with the winged seeds of the ash,
and the bird picked these up one by one, neatly
freed each seed from its membrane, and swal-
lowed it.

While the bird remained in shadow she looked
gray ; but whenever the sunlight struck her, rich
olive tones glowed upon her head, back, and
rump, while traces of the same coloi-ing showed
upon her breast. Beautiful water - markings
rippled from her neck downward over her back.
Her wings were dark ashy gray marked by two
white wing bars and white edgings to the stiff
feathers, and under each eye a white line was

240 FROM BLOMIDOX TO SMOKY.

noticeable. Her feet showed black a^rainst the
snow, in which they moved regardless of cold or
dampness. The bird in the tree was not favor-
ably placed for me to see his colors, so, rising
softly from my leaf-bed, I moved silently towards
him until he came against a dark background.
Slowly raising my glass, I leveled it upon him,
and brought out to my admiring eyes the exquis-
ite tints of his plumage. Where his mate had
glowed with olive, he blushed with rosy carmine.
Head, nape, rump, throat, and breast alike were
suffused with warm, lustrous color. Here and
there, white, gray, and ash struggled for a share
in his dress, but the carmine outshone them.
There could be no doubt as to the birds' iden-
tity, — they were a pair of pine grosbeaks.

My approach to a point not more than twenty
feet from the feeding bird did not disturb her.
She watched me closely, but continued to gather
the ash seeds. At times she even ran towards
me a foot or two. Suddenly a dark shadow
crossed the snowdrift, and both birds started
apprehensively, as though to fly away ; but they
quickly regained their composure as a ragged-
winged crow sailed close above the treetops and
disappeared behind the hill. A nearer a^oproach
to the birds showed me how massive were their
bills ; the upper strongly arched mandible form-
ing a sharp hook far overhanging the blunter

BIRDS AT YULE-TIDE. 241

under one. Their tails, too, were noticeable,
being- plainly and quite deeply forked.

Advancing step by step, I came at last so
near these confiding birds that, had they been
domestic fowls, they would have avoided me.
The one on the ground flew into the ash-tree,
and both moved a little higher among the
branches as I walked directly beneath them.
Of nervous fear they gave no sign, although
both uttered short musical notes in a querulous
tone. This trustfulness is characteristic of many
of the migrants from the far north which sud-
denly, and for causes not yet fully understood,
sweep over fields and forest, in midwinter.
Many a time I have stood beneath a slender
white birch in whose branches dozens of pine
siskins were resting, or redpoll linnets feeding.
I have leaned over the upper rail of a fence and
looked down upon red crossbills eating salt and
grain from a cattle trough on the ground on the
other side of the fence, while they watched me
with their bright eyes, yet did not fly. Chick-
adees and Hudson Bay titmice have cliided me
while they perched upon twigs, only a foot or
two from my head; and nuthatches, kinglets,
purple finches, goldfinches, and snow buntings
have in a less noticeable way shown far less fear
of me than any summer migrant or resident bird
would display.

242 FJWM BLUMIDON TO SMOKY.

II.
MOONLIGHT.

Sunset in late December comes long before
tea time, so I lingered in the wren orchard
wliile the orange light came and went in the
west, and until the big yellow moon swung free
from the eastern elms, and began her voyage
across the chilly sky. I had been worrying the
crows at their roost in a grove of pitch pines
on the very crest of the Arlington ridge. Just
as they skulked into the grove on one side, I
glided in from the other. Silently they floated
through the twilight, and gained a thickly
branching pine. In its upper foliage they
crowded together and prepared for sleep. Then
they heard my footsteps on the twigs and snow
crust below, and suddenly a great stirring, and
rubbins: of wings and twigs told of their flight.
At first they said nothing, but when they had
reached the upper air they circled over the grove
cawing spitefully. A small flock of j^ine gros-
beaks dropped into the grove, and after the
brightest of the golden light had faded from be-
hind far Wachusett I heard a small troop of
kinglets come in for their night's lodging. The
crows came back to their favorite tree, and when
I disturbed them a second time nine of them
flew awav full of wrath.

BIRDS AT YULE-TlDi:. 243

Leaving the pines to darkness and its birds,
I came back to the wren orchard. As I ran
through a savin-dotted pasture, a lonely junco
flew from beneath a juniper bush, and alighted
upon the ground. I stopped and watched him.
For a while he kept very still, but at last he
showed his white tail feathers in flight, and van-
ished amono- the cedars. Under the cedars I
found a dead bird, lying on its back upon the
snow. It was a grosbeak, with almost every
feather, excejit those on the breast, intact ; yet,
strange to say, its body had been eaten, — prob-
ably by mice, for no creature less tiny could
have removed the flesh so completely without
injuring the plumage. I fear the trustfulness
of this gentle migrant caused its death. Mice
can eat birds, but they cannot shoot them first.

The apple-trees in the wren orchard seemed
even more grotesquely gnarled as they lifted
their distorted limbs against the moonlit sky
than they had in the pale winter sunshine.
They are very old trees for fruit trees, and
many a dark cavern in their trunks and larger
limbs offers shelter to owls, squirrels, and mice.
Leaning against one of their broad trunks, I im-
itated the attenuated squeak made by a mouse.
Again and again I drew breath through my
tightly closed and puckered lips, feeling sure
that if Scops and his appetite were in com-

244 FROM BLOMIDUy TO SMOKY.

pany anywhere within an ovvrs ear-shot of my
squeaking", 1 shoidd hear from the little mouser.

Once, twice, perhaps three times, there fell
upon my ear what seemed like the distant wail-
ing of a child or the faint whinnying of a horse.
All at once it came over me that the sound was
not distant, and I held my breath and listened
intently. It came again — faint, tremidous, sad.
My ears declined to say whether it came fifty
feet or a quarter of a mile. I stole softly to-
wards the point from which it proceeded, but
before I had gone a rod I heard the same or
a similar sound on my left. This time it was
more distinct, and I knew it to be the quaver-
ing whinny of a screech owl. Stooping to the
ground, I scanned the apple-trees with the white
sky for a background. In the third tree from
me I saw a dark lump on a branch. I crept
towards it, and at the first sound I made, the
bunch resolved itself into a broad-winged little
owl, which flew across to the next tree. Rising,
I walked straight towards it, until I stood close
beneath the bird, who watched me without mov-
ing.

Although I could see only his silhouette, I
knew well what his expression was like, having
had several of his family as pets. His feathery
ear-tufts were depressed, and his head was set
down closely upon his shoulders. Could I have

BIRDS AT YULE-TIDE. 245

seen liis face, I should have met an impish glare
in his small yellow eyes, and a look about his
mouth suggestive of sharp bites. The screech
owl fears the barred owl as much as a robin
does ; so when I hooted like his big cousin, and
spun my hat into the air over him, he flew down
almost to the ground, made a sharp angle, and
rose into a tree at a little distance. After I had
followed him from tree to tree for several min-
utes, he finally succeeded in dodging me, and I
left the orchard to the quiet of the winter's
night.

In the morning, when I rolled into the pile
of leaves by the sunny side of the wall, the day
seemed bereft of incident and color ; but as I
ran down the frozen hillside, hurrying more to
regain warmth than to gain time, the day ap-
peared, in retrospect, to be well filled with inci-
dent and life. Not only had there been crows,
jays, flickers, chickadees, kinglets, and a junco
bvisy about their respective tasks of food-finding,
but the charming pine grosbeaks had gathered
the ash seeds from the snow, a few feet from
where, as soon as moonlight replaced sunshine.
Scops set himself to gather his nightly harvest
of mice. Vegetation, as a rule, is dormant in
winter ; most of the insect world selects winter
for its period of repose and transformation ;
snow, ice, and lack of food drive certain birds

240 FRO^r blomidon to smoky.

into migration, and cause reptiles and a few spe-
cies of nianunals to liihernate. Beyond these
limits Nature keeps on her way untroubled ; and
even within these limits there is less stagnation
than most men suppose. If man were not him-
self so much in dread of the snow, he woiUd
not credit tlie lower animals with undue fear of
wintry elements.

UP THE CHIMNEY.

Lying flat upon my back on my bedroom
floor, with my head in the fireplace, pillowed
upon the andirons, and my gaze directed in-
tently up the chimney, I watched, hour by hour,
the strange domestic doings of two of my tenants.
The fireplace was so arranged, and its opening
into the chimney so shaped, that I could see
much of that part of the interior of the chimney
which rose above me, leading toward the little
patch of blue sky far away. The whole of the
west wall of the black flue and a little more
than half of both the north and south walls were
visible to me. The surface of these walls was
rough, having been daubed with mortar which
formed undulations and ridges. The lower faces
of these irregularities were soft, dull black, but
the parts inclined toward the sky caught the
glare of light from above and shone as though
ebonized. About eight feet above me, as I lay
in the second-story fireplace, something about
the size of half a small saucer pi-ojected like a
tree fungus from the northern wall of the flue.
Its edges gleamed like silvery gelatin, and light

248 FROM liLOMIDON TO S^fOKY.

shone tlirou<>li its fabric in many places. This
fabric seemed to be made of dozens of small
twigs matted and woven together in semi-sancer
form, and held firmly in place by some translu-
cent, gelatinous substance of a yellowish-white
color. Masses of the same substance held the
shallow nest in its place against the hard, cold
wall of brick and mortar. Protruding from the
nest were the long and slender wings of a bird,
.which was sitting snugly upon the structure,
with her face turned directly to the bricks.
The tapering wings crossed near the body, and
their tips spread like a Y, under which a short,
stiff, fan-shaped tail extended for a part of the
distance covered by the wings. These stiff tail
feathers, kept spread all the time, terminated in
sharp spines, readily discernible. Occasionally,
as I watched, the sitting bird wriggled on her
nest, and her wings moved restlessly.

Suddenly the column of air in the chimney
was thrown into vibration, and a dull booming
sound resulted. Something darkened the open-
ing of the shaft, the interrupted light trembled
in a confusing way ; I was strongly inclined to
get out from under, and found it impossible to
avoid closing my eyes. Simultaneously with
these disturbing events, a bird's voice in the
chimney produced a series of rapid whistling or
peeping notes, so mingled as to render the hearer

UP THE CHIMNEY. 249

uncertain as to the number of birds making
them, A second bird had entei^ed the chimney.
Seen from outside, he had dropped into it, and,
watched by perturbed vision from below, he had
come down backward, hovering- and fluttering
until, head toward the light, his tiny feet had
caught in the mortar, and every spine in his very
brief tail had been braced against the same
rough substance. Perfectly motionless, he clung
to the black wall as a tree toad sticks to a tree
trunk. His flat head, tiny beak, sooty brown
coat, shining in the glare from the sky, did not
combine well into a bird ; in fact, nothing in
their weird surroundings made these tenants
seem akin to birds. They were more like bats.
Outside, the hot sunlight and hazy blue sky of
early July hung over wood and meadow, lake
and distant momitain. Butterflies fluttered and
drifted in aimless flight over the sumacs, a hum-
ming bird buzzed in the deep blue larkspur flow-
ers, barn swallows cut fancifid curves over the
lake and back to their nest with its nestlings ;
while down in the shadowy fern land the veery's
tremidous music told of coolness and comfort.
How different this soot-lined tube of brick, lead-
ing down through ever-darkening gloom into an
unknown abyss of blackness and silence ! How
strange that this keen-eyed swift, which a mo-
ment ago was speeding through highest ether at

250 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

a rate which no other bird can equal and main-
tain, should come back into this pit and call it
his home ! lie spoke again, and once more the
hea^y air of the chimney responded to his whir-
ring wings as he dropped a little lower to the
level of the nest and turned his bright eyes
inquiringly toward his mate. Her wings now
moved, and she lifted herself away from the
frail platform of glued twigs and stuck against
the bricks a few feet distant. The male, raising
his wings and keeping them moving, walked fly-
like to the nest and settled upon it. Instead of
facing directly toward the north wall, he sat
upon the nest at a different angle, so that his
forked win^ projected obliquely from the nest's
edge. A moment later the female made the air
throb and boom to her powerful flight as she
flew toward and into the light.

Twenty minutes passed ; the bird on the nest
was restless, and squirmed in a way which sug-
gested physical discomfort. Then he gave a low
call ; and a moment later darkness, hurried
notes, and the fluttering of strong wings an-
nounced the mother-bird's return. She dropped
down backward until close beside the nest, struck
and clung to the bricks, and then, using her feet
almost as well as though on level ground, gained
the nest and pushed her way upon it, fairly for-
cing off her mate, who seemed to have no incli-

UP THE CHIMNEY. 251

nation to depart. Finally he moved, and, after a
series of short upward flights, regained the sun-
light, and was seen no more for three quarters
of an hour. As the female settled herself upon
the nest a faint "cheeping " suggested that tiny-
life was stirring beneath her breast. Her posi-
tion was the same which she took in the first in-
stance, her face being turned so directly toward
the north wall that her tail projected at right
angles from the nest. After seeing half a dozen
exchanges in position made by the birds, I was
satisfied that one parent, which I called the
female, always sat straight upon the nest, and
the other, which for the sake of distinguishing
them I called the male, always sat obliquely.

To see only the bottom of the nest, yet to
know that within it lay young swifts which were
being fed in some way by their parents, was tan-
talizing. I recalled a former year, when I wished
to secure a swift's nest with its full set of eggs,
and so had kept watch of the nest ; not by climb-
ing to the chimney top and peering down, but by
raising a small mirror, by whose aid I had seen
the reflected nest from below. The mirror sei'ved
its purpose a second time. I lashed it to the tip
of a fishing rod and pushed the slender joint up
the chimney, adding first the middle joint and
then the but in order to bring the glass well
above the nest. Something white was in the

252 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

nest — just what, I could not at first tell, for
mortar dust had fallen into my eyes, and it was
diflficult to keep the glass still enough to see with
my eyes blinking and weeping. The mother-bird
had been driven from the nest by the appearance
of the strange, misshapen thing which I had
forced toward her from below, and she was now
making short flights back and forth in the upper
part of the cliimney, producing sounds and sud-
den variations in light and darkness which would
surely have frightened away any but a human
intruder. Wiping my eyes and steadying the
glass, I took a careful look at the contents of
the nest. The white object, or at all events its
whitest part, was an eggshell from whose opened
halves a young bird was feebly trying to escape.
Without waiting to see more, I withdrew the
mirror from the chimney and removed all dis-
turbing objects, myself included, from the fire-
place. My heart reproached me. Had my
violence driven the birds from their nest, thus
making probable the death of the young at this
trying crisis in their career ? More than fifteen
minutes passed before booming wings in the
swift's gruesome nursery assured me that a par-
ent had retiu-ned.

These events happened on Monday, and not
until the following Saturday did I again intrude
upon my batlike neighbors. Meanwhile I was

UP TUE CHIMNEY. 253

not unaware of their near presence, for at all
hours of the day and night the thunder of their
wings and their high-pitched voices invaded my
room. After exchanging places at intervals of
from fifteen to forty-five minutes all day long, it
seemed to my human intelligence that they might
keep still at night. But no, during evening twi-
light, and at ten, twelve, one, and three o'clock,
and then with tenfold energy between dawn and
six in the morning, they came and went, went
and came, with apparently sleepless energy. The
nights were clear and dry, and in the sky or over
the white surface of the lake insects were prob-
ably easily seen at any hour by birds accustomed
to such gloom as that of my chimney. Still it
was wonderful to think of their strength and pa-
tience, and of their knowledge of place. Many
if not most of us poor mortals lose our paths
under the simplest conditions, even with the sun
smiling down upon us, or the stars writing their
ancient guideboards anew for us in the dark
heavens, toward which we will not turn for aid.
These swifts, however, seem to plough through
darkness or light with equal confidence, cleaving
the cool wind at the rate of more than a mile a
minute, seeing first the pale lake below their
chimney's shadow, then the vast peak of Choco-
rua, framed in its sombre spruces, and again
some far range of untrodden mountains where

254 FItOM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

follow swifts still nest in hollow tree trunks after
the ancient practice of their family. Wliat mar-
velous sense is it which brings them back by day
or by night, in sunlight or in storm, straight as
thought itself, to home and rest ?

I never have met a man who remembered
having seen a swift perch. It was formerly sup-
posed that they had no feet, and some people
still believe the fable. In building-time the birds
come spinning through the air like projectiles,
and while flying thus snap small terminal twigs
from sycamores and other brittle trees, and carry
them back to their chimneys, to be painstakingly
glued into their fragile nests. After seeing ray
swifts use their feet so readily in getting to and
from their nest, I shall not be much surjsrised
some day to see a swift alight upon some conven-
ient perch outside his chimney. Nevertheless,
so far as is now known, the swifts take no rest
even after flying many miles with incredible
speed, until their accustomed shelter is regained.

When Saturday came, I felt that it was time
to see more of my noisy tenants. In the inter-
vening days something which looked like a happy
thought had come to me. Why should I lie
supine among the fire irons gazing up the black
chimney hole, when, by judicious use of a few
mirrors, I could bring the swifts and their cavern
within range of my writing table ? Saturday

UP TUE CHIMNEY. 255

morning the small mirror climbed the flue a sec-
ond time and was firndy lashed in position a few
inches above the nest. The lashing, of course,
was applied to the but of the fishing rod at the
point where it rested in the fireplace among and-
irons and tongs. Then a narrow, old-fashioned
mirror, in which somebody's great-grandmother
may have admired her pretty face in the days of
a long-forgotten honeymoon, was gently rested
upon the single stick of wood at the back of the
fireplace so that its face inclined slightly toward
me. Wonderful ! — there were the shiny flue,
the nest, the frightened bird perching far up the
shaft, and the narrow line of sky above her;
and there also was the small glass at the tip of
my fishing rod, and in its oval face was an image
of the inside of the shallow nest with two fat,
featherless, sightless swifts flopping about in It.
Nothing could now be easier than to watch the
entire process of rearing the infant projectiles
from a state of feebleness and imbecility to that
marvelous condition of grace, speed, and intelli-
gence at which, in the natural course of events,
they would arrive in a few brief days.

My first desire was to ascertain how they
were fed. The barn swallows, who by some
freak have taken possession of a pewee's nest
just under the eaves of my cottage, feed their
young with insects which they bring bristling in

256 FROM BLUM I DUN TO SMOKY.

their beaks. I had expected to see the swifts
bring insects to their babies, but my closest
scrutiny failed to discover anything in their
beaks when they arrived, or when they went
upon the nest. Under the new conditions, I
watched with double care and attention. At
first, for nearly an hour, the birds were too
much disturbed by the glass and fishing rod to
settle upon the nest. They came close to it
and chattered, but flew nervously and noisily, as
though to frighten away the intruder. After a
while they grew quieter, and finally one arrived
with food. She came to the nest, mounted
its edge, and leaned toward the oijen-mouthed
young. Then she moved violently, and seemed
to hang over the infants, to pound them, shake
them, and push them back and forth in a sin-
gularly rough and unkind way. Seeing all these
things by double reflection and in the dim light
of the chimney, I could not be certain of details,
but all that I saw reminded me of descriptions I
had heard and read of feeding young birds by
regurgitation, while nothing that went on looked
like the quiet and matter-of-fact process of drop-
ping a fly into a little bird's gaping mouth. It
seemed to me that the parent inserted her bill
in the young one's throat, and then presumably
pumped into it, by the violent motions which
she made, a portion of the food previously swal-

UP TUE CHIMNEY. 257

lowed by her. After being fed, the young
dropped back limp or satisfied into the nest,
and were promj^tly sat upon and hustled into
a comfortable and orderly condition. Appar-
ently both birds joined in feeding their offspring,
for I saw first one and then the other go tlu'ough
this pecidiar process.

Supposing that I shoidd have ample opportu-
nity for several days to watch the feeding, I did
not devote myself to its study as faithfully as I
should have done, had I foreseen the distressing
event which was in store for my tenants. On Sat-
urday afternoon a light rain fell. The faithful
mother sat upon her nest while multitudes of
tiny drops floated down the chimney. They did
not fall, but seemed to sail unwillingly through
the gloom, held aloft by the ascending currents
of air. Each globule shone with light, and
looked almost as white as a snowflake. As they
approached the nest, few seemed to touch it, but
curved away from it in some eddy of the air,
and settled down into the depths of darkness
below. During the rain both birds remained in
the chimney most of the time. Sunday, July
16th, proved to be an unusually warm day, and,
what was perhaps of more moment to the swifts,
a very dry day, there seeming to be no moisture
left in air or vegetation. About noon, while
writing at my table, I heard the familiar boom-

258 FROM ni.OMIDUN TO SMOKY.

ing, whistling, and chirping in the chimney, and
as I glanced up I saw that one of the birds was
coming to the nest and the other just going off
up chimney. Suddenly there was a grating
sound, a sharp outcry, more booming and Hut-
tering, and I jumped to my feet and knelt before
the glass to gain a closer view of the chimney.
The nest had vanished. Only a tiny piece of
glue adhered to the slight curve in the bricks
under which the nest had been attached. The
parent bird, with ruffled plumage and rapidly
moving head, clung near the spot where her
home had been, and seemed to me to be looking
with terror far down into that horrible abyss
where her young had fallen, and from which
they sent back no cry. Taking down the jointed
rod, I used the small mirror to search every part
of the great chimney cavern which could be
reached, but in vain. The nest had gone straight
down without touching any fireplace, and had
been lost forever in the debris and stifling dust
at the bottom of the shaft.

During the remainder of the day the birds
fluttered back and forth and lamented. They did
not so more than two or three inches below the
spot where the ill-fated nest had been. At in-
tervals during the night I heard them moving in
the chimney, but on Monday they stayed away
most of the time, even during a heavy shower

UP THE CHIMNEY. 259

which fell late in the afternoon. Toward even-
ing I saw both of them perched near the site of
their fallen home, and during that night and on
other days and nights the sound of their wings
occasionally came to me as a reminder of their
vanished happiness. They made no effort to re-
build in my chimney, yet their presence in it
seemed to show that they had not begun house-
keeping elsewhere. I doubt not that another
summer that love of home which is so closely
connected with birds' ability to find a familiar
spot by day or by night, even after months of
absence, will bring my swifts back to their old
flue.

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CHOCORUA.

While snow still sparkles in the frost furrows
on Chocorua's peak, the first ruby-throats appear
in the warm meadows and forest glades at the
south of the mountain. They love the flowers as
others of their race love them, and when apple
blossoms bless the air with perfume and visions
of lovely color and form, the humming-birds revel
ill the orchards of the North as their brothers
delight in the rich flowers of the tropics. It is
not, however, among flowers that the Chocorua
ruby-throats are hajjpiest or most frequently
seen. Were some one to ask me to find a hum-
ming-bird quickly, it would make no difference
what the asre of the summer or what the hour of
the day, I should turn my steps toward the for-
est, feeling certain that at the drinking fountains
of the yellow-breasted woodpecker, the red-capped
tapster, and loud-voiced toper of the birch wood,
I should find the ruby-throats sipping their fa-
vorite drink.

About the middle of April, and again nearly
six months later, a mischievous and wary wood-
pecker migrates north and south across New

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CIIOCORUA. 261

England. The casual observer might take him
to be a demure little downy, intent upon keejsing
the orchard free from insects, and, if the sly-
migrant was ordinarily quick in placing a tree
trunk between his black and white body and
the observer, his identity would not be detected.
On April 17, 1892, I noticed one of these birds
clinging to a smooth spot on the trunk of a shag-
bark which grew on a warm pasture hillside in
sight of Bunker Hill and the golden dome of the
Massachusetts State House. Watching him care-
f idly for a moment, I saw that he was a yellow-
breasted or sap-sucking woodpecker, perhaps one
of my own Chocorua neighbors, and that he was
quietly sipping the sweet sap of the shagbark
which was flowino- from several small holes in
the bark, drilled, no doubt, that very morning
by the traveler so serenely occupied.

The sapsuckers reach northern New Hamp-
shire before the snow has wholly melted in the
woods. I have seen them at Chocorua, on May
1st, at work upon trees which they had evidently
been tapping for fully a week. From this time
until the last of September, perhaps even till the
7th or 8th of October, they spend the greater
part of their time drilling small holes in the
bark of their favorite trees and in sipping from
the sap fountains thus opened the life blood of
the doomed trees. They do not range about

202 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

through the forest tapping one tree hero and
another there, but they select one, two, perhaps
three groups of trees well lighted and warmed by
the sun, and make sap orchards of them, cling-
ing to them many hours at a time, week after
week, and returning to them, or others close at
hand, year after year.

Within a mile of my cottage at the foot of
Chocorua there are half a dozen of these drink-
ing places of the yellow-breasted woodpeckers,
and each one of them is a focus for ruby-throats.
The one which I have known longest I discov-
ered in 1887. It consists of a group of gray
birches, springing from a single stump and ex-
panding into fifteen distinct trunks. When I
first saw it all the trees were living, and nearly
all of them were yielding sap from the girdles
of small drills which the woodpeckers had made
in the trunks, about nine feet from the ground.
In July, 1893, all but three of the trees were
dead, and of the dead trunks all except two had
been broken off by the wind at a point a few
inches below the drills. The surviving trees had
been tapped, and were in use by both sapsuckers
and humming-birds. During 1890, 1891, and
1892, the humming-bird in attendance at this
orchard was a male of noticeably strong charac-
ter. There was no mistaking him for any chance
visitor at the place. He sjoent all his time there,

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CIIOCORUA. 203

and repelled intruders with great vigor, flying
violently at them, squeaking, humming as noisily
as a swarm of bees, and returning to his favorite
perch as soon as they had been put to flight. He
often attacked the sapsuckers themselves, buzzed
in their faces, and seemed little abashed when
they turned upon him, as they sometimes did,
and drove him from their midst. He also had a
habit of squeaking spitefully when he was drink-
ing from the sap-wells, especially on his return
from a bout with some other hmnming-bird.
Searching for him in July, 1893, 1 failed to find
him, but discovered that in his place a pair of
birds seemed to have established themselves. Of
course it is possible that my friend of previous
years may have taken to himself a wife and have
become mild-mannered in consequence, but I find
it impossible to believe in this theory, so pro-
nounced were the old male's temper and peculiar
ways. The new male, for example, did not use
the same twigs for perches, and he did not keep
his head wagging from side to side as the old one
did with a vigor and regularity which nothing
but a pendulum ever equaled.

The new male, however, showed me a perform-
ance far more interesting in character than any
of his petulant predecessor's, and one which es-
tablishes the Chocorua ruby-throat as a musician
and a dancer. One day, while this male was

264 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

drinking at the sap fountains, a female arrived.
The male greeted her with squeaks and intense
humming. She alighted on the tree near the
drills, and the male then hurled himself through
the air with amazing speed, describing a curve
such as would be drawn by a violently swung
pendulum attached to a cord fifteen or eighteen
feet long. The female was at the lowest point of
the arc described by her vehement admirer, and
she sat perfectly motionless while he swung past
her eight times. When he moved fastest — that
is, when he approached and passed her — he pro-
duced in some unknown way a high, clear, sweet,
musical note, louder even than the humming
which was incessant during his flight. In this
first performance the male moved from north to
south. A few minutes later he went through the
dance a second time, describing a shorter curve
and moving east and west. Still a third time,
when the female had taken position in the midst
of a few dense branches, the male faced her, and
in a short arc, the plane of which was horizontal,
flew back and forth before her. I had seen this
performance once before, in July, 1890, at an-
other orchard, and at that time I fancied that
both birds took part in the flight, but in this
case the birds were close above me as I lay
among the ferns, and there was no difficulty in
seeing clearly all that they did. During July,

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CIIOCORUA. 265

1893, whenever I visited this orchard, which I
call " No. 4," I found a male and a female ruby-
throat in attendance upon it.

In Jvdy and August, 1890, while watching
sapsuckers at what I called orchards " No. 1 "
and "No. 2," I found that some woodpeckers
adopted an entirely different method of dealing
with humming-birds from that practiced by
others. At orchard No. 1, the woodpeckers
drove away a humming-bird with a marked dis-
play of anger whenever one showed itself near
the large red maple which was being tapped.
At orchard No. 2, on the contrary, the sapsuck-
ers allowed the ruby-throats to drink at drills a
few inches from their own bills, and resented
only marked impertinence on the jDart of their
tiny visitors. At No. 1, scores of visits were
paid by lunnming - birds every day, but they
reached the drills in a comparatively small num-
ber of instances. When they did gain them
they drank long and deeply, often perching
upon the bark and drinking while their nervous
wings were motionless. At No. 2, it seemed im-
possible to estimate the number of humming-
birds in attendance. I went so far as to shoot a
male and a female in order to feel certain that
more than one pair of the tiny birds came to the
drills. Nine minutes after my second crime a
third humming-bird was quietly drinking at the

2G6 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

wells. Orchards No. 1 and No. 2 were deserted
in or after 1891, their trees for the most part
being dead, or so nearly dead as to be unattrac-
tive to the sapsuckers. A few rods from No. 2,
a new orchard was observed by me in 1892. It
may be a direct continuation of No. 2, but as
all the woodpeckers at No. 2 were supposed to
have been shot in 1890, the chances are that it is
a new settlement. In July, 1893, twenty gray
birches within an area a hundred feet square
had been scarred by the woodpeckers. About
half of these were dead, and out of the entire
number only four trees were newly drilled and
sap-yielding. In many ways this orchard proved
to be the most interesting I have watched.
The family of sapsuckers using it was not pug-
nacious, and in consequence other birds visited
it much more freely than is generally the case.
Downy woodpeckers occasionally sipped at its
fountains ; black-and-white creeping warblers
regularly, though warily, visited its insect hoards,
and during the autumn migration of 1892 a pair
of yellow-breasted flycatchers spent many days
in constant attendance upon its trees, around
which countless insects fluttered or hummed.

The four sap-yielding trees at this orchard
appeared in July, 1893, to have been appropri-
ated, subject to the prior claims of the wood-
peckers, by three humnjing-birds, a female and

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CIIOCORUA. 267

two males. No one of these birds permitted
either of the others or any one of nmnerous fili-
bustering humming-birds to drink at its preemp-
ted wells. If trespass was attempted, the most
furious assault was made upon the intruder, and
the possessor was always victorious. Thus, if
the female at the eastern tree attempted to ap-
proach the western tree, the male on guard there
drove her away ; while if he entered upon her
dominions, he was swiftly repulsed. The details
of these meetings were sometimes very extraor-
dinary. In one instance a visiting female per-
sisted for nearly ten minutes in trying to secure
a foothold at the western tree. The savage
little male met her with his usual impetuous
charge, but she dodged him, and began a strange
sinuous flight among the branches, back and
forth, up and down, round and through, over
and under, until the air seemed filled with pur-
sued and pursuer, dizzily maintaining their mys-
terious flight within from five to a hundred feet
of the disputed drinking place. Much of the
time the female seemed to be facing the male
and flying backward slowly with head erect ;
then there would come a &"wift " buzz-z-z," and a
clear space between the trees would be traversed
by both birds with the speed of light, a slower
flight being resumed the moment foliage was
entered. If the male paused in his pursuit, the

268 FJiOM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

female drew near again to the coveted drills,
and so forced him to renew the chase. Some-
times they moved so slowly that they seemed
like bubbles or airy seed vessels wafted by the
breeze, and sometimes they flew in short, ever-
changing lines, so that the eye wearied of watch-
ing them. At last the female gave up the
struggle and vanished above the neighboring
treetops.

Frequently the visitors did not come singly,
but' arrived two or three together, and made
combined attacks upon the drills. Then the
air would be filled with violent humming and
the most petulant squeaking, as the possessors
hurled themselves first at one intruder and then
at another, driving them back and forth, as
though playing battledore and shuttlecock with
them. Twice I saw the male, who defended the
western tree, lock bills with a visiting female
and fall almost to the ground in combat ; and
in several instances I noticed a hotly pursued
visitor escape by suddenly doubling, seizing a
twig, and then hanging head downward by one
foot behind a cluster of leaves. As a rule, the
ruby-throat, when drinking, makes a perfectly
audible humming, the male making a sound
somewhat louder and deeper than that produced
by the female. It is, however, entirely within
the range of their accomplishments to hover

TUE IIUMMING-BIRDS OF CIIOCORUA. 2G9

silently, and it is not unusual for a visitor to
drink silently when successful in reaching a tree
unseen. While I never have seen a male ruby-
throat drink from the drills while perching,
I have noticed the female doing so scores of
times. In fact, the female at the eastern tree
perched nearly a third of the time, sometimes
on a twig from which she coidd lean over and
sip the sap, sometimes on the bark itself in a
position almost identical with that taken by the
woodpecker.

One morning while I was watching the new
orchard, a shower came up from behind the west-
ern spurs of Chocorua. Thimder grumbled, the
sky grew dark, and the wind swished viciously
through the slender birches. I wondered what
the birds and insects would do when the rain
came. From where I sat, I could see dozens of
living things, most of which were more or less
dependent upon the sapsuckers' orchard. There
were four of the woodpeckers themselves, three
humming - birds, a hermit thrush, two jimcos,
three chickadees, a least flycatcher ; five or six
butterflies representing three species ; hornets
and numbers of flies, ants, and other small in-
sects. As the rain began, the insects, with the
exception of the hornets, vanished at once. All
the birds, save one of the woodpeckers and the
ruby-throats, flew out of sight. The remaining

270 FROM BLOMWON TO SMOKY.

sapsucker was a young bird, who looked stupid,
and who received the rain by ducking his head
and vibrating- his tail and wings as a bird does
when he bathes in a pool. But the ruby-throats
amazed me by their conduct. They sought leaf-
less twigs with only the weeping sky above them,
and there, apparently with joy, extended their
wings to the fullest extent, spread their tails
until every feather showed its point, and then
received the pelting, pounding rain as though it
were holy water. They became so wet that I
doubted whether they could fly. Buzz-z-z ! the
vigilant male darted at an intruding female and
drove her out of sight, only to see her return
again and again in the thickest of the white
drops in vain attempts to overcome his watchful-
ness. It was evident that no ordinary shower
could interfere with the whirring wings of a
humming-bird.

As the season of 1893 wore on, the number of
humming-birds at tliis orchard diminished. Late
in July I saw not fewer than five birds near
the trees at one moment, three of them being
regular attendants and two interlopers. During
the next four weeks I was absent, but on my
return, I found that only the female using the
eastern tree remained, and that she was seldom
annoyed by visitors. The trees which had been
used by the other two birds had run dry, and the

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CHOCORUA. 271

sapsuckers as well as their uninvited guests liad
abandoned them. 0£ the identity of the remain-
ing humming-bird there could be no question ;
her ways were too strongly marked to be mis-
taken, as, for example, her invariable habit of
alighting upon one slightly sloping trunk when
she drank from its drills. When September
drew near I watched closely to ascertain the date
of the little lady's departure, but day after day
came and went without my missing her. At
last, on September 1st, it seemed to me that she
had gone. I had waited ten or fifteen minutes
by the trees and she had not come, though the
sapsuckers were busy at the drills in their ac-
customed places. Before finally giving her up
I thought that I would count a hundred slowly
and see if this form of incantation might not
draw her to her trees. When I reached " ninety-
nine " and no bird came, I concluded that the
exact date of her migration had been found, but
as I said " one hundred " there was a faint hum
in the still air, and the dainty dipper appeared
with her usual sprightliness. On the 6th, after
several light frosts had laid their chilly touch
upon the Chocorua country, I felt confident that
the tiny creature must have sought a kinder
climate. Again, however, she surprised me by
appearing, after a long delay, as bright as ever.
She hummed at her regular drinking places, but

272 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY.

seemed to find little moisture in the wasting- foun-
tains. The trees were losing vitality and becom-
ing dry. Then she sought the dead twigs at the
tops of last year's trees and flitted back and forth
among them, sunning herself. No perch pleased
her long, and when she wearied of them all she
darted back to the drills for a brief perfunctory
sip of the slow-moving sap. Her restlessness
seemed born of the season, and a symptom of
that fever of migration which was making all
bird-life throb more and more quickly.

Although on September 25th, when I made
my last visit of the year to the orchard, I found
two sapsuckers still at work at the drills, no
humming-bird was with them. How long after
the 6th the vigorous little female remained I do
not know, for I was unable to watch the trees
during the middle of the month.

Although at Chocorua I never have found a
sapsuckers' orchard without its attendant hum-
ming-birds, I am by no means sure that in other
localities where both birds occur the same com-
munity of interests is to be detected. During a
brief visit to Cape Breton in midsummer, 1893,
I kept close watch for sapsuckers and humming-
birds. Of the latter, not one came under my
eyes, although common testimony was that they
frequented the country. Of the sapsuckers I
found one flourishing colony among the alders

THE HUMMING-BIRDS OF CUOCORUA. 273

which bordered the southwest Margaree at the
point where that swift stream emerges from Loeh
Ainslie. More than a dozen alder trunks had
been girdled with drills and a rich orchard
seemed to be in use. I had not long to wait at
the spot, but in the fifteen minutes which I could
spare no humming-birds came to reward my
silent watching.

In some parts of the country sapsuckers are
roughly treated on account of their destruction
of trees. It is unquestionably true that each
family of birds kills one or more vigorous trees
each year, but generally the trees are small and
of trifling value as timber. My sapsuckers are
welcome to several forest trees a year, so long as
they continue to attract and feed humming-birds,
and indirectly to draw thousands of insects within
easy reach of their own bills and the more
active mandibles of flycatchers, warblers, and
vireos.

INDEX.

Acadian, 4, 5, 8, 79.

Albany, 187.

Alder, 101, 128, 272, 273.

Annapolis, 3, 7.

Annapolis Basin, 1, 2, 98, 104.

Ant, 150, 152, 109, 238, 209.

Antigonisli, 08.

Apple, 0, 7, 190, 231, 243, 244, 200.

Arlington, 242.

Ash, 131, 154, 210, 238-241, 245.

Aster, 220.

Avon, 80.

Baddeck, 13, 15-17, 20, 21, 29, 66-

08, 83, 88, 91-94, 95, 100, 103,

104.
Bar, 22-24, 29, 41, 85.
Barasois, Mountain, 21, 22 ; River,

22, 28, 67.
Barberry, 239.
Bat, 221.
Bay of Fundy, 1, 2, 4, 5, 73-77, 79,

80 93 94.
Balsam 'fir," 3, 15, 25, 26, 59, 63, 85.
Bear River, 3.

Beech, 35, 03, 106, 135, 176, 177, 195.
Birch, yellow, 33, 35, 44, 63, 106;

canoe, 131, 132, 140, 141, 149,

154, 188, 213, 232, 260 ; white, 125,

140, 241, 202, 266.
Bittern, 46, 217, 233.
Blackbird, 100; cowbird, 100, 129,

208, 210, 222 ; purple grackle, 100,

129 ; redwing, 100, 129, 215, 216 ;

rusty grackle, 100.
Blomidon, 1, 3-7, 22, 31, 69, 74-81, 93.
Bluebird, 128, 214, 222, 231.
Bobolink, 100, 217.
Bohemian wax-wing, 233.
Boston, 223.
Bras d'Or, 13, 14, 20, 21, 26, 35, 42,

56, 68, 73, 81, 93, 95, 96, 104.
Brown creeper, 213.
Butterfly, 143, 151, 221, 222, 249,

269.

Cambridge, 117, 129, 198, 237.

Canard River, 6.

Canso, Gut of, 12, 13, 68.

Cape Breton, 12-14, 32-30, 65, 67.
82-105, 272; Dauphin, 28, 30,31,
35; North, 24, 30; Sharp, 74-70,
78; Smoky, 10, 21-28, 31-39, 43,
48-52, 55-58, 79, 81, 83, 97, 98,
103 ; Split, 74, 76, 78.

Cat, 195.

Catbird, 83, 123, 188, 222, 224, 225.

Cedar, 238, 243.

Cedarbird, 122, 123, 120, 191, 216,
232, 233.

Charles River, 237.

Chewink, 129.

Chickadee, black-capped, 82, 88, 89,
102, 117, 120, 129, 130, 187, 188,
193, 213, 222, 224, 225, 239, 241,
245, 209; Hudson's Bay, 67, 82.
87 89, 102, 187, 241.

Chimney swift, 94, 124, 199, 215,
247-259.

Chipmunk, 224.

Chocorua, 14, 81, 88, 92, 99, 124,
128, 129, 228, 261, 271, 272 ; Lake,
106, 146 ; Mountain. 52, 100, 119,
123, 125, 131. 156, 215, 220, 260,
262 ; River, 106, 146.

Ciboux Islands, 28.

Cobequid mountains, 5, 68, 80.

Cormorant, 45, 46, 104.

Cornwallis River, 0 ; Valley, 4.

Crossbill, red, 60, 100, 207, 241;
white, 99, 125.

Crow, 46, 47, 97, 98, 120, 126, 135,
192, 193, 199, 210, 216, 223, 234,
240, 242, 245.

Cuckoo, black-billed, 124, 125, 188.

Digby, 2.

Dike, 4, 5, 6, 8, 79.

Dog, 227.

Dragon fly, 238.

Duck, 223 ; dusky, 104 ; golden-eye,

276

INDEX.

104; merganser, red -breasted,
103; old squaw, 104; wood, 219,
222, 223.

Eagle, 84, 85, 9G, 127, 199, 209.
Elm, 231, 242.

Englishtown, 21, 22, G7, 103.
Euphrasia officinalis, 82.
Evangeline, land of, 1.
Evening primrose, 142.
Eyebriglit, 82.

Finch, 207, 217.

Fireweed, 2, 220.

Fly, 150, 169, 2G9.

Flycatcher, great-crested, 99, 124,
128, 191 ; least, 99, 209 ; olive-
sided, 99 ; yellow-breasted, 206.

Pox, 220, 222, 223.

French River, 27, 29, 31.

Gaspereaux River, 3-6, 80.

Glooscap, 76.

Goldenrod, 4.5, 220.

Goldfinch, 99, 123, 241.

Goshawk, C3, 04.

Grand Narrows, 13-15, 68.

Grand Pr<5, 4-7, 80, 93.

Great Hill, 220.

Grebe, 217.

Grosbeak, pine, 207, 239, 242, 243,

245; red-breasted, 124.
Grouse, Canada, 103; rulfed, 103,

1S9 193 233
Gull, herring,"l04, 120, 208, 217, 223.
Gypsum, 42, 99 ; fibrous, 81.

Habitant River, 6.

Halifax, 8, 9, 11, 14, 56.

Hare, 221.

Harlaw, 56, 57.

Hawk, 63, 120, 193, 199, 206, 208,

209 ; coopers, 96, 106, 126 ; marsh,

89, 96 ; red - shouldered, 106 ;

sharp-shuined, 126, 191 ; sparrow,

96.
Hemlock, 35, 44, 63, 106, 131, 193,

213.
Heron, blue, 3, 15, 08, 104, 217.
Hobblebush, 63.
Hornet, 150, 151, 269.
Humming-bird, 94, 102, 129, 131-155,

188, 206, 217, 229, 230, 249, 260-

273.

Inchworm, 238.

Indian Brook, 27, 28, 58, CO, 61,

64, C5, 66, 102, 103 ; Falls, 63, G4,

91.
Indigo Bird, 129.

Ingonish, 24, 31, 34, 37, 38, 55-58,

82, 88, 97-100, 103, 104.
Isle au Haut, 79.

Jay, blue, 90, 97, 126, 130, 135, 193,
210, 216, 222, 234, 239, 245 ; Can-
ada, 90, 91, 97.

Jellyfish, 14.

Junco, 22, 60, 82, 88, 95, 102, 123-
125, 207, 222, 243, 245, 269.

Juniper, C3, 189, 243.

Kentville, 3, 6, 77.

Kingbird, 98, 99, 124, 188, 216.

Kingfisher, 18, 26, 54, 84, 95, 124,

232.
Kinglet, ruby-crowned, 89, 129, 187,

233; golden-crested, 238,241,242,

243.
Kingsport, 77, 78.

Larch, 2, 21, 83, 89, 91, 131.

Larkspur, 249.

Loch Ainslie, 17, 19, 20, 83, 84, 87,

92, 101, 102, 273; o'Law, 17, 18,

82, 95, 104.
Logcock, 121, 122, 213.
Look-off, 6-8, 79, 80.
Loon, 18, 104, 191.

Maple, 44, 63, 131, 132, 146, 150,

151, 154, 265.
Margaree, 16-20, 83, 88, 92, 100, 101,

273.
Marston Hill, 220.
Meriensia maritima, 25.
Meteghan, 2.
Micmac, 08, 76.
Middle Head, 38, 40-43, 45, 47, 56,

98, 104.
Middle River, 95, 96, 100.
Milkweed, 221.
Minas, Basin of, 1, 4-8, 35, 69, 75-

81 93 94.
Moosebi'rd, 90, 91, 97.
Mountain Ash, 63.

Nasturtium, 138, 167.
Newfoundland, 21, 37, 41, 51, 56,

57 59.
Niglithawk, 94, 129, 192, 215.
North Mountain, 1, 2, 4, 6, 7.
North River, 21, 67.
North Shore, 23, 33, 59.
Nova Scotia, 1, 8, 10, 14, 79, 98.
Nuthatch, red-breasted, 88, 129, 130,

213, 241 ; white, 88, 129, 213.

Oak, red, 141, 145, 154.
Orchid, 19.

INDEX.

277

Oriole, 100, 129, 231 ; orcliard, 233.

Osprey, 96.

Owl, 208, 209, 2U, 210, 221 ; Aca-
dian, 128, 170, 181, 187, 188, 108 ;
barred, 106-132, 147, 176, 177, 18(V
ISO, 190-197, 199-205, 22.5-228,
235, 236, 245; great-homed, 97,
170, 181, 183, 186, 194-106, 199,
203, 234; long-eared, 176, 178,
181, 190; screech, 147, 148, 176,
178, 179, 181, 186, 188, 196, 19S,
203, 244, 245 ; snowy, 97, 176, 180-
186, 188-190, 194-198, 201-203.

Parrsboro, 69, 70, 72-77.

Partridge Island, 74, 75, 77, 78.

Partridge, spruce, 103.

Paugus, 99.

Peep, 3.

Pereaux, 7, 77, 79, 93; River, 5,

6.
Pewee, 99, 255.
Pine, 20, 46, 47, 63, 98, 99, 212, 237,

242, 243.
Pine siskin, 82, 193, 207, 241.
Point Aconi, 30, 35.
Poplar, 63, 151, 157, 158, 228.
Porcupine, 58.
Port Royal, 2, 3.
Prince Edward Island, 84, 85.
Privet, 239.
Purple finch, 89, 123, 233, 241.

Raven, 34, 45-47, 97, 98.
Redpoll linnet, 130, 207, 241.
Robin, 83, 89, 101, 102, 117, 122,

128, 231, 245.
Rose, 45.

Salmon, 18, 59, 62.

Sandpiper, least, 104 ; semipalmated,
104 ; solitary, 104, 191, 192 ; spot-
ted, 83, 85-87.

Sapsucker, 101, 106, 121, 131-175,
188, 198, 212, 228-230, 260-263,
205, 206, 269-273.

Sivin, 243.

Scotsville, 92.

Sliag, 45, 46, 104.

Sliagbark, 261.

Snipe, 233.

Snow bunting, 207, 241.

South Mountain, 1, 7.

Sparrow, 207, 208, 211, 216, 217;
chipping, 99; English, 217, 223;
field, 123 ; fox, 233 ; Savannah,
100 ; song, 82, 100, 188, 224, 225,
231-233 ; swamp, 100 ; vesper, 82,
123; white-crowned, 124; white-
throated, 82, 88, 123-125, 207.

Springhill, 09-71.

Spruce, 2, 3, 15, 25, 26, 34, 35, 44,

59, 00, 03, 65, 74, 75, 82, 83, 85,

125, 198, 231.
Squirrel, 64, 219, 229.
Starling, 100.
St. Anne's Bay, 21-23, 25, 26, 35, 41,

67, 83.
St. Mary's Bay, 1, 2.
St. Pierre, 44, 59.
Strawberries, 13, 21.
Sumac, 249.
Swallow, bank, 93; barn, 92, 123,

215, 210, 240, 255; eaves, 92, 93.
Swift River Valley, 198.
Sycamore, 254.
Sydney, 13, 20, 35.

Tanager, 126, 191, 211.

Tern, 24, 40, 104, 208, 216.

Thrusli, 211, 216, 233; brown, 83,
117, 123 ; gray-cheeked, 83 ; her-
mit, 83, 120, 122, 140, 193, 211,
212, 233, 269 ; Swainson's, 83, 122,

127, 193 ; veery, 83, 122, 188, 249.
Tracadie, 68.

Trout, 20, 39, 59, 84, 95, 221-223.
Trout Brook, 83-85, 87.
Trumpet-flower, 143.
Truro, 80.

Vireo, red-eyed, 99, 117, 120, 123,

128, 141, 188, 214, 216; soUtary,
99, 123, 125, 191, 214; warbling,
214 ; yeUow-throated, 214.

"Warbler, 211, 216 ; bay-breasted, 92,
210 ; black and white, 82, 89, 125,
141, 266; black and yellow, 89,
91,125; Blackburnian, 91 ; black-
poll, 92, 125, 210 ; black-throated
blue, 91 ; black-throated green,
89, 125 ; Canadian fly-catching,
91, 125, 210; chestnut-sided, 92,
125; Maryland, 91, 100, 210;
Nashville, 89 ; pine-creeping, 92 ;
redstart, 91, 125, 210, 230; sum-
mer yellow, 91 ; yellow redpoll,
92; yellow-rumped, 82, 89, 210;
parula, 92, 106, 210; Wilson's
black-cap, 92 ; mourning, 92 ;
oven-bird, 92, 117, 120, 125.

Wasp, 144, 152.

Water thrush, 233.

Whippoorvvill, 94, 129, 192, 217.

Wliycocomagh, 17, 20.

Willow, 6, 54, 198, 231.

Wolf, 220.

Wolfville, 3, 4.

Woodcock, 103, 217, 233.

278

INDEX.

Woodpecker, 216, 233 ; downy, 101,
121, 140, 14(!, 1G4, 1G5, 229, 201,
260; hairy, 101, 121 ; flicker, 89,
101, 102, 117, 121, 239, 245 ; pile-
ated, 101, 121, 122, 213; three-
toed, 67, 101, 102 ; yellow-breasted,
101, 106. 121, 131-175, 188, 198, 212,

228-230, 260-263, 265, 206, 269-

273.
Wren, 213 ; winter, 129, 214.
Wren orchard, 237, 242, 243.

Yarmouth, 1, 14.
Yellow-legs, 26, 104.

THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

Santa Barbara

THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW.

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